26 July 2007

"High-traffic areas"

The ones referenced in the post about the chore list? Well, it seems that Sparky in particular has taken to shitting...well, not in the grass. He likes to keep his feet dry and clean, so he prefers to stand on the pavers and shit right over the edge. Or to squat on the edge of the pool deck and shit in the crushed stone border.


It also doesn't help that Casey is the poopingest dog I have ever encountered (must be how she eats like a horse and keeps the lean figure), and thus always races three feet past the patio and dumps a steaming heap in the yard.

My Mom is waaaay into dogs (I come by this naturally), but I still didn't want her to encounter a canine landmine within her first ten minutes here. I made that clear to the kids - "Hey, minute 16, she steps in dog crap, that's cool. But not the first ten minutes."

Of course, now she's been here a few hours, and I think she had to leave her shoes out back. Oh well - one hangs out at Bad Dog Central at one's own peril.

That's better

Mom is on deck and the cleaning frenzy has officially ended. I didn't have to beat any children - they followed simple instructions to a "T."

Mom looks good - which is especially wonderful since I haven't seen her since Christmas, when she was just getting into the chemo and things were rough. Now she's got hair, and looks just plain better - kinda the way you'd expect someone to look like when chemo is in the rearview and the oncologist says things look clear.

That's pretty freakin' awesome.

25 July 2007

This part is always an adventure

I'm not much of a housekeeper. Ok, actually I suck. And, fortunately, I have a mother who isn't overly judgemental. But I don't know if there's a woman in America who doesn't feel the need to clean, and a certain domestic fear, when her mother is enroute.

So that is what we've been doing. Every guest we host here has been an excuse for another major push toward "moved in." I think we finally got the last box out of the house about an hour ago.

Of course, with the kids and the Bad Dogs home all day, there can be no finishing touches until tomorrow afternoon. This necessitates a list for the chilluns.

Mr. Abby will pick Mom up from the airport tomorrow, and I will try to convince my Evil Corporate Masters to cut me loose an hour or so early.

23 July 2007


Sorry, y'all. We're not a year old here yet, so you all haven't been through this part of the summer with me yet. We're now at the point where I haven't really watched the news in weeks. Unless I catch something on my brief morning web surf, I have no idea what's going on in the world.

They say there was some sort of debate last night - I didn't watch it. The candidates all make my eyes bleed, and there's more than a year left until they go away. For once I didn't mind the cartoons.

There's also apparently some article in the New Republic about the faceless hive mind that is The Troops, and rumor has it the article would make my blood boil. I thought about reading it, but realized TNR is a subscription website and I don't give enough of a shit about reading some numbnuts' take on the world to out and buy the current magazine. I'd rather give my money to Home Despot or an ammo company.

I'll have something for y'all eventually, I swear. Until then, I'm just going to be running in the morning, working in the daytime and hiding from the cartoon network in the evening.

Oh yeah - and cleaning. 'Cause Mom is coming to town Thursday night. Ugly wallpaper, your days are numbered.