The Power of Positive Thinking -- I Hope!

So here’s something you may already have realized about me: I’m a little weird about my dogs.

Maybe this is because Opie and I weren’t able to have children. Maybe it’s because I work from home and I spend more time with them than with people.  Or maybe it’s because I have somehow been blessed with creatures that aren’t really animals but special, possibly human, souls trapped in canine bodies who need unlimited love and dedication to reach their full potential.

It’s really hard to say.  

My point is, I’m a little weird about my dogs.

 This has, upon occasion, caused a few  problems with the neighbors who also have dogs... but who seem to believe these are “pets” that live outdoors not “cherished members of the family with more personality than most people I know.”

The situation has not been helped by the fact it’s pretty volatile over there at the neighbors' house. When I first moved in, it was: the woman who owns the house (let's call her D), her mother, her daughter, the daughter’s five children, and occasionally the daughter’s boyfriend. Then one of the five kids got pregnant, had a baby and her boyfriend moved in for a bit.  Through the years, there’s been a lot of moving in and out, a frequent police presence, another baby, one death (the elderly great-grandma), and a variety of drama. 

Finally, the daughter and 3 of her kids moved out, the girl who had gotten pregnant moved back in bringing her husband and their 2 kiddos and things calmed down immensely—they began fixing up the house and yard and the police have only been over there once in the last 2 years.

The only problem is,  the girl and her husband (I’ll call them  A&B) brought their two monster pit bull mixes with them...and they couldn’t have them in the house because their two dogs didn’t get along with the dog that already lives there – this monster sized Bull Mastiff named Lola. AKA The Reason We Built A Privacy Fence Around Our Yard In The First Place. (You can read about that little adventure here)

I hate these two new dogs with the fire of 1000 Suns.  They’re ALWAYS outside(unless it’s crazy cold), they bark all the time, if I go near the fence to weed the flowerbeds or work on the landscaping or anything, they go crazy and charge into it smashing their huge pitbull bodies up against our fence.

And they hate Sassy.

Plus, I’m pretty sure they think she’s food.

Sassy, of course, does not believe she’s food.

She also doesn’t believe she’s a dog… she’s pretty convinced she is 7 1/2 pounds of fur-covered steel and she’s sure she could take both those mongrels with one paw tied behind her back.

This is her vicious face -- pretty scary, right?!

So when we go out in the yard, she starts barking at them, they bark at her and start flinging themselves against the fence even more, hoping to knock it down and eat her. Unfazed, she flings herself against our side of the fence so she can get to their yard and show them who’s boss.

Which is when Bubba starts barking, in case anyone is under the impression that he, too, is food. And I start screaming all the curse words I know.

It’s great fun.

At first I tried to handle this with maturity, I really did. We started putting Sassy on a long lead when we were outside so she couldn’t get too close to the fence and I changed the landscaping...I even, acting on the theory that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, took over a whole bunch of lilies from my yard that D has admired for years and helped her plant them along the fence line on her side in order to keep the dogs back.

Unfortunately, none of that really worked. And one day last summer, as I was out in the yard by myself, the horrible dogs came running up to the fence, crashed into it as usual....and then I looked down and noticed half a muzzle working its way into our yard.

Because, unbeknownst to anyone, they had started digging under the fence like some Chapo-inspired murderous dog-eating-dog tunnelers, intent on devouring my baby.

We should all probably take a minute and feel really sorry for Opie who was understandably confused and disconcerted when I came storming into the house screaming about honey...and how we were done with honey and how the neighbors could do various things with honey that are definitely obscene and perhaps not all anatomically possible.

“I’m done! Do you hear me!” I shouted. “And I’m done being nice! I’m going over there and I’m letting them know that if those monsters put 1 paw on our property, I will kill them! I mean it, they are DEAD!”

At which time Opie pointed out:

1. We aren’t really well-stocked with the type of weaponry that could take down two dogs of the pit bull persuasion...and he’s right, the only gun we have in this house shoots water.

2. When spiders or other creatures find their way into our house, I often make him take them outside and release them rather than kill them so even if we had a weapon, the odds of me being able to unload into a dog that wasn’t actually attacking, were basically non-existent.

3. Considering the police activity etc. that we’ve witnessed next door and my lack of anything resembling fighting skills, I shouldn’t go confront the neighbors until we could all be certain I wouldn’t start screaming threats I couldn’t possibly back up.

Which, honestly, took about 24 hours. But I finally went over them, talked to them as calmly as I could while pointing out the damage and they’ve tried to keep the dogs in line. It’s been a little better but still miles away from good.

So, why do I even bring this up?

Because someone over there is moving!!!

We’ve seen them loading boxes and furniture, watched the various comings and goings for the last few days and we know SOMEONE is moving. We just don’t know who.

They haven’t had it up for sale, so we assume that EVERYONE isn’t moving but I’m going crazy trying to figure out if we’re finally going to be free of these ferocious Fidos!

D is getting older and has some health issues so she could be moving to a smaller place...but it’s her house and she’s lived there for ages...would she just GIVE it to her granddaughter?

On the other hand,  A&B have been working on the house a ton, spending lots of their own money and putting in lots of labor to fix it up. They’ve put in hardwood floors, redone the bathroom, fixed up the yard...would they just move and leave all that behind?

This has been going on since last Friday and it’s killing me! It’s also killing Opie because I keep texting him at work with fascinating updates about what’s being moved and who’s moving it.

I don’t want to imply that I stand at the window all day, peering into their yard with binoculars like some kind of psycho stalker...but that’s mostly because I don’t need binoculars. I can see the whole yard from the window in our guest room.

Two days ago, the dog house disappeared but not the dogs...are A&B they waiting to take the dogs until they get settled? Are they leaving the dogs with D and she’s decided to let them be indoor dogs so she doesn’t need the dog house?

Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!

Anyway, this is where you all come in. Now that I’ve got my hopes up, I can’t stop thinking about how cool life would be if those dogs lived somewhere else. I don’t want bad things to befall these dogs, I just want them to take their huge, horrible selves somewhere else—preferably someplace where there aren’t small, feisty, mistaken-for-food dogs around.

So, I need you all to take a minute (or more!) tonight to pray or send good thoughts and positive energy that the dogs are finally moving....that we’ll be free of these Horrifying Hounds, these Cursed Canines, these Dastardly Dogs!

If we all focus on it, I know we can make it happen!

National Irish Coffee Day And the Gym Police

I’m a little behind in sharing but we actually celebrated 2 different days last week. First of all, National Irish Coffee Day.

Another crazy easy day to celebrate…but not one that requires much description because it went like this:

Opie came home from work.

We drank Irish Coffee.

The end.

However, I REALLY needed the Irish coffee (not to mention chocolate and copious amounts of wine) due to my celebration of National Women’s Healthy Weight Day on January 24^th.

See, Opie and I joined a gym a few months ago. Because, let’s be honest, due to my devotion to things like Irish coffee, chocolate and red wine, I have not exactly been rocking the “healthy weight" the last few years.  So, we’ve been swimming 3 days a week, lifting weights, and the whole nine yards.

Unfortunately, Thursday, in spite of my dedication to National Women’s Healthy Weight Day, I had my first encounter with the “Gym Police.”

And, before all of you get scared that I committed some heinous violation of gym etiquette and was subsequently escorted from the weight room in disgrace, let me assure you that by “Gym Police” I, of course, mean Overbearing-Annoying-Old-Guy-Who-Appointed-Himself-Personal-Protector-Of-His-Gym-Space.

I have to warn you though, the rest of this blog is not exactly a testament to my emotional maturity.

Here’s what happened:

I went to work out during the day without Opie. And as I was struggling through, deaming about Irish coffee and chocolate, I noticed this older guy about my dad‘s age was walking around, talking to different people. But I didn’t pay any attention to him at first. What I was paying attention to is which machines other people were working on because I know that some people (*cough* Opie *cough*) are very particular about doing things in a specific order. Like if they do the leg curl machine, they immediately want to follow that with the leg extension and if you inadvertently jump in and start extending while they’re curling, you may become the clueless subject of glares and under-the-breath insults.

It is interesting to note that saying things like “Dude, chill, I’ll be done in like 2 minutes.” Does not noticeably alleviate the eye-rolling.

 In any case, I really don’t care about following a certain order, I am more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of gym gal, and I just want to use machines that nobody else was about to jump on. But I guess my meandering caught the old guy’s attention because he came over and said hello.  Ever the paragon of politeness, I took out my headphones and said hello back.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he said. “Are you new?”

“Not really,” I said. “I joined in November.”

Which, if I had been dealing with a normal person, should have been enough...but this was NOT enough for the gym policeman.

He stared at me suspiciously, clearly thinking that I spend my time running around Tulsa sneaking into gym after gym pretending to be a member. "I've never seen you before." he said again.

"That’s probably because I usually check in at the front desk," I explained sweetly. "I wasn’t aware that I also needed to come find you and check in.” And I smiled as if I found this whole situation hilarious.

Note: I did NOT find this hilarious.

“Did you take a long break over Christmas?” He demanded. 

At this point I began to be afraid that, instead of a Self-Appointed Gym Policeman, he was some Past His Prime Player, hoping to relive his glory days, hitting on women half his age at the gym.

"Yes," I said, making a mental note to start wearing the snorkel mask & swim cap I swim in into the weight room. 

What is this? A full face snorkel, of course!
Do I wear it at the gym? Yep, every time I swim.
Clearly, I have evolved from my high school days
when appearance was everything.

Then I said, "My HUSBAND and I have family out of town."

But never fear, he didn't have loving on his mind. His concern was gym space.

"I just hope you're not one of those Six Week Wonders," he said. "You know, the people who show up at the beginning of the year, hog the machines then stop coming."

Which is when I got fed up.

I gave him my best "You're Just Lucky I'm Scared of Prison" stare and, in my most sarcastic voice, said "Considering the warm welcome you're spreading all over the place, I can't imagine why new people wouldn't feel right at home."

And then DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID?

He made my LEAST FAVORITE NOISE IN THE WORLD. That low in the throat “uhhh” sound that indicates the person clearly feels the right to be put out, even when he is completely in the wrong!

It's a wonder I didn't pick up a free weight and hit him right in the nose.

Instead I said "You need to go away now." and, when he started to say something else, I very dramatically held up my headphones and shoved them back in my ears.

In retrospect, not my proudest moment but you know what? He went away.

In any case, since I’m always here for friends and family, I've crafted a few responses for you to use, should you also be new to they gym and encounter a Gym Policeman.

THE ULTRA AGGRESSIVE RESPONSE:

 Old guy "Are you new?"

You "What are you, some kind of freak show? Some bully who thinks he owns the gym? ARE YOU?! BECAUSE YOU BETTER BACK OFF OLD MAN!" Then, of course, threaten him with a knuckle sandwich.

(Be warned, this behavior is likely to result in you being banned from the gym)

THE OBFUSCATION RESPONSE 

 Old guy "Are you new?"

You (in confused voice) Are you serious? Of course, I'm not new. We talked about this YESTERDAY! Are you ok?

THE GRADE SCHOOL RESPONSE

Old guy "Are you new?"

You: I'm not new, you're new!

Old guy: No, I'm not!

You: Are too!

Old guy: Am not!

(This is likely to go on for awhile, only choose this option if you are prepared to go the distance)

THE PREEMPTIVE RESPONSE

Don't wait for the old guy to approach you, storm around the gym, stopping everyone over 40 and demand to know if they're new.

(Be warned, this is another behavior that might get you banned)

  

The most important things to remember, however, is that you shouldn’t let one officious old guy keep you from celebrating your healthy weight goals…and you should ALWAYS have Irish coffee on hand in case they try!

National Cheese Lover's Day

Yesterday was National Cheese Lovers’ Day…which is another day that astounds me because, like Dress Your Pets Day, I can’t believe that we need a whole separate day for this. It’s like when you’re a little kid and you ask your parents why there’s a Mother’s Day and Father’s Day but no Children’s Day. And they say “Every day is children’s day.”

Every day is Cheese Lovers’ Day.

Which makes it really hard to find a way to celebrate – how to take the fabulous deliciousness that is every day cheese and somehow elevate it to celebratory levels?

My first thought was to ask Opie what kind of new and exciting cheese he’d like to try. Then I remembered the last time we were having a serious discussion about cheese. (No, we don’t have frequent conversations about cheese. I mean, yeah, we’re turophiles but we’re not complete freaks about it…we were watching a cooking show and it came up). Anyway, we were talking about cheese and he said he’s always wanted to try head cheese.

HEAD CHEESE?!?!

Which is, I’m horrified to report while holding back vomit, cheese that is actually made from the head of a pig.

It was at this exact moment that Opie was banned from any and all cheese choosing decisions.

Then it hit me:

We have the perfect Celebratory Cheese Accessory: A fondue set!

What’s more fun than fondue? More importantly, how long has our fondue set been hogging up space in the closet without ever being used?

Seven-and-a-half-years, that’s how long!

Clearly it was far past time to put that thing to work!

It was also probably far past time to read the instructions but that has never been my strong suit. Of course in my defense, it wasn’t National Instruction Reading Day.

Anyway, if I had read the instructions, I would have realized that there is some special, fancy-schmancy, fondue fuel that you’re supposed to use in the burner so the pot gets hot enough to melt the cheese. Which means I wouldn’t have had to use a freaking candle to attempt to heat the fondue pot. Which, in turn, means Opie wouldn’t have to stare at it skeptically and demand “Is that going to work?” And I wouldn’t have had to get all defensive and insist that this was a perfectly acceptable substitute source of heat.

But, most importantly, I wouldn’t have had to later admit that Opie was right and the candle really wasn’t a perfectly acceptable substitute source of heat. And I wouldn’t have had to pretend that it was normal to get the fondue ready on the stovetop then dump it unceremoniously into the fondue pot and count on the candle to keep it warm.

Which also didn’t really work.

But we ate it with bread, charcuterie and crudité…mostly because I really like to say charcuterie and crudité. And it honestly tasted pretty good.

 I mean, yes, it was a little challenging to dip things into the pot without them falling apart…And, yes, I did think about germs and watched to make sure Opie wasn’t sticking the fondue fork into his mouth and then dipping it back in the pot. And, yes, there was a pretty narrow window between “so hot it scorches the top of your mouth” and “hardening into chunks of cheese because this candle is flipping useless” but it was a tasty window. And that’s what’s important on National Cheese Lover’s Day.

Plus, we had lots of wine to help wash it down.

Anyway, in honor of this fabulous day, I’d love to share my fondue recipe (which can be made in a fondue pot OR on the stovetop and dumped into the fondue pot!) but here’s the thing about recipes: I’m not actually that good at following them. And, unlike English Toffee Day, I didn’t have a handy-dandy precise one written by my mom. Instead, I looked up a bunch of fondue recipes online, put a couple of them together, didn’t exactly measure, and cooked it until I thought it looked ready.  So, it probably won’t help much, but here’s my “recipe.”

White Wine (some, maybe a cup? Maybe more, who measures wine?!)

Swiss Cheese (lots – at least 8 oz)

Smoked Gouda (lots – at least 8 oz)

Nutmeg (pinch)

Pepper (dash)

Garlic powder (dash)

Corn Starch (honestly, no clue. I put in a pinch every time I added a handful of cheese to keep it from clumping)

Heat wine first until it is simmering and slightly bubbling. Shred cheese while wine is heating then fling into pot with reckless abandon, stirring constantly and adding pinches of cornstarch, until it’s the texture and consistency you like. Add nutmeg, pepper, garlic powder and other spices until you like the taste.

Serve with sliced vegetables but for the love of heaven call them crudité!

Happy National Cheese Lovers’ Day everyone!

National Dress Your Pet Day

I know I’ve been a little overwhelming with the posts lately and I’m sure this kind of momentum won’t continue but today is National Dress Your Pet Day!

Seriously, the easiest possible holiday to celebrate here at The Yates Estates, where pretty much every day is dress your pet day.

And I know some people say that this is crazy behavior. That there is something very disturbing about dressing your dog up as if she is a small child. But I suspect this is like those people who claim they don’t like chocolate when the truth is they’re clearly just saying this out of some twisted loyalty to the idea healthy eating because everyone knows chocolate is the most amazing substance on the planet. And maybe the universe.

But I digress, my point is dressing dogs is a universally accepted form of dedicated pet care.

Especially when you have a dog who loves dressing up. I mean, this is a dog who knows her personal style! She's even rocking the supermodel head tilt!

I’ll be honest, Opie is one of those people who pretends not to appreciate Sassy's amazing sense of fashion. He also acts like Bub  should never get dressed up, like it’s somehow beneath his dignity, when I think these pictures make it pretty clear that Bub is thrilled right down to the ground with his hat collection:

But when I texted Opie today, in a spirit of marital solidarity, to ask him what he thought Bub should wear on National Dress Your Pet Day he rather curtly responded “Nothing.” Ever the educator, I explained that this showed a rather deep-seeded misunderstanding of the holiday.

At this point he texted some ridiculous blather about being at work and not having time for a discussion of Doggy Dressing, that he wasn't interested in the latest trends of Hound Dog Haute Couture, that he was frustrated with the Fixation on Fido Fashion.

Ok, he may not have actually said all that but I was too busy to really pay attention because, as I mentioned, it’s National Dress Your Pet Day and I had a photo shoot to arrange.

It is interesting to note that I have emailed these pics to Opie suggesting that these dogs might have a future in modeling and have thus far not received a reply...guess he's really busy today!

Anyway, Happy National Dress Your Pet Day everyone -- if you dressed your pet today, please share them in the comments or tag me on Facebook or Twitter!

National Kiss a Ginger Day

So today is National Kiss A Ginger Day and in honor of this whole decision to celebrate rather than stress about my upcoming surgery, I bought a strawberry blonde wig and surprised Opie with it Friday night.

"Is that a wig?" He demanded. "Or did you do that FOR REAL?!" Which, honestly, didn't sound like he was eager for me to be a ginger.

"Tomorrow is Kiss a Ginger Day!"  I told him. "I got it so you could Kiss a Freaking Ginger for the love of God!"

At which point he--much to his regret--pointed out that I am supposed to be celebrating these days not him so shouldn't I be the one kissing a ginger?

I really hate it when he's right...though not as much as he did because today (after a few beers to lower his inhibitions) I slapped the strawberry blonde wig on his head:

Hands off, ladies, he's all mine!

And then I had to be quick because, good sport that he usually is, he wasn't really feeling the wig.

It's amazing what a man will subject himself to for love...and beer.

But I kissed my ginger!

National English Toffee Day

One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to start writing on this blog again. I got so focused on my Etsy Shop that I only wrote 4 posts last year! And I even came up with a new theme to keep me motivated: A Year of Living Joyously – Celebrating all the wacky but fun national days and holidays that permeate our calendar.

I was planning to jump right in on Jan 1st with National Bloody Mary Day, but to be honest, it’s been a rough start to the year.

To make a long, upsetting story short, I have skin cancer again.

Some of you may remember the last time I had skin cancer, back in 2004. And if you do, you probably remember that I didn’t handle it well.  Not because it was life-threatening or anything so serious but because the cancer was on my face and I made one of the colossal blunders:

I researched skin cancer on the Internet.

And the Internet, surprisingly, is NOT filled with pictures of people who come out of skin cancer surgery looking like supermodels. The Internet tends to focus on more shocking imagery and bombards the innocent searcher with photos of people who have had their noses removed.

If you are one of the people that I called after that unfortunate research decision, I should probably take this time to apologize again for screaming “Mutilating Disfigurement!” and hanging up. I’m sure that was a little disconcerting for you.

In any case, the cancer is back. And, although it's still not life threatening, it's on my face again in 2 different spots. Plus it’s worse than it was last time. And, once again, I'm not handling it all that well. Especially this week when I found out I have to have a horrible procedure known as a "forehead flap." I actually can’t bear to get into too many of the details now but trust me when I say you should NOT Google “Forehead flap" unless you’re prepared for some really horrifying imagery that might cause you to call your family and friends screaming about mutilating disfigurement.

We should all probably take a moment to feel a little sorry for Opie who can’t just hang up and get away from the disfigurement shouting and is instead forced to answer questions like “Be honest, do you think I’m going to look more like a troll or a zombie?” and “Are you still going to love me when I’m wandering around here WITHOUT A NOSE?!”

So, as you can see, I haven’t exactly been in a blog-writing mood.

But as luck would have it, today January 8^th is National English Toffee Day. And my mom makes the absolute best English Toffee in the world.

I make her recipe sometimes and it’s good when I do it but not as good as hers. I’m not so secretly convinced that this is because she hasn’t given me the REAL recipe. I think that at some point she sneaks a healthy dose of black tar heroin into the mix and that’s why I can’t stop eating it. Once, years ago, she gave me this huge container of her homemade deliciousness to take home after Thanksgiving, so I could serve it at a Christmas party. But it didn't make it to the party. In fact, it didn't even survive November. My friend Eric and I ate through the entire batch in one afternoon…and I mean we chowed on it until we were lying on the couch, sick to our stomachs, muttering “This is my last piece, I mean it this time."

It’s probably hard to see the connection between toffee and skin cancer. And I admit it is a bit tenuous until you realize that I've been reading back through my old emails and blog posts from the last time I had skin cancer. I was single then and my mom was with me through it all (and you can see how amazing she was here) A few minutes after that, I saw something online about it being English Toffee Day. Which made me think of my resolution...I decided that I’m going to try to be strong too.  The surgery isn't until March and in the meantime, I’m going to celebrate all the things I can and laugh as much as possible…I'm probably still going to bombard Opie with awkward questions and brief bouts of hysteria but I'm also going to shove English Toffee in my face with reckless abandon.

So, in the spirit of this determination and in honor of National English Toffee Day, here is my mom’s recipe for English Toffee (minus the black tar heroin!)

Ingredients:

2 sticks of salted butter

1 cup sugar

2 tablespoons of water

½ tsp. baking soda

1 tsp vanilla

3 Hershey Bars

Put the butter, sugar and water in a saucepan and slowly bring to a boil over low to medium heat. Stir often until the mixture reaches the hard crack stage (approximately 300 degrees). Remove from heat an stir in baking soda and vanilla (be careful as this sometimes splatters). Pour into a cake pan –use a thin sheet cake for thinner pieces or an 9x13 for thicker.  Put the candy bars on top of the candy while it’s still hot and spread to cover.

It won't be as good as when my mom makes it but I bet it's still pretty good!

x