Best in Show, brought to you by Kibbles and Bits.
Welcome sports fans, and animal lovers alike, to the 10th annual Home Town Library Dog Show. We are pleased to be reporting LIVE from the show ring! The crowd and contestants are abuzz with rumors of a rookie in our midst. Get familiar with his name fans, you will be hearing it often in show rings for years to come. He is the strangely named, The Son Huckablog. He is already renowned for his cuteness, and fearless attitude toward all the dogs.
While new, his journey here has not been without trial. He had originally hoped to show the dog, which he also owns, Katydid It Huckablog. Sadly, it was decided without a barrel full of Puppy Ritalin she would be unable to compete because of her, how shall we put this kindly, robust personality. A last minute switch to Sassafras Huckablog, the elderly dog of The Son’s Gigi and Pappaw, is keeping The Son in the competition. Other tribulations have plagued the House of Huckablog, it seems that The Son’s very own Mama, Hey You Huckablog, came down with a case of “so tired, I need a vacation”, just this week. The Rookie again had Gigi and Pappaw come to the rescue. They brought The Son to their lush compound for two days of rigorous training. It is rumored these training exercises included the ever controversial tractor rides and sandbox playing method. I guess we will just have to wait and see how effective all that training was.
Oh, ladies and gentleman, look who has just arrived here on the dog show premises; it is that rookie we were just discussing, The Son! He appears to be wearing a heartachingly adorable plaid overall and is matched by Sassafras (oh note from the owner, she prefers to be called Sassy). Sassy is looking quite winsome, and nowhere near her 77 dog years old. The Son and Sassy go straight to check out this year’s current favorite, the yellow lab, Bonkers. Yes folks, this competition will be fierce.
The rookie and his dog engage in a last minute visualization exercise.
Aw, look at that fans, the pug has handily won the crocodile hunter class. He will be competing against The Son again in that most important of arenas, the cutest dog class.
It is the moment for which we all have been waiting. The Son Huckablog and the geriatric Sassy take to the ring. They are both showing signs of extreme concentration as they begin to circle the ring.
In a unprecedented move, The Son tries to flirt with the judges. Oh, that is a risky move. Will it pay off? Now might be a good time to mention the judges panel is made up entirely of female librarians. Yes, The Son may just know exactly what he is doing.
Here the rookie goes, making his final lap around the show ring.
What a competition. The judges have asked a handful of competitors to line up for a final looksee. The Son brings with him his biggest fan, his Mama. He gives a final wave to the judge’s dais. Sassy seems to be distracted, or is trash-talking the other competitors. One would hope not, that, and rear-end sniffing could get her and The Son disqualified.
Now is the tense time. The competitors go back to their respective pits to await the announcement of the winners. We can see from here that Coach Pappaw Huckablog is mentally tallying other dogs’ scores to see how the Son ranks. Ssssh, here come the announcements. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, we are ready to announce the winners.
The winner of the Cutest Dog class is first-time handler, The Son Huckablog, showing Sassafras. Would you care to make an acceptance speech young man?” “You like me! You really like me!” Oh, listen to that crowd roar!
What a lovely gold cup and blue ribbon. This organization has spared no expense. The Son is making his way over to the winner’s circle to have his first true experience with the dog show paparazzi.
What a day, what a day. The Son and Sassy both look hot and worn out. It is time for a celebratory bowl and sippy cup of champagne, or water, whichever.
There goes an amazing competitor. I can’t wait to see what they bring to the show in years to come.
Dear Husband: 3,680,640 minutes ago
3,680,640 minutes ago I went on my very first, and very last, blind date. I have known and loved your smile for 3,680,640 minutes. 3,680,640 minutes ago I saw you standing in our friend’s living room wearing stone washed jeans (3,680,640 minutes ago does not equal the 80’s!), a faded t-shirt, and I swear to all that is holy, house shoes. You needed a haircut so badly that you were a week away from a mullet. My first impression? You seemed incredibly nice and incredibly shy.
3,690,720 minutes ago, I whined to Ang (one of my two roommates at the time) I had not been on a date in forever. I said “Come on, set me up with one of Joe’s friends.” (Joe was her then fiance, now husband of 6, I think, years)
“But, Hey You, all of Joe’s friends are computer geeks.”
“That is okay! I love computer geeks! Plus, I just want a nice summer fling, nothing serious.”
Meanwhile across town that very night you said, “Joe, does Ang have any cute friends?”
“Hmm, well Ang does live with these two girls both named Hey You. You might like the short one.”
“Why don’t you get Ang to set us up on a double date. Maybe we could go see the opening of the new Planet of the Apes.”
She did. Everyone wanted to see that dumbass movie but me, and so I said I would go as long as I at least got some free chocolate out of the deal. 3,680,620 minutes ago, we sat down at a little diner and you watched me kill a chocolate milkshake. You had said, “Nothing, thanks.” (What was up with that?) to the waitress. She rolled her eyes at the thought of the monster tip yet to come. All I can say is thank God Ang and Joe were there because if it had just been the two of us, we would have sat in silence all night, you were so shy.
We sat in the backseat of Ang’s blue Ford Taurus on the way to the theater, and you and Joe compared notes about some boring computer something. I would have written the night off as a complete waste of time, but you were just so damn cute, bad hair, house shoes and all. 3,680,600 minutes ago we sat next to each other during one of the worst movies ever forced upon the public. I sighed, and kept asking what time it was. You whispered back politely. At one point I thought you were having a seizure because you suddenly leaned back really hard in an effort to keep the brat behind you from kicking the seat. (You would NEVER do that now, you would turn around and smile, and think about when you could bring your son to watch boy movies with you instead of your bored wife). I asked if you were okay, and you turned red and mumbled something about stupid kids. After the movie, I was dropped off first, and waited for Ang to call and tell me what you thought about me. Apparently you thought I was “cute.” and “smart.” and “very Republican.” I thought you were “cute.” and “definitely a computer nerd.”
You know, when I write it all out like this it is kind of shocking we ever had a second date. But we did. I am glad you turned out to be more than a fling. Either that, or this is the longest summer fling in history, good thing we have global warming right! Every single minute, all 3,680,6– oh, lets say 50– minutes I have known you has been a blessing. We may have gone in blind, but it is obvious someone much wiser, and more powerful was looking out for us.
I love you.
The Wife
Taken a year later, one of our engagement pictures.
Filed under The Husband | Comments (7)Safety or Paranoia?
We took a little road trip this weekend, and The Son and I were alone in theHuckablazer for a couple of hours. About fifteen miles past the middle of nowhere, I looked in the rearview mirror hoping to see my peacefully napping baby. He was not strapped in his seat! My head snaps around and he is STANDING IN THE FLOORBOARD behind me. The little monkey has figured out how to unsnap his friggin’ car seat.
When he outgrew his infant car seat a year ago we returned to Consumer Reports and the National Insurance reviews to find the safest car seat we could buy. Remember how I told you we were paranoid parents? Yeah….I was serious. Anyway, this is what had the top scores. We let The Neighbors test drive theirs (they had the same thing in gray already for H), while The Son gained that extra pound and a half. When they loved it, we went ahead a bought one as well. Doesn’t it look like he could go into space in this seat?
The Son has always loved his car seat, and with the exception of a couple of loudly memorable long trips, he just talks happily the whole way to wherever it is we are going.
Needless to say, this whole Iamnotgoingtostayhereevenifyoustrapmein! attitude is not a welcome development. I pulled over at the nearest exit (ten miles ’til Nothing), and re-strapped him in with a stern lecture and threat to Thomas the Tank Engine. Back on the road, when he was again safe, I realized five minutes earlier when my darling was not strapped into his pricey anti-worry device, my heart was in my throat, and I was seriously regretting the tapering off my meds. But, you know what? That is not a new interstate. Toddlers are certainly not a new invention, so why is it our generation needs car seats made with “head and torso safety wings”? A quick trip to Google lead me to this:
The first toddler car seat. There is not even a belt on it, it exists solely to catapult your child through the windshield. Er, let them see where they are going to avoid car sickness. If car seats have come this far in the last 60 years, imagine what my grandchildren will be riding around in. A hovering bubble maybe? What other baby products do we use of which our grandparents could never have dreamed? My Anglecare monitor, which would beep if he stopped breathing, comes to mind, as does that double barreled electric breast pump. What do you think?
Filed under The Son, Uncategorized | Comments (5)Stupid Cellular Security Blanket.
When you are married to a techno geek you can’t just get a new cell phone, oh, no. You must first read all of the reviews, reports, and price check. This usually takes about…..oh, six months or so. (This is where you roll your eyes and say Hey You acts like a stupid girl) Two years ago when it was time to upgrade phones, I wanted the Pink Razor. It was in the store, it was a decent price, and most importantly, it was pretty. It matched my makeup bag, and the inside of my purse would be cute. Since it would be pink, we would never pick up the wrong phone by mistake. The Husband said it was a crappy phone, and we were not getting one. After many reviews and discussions that ended with me pointing at our old phones being held together with duct tape, the KRZR K1 (see above) was the phone that was deemed worthy for both of the Huckablogs.
They only came in the above blue, and I whined. Immediately we started getting our phones mixed up. He was avoiding Heartless Cellular Company on my phone, and I was avoiding Batsh!t crazy Ju–, er boss lady, on his. I whined some more. I wanted to go to one of those kiosks in the mall and get a skin thingy for my phone so it would be pretty, but no, apparently those are somehow bad for phones. I whined some more. For Christmas last year The Husband put in my stocking a hot pink metal body for my phone he had found from Hong Kong or someplace. It required him to completely rebuild my phone to put it in the new body, thusly making our phone insurance NULL and VOID. I am sure you can pretty much see where this is going.
My phone got dropped yesterday (anybody care to guess who did that?). The one teeny tiny non-metal piece snapped. The Husband took it apart and spent a good hour with his soldering iron last night trying to make it last until it is time to upgrade in the fall. I, of course, threw away the old ugly blue case months ago in one of my thorough, if infrequent, cleaning sprees. The Husband has ordered a piece to fix it, but it will take a couple of weeks to make it here from Thai Pae, or Phnom Penh, or wherever he ordered it from. I am at a loss without my phone, I might miss important calls! About play dates, or um, other important stuff I do. And the camera! I actually use my camera phone, what kind of world is this where I can not take that millionth picture of The Son on the slide?
Long story short: phone dead, email or call the house (for those who have the number) instead. Don’t expect me to call you, because every single number of every single person I know is in that pile of pink and screws. I had to write down my home phone number to remember it today. What did people do without their cellular security blankets back in the day?
Filed under Boy is my face red, Soap box | Comments (8)Frid–Er, Wednesday’s Read it or Rant: Gods Behaving Badly
“Hey You, this is your conscience posting. Remember that whole Read it or Rant thing? Weren’t you going to like post every Friday or something? I seem to remember you thinking you were going to post an insightful book review every single week. You were going to have readers flocking to your blog to quench the thirst they had for literary genius. So, uh, what happened?”
Stupid conscience. Don’t I do enough for you already? Yes, I know, I have been a total slacker on the whole Read it or Rant thing. The perfectionist side of me just has a real problem reviewing drivel, and for the most part? That is all I have read lately. Trashy bodice rippers, and my magazines, (Cookie, Parents, Marie Claire, New Beginnings, and whatever MMIL gives me when she is done for those of you wondering.) Maybe my brain thinks it is still in the sixth grade. During summer vacation I read The Babysitter’s Club, and Sweet Valley Twins, and hit it hard in the fall with To Kill a Mockingbird, and Beowulf.
To make up for it, I am inviting all of you to write reviews and then send them to me. “Good Lord, Hey You, can’t you even write your own damn blog anymore?” (Do you think my conscience would take the Lord’s name in vain? Say Damn? I don’t think so either. This must be someone else’s conscience, probably JHJ’s.) Anyway, I get GOBS of email, so make sure you put “Read it or Rant” in the subject line. Maybe I will actually get around to reading something else sometime soon, but in the mean time, Ang (who I can’t link to because she has no blog, get on that Ang!) has graciously agreed (actually it was her idea, but I plan on taking credit for it just like the reviews! Bwhaha!) to review something I have on my to read list already, Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. Take it away Ang.
This book was loaned to me by a good friend when I visited a few weeks ago. Because I was already in the throes of 2-3 books at that time, it was a while before I got a chance to read this one. It was worth the wait.
Gods Behaving Badly is about ancient Greek gods living in modern-day London. They are all sharing a house and living somewhat normal lives. Artemis (dog-walker), Aphrodite (phone sex operator), Apollo (TV psychic, along with the help of his sibyls), and the others are cramped into a tiny, filthy house and are finding that their powers are waning. Athena (scientist) is trying to find ways for the gods to regain their powers, but, like most brilliant minds, she is unable to adequately communicate her findings to her fellow gods. Apollo falls into unrequited love with the housekeeper, and her would-be boyfriend is none too pleased with the situation. Not to ruin the book for anyone who might actually want to read it, a catastrophic event occurs, the Underworld is involved, and an unlikely hero emerges.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It was smart and funny, and the hero and heroine are so cute you just want them to kiss already. It also gave me a bit of a refresher course in Greek mythology. I giggled throughout the entire thing, and it only took me a few days to finish it (granted, I’m not working and seem to have a lot of free time on my hands). If, however, you have delicate sensibilities, you may want to pass on this book. It freely used the f-word, and contained a few intimate proceedings. But, if you can overlook that (which I can, seeing as Stephen King is my favorite author and he oh-so-freely uses the f-word) the characters are lovable and the dialogue is hilarious. All in all, two enthusiastic thumbs up! A good summer read.
Thanks Ang! It will stay on my to read list.
Filed under Friends-All three of them, Read it or Rant | Comments OffThe Baby Question
The Son will be two at the end of August. We are getting a lot of the “So when is The Son going to get a little sister?” questions. What is that all about? Is The Son not as cute as he used to be? I think it is because he is so darling that people want us to produce as many as we can.
Before The Son was born I only wanted one child, The Husband wanted two, four years apart (The same distance in age as his brother and him). He said that as soon as The Son was fully potty trained that he wanted to have another one. Now The Husband is starting to seriously think that The Son is plenty, our family feels great just as it is. He is not so sure that he wants me to make him an appointment for a vasectomy, but he is open to the idea in theory. When I was in the middle of PPD hell, I was confident that I was NEVER doing this again. But now…..I kinda have baby fever. I have gotten to hold a few lately, and ooohh the smell! The Son does not smell like that any more. Instead of breast milk and lotion, he smells like cheese and dirt. He is just growing up so fast. Talking in sentences, eating with utensils (he did pretty well with CHOPSTICKS last night.) peeing in the potty, asking for his cup (rarely) over nursing, and of course there is this.
I hate that he is out of his crib so early. He still does not sleep through the night, but he will say “Boat bed now, Mama.”
I would not expect a big announcement from The Huckablogs anytime soon….but we do think about it a lot. We still toss around names (Micah, Elijah, or Simon for a boy, Ruth, Martha, or Elizabeth for a girl), I still tell myself what I would do differently with a second baby (arms reach co-sleeper instead of bassinet, a whole lot more of the sling and a whole lot less, if any, swing and bouncy seat, cloth diapers, ((crunchy AP things I guess)). I guess the answer to the baby question is **shoulder shrug**. If we did have another kid how could we possibly love them as much as we do our little monkey?
I would hate to have this happen to our second born.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, Parenting for Dummies, The Son | Comments (8)The difference of a decade.
Today is The Husband’s birthday! Happy Birthday Darling Husband! His age now has a zero at the end of it. Since he will always and forever be older than me, it is my DUTY as a good wife to tease him about being elderly. We invited some friends over for a small dinner party on Saturday night. The theme was Over the Hill and everyone (babies and toddlers included) came wearing black. The Husband wore a Hawaiian print shirt.
There were so many candles we had to take down the smoke detector. Really!
When I picked up the cake it said, “The Husband has one foot in the graves.” You can see where I made them take the extra S off. It could have been worse I guess.
I put a black scarf on the mailbox and spray painted an old, ugly wreath for the front door. The blue sign lives there all the time, it says “No Solicitors, Sleeping Baby. We do not want to buy anything, and we are happy with our religion.”
I am positively allergic to plastic cutlery and paper plates, so we just smooshed our dining table, a card table and The Son’s red table all together so we could avoid any one feeling like they were at the kid’s table. Um, except the kids. I used scarves I already had and candles left over from Halloween for table decorations, and for the kids I used white paper so they could color if they got bored. It looked pretty good and I spent exactly zero dollars on decorations.
Silk calla lilies and more black scarves over the china cabinet and fireplace, and a few black and silver balloons got the point across. We had beef brisket, potatoes, a huge summery salad and fresh rolls ( I was going for yummy funeral food), oh, and birthday cake. All in all it was a lovely, inexpensive party for my Darling Old Husband.
Last night after he was asleep I wrote and hid notes all over the house. My favorites were, in the toilet paper “Did you have too much prune juice?” In his shoes, “We should probably trade these in for some S.A.S.” In his cell phone, “Will you tell us again what phones were like when you were a kid?” I got a cane for about a dollar, and set that next to his bedside table with a note that said, “This should help with all of those old man aches and pains.” He laughed at each one as he found them, and hopefully is not planning a year and a half in advance for when I am the same age.
Filed under The Husband | Comments (5)