Things we do for love
What?
Now keep in mind, the vet and I are tight, partly because I see him as much as my husband.
As a result, I think he feels comfortable delivering a diagnosis in a much more colorful manner.
Still, on this day my eyes popped out of my head.
See, Charlie has a penis infection.
Apparently picked it up after we boarded him for a few days as we were on vacation. Some have accused my dog of promiscuity others just say he’s dirty. Regardless, the antibiotics prescribed caused a messy side effect. So, we had to take a different route, a more invasive route.
Unfortunately it was a very personal route for dear Chuck and one that I swear I’d never take after repeatedly trying (and failing) to express Chuck’s anal glands.
Now keep in mind, my dog and I are tight, partly because I love him as much as my husband. I do what I gotta do to keep him healthy.
Anyway, long story short, Dr. Clayton gave me a very interesting explanation about Charlie’s equipment and how I was to flush his sheath with a syringe and then administer the healing ointment.
Wow!
Dr. Clayton’s response: “Come on you have boys” as he pointed to Charlie hiding under the exam table and Grissom trying to flee the room entirely.
He was right. I got over my initial shock and listened attentively on how to douche my dog.
After five days of this, I’m quite impressed with my medical skill. Like a service man at Jiffy Lube, I just get under there and give ole Charlie his tune up and off we go about our business. I don’t even wear my latex gloves anymore.
Friday is the last day of treatment and what I am most thankful for is that I have a husband who didn’t so much as wince when I told him that we were staying home on New Year’s Eve to douche our dog!
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Say Cheers We’ve Got Ears
Happy holidays everyone!
Yes, my blog, as you can tell has been placed on the back burner while I pursue other opportunities. Other opportunities include…well…aside from a few Indianapolis Star stories … um … nothing!
Let’s see, in my time away from the computer I accomplished a few random trips to the gym, a handful of tried and failed recipes and entirely too much time reading other authors memoirs instead of finishing my own.
That said, I promised to write and/or blog today. The topic was easy to pick and relevant.
We took our first trip to Walt Disney World last week, so I thought it imperative to pass on the good and the bad of our experience while visiting this 30,000-acre paradoxical property they call the Magic Kingdom where grown-ups dress like children and children wield all the power.
Top 5 Best Moments
1. Feeling Grissom’s entire body convulse with excitement when Disney’s high-tech fireworks exploded overhead.
2. Hearing Grissom cackle on the flying Dumbo ride at the same time Matt prayed for his safety.
3. Watching my 2-year-old make putts that grown men couldn’t make at Fantasia Gardens
4. Observing the most fashion conscience man I know, my husband, buying T-shirts from the Epcot gift shop.
5. Realizing that even though it’s Disney, it’s the little things that still excite my child … like fire hydrants!
Top 5 Worst Moments
1. Grissom returning home with a viral rash on his legs. I suppose I should be happy it isn’t bed bug related.
2. Not remembering that sugar free gummies, despite their Goofy, Mickey and Minnie shape, still contain Xylitol, which still has a laxative affect. Sorry Goose!
3. Depantsing Goose, who in true fratastic fashion was forced to pee in his sippy cup on the resort bus after its driver refused to let us off for an emergency stop.
4. Taking a 30-minute round-a-bout monorail ride to the Magic Kingdom after realizing our resort was a 5-minute walk!
5. Admitting to myself that Goose has a better chance of remembering this blog post than his first trip to Disney.
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What do Justin Bieber and Jeff Gordon have in common?
Like fine wine, Jeff Gordon only gets better with age.
The last race before the Chase is this weekend and I’m finally starting to pay close attention to the competition namely because Gordon is a championship contender.
Still, I never considered myself a fan, because I covered the sport. You remain objective. Now I mainly sit on my couch and watch as opposed to sitting in the media center and writing. As a result of that fact, I can now be a fan.
So what’s the answer to NASCAR’s most popular question among the avid fan base … Who’s your driver?
Gordon.
In one of my early columns, circa 2008, I wrote a super estrogen-laced piece on the fashionable evolution of Gordon, a semi-Hoosier who shed his 1970s mustache and mullet for Park Avenue and Fashion Week.
What? How does that happen?
Talent, fame and fortune. More fame and more fortune. Oh and a supermodel wife helps too.
Today in Richmond, Gordon had some entertaining things so say about the subject. After all these years, he’s still evolving.
Reporter: Can you talk about the contrast of going from Fashion Week to the race track?
Gordon: “Yesterday was a crazy day for me I must say. I left in the morning to go do two appearances one here in Richmond to kick off a food driver for Drive to End Hunger around Richmond and the Virginia are and their food bank and then I went to AARP headquarters in Washington DC and spent some time with the team there … then my lovely wife who loves fashion asked me a few weeks ago if I would make a trip up to New York. I told her it was absolutely impossible to do and she said please and I can’t say no to her so I ended up going up there. I didn’t know I was going to meet the Bieb (Justin Bieber). I don’t know what is was like to be in close proximity to the Beatles back in the day but that was about the only thing I could think of because we showed up at the Dolce and Gabbana store and it was like a rock concert for teenage girls. It was unbelievable. It was quite an experience. Then we can back here and are ready to race. Yes it was quite a day and definitely …. I mean this week, you look at the win on Tuesday, the White House on Wednesday, the food driver and fashion week and now I’m back at the race track. So yeah, my head is still spinning.”
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She’s here!
What number would you like to see Danica Patrick drive in the Sprint Cup Series? Her team owner drives the 14 in honor of his racing hero.
If you don’t follow NASCAR, now is a good time to start.
Why?
Because she’s officially here! Officially all NASCAR all the time.
Rumors have swirled for some time now, but today Danica Patrick announced that she is going to compete in NASCAR’s Nationwide Series full time in 2012 along with a partial schedule in NASCAR’s Sprint Cup Series with Stewart Haas Racing.
The number for the Cup car has yet to be determined.
To understand how big this is, read the statement below from NASCAR President Brian France. In the dozens of driver announcements I’ve witnessed, never has the president of the sport issued such a statement.
“We are pleased Danica Patrick has chosen to race full time in NASCAR in 2012. She has demonstrated a strong desire to compete and NASCAR provides the best opportunity to race against the top drivers in the world with the largest and most loyal fan base in motorsports on a week-to-week basis. Danica has shown solid improvement in NASCAR and we believe her decision to run full time in the NASCAR Nationwide Series, with additional races in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series, will be exciting for our fans and a great challenge for her.”
Kind of wordy and overly official but you get the point.
Why am I excited?
Tony Stewart and Danica Patrick on the same team. Wow, let the show begin. Together, I bet they put off more attitude than a full season of the Housewives of Hotlanta. Who gon’ check me boo? I can just hear it now.
Seriously, I see these two getting along really well and becoming a great big pain in the ass for the rest of the field. Open wheelers unite.
Also, why am I excited?
Danica Patrick signing her full-time deal for NASCAR in 2012.
The footwear. Did you see the platforms this chick had on during the announcement? I think they were Louboutin. Two words: Fierce and yellow! With those on, she’s definitely taller than A.J. Allmendinger. Just saying.
Last, why am I excited?
It’s a break in the monotony ladies and gentlemen. This will be the punch in the arm NASCAR has needed to restart the growth it had enjoyed early in the 2000s. Also, this is finally a female racer with legitimate support and sponsor dollars. Go Daddy.com, JR Motorsports and Stewart will go the distance for her.
Can’t wait for next season.
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The Glen never fails to entertain; Biffle needs backup
Watkins Glen International
What is it about Watkins Glen International that produces some of the most comical fights between race car drivers?
Recall Sam Hornish Jr. and Tony Kanaan in 2007. Hornish’s father jumped in the mix and caused a very Major League Baseball style fight right there on the start-finish line.
Kevin Harvick said during a live broadcast that he was going to kick Juan Pablo Montoya’s ass after their shoving match in 2007. And what about Tony Stewart and Jeff Gordon in 2000 behind the haulers? No actual contact was made in this one but very pointed threats nonetheless. At least the helmets were off. So there’s always something good going on at The Glen.
Today’s NASCAR Sprint Cup Series rain-delayed race was no exception. The players? Ringer Boris Said and regular Greg Biffle.
Apparently Biffle approached Said’s No. 51 Chevrolet in the garage while the window net was still up. A scuffle ensued between their respective crews and then the I-wear-braces-Biff got out of the car. Maybe he got his braces off, I wouldn’t know.
Anyway, this is what Said had to say about that … that, being some rough racing handed down by Biffle during the race. You should know these two drivers have a history.
“He is the most unprofessional little scaredy cat I’ve ever seen in my life. He wouldn’t even fight me like a man after. So, if someone texts me his address, I’ll go see him Wednesday at his house and show him what he really needs. He needs a whooping and I’m going to give it to him. He was flipping me off, giving me the finger. Totally unprofessional. Two laps down. I mean he is a chump.”
And Said keeps going ladies and gentlemen.
Don't mess with the Biff. He's got like 10 dogs and this one in the pink collar looks mean! And don't forget his wife is a scrapper. Just ask Eva Busch.
“I went over there to go talk to him. He wouldn’t even let me get out of the car. He comes over and throws a few little baby punches and then when I get out, he runs away and hides behind some big guys. But, he won’t hide from me long. I’ll find him. I won’t settle it out on the track. It’s not right to wreck cars. But he’ll show up at a race with a black eye one of these days. I’ll see him somewhere.”
Seriously? Outrageous.
Better get Said the number to Stewart’s anger management coach. I’m “scaredy” for The Biff.
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Weekend in Pictures
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- Had dinner with Goose on Friday at Trader’s Point Creamery. Saw a mom cow in labor, visited the milking parlor and Goose had ice cream for dinner. The real treat was playing ring-around-the-rosie with Poppy Dixon, little redhead daughter of racer Scott Dixon.
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- Some of the Brown Swiss herd with babies heading out to pasture.
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- Goose on the farm looking for a tractor. Not interested in the animals, only machinery.
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- Saturday Goose interviewed Claire B. Lang of Sirius Satellite Radio. Worked with Claire covering NASCAR, one of the hardest working women I know.
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- On Sunday, Rachel Rizzuto and I pose for a picture and then we both gripe about how we moms are never in any of the family photos because we’re the ones ALWAYS taking the photos. It’s true. If I want to be in a picture, I have to ask a stranger to take it.
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- Goose playing on the phone while Rizzutos eat pizza and watch movie in the background.
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Goose hits the big rigs
Today was big. Today was Touch a Truck.
And no that is not code for what the lot lizards do at the Flying J, it was just the best name Carmel Parks and Recreation could come up with I guess.
Touch a Truck is a day for the young public to converge and marvel at massive machinery — cement mixers, cranes, skid steers, fire trucks, ambulances — all parked in a circle behind Carmel High School’s stadium.
Posing for a quick photo before he heads out on his next job; pouring new sidewalks in Carmel
Gates opened at 10 a.m. The Goose was loose at 9:50 a.m. He broke out of line and once he saw the helicopter and cement mixer, there was no turning back. I think he said, “screw the line mom, I’m gone” and took off running tiptoe past the registration desk.
Fortunate for him, I too suck at waiting in line. Last Christmas at the Children’s Museum I took him to see Santa but instead of standing in line I just let him “accidentally” run under the velvet rope for 40 seconds, or long enough to see that yes he was going to cry if I had plopped him down on the bearded man’s lap. I saved us both a lot of time and tears.
Back at the stadium, I caught up to my kid and he was already half inside an Indy Car. It was Danica Patrick’s show car, which made me laugh considering she’s moving to NASCAR full time. Pissed me off considering its Brickyard weekend and there was no stock car on the lot.
Whatever, this was Touch a Truck. We had bigger things to see.
At the cement truck, a nice man hoisted Goose right into the cab. Never lock’em up in front of one of these things because if the driver has to break hard then you might get cement dumped on the roof of your car. That’s what the man said.
Carmel’s police and fire departments were next on our list.
I don’t think Goose noticed the police officer who propped him onto his motorcycle
I have a sucker. Yes I'm sitting on a police-issued vehicle with lights and sirens but nothing else matters. I have a sucker.
because the sheriff at the prior stop gave him a sucker. Goose has never had a sucker. You could’ve hung him on the end of the fire truck’s 100-foot ladder and he wouldn’t have noticed. From this point on, all he cared about was the sucker and where he was going to get his next one.
All in all, it was a good trip and well worth the $2. The only thing I fear now is that Goose is going to think he can climb into anything with four wheels.
When we got back to mom’s car, it was obvious.
Before I could unlock the doors, he demands loudly in my ear, “Goose, honk. Goose, drive, Goose honk.”
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Car shopping – One female’s experience
I have spent the last two weeks in and out of auto dealerships; sitting in backseats, crawling into cargo spaces and imagining what it would be like to wheel something twice the size of what I already own.
First I’ll tell you, don’t car shop in July, too hot! I have burnt the bigger part of my thighs a few times and there’s nothing more off-putting than a 200-pound, chain smoking car salesman pitting out in front of you.
No I much prefer the Mercedes dealership that has beautiful catwalk-worthy blondes who smell like soap answering my questions and a nice round man wearing a tie riding shotgun on the test drive. I will, however, give points to the Toyota salesman who gave an excellent Vince Vaughn impersonation, after I pointed out the similarities between the two. Then again, those points were quickly taken away after he refused to let my dog go on the test drive. I needed to understand where my 50-pound Springer would fit most comfortably in the Highlander.
Having said this, you should now understand that my shopping has run the gamut — price point ranging from $30k to 60k — because I feel it is best to know all the options realistic or otherwise.
But soon I realized that my personal requirements and specs of an SUV, crossover and/or wagon would eliminate most of the competition.
Why? Bucket seats.
I never realized it would be the hardest thing on the planet to find. Bucket seats only come from three makers; GMC/Chevy products, Mercedes R350 Wagon and yes the dreaded mini-van. And yes I test drove a mini-van. I’m trying to keep an open mind people. I can swallow my pride for the sake of comfort on long trips.
Nevertheless, top on my list of possibilities was the Tahoe. Jimmie Johnson drives one, how bad can they be? And then I drove one for a day. You have no idea how annoyed I was when the Chevy salesman couldn’t tell me why the mirrors and buttons were so small despite that being the no. 1 complaint by customers, according to him.
Next!
Ford. Really Ford?!
Me: Hi I would like to see your new Explorer.
Ford Dealer: We don’t have any
Me: Um thanks
Next!
Ah Mercedes. There is just something about German engineering, true German engineering. Not the VW Routan, that has a Chrysler engine so beware of what is really German and what is not.
I stopped in on the off chance that materialism would override practicality. It did once I sat in the R350 crossover. Wow! Meets all my requirements; bucket seats in the second row, tons of cargo in the back and drives like a dream.
But there’s just something about me and a $62,000 Mercedes Benz that doesn’t match up. I feel like I’d have to dress up to drive this car, maybe get some Botox and carry a large Louis Vouitton bag. It’s like when a girl in high school gets breast implants, too big too soon sister. Back’er down now!
Loved the Volvo XC90 until the salesman said they only take $1,000 off sticker.
Me: Why?
Volvo: That’s just the way it is.
Next! That’s what I tell my two-year-old. That’s just the way it is my ass! It’s that way because Volvo is now owned by a Chinese company.
Next!
Frustrated beyond belief, my options began to dwindle. If I wanted a car with half the space but twice the price, I’d drive a BMW or Audi so not thanks. The Jeep’s redesign screwed up the windows and now it has poor visibility. The Honda Pilot? Too damn many on the road, they’re everywhere. I’d have to paint mine brown.
Speaking of brown. My husband and I might have found something today. The VW Touareg. No it doesn’t have bucket seats nor does it have rear seat entertainment and the cargo space is comparable to what I already have. Why am I considering it?
Second row leg room is the largest I have found without buying a $60k SUV. Very comfortable. And also, I may just pick this car because of its cool-ass colors. Chocolate exterior with saddle brown leather interior. My Charlie Murphy would look splendid in this machine and The Goose might like the panoramic sunroof.
And that’s it. My two-week experience looking for my next automobile. I’m just happy I’m not the one paying for it. Otherwise we’d be over at the damn J.D. Byrider or talking to the guys at Hyundai.
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Got dirt?
Who needs a sandbox when you can have a sugar pan?
Nearly every morning shortly after the Goose springs from his nest, he clamors to find his CAT trucks. Then, he gives the command: “Play dirt, play dirt.”
My response every time is: “Pretend dirt, pretend dirt.” I encourage him to imagine there is dirt.
Well, as of today, pretend dirt will no longer suffice. The kid wants dirt, sand, mulch, rocks, cut-up tire rubber; whatever substance is fun to roll plastic trucks over.
Fun substance and/or terrain is difficult to find when you live in a town house and the only patch of grass you own is soaked with dog urine from every four-legged creature walking your block.
Sorry Goose you’re not rolling your dozer over dog dew!
So, being the dutiful servant that I am, we made our own dirt.
I grabbed my square cake pan that I’ll never use because I can’t bake and inside dumped the Domino sugar which I’ll never use because I prefer brain-cancer-causing Splenda.
Tada! Your very own sandbox err sand pan!
Then I thought, hey why not go all the way and dump in every half-empty bottle of candy sprinkles left in the cupboard. Tada again! Colored and sparkling sand pan!
Goose was over the moon about his new dirt. Meanwhile I’ll be picking candy bits out of his crevices until dinner.
Tomorrow we must find real dirt.
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Cinders and Ashes
Seriously? How did I get here? Already?
I officially understand how the belligerent, overly involved parents become said belligerent, overly involved parents.
The parents humiliating their children from the sidelines of sporting events, the parents like helicopters hovering over their child’s every move and the parents pushing their own agendas come college application time.
I see how it happens. I get it. I even read a book about it.
My overly involved tendencies are small now, granted, but if I don’t manage my distance the Goose will be cooked for sure!
Fortunate for us, I’ve already identified my first offense: Thomas the effing Train!
Like the pageant mom living vicariously through her coiffed, tiara-totting toddler, I have become obsessed with Thomas. Cinders and ashes what is wrong with me?
Despite the fact that Grissom is barely two and can’t even build the simplest oval or circle track, I keep buying them! Despite the fact that he calls every character Thomas, I still keep buying different colored engines and diesels.
Side note: Terance the tractor, a train no longer made, should be delivered to my house today from an obscure toy maker in Japan. I’m over the moon about it!
While Grissom plays with his favorite CAT backhoe and bulldozer, I play with Thomas and configure new track layouts that encompass a car wash Grissom doesn’t know how to crank and a motorized, talking Thomas Grissom doesn’t know how to turn on. Did I mention I already bought a train table?
What is really going on here people?
Maybe it’s because my mother didn’t foster the growth of my engineering side, maybe it’s because I didn’t have a train set growing up or maybe it’s because these are the only toys Grissom has that interest me right now and I’m a selfish ass. I don’t know. My point is, I see how parents get derailed.
Cinders and ashes! I need an inter-mom-tion! I fear any day now I’m going to buy the Thomas Tidmouth Sheds Deluxe Set that comes with 109 track pieces, the roundhouse, bridges and tunnels.
Now, I know I might sound dramatic but I’m not forcing my son to play with Thomas & Friends. I don’t push him to build tracks. (No, I like to build them when he’s not around because his preference is to tear them apart.) I don’t make him watch the show.
He does have a self-motivated interest. It’s just not as involved as mine. Please let me recognize this difference 12 years from now.
Nevertheless, I still packed him up over the weekend and traveled all the way to Connersville, Ind. for the Day Out with Thomas event. I err we had a great time!
Upon our arrival, we found a Terance the Tractor on a preassembled train table.
Grissom wanted it badly because it was reminiscent of his CAT bulldozer we left at home. I let him “barrow” it from the table and subsequently take it everywhere we went that day. To the pony rides, bounce house, put-put golf and on the official 25-minute Thomas the Train ride through scenic Connersville.
At the end of our excursion I realized my second offense: Never allow your child to steal!
Cinders and ashes!
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