[chirp] LOW BATTERY

Gather 'Round and Let Me Tell You A Story:

I was awoken at 5 AM by my Mr. yelling from the bathroom.

"What is that?" He asked.

Then the dog jumped up and half-woofed.

"What?"

"You didn't hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Well you clearly didn't hear it."

"So why do you keep asking me?" Was I talking in my sleep? "Is everything ok?"

[chirp] LOW BATTERY

"Oh that? No, I didn't hear it before now."

"I think it's the smoke alarm in the hallway of our unit."

[chirp] LOW BATTERY

The Mr. comes back to bed and settles in next to the dog.

"Um, you aren't going to take care of it? We can't sleep through the low battery alarm!" I said.

The Mr. steps into the hall and tries to reach the alarm from standing on the ground. He gets the step stool. He pulls it down and somehow activates the smoke alarm function. Then the carbon monoxide function.

[chirp] LOW BATTERY
[scree-eam] SMOKE DETECTED
[whiiiirrrll] CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTED

Now we are in a literal 3 alarm situation at 5:15 AM. He pulls the machine apart. No battery to be seen. He starts pulling on wires and circuit boards. The alarms persist. He runs to the kitchen and yells:

"Bring me a hammer!"

I deliriously wander the hallway in an effort to not only find a hammer under stress, but look like I know where he keeps tools. Because this girl scout is both helpful AND supportive.

The Mr. realizes that my support is purely superficial and he finds his own hammer. Taking the whole screaming mess to the kitchen sink, he starts a'smashing.

"Are you sure that... ok... don't hurt yourself," I said.

After a couple good whacks the battery pops out of the front of the panel, as I'm sure all batteries on modern alarms do. I go to clean up the pieces but the Mr. told me to leave it. I've seen enough Law and Order to know that the sociopath isn't won over at 5:20 after a violent binge, so I leave the crime scene and we head back to bed to try and fall back asleep for 20 minutes before the usual alarms go off.

At least we know how to deactivate those.

12 Days of Gifty-Wifties

For the mutt owners in your life, I give you Wisdom Panel:

We did this for Roo on the recommendation from one of my coworkers. Whether the DNA test gets the breeds 100% right or not is up for debate, but regardless, it's fun to see what their makeup could be and draw your own conclusions.

For instance, our test said that our Roobabe is mostly Treeing Walker Coonhound and German Shepherd. If you know anything about those breeds and our Roo, you'll know that's probably not totally true. Those dogs start at 45 lbs and Roobabe is a healthy 35. Those breeds tend to be darker colored and our Roo is light yellow (as I call it "Yellooo") and white. Those breeds are scent-trackers for medium-sized mammals. Our Roo is a sight/sound tracker and a digger for small rodents (just ask my dad about his pock-marked backyard after this last weekend!).

Click any photo to enlarge.

Where I think the test got to the truth was the page on "other mixed breeds". They listed a terrier and the Basenji - both of which we've suspected before. She has the ears, body style, coloring and face of a Basenji. She has the tracking, digging, tenacity and broad shoulders of a terrier. 

I do consider the test's suggestion of German Shepherd in that she has dark skin around her eyes and mouth. she also has a shepherd-like gait when she stalks squirrels (she only moves her feet and keeps her body perfectly level, lifting her feet delicately). She's larger than a Basenji but smaller than a shepherd, so that cross makes sense. 

Bottom line: It's fun and you may learn something. 

It's also good fodder for dog park conversations. (It gives you something to talk about while your dog awkwardly sniffs another dog while it's relieving itself.) 

We purchased our Wisdom Panel on Amazon. I think it was fun and would do it again. 

Again, no compensation for this post. We just liked doing it and bought this brand on a whim/recommendation. 

Tipsy Tuesday: Things I've Learned in the Past Week

This lip stain actually looks good and stays put for hours.

via Sephora

Giardiniera or muffaletta mix is tasty in meatloaf.

Via google images

I haven't learned yet, but I hope to find out what kind of dog(s) Roobabe is by using a DNA test. 

via Amazon

So, whatever. It's a bit trivial, but we all need some dependability when it comes to our looks, dinners and answering the question "OH! What kind is SHE!?"

What have you guys learned? Anyone else feel like they need a break or a change? I'm feeling burned out, regardless of the amount of vacation/weekending/sleeping-in I do. Anyone have any tips for un-burning out?

Roo-Bee and The Big Back Yard

The Mr. and I took a long weekend to go south for the pre-winter. We spend over 3 days with my parents and their big, fenced-in, bunny/mole/chipmunk-filled back yard. 'Twas dog-heaven!

My brother joined us for two days and some whiskey-ciders. 

I put a cinnamon apple garnish on his drink with an accidental middle-finger outline. 

He made an appropriate face.

We got to take Roo with us which was nerve-wracking for her inclination to car-puke and her somewhat tenacious play. He did fine on both and my family's dog, Dilly, was so patient. Here she is napping. In Roo's bed. With a pillow on her. 

Here they are both napping. Roo loved being part of a pack. She weaseled her way into a cuddle at any chance she got. Dilly was again patient, although she was not as thrilled for the head-to-head cuddles. So cute it needs to be the largest photo.

Here the Mr. is with a gun. 

Lord.

We did end up target shooting later that weekend. 

I smoked 'em!

These targets are hanging up in my office and I can't wait to show my highly conservative bosses my accuracy and versatility with a 1911 Sig Sauer, a revolver (Dad can comment with the make) and a bolt-action Browning. 

Right AND left handed. 

Boom. 

Thanks for the 

dog play,

black coffee, 

dutch apple pie (I ate more last night even thought I wasn't AT ALL hungry!), 

campfire meat, 

laughing at the stupidest things, 

shootin' the metaphorical breeze, 

deer sightings,

shooting the literal rifle range,

apple cider,

talks during football/baseball/movies,

later nights,

sleeping in,

muddy boots,

government shutdown distraction,

tennis ball, 

naps, 

and twin beds :)

I may need a new Doppelganger as I Think I'm Outgrowing her (read: I look old, she doesn't).

I could use a good chick-flick today.

I spend yesterday as a hunchback. My neck kept seizing up as if to punish me for new pillows, sleeping on my stomach.

I watched Secret Millionaire last night and cried over it and said neck.

This morning I tried to walk the dog while holding a cup of yogurt. I never eat before leaving the house on weekdays, but this morning I needed to swallow some NSAIDs for, you guessed it, said neck. I cannot take ibuprofen on an empty stomach because the walls of mine bleed over minor medicinal passage. Yogurt was the troll-toll you might say. Upon opening the gate, seeing freedom, the end of the leash and the shaky cup-n-spoon I, said cup, said leash, said neck and unsaid ground was covered in troll-toll and swears.

And tears.

Today has been a long week, yes?

Netflix, bring me something long and sweet. Bring me something sad to give me reason to cry. And bring me a new yogurt!

Perfectionism

Don't get me wrong. I'm still mad enough to leave the blog black. But I have to tell you about perfectionism.

Just like the type A personality, people flaunt "perfectionism" like its a hot trait.

"I'm a perfectionist," they boast.

But letsa break-dis-down.

If you truly are a perfectionist, do you not pour over details that no one else will notice until you miss the deadline?

Do you shoot for perfection over completion?

Do you give up something/someone good in hopes that great comes along? That is even exists? Will you even know? Can you even control the extent of "great"?

And what if you and your microscope are happily plotting, stitching, assessing, ripping and re-stitching all the live-long of your days? Are you really a perfectionist, then?

Or are you just obsessed with reiteration.

[period, no question.]

---
I've handed in some shotty work as of late. Proud, I am not. Better, could be. But done? She is a beautiful thing. Sometimes you just have to realize you've covered yourself to the waist in mud. Then accept it, shower, and decide steer clear of the pit.

Weary of any mud in your day? Here is something excellent to look at:

See the whole tour and wonderful dog here.

I'm Back, Losers

The coma that is vacation is over and I'm back at the grind.

I'm getting a sore throat and a headache from recycled air and reply-all email chains. Must. Get. Outside.

Things have been wonderful and shitty and wonderful again lately.

Vacation was nice and we had minimal bicker-ments with each other and family. And I think we came home with less that we took, so that's a plus*.

My former coworker's mom passed away under seemingly sudden circumstances. And my boss's dog had to be put down. Those who don't have dogs might think I'm making light of the passing of my friend's mother, but those who do have dogs know I'm not.

But the sun is out and summer's coming soon and I have a job and a husband and a family and very giving friends (Thanks RENEE for watching the roost while we were away!) and that's all peachy.

Like the flavor of Skinny Girl Margarita I shared with my mom and sister in Wisconsin this past week.

Last night the Mr. and I went to see Bill Maher**. He talked about religion and I spun into my own head about it.

Mine is not a religion that needs a church as of late. It may not even need rules. It certainly doesn't need judgement. It's more into asking questions than giving answers. It's humbler than me and directs me into Humbletown frequently.

It is about tithing - to people not to organizations. It does believe in giving grace even when you don't understand.  It does believe in changing your mind and sometimes shutting up. It even likes this / new / pope.

“Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science.” - Charles Darwin

Maybe I'm Catholic. Maybe I'm a Humanist. Maybe I'm Agnostic. Maybe recycling is futile (this is for you, Rachel!).

TBD.


---
*Simplify!
** I tuned out halfway through the show from exhaustion and repeat material, but it was fun.

Go Home, The Nest, You're Drunk

via Pinterest

The sophomore follow up to the bridal magazine and site "The Knot" is called "The Nest". Then comes baby in a baby carriage with "The Bump". The assailant du jour is "The Knot". My commentary is in red. 

Exhibit A:

9* Signs You Shouldn't Have Kids

1. You’re an awful aunt.
You know the names of every band member in The Killers and can recite the Vogue masthead in your sleep. However, your niece is 7 and her name is Emily—and you insist on calling her Emma—and sincerely think that’s her name. She decided to just go along with it. Red flag.

If you knew that you were calling her the wrong name, wouldn't you stop? How does one have the self awareness to know when they "sincerely" call their niece the wrong name?

2. You’re completely broke.
You and your husband are 7K in credit card debt (thanks to your shoe addiction and his “necessary” 60-inch flat screen for the coveted man cave). Not to mention, you just borrowed some 911 money from your dad to make this month’s mortgage payment. Baby equals diapers, daycare and basically a good $250,000 in expenses by the time your kid turns 18 and you send him off to college. Check yourself, before you wreck yourself.
I've heard that if you wait until you have enough money to have children, you'll never had them. BUT if you have $7k of shoe-debt you need to stop even thinking about having a family and cut up your credit cards. And sell those shoes. And seek counseling. 

3. You’re a jet-setter.
Your friends call you a bird because you and your man love to fly away on a whim and have the means to do it! I’ll let you in on a little secret: A spontaneous trip to Miami for a long-weekend is out of the question once your baby arrives. It’s more like a spontaneous trip to the 24-hour drug store because you ran out of diapers and nipple cream. Again.

Are you broke (see item 2) AND a jet-setter?

4. You flush fish…a lot.
You can’t remember to feed your Beta fish a measly flake every other day. You’re on your seventh Beta Fish. Enough said.

Betas ≠ Babies.

5. You’re super-squeamish.
Remember that recent GNO when your “fun, single friend” drank a little too much and puked and you started gagging and abandoned your hair-holding duties? Babies spit-up a lot. In fact, there are a lot of bodily fluids involved in raising a child. Might wanna try potty-training a puppy first.

6. You’re the worst babysitter. Ever.
Your girlfriend asked you to baby-sit her charming preschooler. You came home with Play-Doh in your hair, glitter down your bra and a first-degree burn when you went to drain the noodles for the “easy” mac ‘n cheese. You called in to work the next day to recoup.
Sticky hair, glitter on your chest, slight burns. My first reaction is "that sounds normal". My second reaction is  "doesn't sound like babysitting".

7. You love to sleep.
Nothing pleases you more than cuddling up with your husband on a Friday night and watching a movie after a long workweek. You’re both asleep before midnight and rise around 10 a.m. to make espresso and lounge around. Newborns wake up every two-hours. And take it from me: five-year-olds think starting the day at 5:30 AM is normal … on a Sunday.
Same can be achieved with a dog. 

8. Your relationship is a mess.
Newborns put even the strongest marriages to the test—imagine what a colicky baby could do to your shaky relationship? From the sleep deprivation to the stress of major responsibility 24-7, trust me, parenthood is not a fix for your troubled marriage.
This is truth.

9. You’re a workaholic.
From a sudden bout of the stomach flu (he got it and now so do you) to the Mother’s Day breakfast at school, there will be times when work has to take a backseat to parenthood. Make sure that you’re ready to do that juggling act before you have no choice.
Also truth.

One they didn't mention? #10: You just don't want them.

*You think that starting a sentence with a numeral is OK? Maybe The Knot shouldn't have spawned The Nest. 

Not such a secret

Post Secret

Chicago Dog Beach

Chicago is a dog-friendly city. We have sidewalks everywhere, grassy patches, dog parks in convenient places, tons of groomers/boarders/walking services and....

Dog Beaches!

 Eat. My. Sand. 

 Roo's the lunchmeat in a nipping-sandwich.

Whatdoyaknow? Roobabe can swim. As with all things, she did it with gusto and without fear!

Too bad she gets car-sick on rides over 20 minutes long (she puked on the way home from this excursion), but we're hoping she gets over that soon.

 Lots of fishermen this Sunday. This guy got a big fish. Not so sure I'd want to eat Lake Michigan fish, though.

 "Is it ok if I just pull really hard on the leash the whole time? Ok, thanks." - Roobabe

 Diversey Harbor

 "Roobabe, let's pose for a picture."

"Oh, ok, here's my butt."

 "Let's go!", says Roobabe.

The human folk enjoyed a nice sunny walk with Roobabe and some Chicago style hot dogs from a friendly, underground locale called "Flub a Dub Chub" hot dogs. Then we all had a nap. It was such a good Sunday.

 Album cover art!

 So dirty!

As for my birthday, we went to see this hilarious show on Friday. It was a surprise and we got orchestra seats in row M... which is near the stage! Good job, Mr.!

We ate dinner here on Saturday. We had and recommend the pickle-tots and the coffee cake dessert. I had an orange-y cocktail. It was pretty good but the Mr. wasn't feeling well so we didn't linger. We picked up our Roo at doggy daycare and surprised her with two new toys for her birthday. She had one chewed up in minutes. The other is a nylon bone hybrid and more sustainable.

Research Shows

You can stop reading right now if you don't want to hear more dog facts.

To learn more about Roo, I was wikipedia-ing her breed heritage.

Basenji's are linked to the Congo (Africa), China (southeast Asia), and related to the dingo (Australia). How worldly!

They are considered the "barkless" dog.

They have been called the "most ancient dog" as they have ancestors dating back further than any other breed.

A basenji was featured in an episode of This American Life on NPR.

They're sight hunters and a member of the AKC and UKC "hound" group, although the shelter labeled her a "terrier".

Oh and this isn't on Wikipedia, but she's also total cuteness.

*UPDATE* I just listened to the radio show on NPR that I liked to above and I laughed and thought "holy hell, what did I get myself into?" The dog in the show has some shocking similarities to our Roo. Oh. My. Word.

Roo: The True Hollywood Story of The Notorious D.O.G.

Roo

Roo Boo

Roo-da-beggah

Honey Roo Roo (yikes, I know)

Roo Juice

Roo Joo Bee

Roo-mate

Rue McClanahan

Folks:

My dreams have come true. And those dreams are golden colored, part terrier or Basenji, 26 pounds and have some pretty stinky farts.

Waiting at the vet.

Rollin' around with Mr. S.

Pulling the stuffing outta a pumpkin.

Princess and the pea. She didn't feel the pea. She's a tough broad.

What else she didn't feel was some shot/pellets in her abdomen and inner thigh. Originally from Oklahoma, this poor girl lived an unknown and apparently tumultuous life before we met her. She was a stray/surrendered in OK and moved to Chicago as the city has more people and therefore more opportunities for adoption.

 I removed one bullet that was close to the surface of her skin myself - pushed it out like a pimple, to be honest - and she has 3 more that need to be removed surgically. 

The pellets look like this.

The BB pellets (or shotgun pellets, I don't know which they are) have probably been in her for a while and are just growing their way out of her as she turns over new skins/sheds. 

Kennel cough, ear yeast and bullet wounds aside, she's a lover with a personality. 

She's scared of water, stairs and getting in the car (hello Dog? It's me. The Car Ride. Let's be friends.) but not afraid of people, other dogs, cats, loud noises, sirens, thunder, barking, the vet or other normal dog fears. 

She likes birds, squirrels, chewing, cuddling, wiggling, sniffing, walks, begging and chicken treats.

She's good on the leash, knows how to sit on command, doesn't bark at strangers and is pretty nice to the cats - all things considered. 

She's now the background on my phone and the reason I wake up in the morning/middle of the night (hoping she's not peeing on the rug!). Haha!

Support PAWS Chicago. They're covering the vet visits for this little lady while we square away her initial health issues. What a blessing, ya?

Walk lots, buy local, love dogs