Dear neighbors, I deeply apologize for the fact that the image of me walking around the backyard in a tank top, bright green panties, and Jeremiah's old grey converse searching for granules in piles of dog barf is forever burned in your retinas.

Believe me, everyone. If time had permitted me to put on pants, I would have.

The title for this one practically wrote itself. Alternates I was considering:

  • What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...one dog's true story.
  • I feel like a million bucks...or at least $39.99 and the cost of some hydrogen peroxide.
  • Do you know the number for the poison control line for pets? No? Because I do.
Here's the story.

Yesterday was a self-proclaimed "Day of Fun". More details on that later. Or never. Who knows. Anyway, to have the day of fun,  Jeremiah got up around 4:30, I think. I slept in until 5:55. This has little to do with the story, other than I am appalled that I consider 5:55 sleeping in late. That just makes me sad.

At one point (the point where I was dressed only half way) I could hear scraping noises outside. I asked Jeremiah to check on the dogs. It was then that he discovered that Spike had gotten into the ant poisoning that we put outside. It was in a container, covered and surrounded by bricks, but he got in.

And then he ate the poison.

I have to say one thing. If there is ever an emergency, I will need to duplicate myself. Jeremiah was little help (sorry Jeremiah, but it's the truth), except when he whipped out his credit card. He made the phone calls, but basic information was relayed from me to him to the person on the phone. Age of the dogs? No clue. Weight? No clue.  EPA number on the side of the poison? Couldn't find it.

So Spike eats the poison. Atticus is flitting around the backyard, and I am actually concerned that he might have gotten some.

The first person (actually the second person. Our vet was closed, so we called the emergency number they listed.) suggested that both dogs be given a tablespoon of hydrogen peroxide, which is safe for the dogs and would make them barf. I pulled out the dropper/measuring thing that I use with the dogs (pet owners - you should ALWAYS have one of these on hands. You never know when you will need it.) and fed Atters a bit less then a tablespoon. Spike willingly drank about half of his and then I had to squirt the rest in with the dropper.

Atticus went outside. Promptly sat down, grinned at me, and horked up a tiny pile of dog food. I used my foot to smoosh through it. No poison. Thank god.

Spike didn't barf. The dog has an iron stomach. He's also ingested transmission fluid, primer, and a bunch of other random things. He walked around gaily, wagging his tail, smelling things.

Jeremiah calls a third person, recommended by the previous caller, which will cost $39.99, but will tell us if the ingredients are toxic. Jeremiah calls, I provide him with his information (time to learn your new phone number, Jeremiah) and the EPA number listed on the side of the container and we discover that it should not be a problem. Spike's stomach will be upset and he shouldn't have any water or food for awhile, but he will be fine.

After Jeremiah got off the phone he sat patiently and reassured me that I would not end up on a list of people who were banned from buying/rescuing shelter animals. I still do not believe him. I probably will not ever be able to adopt any animal again. I probably am not even allowed to volunteer (Actually, Jeremiah and several friends have forbade me from volunteering with animals as they fear that I will bring them all home.)

Then - Spike barfed.

He barfed up a pile of ant poison pellets.

And now he's fine.

"Cross ant poison off my bucket list!"


Orange You Glad You Had One?

No vault. I miss the vault. 

Typically, I barely take a break to breathe at work, but as last night was rough (dog panting, which means his ass is about to explode in a mess of diarrhea; and a rogue smoke detector) and I was up from about one until about two or three.

So when I had a second, I called Jeremiah. His car took a shit and he had to take the day to take it in, as it was undrive-able, which left him with little choice. So he was home. His biggest concern was that he did not have any sweets. His half of everything that my mom and my aunt had sent for Easter was gone. Like, within the first few days.

We had this coversation:
Me: You may have 1/3 cup of my jelly beans. That's it.
J: That's fine, I am so hungry I don't care.
Me: You know, you might consider eating something NUTRITIOUS. We have kiwis. We have cuties.
J: Um, yeah. Have you had one of those cuties lately?
Me: Lying, as the cuties are almost completely brown.* Yeah, I have. Soooo good, right?
J: No. Not "sooooo good." I had one yesterday and I am pretty sure that I was drunk afterward.
Me: What?
J: I'm serious. It was really ripe.
Me: Well, one of us has to eat them, and I am busy with the apples. We can't waste perfectly good fruit.
J: Well, I guess I can try another one. But if you come home and I'm passed out on the floor...
Me: Then it is my fault. Well, mine and the cuties.

* I actually love cuties, but then I started eating apples and strawberries and grapes and I just couldn't stop. I tend to be cyclical with my eating. I eat something until I am sick of it. On the plus side,  I have been quite regular. I am sure that you are relieved for me.


I Freaking Apologized Once - That's a Big Deal for Me. Take What You Can Get, Idiot.

Sunday was the first day of swim season for me. Mostly because it was 103 degrees on Sunday, but also because normally we start swimming the first week of April and I simply could not wait a second longer.

As I was lounging around afterward, with my puppies flying around the yard, I tipped my face up so it could kiss the sun. As my face and the sun were engaged in some serious snogging, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

Oh, yeah. It was my neighbor. Peeking over the fence. The new neighbor, that we love so much we can hardly stand it.

I waited until I caught his eye and then gave him my "What the hell do you want and why are you staring into my backyard?" smile. It's quite the smile. The following conversation truly did happen:

Neighbor: M'am?
Me: Holy shit. This idiot did NOT just call me m'am. I don't think m'ams use noodles and floaties in the pool. Yes, SIR?
N: Yer gettin' water in my yard.
Me: Oh, yeah. The filter needs a small replacement part. I'm sorry about that. We shut it off. It should not be leaking anymore.
N: There's water in my yard.
Me: Again, we turned it off. We'll get it fixed before we turn it back on. It was an accident.
N:It's right where my dog stands.
Me: Oh my gosh! I will be right over with paper towels and a blow dryer! We'll fix this mess! Oh, wait. It's THE GROUND. It is also the freaking DESERT. I think it will dry. As will your dog, unless it melted because it is pure barking evil.

Because seriously? At this point, what do I say? I have said everything possible regarding the situation.

I don't get being all butt hurt about this. I truly don't. Every day our neighbor waters their lawn with sprinklers and our fence/surrounding wall/ground gets wet. Not once in all these years did it occur to me to complain. We also had a neighbor with a pool and every time they back-washed the pool our yard flooded a bit. Never thought about complaining.

Maybe he is butt hurt because I left an anonymous note taped to his house about common courtesy regarding barking dogs all night long. I did it under the cover darkness and the cover of some shorts and a t-shirt, but no underwear. Which is weird, running around outside feeling naked but not actually being naked. It's the self-conscious girl's version of streaking.

Or maybe he is grumpy because in addition to my kind note, someone had called animal control and I saw that note taped to the door. So maybe he isn't feeling the love.

So neighbor? This is for you.

Dear Neighbor,
 I wanted to take a moment to have a heart-to-heart with you. To be completely honest, Jeremiah and I had high hopes that you and your wife would be semi-normal people. Sadly, our hopes were dashed with the F*CK SCOTTSDALE t-shirt that you so proudly wore the day you moved in next door. If possible, Jeremiah's hopes were dashed even more upon sight of the cases of Bud Light. While we gave up on friendship, we thought perhaps we could all be decent neighbors. No such luck. Your barking/baying dog all hours of the day and night ruined that pipe dream. And then? Then you get weird and pissy about your "lawn". And it wasn't even concern for us (Once before the previous renter had asked if everything was okay with our pool after we backwashed. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to have water go everywhere.), SIR, it was about your precious beast of a dog. Who happened to be standing on wet ground. Oh, the horrors. In addition, please know that I am keeping tabs on you. I know that there are multiple people coming and going from your house. Sometimes there are kids, sometimes no. I do know that no one ever seems to leave the house to go to a job, which is interesting because you have a newer model vehicle. I have also noted that you keep your trash in the garage, which is fascinating to me. People don't do that here. The garages are way too small. What are you trying to hide?
Anonymous Neighbor

P.S. I am watching you.
P.P.S. I realize that this may not intimidate you, as you have already been caught peeking over our fence and spying on ME.
P.P.S. When I came inside on Sunday, I cursed you and the day you were born.


Plantar Snuffleupagus

After I got home from the specialist earlier this week:

J: How was the doctor today?
Me: He's fine.
J: Ugh. How was YOUR visit with the doctor today?
Me:Um, well, the reason I went to the doctor, for my debilitating life- shortening disease, was promising, but then he took off my sandals and diagnosed me with plantar something. Plantar Snuffleupagus, that's it.
Me: Yeah.
J: So you have a problem in your left heel that's named after Big Bird's imaginary friend?
Me: Yes, and what do you mean "imaginary"?
J:No one could see Snuffleupagus, you know that, right?
Me: What the hell. I could see Snuffleupagus. He was NOT imaginary.
J: No one besides Big Bird could see him on Sesame Street.
Me: You are full of shit.
J: What's it really called?
Me: I freaking TOLD you. Plantar Snuffleupagus.
J: I'm done.
Me: That's fine. I'm done, too. I don't associate with big old LIARS.

Okay. So I looked it up. I actually have plantar fasciitis. The pain is outrageous. Sometimes I go to stand up and I tip over because I can't step down on the left foot at all. You can laugh at me, it's okay, that's what Jeremiah does. Or you can bark at me, if you'd like. That's what the dogs do when I start to tip over. I always knew that my left side would give out first. Stupid left side.  I was quite proud of myself for living with Snuffy's Disease for so long, considering people get injections to help with the pain. My doctor asked why I hadn't gone to a doctor to fix it and I told him that I simply did not know what doctor I should go to. Plus, I don't like my podiatrist (who refused to do things my way) or my general physician (who does not listen to me when I tell her I am sick). So he said I could come to him as needed. Mostly I think that I make him laugh.

Regarding Snuffy being invisible? I looked it up. And Jeremiah? When I was a kid, he was real. Big Bird outed him from imaginary to real in 1985. When you were a kid, you know, seven years before me, he was imaginary. So there, you old bastard.  I win.

p.s. Sorry for the vaultlessness today. As you have just read, I am currently suffering and in great pain due to my plantar snuffleupagus. Plus, I wanted to gloat a bit about being a winner. Again.

p.p.s. My chiropractor has also helped. I guess helped is the right word. He basically "massaged" the pain yesterday. Massaged is only the right word if it means "incredible pain that feels like a thousand knives stabbing me repeatedly on the bottom of the foot making me scream in public and wiggle so much that a boob nearly falls out of my bra."

p.p.p.s. You should ask how much sympathy I got from Jeremiah when I got home. I know you won't ask, so I will just tell you. As I pathetically heroically moaned from the couch, I got zero sympathy. When he sat down next to me to ask why I was mad at him, I could not even get away from him, which gave him an unfair advantage in the argument. So I covered him with a blanket.


A Cross Between Pinocchio & Dumbo.

The other night while watching tv, I pointed out to Jeremiah that the kid on the tv was odd-looking. And then there was this:

Me: What if we have kids and they are ugly?
J: Is this a serious concern of yours?
Me:Yes, among other things.
J: Do you think that there is a good chance of an ugly baby?
Me: Glance at him for a minute. Well, honestly, I would say odds for an ugly baby are pretty high.
J: No!
Me: Yes. Jeremiah? Are you kidding me? With your nose and my ears (Which are so big that sometimes I accidentally sleep on them folded like fleshy little crepes.) I'd say we are prime candidates for ugly kids.
J: Mulls this over. We'd have an elephant. A baby elephant.
Me: Exactly. I would give birth to a cartoon character.

The conversation continued, with discussion about eyes (not a concern, we're pretty sure our baby would have two of those), hair (odds are good the kid would be bald either for the first few years of life (me) or the adult portion of life (Jeremiah) or both, but the times in between would be golden. Literally. Sort of of reddish brownish blonde.), and skin as soft as angel wings (I do not mean to be braggy, but some people actually PET me at work. Which *might* be sexual harassment, now that I think about it.), or unhealing alligator pelts (Oops. I guess we know who this is now.).

And this is why together we have not brought forth a child to grace this Earth.


Oh, Albert!

My class and I have a pet.

This is interesting mostly because we did not purchase said pet.

Also it is interesting because it is not a pet that I would ever choose.

We have a lizard.

I found him at about seven p.m. on a Thursday night in early December. Right here:
 I screamed quite loudly and yelled for the teacher next door. Yes, we are too lazy to use the phone or walk outside to the other person's room. We just yell. Anyway, in the end I figured that I have had roaches, mice, and huge amounts of crickets in my room. A lizard seemed kind of minor in comparison. Plus, the number of crickets has gone way down, so bonus, you know?

When I told the students about Albert, they were excited. We named him Albert Einstein. In reality it could easily be Alberta, because I'm not really up on my lizards.

Here we have a close-up shot:
It seems that little Albert has become a bit more social in the past few weeks. I am seeing him out and about more. Walking over to my bag and seeing a lizard crawl out still makes me jump. The kids are careful when they move about the room. Or put on their coats. Last week Al was hanging out on someone's sweater.  Earlier today I rolled my wheelie chair over a cord and gasped as I thought I had shortened poor Al's already short life. So I'm not sure if he's feeling frisky or what, but the dude is everywhere. *

The highlight of my day today (besides, you know, changing the future by inspiring minds) was after I came over to my desk and Albert scuttled out from behind some papers I looked at him and said on a sigh, "Oh, Albert." and shook my head. And then I realized that I had become that person that speaks to lizards. That speaks to lizards as though they are human.

That's worse than a crazy cat lady by about a million.

*Yes, I have realized that Albert could actually be AlbertS, but I am refusing to entertain that possibility because then not only would there be a lot of creepers in my room, but also because then I would be the loony lizard lady.


So you're telling me there's a chance!

Me: So I read the other day that Uma Thurman is having her THIRD child. She's 41.
Jeremiah: So?
Me: Soooooo I have solid ten years to decide if I want a baby.
Jeremiah: Ten? Really?
Me: Okay. Nine years.
Jeremiah: But 41 seems kind of old to have a baby.
Me: What?
Jeremiah: Yeah, I think it increases the chance of birth defects.
Me: What are you doing?
Jeremiah: What do you mean?
Me: Why are you ruining this for me?
Jeremiah: I am just being honest.
Me: Does honest equal asshole?

P.S.  For those interested, Jeremiah is team baby whenever. Emily is team "baby clothes are cute, but I am too selfish to reproduce at this time plus my ass is big enough already."


FtVF - Horsing Around

I make no beef about Vault Fridays. Mostly they are for me. Mostly I like to look back at these pictures. Plus I know that some of the people that I care for most might like a look back as well. In fact, some of these pictures might be new to them.

So into the vault.

For those unaware, Jeremiah's parents have a farm. A big fat farm. I LOVE it. They stock the freezer full of frozen treats, they have horses, plus lots of room to breathe. It's great. The few times that I have been able to visit, we ride the horses.

When I was younger I took lessons and I loved it. I am always telling Jeremiah that I would love a horse. And a goat. And a pig. Mostly his response is silence. Which is okay. I bet he's just thinking how much he would like those things, too.


Anyway, these pictures are from 2006 and (I think) 2007. I am not one hundred percent sure about the black and whites.
I got the brown horse. And the dog. I LOVED Sparky.

Jeremiah got Angel.

Absolute, one-hundred percent pure joy - The horses eager to get back to the barn. The home stretch. A fantastic memory. I still remember how much fun I had on this strip of land.

Different year. Same horses. And I just want to let you know that I am NOT naked. My clothes are just pastel. Blue shorts, blue tank. Not naked.

Remember how I said that Jeremiah always managed to catch some pictures of me that I really like? This is one of them. I LOVED hanging out in the barn, spending time with the horses. I especially like it when they nuzzled/nudged me for a treat. 

And that's about it. I've been trying to dig up some old pictures on the old computer, and I'm a bit overwhelmed. But loving it.


Why, Kristen Stewart, Why?

Just a couple of random thoughts floating around today.

First, Kristen Stewart, this is for you. Why do you always look like you are in pain? In every single Twilight movie your mouth is hanging open a little bit. You are either A) Hurt or B)Trying not to smell a fart so you are breathing through your mouth instead of your nose. I get that. I teach little kids. I do the mouth breathing sometimes. But I am guessing that Robert P. smells divine, so close your mouth. And also? The movies are so bad that they pain me, Kristen. They really do. But it's like a car crash, I have to watch them all. And as I am a horrible girlfriend that apparently makes everyone feel sorry for Jeremiah, he ends up watching them, too. I don't make him, I promise. He just likes to laugh. And then I have to tell him to shut up because I can't hear you mouth breathe and mumble while he's laughing. Okay, Kristen, I am done. Oh, just kidding. You are looking much more beautiful in the Breaking Dawn P. 1 than in your previous films. I just wanted you to know that. Kudos to you.

Friends, yesterday was so craptastic I can't even stand it. I started out the day by dancing a jig, which is saying something when you wake up at 4:00 and then again for realsies at 4:45 every single day and then start teaching at 7:20 instead of 8:00 every single day. So the jig was special. I jinxed the day with my effing jig. Stupid jig. And the thing is, most of the crappy stuff didn't even happen to me. It happened to my students. And I love my students, so this breaks my heart.

Plus, I *almost* hurt someone at work yesterday and I think that is frowned upon. Like, I don't think I am allowed to punch someone in the throat. Totally inappropriate behavior/words coming from an adult that should know better. Shame on you. 

To top it off, the lice are rampant at school. I am now sure that I have lice. 99.9% sure. I can feel them every single second. Moving around. I dream of them in my hair. I wake up terrified. This is part of OCD, Friends. And it sucks. If I had had the energy yesterday, I would have told Jeremiah to do a check. But at this point, with me being certain of the lice (that in my head I know probably aren't really there), I don't want to check and find out that they are there for suresies. For now the lice and I co-exist. As they attack my scalp. But the nasty thing is, even if I did have Jeremiah check, he'd have to check again. I will be having him do regular checks until my mind finds something about which it can obsess.

It is times like these when I wish I was a drinker, but I am not. So I cannot say, "Boy, I will go home and have a nice glass of wine." because I won't. I can't even say, "Boy, I am going to go home and have some gummy eggs." because I ate the bag Jeremiah gave me for our anniversary and he won't tell me where he hid the other bags and they are ALL OUT at the World Market. So really I am without an outlet.

Any suggestions?

P.S. I would like Jeremiah to learn how to make a proper mixed drink, but that seems to be a no-go. Plus, he isn't allowed to use the blender.


Wakey, Wakey Part 3 - The Final Episode

The final part of the trip lands us in Petrified National Forest. All my normal exaggerations aside, this place was incredible. Humbling.  I might have gushed a bit. Jeremiah's response to my gushing? "Dirt is 225 million years old. Do you feel humbled by dirt?" I think he was just cranky because he had been driving so long.
We started at the park entrance and then headed through, following the map and narrow road for the twenty-eight (?) mile route. At first we didn't see much petrification of wood around us and I was getting miffed. We only had an hour before the park closed and I was feeling discouraged. The painted mountains were gorgeous, though. So some perks.
In the above picture, I'm not sure if there was a fire and the stuff on the rocks was ashy stuff or if it was mossy stuff. Didn't really seem to be an environment conducive to moss.
This was totally intimidating to drive next to. Especially when you could see huge boulders that had already slid down the side.
Finally on the side of the road, I saw some petrified wood. I screeched to Jeremiah that he should "Stop the damn car!" and I hopped out and took some pictures.
All around the chunks of petrified wood are little (pocket-sized) pieces. I have never in my life wanted to steal as badly as I did at these moments. I'd get back in the car and Jeremiah would say, "Did you put some in your pocket?" All accusingly like. My response was "Do I look happy like I just stole something? No. I do not." Jeremiah's nature/park motto is "Leave only footprints, take only memories." which is posted at Effie Yeaw near where he lived in California. So he is my annoying conscience. Not that I would really steal, but holy crap it is tempting to take a piece of 225 million year old history.
The pieces don't look huge, but they are:
A little background for you:

We stopped at this tourist shop to get a postcard for my grandma. I get her a postcard on every trip I take.
We spent the night in a shady hotel. I actually saw a man smoking a non-plant-based material in a pipe outside while I was waiting for Jeremiah to get our room. I have never hopped over into a driver's seat so fast in my life. Seriously, I could have won a medal. I wanted to be able to leave the scene if I needed to.

I should mention that the dogs did fine on the travels, but it would have been much easier to travel without them, especially Spike. In the car, fine. In the hotel, barking. Not so great. Although, I don't think that that was the biggest concern with regards to our hotel.

The next day we headed for home, this time through Flag.
We are celebrating our 100 year birthday this year in Arizona.

Liars. Big fat ugly liars. I didn't even believe them on the way home. I scoffed at their signs.
I might have screamed a bit on the way home. Mountain driving is a beast. You are right next to the rail, where you can see little crosses put up in memory of those who did not make it back down the mountain.
Plus, you can see the semis heading north UP the mountain. One wrong move, and you are toast. I hope those drivers think about that. My life is in their hands.
When they redid the highway, they decorated/arranged the rocks to make it look pretty.

Here's our sign celebrating Arizona's birthday. Palm trees replace the mountains from the earlier shot.
Home sweet home.
Anyone else take any trips lately?

p.s. Dairy Queen story - On the way home, we stopped at a DQ that we visit nearly every time we head up to Flag/Sedona/Jerome/Wherever. The guy asked us if we wanted dog dishes. They were free, he told us. Not knowing exactly what a dog dish was, we said yes anyway. Mostly because I am in love with free stuff. He gave each of the dogs their own little dish of ice cream. Good Lord, those were some happy dogs. Spike was like the owl in the Tootsie Roll commercial, where the owl says "How many licks to the center of a tootsie roll pop? One, two, three!" and then the owl bites the pop. Spike took about three licks and then just ate the whole ice cream at once. Atticus, on the other hand, did delicate little licks while sitting on my lap. He kept looking up at me and his little whiskers and chin had ice cream all over. Took him a good five minutes. So cute.


Happy Anniversary!

Jeremiah and I have officially been together for six years.

Holy crap, that's a long time.

We had an anniversary weekend, which is fun. Always extend holidays and celebrations to allow for maximum good times and good eats.

On Saturday, we started up the fun by walking to the neighbor's house down the road and begging for permission to take pictures of his cactus. It only flowers once a year and the blooms last only for a day or so. I had a lot of fun taking pictures, but there were a ton of bees.

Like, a whole bee colony.

I had to go to a happy place while I took the pictures. I tried to not think about what might have happened if I got stung. I'm sure that there would be an allergic reaction.
 So I just took a deep breath and then I did not take any more breaths after that. Okay, so maybe I did breathe after that, but I tried my best to remember everything I read in The Secret Life of Bees. So I respected the bees. I wasn't making any sudden movements.
 I think the bees had their own things going on, anyway.
After the near-death experience, we drove to Goodwill to return a shirt and Salvation Army to buy books for ONE QUARTER EACH. Seriously. I got five books.

At this point, I mentioned to Jeremiah that a friend had suggested we go to this park and he agreed that it sounded worth checking out. In all honesty, it did not matter what he thought, but it always helps when one comes along willingly. It's like with my students. You need to make them think they have a choice.

Kidding, Jeremiah.

All of the roses at the park were in bloom - it was gorgeous. The second that we got out of the car, the smell of roses and orange blossoms hit us. Very fragrant.

The historic part of the park focuses on these old buildings at the ranch. Something like 13 bedrooms and 8 bathrooms. 

 Mostly I just took pictures. I did not really look around the buildings much. Most of the people were focusing their attentions on the buildings and plus there were a lot of kids running around. The human kind, not the goat kind. So I stayed near the roses.
 They smelled fabulous.

 At one point I heard "Cocka-doodle-doo" or whatever it is that chickens make and I got cold & sweaty. Freaking HATE chickens. They are the scariest bird, am I right?
 The peacock was a bit full of himself, sitting on the picnic table and making the weird peacock noises. Since I am incapable of making or typing chicken noises for you, I won't even attempt the peacock noise.
On our way out, I snagged a picture of the cool arch over the road entering the park.

We then went to Smashburger, where we treated ourselves to sandwiches, milkshakes, rosemary & garlic seasoned fries, and a split order of fried pickles. We aren't really fried food type people, so this was a bit of a test on our digestive systems. One of our systems held up, the other one failed later in the evening. Too much information. I know.

Ooh, we also hung a chandy in my studio! I picked it out a few weeks ago and yesterday it went up. It looks fantastic and the second I take my camera upstairs I'll get some pictures posted.

What did everyone else do this weekend?

P.S. I am starting to watermark some of my pictures. Lately I have had people image searching certain pictures on the blog. I'm cool with the looking, but not the taking. I'm possessive. I don't share with others very well.

p.p.s. I just found my old pictures of us throughout our couple-dom. Not you and I. Jeremiah and I.

Here goes:
Once we had been dating long enough, I made Jeremiah get rid of these jeans. Not all jeans are created equal, and these poor jeans were...no words. I have no words.


We ate here. One year later, we ate at the same place and I was sick for two days. It's like this picture was a premonition of what was to come.  I am not sure if it was related to the food or not, but I will never go back.

First of all, I might be bossy about my camera. Secondly, this guy won't win any photography awards. That's one of my favorite coats, just fyi.


This was the next year, after I had eaten pizza of death. I had spent two days in the bathroom. The frown might be because I am facing the sun, or it might be because I am wondering where the nearest bathroom is. Jeremiah looks good, though. This is after I started dressing him.

Jeremiah took me up north in CA so I would not miss Michigan's fall season. We picked pumpkins.

Jeremiah looks like a naughty little boy. I can't believe he made me put that damn hat on.

I'm posting this one because I think Jeremiah looks GOOD. My ensemble was a last minute scramble after he announced a surprise trip to Tahoe. Leaving Phoenix I had not packed for the snow, JEREMIAH. That's not even my coat. That is my hat, though. Ear infections, remember?