Halloween treats

Hubby is home today because he had a doctor appointment this morning. It's cool because now he gets to come with me and the kids to Jen's annual Tricks and Treats party. So the kids are napping and hubby and I were just standing in the kitchen and he said to me, "I don't like those jeans." I replied, "What do you mean? You picked these out." He looked puzzled and put on his jacket, and announced he was going out to get me some nice Levi's. I said, "Hey, why not pick me out a shirt to go with these new jeans?" He thought that was a fine idea, and asked me my new shoe size (since I am bigger and better post-prego).

I hate to admit that I've been wearing these jeans just about every time I go out. They're literally the only pair of fall pants I own at the moment (remember I've gone through three rounds of closet cleaning in the past six months). I had a few skirts and capris during the summer, but now it's just this lonely pair of pants. My involuntary uniform. I don't even know why I don't have more pants... guess I just haven't gotten around to it. I'm still a size 28, so some lucky size 25 at some Goodwill store is having a field day with my now-$3.99 Lucky Brand jeans collection. I imagine Goodwill hiring a circus sideshow-type announcer. "Come one, come all, see the spectacle of the century! Outrageously costly dungarees, once beloved, now cast aside like ill-fitting rubbish! Yours for just a fraction of their original price! Lucky, Lucky!"

I might be bitter if I weren't about to get a nice Halloween treat of my very own. If I'd known it would be this easy to get more new clothes, I'd have done the jeans uniform thing long ago. Happy Halloween to all. Look out Tootsie Rolls, here I come.

No more ickies

So yesterday I had a sick day. Afraid I might either barf all over the place, or be doubled over with stomach cramps the whole time, I opted to skip the Fall Festival. It was a bummer. I couldn't take a real sick day where you get to lie in bed and watch tv the whole time, but given the fact that my belly was still in knots at dinner time, I think I made the right decision.

This morning we are meeting our plumber at The Dude's place. The shower pipes need a checking out. I might pop in on our old neighbors, the G.I. Joes, to see if they would mind watching Nico while I'm upstairs waiting patiently for the work to be completed. I'm curious to see how it looks in there. Right now I'm off to get dressed and make a list of little things I need to bring with me. This morning was reserved for a food shopping trip, but, alas, I shall visit my sweet Wegman's another day.

Gettin' off my duff

This morning I was thinking about staying home. The weather here was (and still is) cold and rainy. Instead of sitting home, though, I got the kids and myself ready and we went out to be among friends. Our moms' group had its monthly meeting, and after that we had a health and safety fair. Interesting stuff. Nico was impressed with the two-way phone, and he and the 9-1-1 lady chatted for quite some time. It was so nice to see our friends and talk to everyone. After we got back home and the kids were down for their naps, I started to get a little weepy just thinking about moving away. It already feels like there's a lot of distance... almost like our old town is already part of a former life. In a way I guess that is the reality of the situation, but if it's ok with you I think I'll cling to it just a little longer. Getting attached to people and having to leave is already ripping a little hole in my chest. It's not the band-aid kind of situation for me. I don't know what leaves me with less of a sting -- gradual goodbyes or clean breaks. Who really cares when they both hurt?

Tomorrow we're going back to see the girls and the kiddies again for the Fall Festival. Costumes, crafts, photos, and snacks. I've been rehearsing the whole costume thing with Nico, and hopefully when we get there it will sink in that everybody gets dressed up. That should make him feel a little less weird about wearing a dinosaur suit. By Friday's Halloween party at Jen's, he should be a pro.

"Scratch Me"

If I could put a sign on my back that reads "Scratch Me", and not look too desperate, I would. Why is it so difficult for my husband to give me a decent back scratch anymore? It really bothers me that he fumbles with my shirt for three seconds, claims difficulty due to clothing interference, and that's alls I gets? Nothing bothers me more than that "this is too hard" crap, especially coming from a grown person. *pff* Fine then. See who folds those clothes in the dryer.

Sheets in three parts

So Nico's got the cutest toddler bed ever. It's about 50% wider than the standard size, and the fold-up ends are just the cutest thing. Today we finally went back to IKEA to get the three-part sheets that go with the three-part mattress. It only took us about two hours, including lunch. Hubby (who had a sick day from work) and I saw a few cute things which we've labeled in our minds as "future possessions", and he told me about some speakers in my mom's attic that we can put out on our new porch. I hear these speakers look like big rocks. Hmm... rock speakers? I'm intrigued. With our future outdoor lighting and future patio furniture, we should be throwing some kickass barbeques.

It has also come to my attention that I have neglected to pay a certain bill which was due, oh, back in April. The paperwork is nowhere to be found, but I'm sure finding something online won't be that difficult since these people seem to make it their business to give citizens a lot of options when it comes to grabbing up their cash. They've got that "pay us or we'll take it from you" attitude which I find to be so off-putting. Somehow, in my mind, it's been more important to clothe my children and provide sheets for their adorable little beds. I've got priorities, for Pete's sake.

Early morning guessing game

There's no mistaking what the baby wants if she wakes up in the middle of the night. It's rare, but from time to time she enjoys a bottle in the wee hours of the morning. When Nico is in his room yelling at 6am, I know what he wants, too. He wants to get up and start his day. Lucky, lucky.

This morning's crankpot conversation went something like this (try not to be amazed at the wide variety of toddler responses here)...

Part 1. "Cereal?" "No." "Milk?" "Nnno." "Juice?" (Nico nodding) "No."

Part 2. "OJ?" "No." "Apple juice?" "No." "Apple?" (Nico pointing to sippy cup) "Juice." "OK." I pour apple cider into an orange sippy. Nico takes it, along with an empty green sippy, to the coffee table.

Part 3. "Raisin Bran?" "No." "Cheerios?" (no answer) I pour Cheerios into a bowl and Nico eats half, then dumps the other half into a wicker basket and proceeds to eat from there.

Part 4. "Wanna watch a show?" It's 6:15am and I'm hoping to catch a break. "No." "TV?" "No." "Sesame Street?" "No." Damn it. "Dinosaur?" (He answers with dino noises and a scary pose) I put Nico in his Halloween costume turn on some music so he can dance. Two minutes later, he unzips the costume and stands on his bongo drums so he can open my laptop to do some very important work. Hopefully he's not blogging about me. I scoop him up and sit him on my lap and ask, "Who's my favorite son? Is it you?" "No."

Liar.

Budget bitch

The good thing about being the one to pay the bills is that I know where the money's going, and I know things are getting paid. The bad thing is that when someone MACs out his weekly lunch money two days late, then uses his debit card to buy his lunches the rest of the week, I am still left with the chore of making ends meet. With two kids, money matters, regardless of how many days it takes it to trickle out of the bank account. How many times do I have to explain this? To an adult?

Listen, I'm not dense, I know it's reasonable for a grown man to want to spend the money he earns. But when I offer to adjust the budget in his favor and he declines, it becomes all the more aggravating when I see him dipping into the cash whevener the mood strikes. Don't put apples in my basket and steal them when I'm not looking, then blame me when I can't bake a pie. Bullshit.

Modern washing

The time has finally arrived for us to retire the washer/dryer at the condo, and end the love/hate relationship I have with this ancient beast of an appliance. Our unit was built in 1983, and the laundry room still houses this one original relic. Just by looking, you can tell how old this thing is, and it makes me a little sad to have to replace it. I have been threatening to do so for the past four years but something inside me just didn't want to break down until the last possible load. The Dude emailed me yesterday to let me know it's giving her trouble. And headaches, I'm sure. The repair man told me three weeks ago I should get ready to replace it, and sure enough he was right.

So today I got a Lowe's card. I've been shopping around and comparing prices and models for the past year (yes, it's been a long engagement), and Lowe's has the right model for the best price, plus 10% off major appliances, 0% financing for a year, and free delivery. Sold.

It's a miracle!

I don't want to speak too soon, but it seems my efforts to coordinate the kids' nap times are paying off. I have had almost two solid hours to myself, duing which I have eliminated three more boxes of what I like to call "crap in general" from the front living room.

It's the funniest thing the way your outlook changes when a second child comes along. The baby is in there sleeping on her belly and I'm out here not glued to the video monitor listening and watching for breaths. When she cries I'm not overly woo-y with her. Mostly I just try to convince her that she's fine. And she is. I haven't focused every fiber of my being on making sure nothing bad happens to her, and the sun continues to rise and set. It's a miracle! No wonder I am actually getting things done around here.

Pumpkin Pics

Here I am with the kids in the market before the hayride, in between bites of apple cider donuts. mmmMMMmmm!


Me and Nico, discussing the importance of choosing just the right pumpkin to match your personality.


Olivia, me and Mom after we dusted off all the hay.


Nico, Frank (or is that Phil "The Unabomber" Laak?) and Herb, proud pumpkin owners.


Miss O doing her "I love hayrides" nose squinch and "I'm getting top teef" smile.

Classifieds

I would definitely not win World's Best Mom today. I thought it would be nice for the three of us to go outside to play. I dressed Livi in one of her new outfits. I put Nico in his new brown long john onesie, and as I was putting his pants on him he started up. Getting Nico to do anything involves having the ability to hit a moving target, whether it be with food, clothes, or a clean diaper. He started kicking his legs when I got the pants half way on, then he jupmed up and swept his arm across the coffee table, sending a book flying down right next to his sister's head. A stern "No-no!" didn't do much to calm the mayhem and he kept right on going. Annoyed to the maximum, I carried him off and plopped him in the portable crib in his room. I put Livi in the jumperoo and she was fine for a few minutes but now she's crying and needs a bottle. Honestly, I have just about had my fill. Where are those damn classified ads? I'm about to find myself A) a decent job and B) a decent day care center.

Five minutes later, Livi is happily fed and Nico is still in his room shouting. From the sound of it, Livi is about to need a clean diaper. After I change her, I'm going to take out my frustration on my still-not-flat tummy with a five minute workout, Britney style. All I want right now is to go to a gym and run on a treadmill for an hour. If only they let you on those things with double strollers...

** Late update... we did get out for our walk and had a wonderful time. The rest of the day was smooth sailing. I even had a full hour to myself -- both kids were asleep at the same time. We all cooked dinner together and they were both angels at bedtime. I guess we all have our days. It's just tougher when we're all having our day at the same time.

Pumpkin Day, and this sucks

I have the cutest photos from our first annual Pumpkin Day, but hell if I have wireless so I can share them. Ugh, the frustration. The hassle. The inconvenience. I miss using my own computer. What's that you say? Just load your photos onto Mom's computer? Oh, okay -- no. Go load your photos onto your mom's computer and tell me how you like it. You know how I am about the "my computer" thing. It's not easy. A-boo-woo-woo...

I need another Harvest Moon. (Picture me popping off the bottle cap with the Zippo wand lighter Mom uses for her candles -- damn it, I'm good.) Aah, that's better. So. Pumpkin Day. Awesome. Me, Hubby, Mom and Herb took the chickens out to Springdale Farms for fall-sy snacks (Jen you are in trouble for recommending the apple cider donuts, there go my crunches for the week), a hayride, and some pumpkin pickin'. It was so much fun. We came home and had Hubby's homemade chicken soup for dinner. Tomorrow there will be photos. Tonight there is only beer, tv, and knitting.

Anything but a minivan, honey.

Today Frank took the Golf to the dealer for an oil change and *presto change-o* he drove home in an '09 Jetta. Sah-weet! Here's how I used to feel driving around in the Golf with two kids in carseats... like a college student who accidentally got knocked up. Twice. Here's how I feel driving our new Jetta... like an adult who has two children and enough trunk space to accommodate the double stroller AND a full load of groceries.

Now let me tell you that Frank has been pushing to get a minivan. He called from the dealer this morning telling me about how fantastic the whatever-the-model-name VW minivan is, and I shot him down. He tried, tried again, emailing me photos and everything. If there is one thing I am not (read: NOT) interested in, it's a minivan. You could put any man behind the wheel of a minivan, I don't care if it's Frank or Brad Pitt or Leo or whoever, and any chance of me wanting to have sex with said man would vanish, no joke. And this is not good, because I want to want to shag my hubby. Next, Frank sent photos of a Touareg and, still, no. Then he brought home a diesel Jetta SportWagen for me to test drive. The manual transmission was a nice change-up and it was a decent ride for being a wagon. Closer, but still no cigar. My bells didn't start ringing until we agreed on a Jetta. My only requirements were a sunroof, an iPod adapter, and no navigation screen (I can get help on my iPhone should my keen sense of direction ever fail me and I can do without that screen thingy in my dash).

I'm fully stoked that I now have a real car. I can put to rest my plan of "accidentally" harming the Golf just enough to render it undriveable. Oh and for anyone who didn't already know, I sold Venus de Mile-o a few months ago to push forward on the whole moving north plan. Having an '09 Jetta just removed that sting.

Experimental

I'm very into knitting. When I was emptying/boxing up the contents of my old closet I found a whole buncha yarn that Frank's mom sent me years ago. I haven't decided how to use it yet, but who am I kidding by pretending to consider making anything other than a scarf?

There are so many projects I want to tackle, but I feel almost guilty knitting when the house needs organizing and I want so badly to get my boxes of crap out of the living room. Nico's bed needs these crazy three-piece sheets, which will require a special trip over to the Philly IKEA because they don't sell his sheets online (thanks, IKEA, that's possibly the most inconvenient thing you've ever done to me). The car needs an oil change and a brake light, which I could actually do whenever because our VW dealer has late-night hours. It's charming in a sick kind of way to have the option of taking your car in for an 11pm service.

Aww f*ck it. I'm holding an old school stitch and bitch in the living room tonight (Mom is invited of course). I'm knitting -- laters!

Hot dog from a street cart

I'd like to apologize in advance to my mom's dog Reggie. Reg, Reginald, Reggie Bones, Regetarian. Part hound dog, part shepherd, part snout, and all legs. 95 pounds of goofball Mom-shadow. Nico has been torturing Reggie since our arrival, because he clearly wants to make this dog his best friend, and understandably Reggie has his limits. Once things get to a certain point, he tries to reach out and touch someone (Nico) with his pearly whites. *NnnYAW!* I imagine if Reg could speak English, he'd say it's more of a "toofy kissy" type of thing because he is really a loveable dog, but it's not something I'm overjoyed at seeing and it puts him on my shit list for at least 30 minutes.

Tonight as I was making my blog rounds, I was reading my cousin's friend's page and there was a list of foods and food-ish items that one should at least make an attempt to taste in this lifetime. Number one on the list is venison, followed by things like steak tartare, huevos rancheros, carp (misread that one at first and cracked myself up), calamari, and crocodile. A little further down the list, my mind's voice made a completely innocent mistake with inflection.

15. Hot dog from a street cart

Sorry, Reg. I may want to roast you in a backyard barbeque pit every now and then, but I do love you and I swear I would never actually follow through. *NnnYAW!*

Yesss

The Dude is in. I'm officially a landlady. Success!

So... back to life, I suppose. Hubby put some music on my mobile for me, which is a whole new reason for me to love the iPhone. Unlike an iPod, the phone plays music out loud. You don't need headphones or speakers. And I can plug it right into the car stereo, just like an iPod. Tonight I'm going to start some knitting. Some kind of iPhone cozy, perhaps. There's a frog hat I am going to make for Nico, and then Livi is going to need some kind of cutesy woven goods to match the winter coat she'll be wearing. I'm so happy to have time to do stuff again.

Who ARE you people?

Today I was looking at the kids. They're growing so fast lately, I can see from day to day how their little faces are changing. Nico doesn't have that "baby face" anymore. Now he's a little boy, with a little boy face. And Livi now has a baby face instead of that newborn look. She just turned six months old yesterday, and I can hardly believe it. She does the cutest thing now where she looks at me, then puts her hands on my cheeks, then hugs my face and makes a growly noise. And tonight she got so excited about her new pajamas. That's my girl!

This two kids thing... I love it.

Purge! Purge!

The cleanout has begun. I must be on a high roll from emptying out the condo. Last night I went to pull some dishwasher tabs out from under Mom's kitchen sink and I was struck with the sudden desire to clean the whole cabinet. Out came everything, and I called Mom over and we went through, one by one, the bottles and cans. Whatever could go, went. About half the contents of the cabinet ended up in the trash, and then I proceeded to wipe down the cabinet floor and insides of the doors.

After I was done with that, I asked Mom, "So... what exactly on this kitchen windowsill can you absolutely not live without?" *big grin* Mom pointed out two Coke bottles that must, must, must stay. Then she hinted at the need for the pantry and the cabinets over the stove to be organized. I'm taking that as permission to go forth and clean. So that's as good as done, it just has to actually be, you know... done. Today Frank's still here so we are putting the crib and toddler bed together. I also asked Mom if I could paint my old room, which is again mine for the time being. So there's that, too. I'll get through those things and see where we're at. Right now we are busy deciding what kind of dog to get Nico when we have our own house. Woo!

1. Pop. 2. Drink.

Last night I learned a new trick. Proudly, I am telling you that I can pop open a beer bottle using a cigarette lighter. Sha-ZAM!

Hangin' out

Tonight Frank and I were hangin' out with our (Mom's) neighbors and we had a great time. Joei and Ray are our age, parents of three, and we so enjoyed being at their house all relaxing on the porch. (Say it like Fay saying it like Borat) Nice, I like! High five, vanilla face!

Today we were at the condo finishing up some junk, and for whatever reason, I said that Frank was very adept at something... and he, in turn, said I was... oh wait, no, he said I was very adept at painting, that I had done a great job with the patch paint for the nail holes in the wall... and I didn't quite hear him and he repeated himself, saying that I was inept (inserting inept where he originally said adept) and I was totally thrown off. As I am now, retelling it. But anyway, I asked him how it can be that he has no idea what a pea coat is, yet he can make a joke interchanging the words adept and inept, and he knows perfectly well what they mean. Sometimes I feel he has a high self opinion for no reason, but after this wordplay I'm not quite sure what to think.

Saturday evening conversation of a mixed race couple

Tonight I stumbled upon this site. After reading the first entry there about pea coats, I was giggling and Frank walked into the room.

Frank: What's so funny?
Me: This site called Stuff White People Like.
Frank: And what do white people like today?
Me: Pea coats.
Frank: (looking confused) What?
Me: Pea coats. Pea coats? Pea? (pretending to put a jacket on) Coats?
Frank: Pee-coes?
Me: (pointing to the photo on screen) Pea coats.
Frank: Oh! Pea coats.
Me: You are obviously not white.
Frank: No, I am not.

It is clear I will be returning to read more about the many things enjoyed by white people, while Hubby will not. I am particularly amused that he owns a pea coat, and he still had no idea what I was saying.

A-Duh

I've been thinking it's the wrong day all week. Monday I thought it was Wednesday. On Tuesday I thought it was Monday. I was one day ahead on Wednesday, and yesterday morning I knew it was Thursday but by night time I thought it was already Friday night. Side note: Lauren, this is why the email I wrote you last night will be slightly off in the beginning.

Today feels like Saturday because Frank has the day off and he's here, sleeping on the sofa while I type and the kids watch "Blue's Clues". Remember how I was giving up white sugar? I am still, but in the beginning I went cold turkey and had a pretty gross withdrawal. It's still in some things I happen to eat, but I'm doing great with not adding a spoonful here and there to things the way I used to. Brown rice syrup (thanks Mom!) is my trusty companion now, and has proven to be a suitable replacement. Does it provide the same kind of sweet delirium I so loved as an accompaniment to my morning coffee or tea? No. Do I like its taste as much as that of honey? Again, no. But the even-headedness and absence of sugar crashes has really helped put my body and soul at a more peaceful level. It's not easy to change such a habit, but I'm working on it and I'll keep doing so as long as it helps me look and feel better.

Happy Thurz

Gonna get out for a walk today. Funny how I'm suddenly saying, "Ooh, we need formula!" again. I forgot how fast that stuff disappears. Fortunately next week is Olivia's six month check-up, and her doctors always have a ton of samples in the office. We could walk out of there with a three week supply of Similac powder, and that makes the $20 copay more than worth it.

Living back at Mom's house is funny, I have to get used to what's around here again. It's great to be able to walk to a lot of stores, and the playground across from the municipal building is absolutely immaculate. Not one beer can, broken glass bottle, empty dime bag, cigarette butt, or condom wrapper on the ground. Nothing child unfriendly mixed in among the mulch. Mom pointed out that people are probably reluctant to party in front of the police station, and that's fine by me. I was so sick of policing the mulch at our old playgrounds, and I'm glad to leave that job in the hands of true professionals.

Lately I am backed up on answering emails, IMs, phone texts, etc. I keep meaning to update my budget spreadsheet. It's supposedly so important, so why am I not digging in and figuring it out? Laziness, I suppose. I feel I've done enough during the day once I've got some quiet time, so I skip the extra work I should be doing and reward myself by catching up with my shows on demand. TiVo, I miss you. Well we're off for a walk. Have a great day, everyone. See you sometime tomorrow.

The Inspektor, he is not so intimidating after all

Ever dread something and then when it's happening you realize it was a lotta worrying over nothing? That, readers, was the case with my fire inspection. The guy showed up 13 minutes early, and he was gone before 10 minutes early. I thought, could it really be that easy? I suppose I was in full compliance, and found myself relieved not to have to resort to bribery. Or attempted bribery.

Aside from that official business, I'm enjoying an average day. It's quiet time right now. I just had an hour-long phone conversation with my friend who's living in Portland. She's expecting her first baby and just hit her third trimester. We were discussing the whole "put a good book in your hospital bag 'cause labor's a great time for catching up on your reading" thing. She's planning a natural home tub birth with a midwife, so she really doesn't need to pack a darn thing, but one thing we agreed on was that reading a book is the last thing you should be doing during a major life experience.

The rest of the week promises to be filled with packing up the last of the condo chatch, then touching up the walls and cleaning. Hubby is coming home tomorrow night and has off Friday thru Tuesday. I've taken to kissing my wedding ring each time I find myself missing him. Not that I saw him all that much during the week anyway, but it's weird not to see his face each night. One very nice thing is that we didn't fight once while he was here this past weekend. Who has time to argue when you're busy basking in someone's presence?

Good morning!

Today's wake-up time? 5 AM! Woo-hoo!

On the to-do list for the condo: get touch-up paint for the living room, pick up paint swatches to find a match for the bedroom paint, check price for drywall to patch the space from the old medicine cabinet in the bathroom, mount the fire extinguisher and check the fire alarm and CO2 detector for tomorrow's fire inspection, and make a hair appointment.

I want to be a spiffy as possible when I meet up with The Dude to hand over the keys. My hair isn't horrible, but I could use a cut and hubby mentioned me getting highlights, so why not? I said it would cost twice as much to do color, and he said that would be fine, probably because he doesn't do the budget. Do I have other things to spend that cash on? Definitely. Am I going ahead and getting those highlights in my hair? You betcha.

Every time I think about the fire inspection, there's a list of things that pops into my head. It's all the township specifications with which I have to be in compliance, and it's that particular word, compliance, that makes me laugh to myself becuase all I can think of is Steve Buschemi in Fargo. That part where he's stopped on the side of the road, flashing the corner of a $50 bill at the patrol officer, saying, "Cause I wanna be, you know, in compliance..." and then I start to perspire just a little because it reminds me that I'll be dealing with my own official uniformed municipal representative. Someone who could flunk my ass in the inspection and send me into a real panic. Let me go pull myself together and get started on that to-do list. Note to self: must be prepared.

From there to here, from here to there

Everyone knows how much of a pain in the ass it is to move, until you are doing it and it's twice as much work as you remember. I'm starting to carve out a little space at Mom's and trying to arrange our things without stomping all over the place. The kids seem okay. It would be easier if everyone weren't stuffed up, runny nosed, and irritable, but such is life. Friday was my personal worst day. After a tearful (on my part) nursing on Thursday afternoon, I decided to switch to bottles completely. By Friday afternoon the engorgement was in full effect and I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry and/or sleep the weekend away. Frank was home and we watched There Will Be Blood , which is still haunting me. We spent as much time as possible clearing out at D Street and preparing for The Dude's arrival. Still much needs to be done, but it's looking very, very good.

On Friday I decided to get some internet consultation on how to get a baby to stop biting during feedings, and after 20 minutes of reading condescending crap, I was convinced I am doing the right thing for myself. Livi was already up to three bottles a day, and her doctor thought she'd be fine. In fact, I had a nice conversation with one of the nurses who told me complete weaning would probably be more painful for me than for the baby, and she was right.

So... everything is good. Not that I can fully focus, but it all seems to be going okay. There is so much on my mind that I can't fully think one thing through before another thing pops in to interrupt. For now, I'll try to finish my coffee, get Nico to stop whining and crying, and rush to the television to change the channel before I have to hear one more Barney song. One cute thing Nico does is that he always turns on the Ray Barretto cd Mom keeps in the player, so at least the vominous crap spewing from the TV speakers is offset just enough to keep the chunks down.

Dog Liker

Fast note, I am once again a dog liker and am on my way to becoming the dog lover I once was. All you cats out there can still suck it.