Oh no, she didn't!

I am sure you all think from the title of this blog entry that I got in a fight at Sonic or something.  Not the case.  Although I have been known to resort to name-calling when I'm in the mood for a Vanilla Coke and there isn't a space to park.  That's a story for another day.

No, today much to my shock, horror and disappointment, my dog Elke took a whiz on my duvet cover.  It was on the floor, she must hate my guts, and the rest is history.  Then I freaked out. On her.  She's outside and doesn't even act like she wants to face me.  She should trust her instincts.

 

I think I am going to send her to the puppy jail.  Here's the picture I will give to the police when they book her and need to have something for her mug shot:

She was a baby when I shot the picture and her mischievous nature apparently hasn't changed much.  I was minding my own business taking a shower.  From our shower, a showeree can easily see into our bedroom which is where said incident occurred.  There I was, not a care in the world except whether to regular or deep condition my hair today UNTIL...out of the corner of my eye, I see a little white tail shoot straight up for the sky.  She was looking back at me over her shoulder like she knew was destined for problems.  She must have been mad at me, but if this is in reaction to me getting in the shower, than she has the most serious case of separation anxiety I have ever seen and we need to get his pooch some prozac!  

Once I realized what was happening, I screamed her name, her sister and littermate, Scout barked at her.  I knew it was too late, but I still ran out of the shower and escorted the guilty Elke straight outside.  Goofball dog.  And Scout was just as upset as I was.  She knows how I roll and I discipline just like the military.  One of you is guilty, you both get the punishment. Scout didn't even fight it, she just rolled outside right behind tail-between-her-legs, Elke.

Happy Steph-ebration, everyone!

That's right everyone, today is my birthday!  It gives me great pleasure to announce that I am just-as-close to 20 as I am to 50 today.  My philosophy on birthdays is simple, and it is, BRING 'EM ON!  I love birthdays, and not just my own.  All birthdays should be celebrated with laughter, stories, memories and the honorees' favorite dessert.  

Laughter and the telling of a good story was as big a part of my family growing up as oxygen is in most other families.  If you couldn't tell a good story, you better be a good listener.  Of course, with so many stories flying around the room at any given time, it was often hard to get a word in edgewise. 

 

I remember a few months after I moved from Nebraska to Dallas I was talking on the phone with my mom.  I have no idea what we were laughing about, but out of nowhere she says, "you know what, you are really funny."  Mind you, we hadn't just met.  I was 22 at the time.  It was just that my poor mother's attention had always been divided primarily to my dad-joke-telling father and my court jester sister, Shelley.  It was as if my mother and I had never spoken before.  I am sure it's hard for most of you to believe that I would be the shy one compared to my other family members, but it is true!

Speaking of story telling and Steph-ebration, I can't let the day go by without re-telling one of the best stories from my actual birthday.  After my parents took me home from the hospital, the nurses called the house from the maternity ward and said that they needed to bring me back right away for some additional tests.  Apparently, the hospital staff had overlooked giving me the standard test done at the time for Down's Syndrome.  To really get the full effect of this story, you need to know that my mom has always prepared for the worst because she believes that she won't be disappointed but rather happy when things turn out okay.  I joke with my parents that my dad's glass is always overflowing rather than half-full and my mom's glass is empty, just fell on the tile floor and smashed into 1,000,867 pieces, and her vacuum is broken. 

Back to the hospital story.

Of course, my mom believed the nurses already knew something was wrong, but they were simply trying to let her down easy.  So on the way back to the hospital, my mom very seriously said to my dad, "Jim, I don't care if something is wrong with her, I want to keep her."  The tests turned out to all fall in the normal range and all was well.  My parents love to laugh with each other and me as they think back to May 1974 and the drive back up to the hospital with their new baby.

So I close confirming the thoughts that you all have in your mind right now, yes, my parents have given me a tremendous amount of material for my blog.  Stay tuned for those delicious walks down memory lane.  In the meantime, Happy Steph-ebration!

I Might Have Married An Alien

There are certain things you don't ask on a first date.  I submit a few to you from personal experience:   How much do you weigh?  When do you want to get married?  and finally Are you an alien?

It may be self-explanatory, but the first question is one that should never be directed to me...the second question I suggest is never asked to either men or women under any circumstances even if you are both on the Queen Mary, and it's sinking...and the third question is specifically for my husband, Jay.  I have some explaining to do.

My husband Jay is from Roswell, New Mexico.  I will give you all five seconds to come up with your favorite alien joke off the top of your head.  I'll just be over here humming "The Girl From Ipanema".  5...4...3...2...1.  I will pause again as you laugh to yourself about your alien joke. Okay, are we ready to move on?  Good.  I would now like to apologize to all of you for mentioning "The Girl From Ipanema" because it's quite likely that you might all be singing the song in your head.  Lo siento.

I didn't know much about Roswell 10 years ago before I met Jay.  You probably know that it is believed by many that the outskirts of Roswell were the site of a UFO crash in the 1940s.  Full-blown cable specials on conspiracy theories and alien experts have become en vogue, but that wasn't the case when I met Jay.  Oh how times have changed. I have on occasion watched bits and pieces of these shows hoping to learn more about aliens and determine whether or not I am married to one.  Of course, having been to Roswell personally dozens and dozens of times, it's hard to miss the Alien mania all around town.   I have particular fondness for the street lights which line Main Street.  

The bottom line is, over the years I have collected evidence that could suggest Jay might in fact be an alien:

1.  He changes clothes an average of 2.5 times a day.  This could be because he is an alien and they are constantly trying to adapt and blend in. Or, this could be because I do the laundry and he is unaware how much extra work he is generating for me.  

2.  He is oddly obsessed with the weather.  With the exception of my mother who has a favorite meteorologist on The Weather Channel,  I have never known someone so aware of the weather today, tomorrow and what it is supposed to be doing this time of year.  Jay could be keeping track of weather patterns and reporting back to his home planet.  They would need to gather historical weather data to ensure they are traveling to Earth at the most opportune times.  Or, he could be the ultimate boy scout who needs to be prepared for any situation at all times.

3.  He can name any aircraft in the air, even with his eyes closed.  Granted, I am not exactly able to check his work, but he is confident about the manufacturer and model with each plane he sees or hears in the sky.  From "Above Top Secret," Jim Marrs suggests that aliens are far more advanced than humans when in comes to advances in air travel.  Jay could have gained this encyclopedic knowledge while in Alien training on his home planet.  Or, he could simply have an obsessive compulsive disorder regarding a hobby and interest that has persisted since childhood.

I realize that most people reading my blog are my friends and could be naturally concerned about my safety if Jay becomes aware that I am on to his could-be-an-Alien ways.  Don't worry, dear comrades, it is well known that Aliens don't read blogs.  

Say what, Diane Sawyer?

I love Diane Sawyer.  Good Morning America is as much a part of my morning weekday routine as my multi-vitamin and regular paste Crest.  However, this morning she threw me a complete curveball.  There I was, barely awake, praying that it was Saturday.  Jay had turned on the television which confirmed my fear--it was a weekday.  I was so tired, I wasn't sure which day it was in that nano-second of time.  Tuesday.  Then the familiar GMA opening soundtrack filled the bedroom, the colorful orange and yellow title graphics flooded my room like spotlights and Diane dropped a bomb on me.

The recession is over.  

Just like that. 

While I am thrilled that this may in fact be the case, I am skeptical.  Honestly, I was skeptical that things were quite as horrific as the talking heads claimed from the beginning. Full disclosure encourages me to admit that I enjoy the view from my perch up here in the denial tree.  In reality, I know plenty of friends and former colleagues who lost their jobs, but many have already moved on to find better and brighter futures.   I know I can be cynical, but it seems like ever since "shark attack" hysteria a few years back, the media just jumps on a story and then beats it into the ground until another headline distracts their attention away.  I think they all have ADD, or as Jay likes to say, "AD...ooooh...shiny".  I present the following example to illustrate my point:  Recession -> Susan Boyle -> Swine Flu.  Recession over.  Susan Boyle got her eyebrows done so now nobody cares, and the Swine Flu has a new name which sounds like a Talking Heads album.

I hope Diane is right, I hope the recession is going away.  Many people claim that this break in working has helped families reconnect and adults reevaluate what type of career they really want to have rather than what they were doing before a layoff.  I guess that would make some of the pain of the last few months worthwhile; knowing that there have been lessons learned and lives changed for the better.  I just am not ready to hear about it at 7 in the morning.  See you tomorrow, Diane.