Snow cold

Over the holiday break we were able to head up north to the snow for a couple of days. We arrived just after a big storm and everything was freshly blanketed in fine powder snow. It was beautiful. I also took way more pictures than this, but our computer finally met an untimely death (sad trumpets!) and we can't retrieve any photos until we replace it.



We took Rusty with us because last time we took Heylove out of town, the poor thing nervously shook the entire time and didn't eat, drink or pee almost the whole trip. At the end of that trip, I was so worried about her, I started twitching too. Anxious not to relive that again, we left her in town with family and brought Mr. Meatball instead. He was the best traveling dog on this trip. He loved the car ride, he peed at rest stops, he ate, drank, napped, behaved very well off-leash and went absolutely bananas chasing snow balls. It was such a relief and a joy to bring him with us. This is what having a real dog must be like*!



Ira had a blast in the snow. We made snow angels, we galloped around up to our knees pretending to be snow dogs. We threw baby carrots for the horses and snow balls for Rusty. We took an afternoon to try cross country skiing. I loved it, but Ira had a little difficulty staying upright and began to get frustrated. He got better towards the end, especially once we had lunch. His metabolism is that of a mosquito and if he doesn't have a snack at the ready, then he turns into a tantrum-throwing honey badger. I always try to keep a kid's energy bar in my purse, but when we're traveling and our routine is disrupted, it's tougher to remember this stuff. Really though, if you're ever hungry and you see me carrying my giant mom purse, just ask me if I have bag of almonds or some room-temperature string cheese. Chances are, I got you covered. And if you need a wet-wipe after, I got that too.




*I realize Heylove is a real dog, but she's so person-like, it's easy to think of her as a little, anxious human covered in fur.

What if...

Kittens Having Kittens imagined band one-sheet.

We finished up a weekend of recording a couple of songs with the help of some skilled individuals, of course. Soon come the finishing touches and maybe some performance of some type. We just need a few more songs. Then - world domination. It's all a matter of time.

Hot Dogs

I keep intending to post photos of our week in Florida this summer, but our computer keep crashing our photo storage program or some such business. It's a pain and I want it to be easy. The computer and I are in a fight and when we make up, I'll post pictures of tropical paradise.

Here's a more recent photo of Ira, taken on the sly. He still hates having his photo taken and there's no amount of candy or cakes to change his mind. I wish it wasn't this way.

Our lives move so fast since "big kid school" began in August. The weeks go by in a flurry! Our time at home is spent either trying to get out of the door or trying to get to bed. There has been little down time lately, but now that soccer has ended, we can finally get our weekends back.

And good thing too, because we got this guy now:


Meet Rusty Meatball! The Meatball part is optional. He was called Rusty, and it seems sort of sad to change an old dog's name, so we're keeping it. He does look like a Meatball though. Poor guy's elderly owner died after raising this pup on a steady diet of hot dogs and beef jerky. We rescued him right up because he's a loveable hunk of Boston and it's true what they say about Bostons: you can't have just one. He came to us covered in fleas, head warts, butt sores and raw paws. After two weeks of better quality food and frequent walks, he's trimming up and healing all over. He and Ribs get along just great, which makes me so happy. You never know with Ribs, she's anxious by nature and can be a little fear-aggressive. Check out this little video of them playing:



So far, life with two 8-year-old Bostons is not much harder than just having one. They're both lazy, warmth-seeking, bump-on-a-log dogs that love to snooze all day. Creatures after my own heart!

This face, oh my gosh. This face.

I swear it all begins and ends with this face and by it, I mean life and happiness and my melting heart. Knock on wood he's still into mom hugs.

Right now, this guy has pretty much beat me in the cool contest. He's a lot cooler than I ever was and he hasn't even reached first grade yet. His most current interests are everything to do with Middle Earth. The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, elves, orcs, Tolkienian maps and the one ring to rule them all. He and dad are reading the Hobbit book right now, chapter by chapter in preparation of the movie coming out this winter. Total dad of the year award material right there.

Of course to temper the above literary interest, my little frat boy at heart has also fostered a wee obsession with the Beastie Boys' "License to Ill" album. Most of Sunday, he carried around his "phone" (my old iPod Nano), headphones and tried (comically) to learn all of the words to every song, including the (obscene?) line "I did it like this, I did it like that, I did it with a whistleball bat..."

"Mom," he asks "what's a whisleball bat?"
"Um, they're talking about wiffleball bats and dancing?" Help.

While one of his old teachers gave us a gold star for music enrichment, I'm not sure our mostly laissez-faire attitude when it comes to music will turn around and bite us once Ira can understand what he's listening to.

What else? Check losing a second bottom tooth and learning to tie shoelaces off the developmental list. My baby is almost 6 going on 16.

NECK WATCH 2012!
I had a massage! It got better! And then it got bad again. I need a neck transplant, I think. It only really hurts when I'm standing, sitting or laying down. It's also kind of a vague pain and sometimes fleeting. It's squirrelly for sure. WebMD told me it classifies as chronic pain, but WebMD also told me I have a face-eating tumor. I guess I'm just effed.

I owe this blog a picture piece on our Florida vacation, but I lost my camera chord thing (that's a technical term). That's what's coming out of the Excuse Cannon (patent pending), anyway.