Puppies, Peanut Butter, and Poop

Sabre (and most likely Tatum too) has a upper respiratory infection of sorts. No, it's a virus. Is that the same thing? He's been sneezing A LOT and sometimes his breathing sounds really horrible. Tatum has the raspy breathing thing going on, some sneezing. I took Sabre to the vet to find out if I'm just a crazy woman concerned about every little noise my puppies make, or if there's some truth to my madness. And I was right. He's sick. Not in a "I just want to sleep and lay around and be a super easy puppy" kind of way...but in a "I sound terrible, but I'm still going to play like I always do" kind of way. I'm glad though. I'm glad he isn't acting out of character. I'd be even more worried then. For now they're going to be on benadryl, and then if it gets worse, we're going to be out a lot of money. The antibiotic is rather costly. It's not bacterial at this point, so the antibiotic isn't necessary. But if they get worse and start showing certain symptoms, then I need to get them the rather costly medicine. This is a bit of what it's like having children, huh? I asked the vet if other dogs are as crazy as Sabre is when he's at the vet. My crazy dog wouldn't get on the scale, kept trying to open the door and run out, and would sit on the bench and try to hide behind me. It's embarrassing because I have no clue how to make him less scared of the vet. However, she made me feel a lot better when she said, "Well.. Sabre's really not that bad. He doesn't poop everywhere or..." and then I didn't hear the rest. He doesn't poop everywhere! Apparently there are dogs that get so nervous about the vet that they poop everywhere. I'm officially grateful that my puppy retains control of his bowels when he's nervous at the vet. :) Yay for Sabre!

Speaking of poop, yesterday Tatum did something rather horrible. I let the puppies outside to do their business. As soon as they were finished, they wanted to come back inside. Tatum, as usual, came sprinting inside behind Sabre, I closed the door, and sat back down on the couch. Tatum came over and sat on the floor next to me. Suddenly, the overwhelming scent of poop came wafting through the air. I thought maybe Tatum had stepped in some poop outside, so I was about ready to check her paws when I saw it. Right in front of Tatum on THE CARPET, a chunk of poop. She didn't slip up and poop inside the house. No, no. She brought the poop into the house in her mouth. [shudders] I was rather upset. She got a spanking right on her bottom. I got a paper towel, picked up the poop, and threw it back out into the yard, where, of course, Sabre picked it right back up and ate it. They both stayed outside for a while after that and didn't get to come back in till I rinsed their mouths out. This whole eating poop thing is driving me crazy. Absolutely crazy. And while I haven't yet found a way to put a stop to it, these puppies will learn real quick that they are never ever ever allowed to bring poop into my house.

Let's move on to a more pleasant topic. Peanut butter. I'm not a big fan of peanut butter. I don't really know why, but I just wouldn't typically choose it. However, on rare occasions (like this morning), I'll get a hankering for some peanut butter and jelly toast. But you see, there's a problem. My husband, who loves peanut butter all the time, likes chunky peanut butter. Chunky! Do you know how hard it is to spread chunky peanut butter on toast? It's hard. I like creamy. But since I only eat peanut butter once every blue moon, I don't get to buy creamy. Sigh. It's a hard life.

I think it's time for a walk. Both for me and the insanely hyper puppies. I feel like a rockstar when I take both my puppies for a walk at the same time. Because rockstars are known for their expertise in walking dogs..... psh. I'm losing it.

"Now I Know If I'm Trapped in a Cardboard Box, Sabre Can Save Me."

Travis is sitting in a very large cardboard box, Sabre is tearing it to pieces trying to get him out. I really think Sabre is mostly focused on the joy of tearing the box into tiny little pieces all over my floor, but it makes Travis feel better to think that Sabre is trying to save his life. Tatum is a bit overwhelmed. She did find a hole in the side of the box, and would stick her tongue through it, perhaps to reassure Travis that she was there. Or just because she's a dog and does things like sticks her tongue through holes in cardboard boxes. Now Travis is raking up the pieces of cardboard, while Sabre still works on destroying the box. Oh the excitement we have!

My little Tatum was sick yesterday. She didn't eat all day and vomited once. I was a tad worried... in the sense that I was terrified. I hate it when my puppies are sick. I don't know what to do and puppies don't tell you that they're sick. They try to act completely normal and don't cry or bark or anything. You just have to be observant. Sigh. But today she's been fine. She ate a little bit and even played hide-and-seek with us. She mostly follows Sabre around as he searches for Travis/me, but we all have a fun time. Sabre was a good protector this morning. There was a dog on the other side of our fence growling at Tatum. And Tatum, being the oblivious little puppy that she is, was rather curious about said dog. I, however, was less curious and far more interested in getting her away from the fence. The dog probably couldn't have done anything through the fence, but I just didn't like it. As I was making my way towards her in order to encourage her to come back inside with me, Sabre sprinted past me to the fence and started barking at the mean growling dog. :) I was proud of him.

Travis asked me why I haven't posted in a while and I told him, "Because all I want to talk about is how much I miss my birth control pills!" I'm sure most of you don't really care whether I'm on or off birth control pills, but you should. You see, I've become a crazy person. It's true. Some women say the pill makes them sick and hormonal and kind of insane, but for me, it's the other way around. I hope my body is just in the process of balancing out and that's why I'm insane, but I have no clue. All I know is that a month ago, the dog fur on my furniture didn't make me mad. I didn't necessarily like it, but I just ignored it and eventually cleaned the couches. Now I'm picking off strand by strand of dog hair. A month ago I enjoyed The Cosby Show. It made me laugh. Now I get mad, literally mad, at the stupid kids when they do incredibly stupid things. And I get even more mad at the parents when they don't discipline their children. A month ago I would have teased Travis about not putting his bowl into the dishwasher. Now I rant about how terrible it is that he doesn't help me keep things clean and organized. Over a stupid bowl! Travis has chosen to handle my sudden, ridiculous rants by laughing. He just smiles and laughs. Which really is the best way to handle it because there always comes a point when I look back and realize how much I overreacted and how ridiculous it all was. I miss my birth control pills. Although, I've had less headaches lately, so if that continues, then I don't miss them anymore.

Yesterday I made sloppy joes and onion strings. I actually fried onion strings! I don't like onions. I've gotten better about it in recent years, but as a whole, I can't stand them. Especially raw and especially in casseroles. I have a special way of knowing if there's onion in a casserole--too much onion, that is. Onions have a strong flavor, so if you use too much onion, it becomes all you can taste. And who wants to eat onion casserole? My dad spent years of my childhood trying to convince me that onions are wonderful and delicious. He never succeeded. I have, however, gotten to a point where I will eat fried onions (not big giant rings though) and very very very grilled onions. Caramelized. Anyway, I made sloppy joes and onion strings and they were both delicious. Yay!  

Wow. It's quiet. The puppies seem to be worn out. What a beautiful sound.

The Bigger Picture Should Make You Feel Pretty Small

Today is just one of those days. You know what I mean? One of “those days” where you wake up at 8:00 (ish) and fall back asleep at 10:30 and sleep till 12:30. Then a couple hours later, you start to feel a headache coming on so you do everything you can think to do to prevent it. But, of course, you fail and end up spending the second half of the day—the only part of the day where you’re awake, I might add—in pain. You’re sweating up a storm, so you check your AC thermostat and even though you have it set to 75, it’s 80 degrees inside your house. It’s 100 degrees outside. There’s no relief. But you deal with it because it’s Sunday evening, and there’s nothing you can do about it today. So you decide to distract yourself on the computer but…oh wait. For some unknown reason, your Internet isn’t working. OK, fine! You go outside to throw the ball for the dogs but…oh wait! Sabre lost (or hid, we’re still working on it) all the balls except one, and he guards that one like it’s his long-lost brother. So now all you want to do is get in a nice air-conditioned car (an air conditioner that works properly, I might add), drive to a hotel with free wireless internet, stay in a nice cool room with free cable television, and never ever leave. But, of course, you don’t. Instead you type up a blog entry that you can’t post till the Internet starts working again, feeling ridiculously pathetic for complaining about such little things.

My parents were in a motorcycle accident on Saturday afternoon. They were on their way to a funeral when the front tire of the motorcycle blew out, and they went over the top. As soon as they fell off, a bunch of people came over to help them, flagged down an angkot (public transportation in Indonesia), and got my parents to the ER. Miraculously, my mom has very few injuries, considering the fall she took. The right side of her body is pretty beat up. Her right foot is very swollen, she can’t walk without being in pain, and she can’t drive. And just in general, she feels pretty sore. My dad, however, broke five ribs. He’s stuck in a hospital bed and is in excruciating pain. They say it will probably take 4 to 8 weeks for complete recovery. It’s hard for him to think that way, because he’s in such terrible pain without much hope for relief anytime soon. I hate being so far away. My mom tells me that there’s really nothing I could do if I were there, but 10,000 miles has never seemed quite this far. On a more positive note though, my parents have been extremely encouraged by all the people that have visited them in the hospital, and all the people praying for them all over the world. I’ve heard people say all sorts of negative things about Facebook, but I have to say, I think they’re all missing the bigger picture here. I posted a Facebook status about my parents’ accident and within a couple of hours, people in Alabama, Minnesota, Arizona, Mississippi, California, Texas, Indiana, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Washington, New York, (and many others) and all throughout Indonesia and other countries around the world, were praying for them. What an incredible prayer chain! One status. That’s all it took! I sent an email to my extended family members, who then forwarded it on to more people, and so on and so forth. My mom received my email from a couple that used to live in Indonesia, asking for prayer from all of their contacts. Prayer is such a powerful thing, and to know that there are thousands of people praying for my parents is not only encouraging to them, but encouraging to me as well. And to those people that say they don’t like Facebook and they’re deleting their accounts, I’m not the person to go to for moral support.

So as you can see, complaining about being hot or not having internet (which just came back on, by the way), seems so trivial when you know your own daddy is laying in a hospital bed with five broken ribs. It makes me feel small and petty. And I sincerely hope that from now on, whenever I start to feel sorry for myself and lament about all my “first world problems,” that I’ll change my perspective a bit. Instead of being frustrated with an AC that doesn’t cool all that well, simply be grateful that I have a nice house to live in that has AC at all! Or instead of being irritated with horrible Texas summers, be grateful that summer eventually passes and the other three seasons are quite lovely here.

On a lighter note, my sisters are coming here tomorrow for a visit. They’re bringing me Indomie! Sabre is going to be 11 months old in three days. He’s almost a year old! Crazy! Tatum is handling her recovery quite incorrectly. She’s supposed to rest and take it easy this week. No playing or running or jumping…which is all she’s wanted to do since the drugs wore off on Friday afternoon. She clearly has no idea she had surgery two days ago. Travis made chicken stir-fry tonight. It was delicious! He wants me to donate plasma, but I have a little tiny fear of needles. OK, a big fear. He donated yesterday and thinks I need to give it a shot. But I’m convinced that I’ll look a bit silly going in of my own accord and then bursting into tears when they try to stick me with the needle.

Also… it might rain tonight. Gulp.

It's All Random Again, Folks.

My sweet little Tatum got spayed today. I am completely losing it. The surgery went well and all, but now she's home, and you would never know she had surgery this morning. We were supposed to keep her confined for the first 24 hours, but we failed. She's supposed to have a cone on, but we took it off because she kept knocking things over and running into walls. (We'll put it back on before bedtime.) She's only supposed to have a quarter of a normal meal and half a cup of water today. She devoured said quarter meal and has definitely guzzled more than half a cup of water. Needless to say, I'm feeling like a bad post-surgery puppy mommy. Both puppies are currently in their crates, because Tatum was trying to get Sabre to lick her stitches. No joke. This is going to be a long, long week.

I ran out of Indomie (Indonesian instant noodles). For those of you who have never had Indomie, I'm very sorry. They are wonderful. Completely unhealthy, but wonderful. Since I was a small child, I've eaten noodles for breakfast. It started in Thailand with Mama (Thai instant noodles), and simply continued in Indonesia with Indomie. I've been given many looks when I admit to people that my breakfast of choice is noodles, but what can I say? They're easy to make (because first thing in the morning I have no interest in doing anything too complicated), they're quick to make, and they're delicious. And I miss them immensely. Breakfast just isn't the same anymore.

I found out today that Francine Rivers has a new novel coming out sometime in spring 2014. I did a little dance. If there's one author that has yet to let me down, it's Francine Rivers. I'll admit that I wasn't quite as fond of the third book in her Mark of the Lion series, but other than that, her books are my favorites. Despite the fact that I have a degree in English Literature, I'm really very picky about books. I know many English lit people that will read just about anything and somehow enjoy it. I am not in that group. If I'm not hooked within the first 30 to 50 pages, it's not going to happen. But Francine Rivers' books have never failed me. If you've never read one of her books, you need to change that. Aside from the fact that her stories themselves are great, I also highly respect her as a writer. I love to write and hold writers to a certain standard. You see, Rivers takes writing seriously. She actually takes the time to have her novels thoroughly edited by an editor! What a novel thought! And then she rereads them herself to make sure everything still makes sense. So even though she only has a new novel every few years, I always know it's going to be well-written and a great story.

I think I'm going to eat a light dinner. You know, chips and cheese. Kind of like nachos, but not.

When You Feel Like You've Been Drugged

Don't you hate it when you take a nice afternoon nap only to wake up and feel almost more exhausted than before you napped? I really hate it. And I'm battling the overwhelming urge to go back to sleep until I no longer feel drugged.

If there's one thing I definitely like about my husband's new work schedule, it's that he gets Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off every single week. :) wonderful! On Friday we took the puppies to a splash park and playground. Sabre loves to go down the slide! We finally got Tatum to try it this time too. She was a bit unsure at first, but after one time, she discovered that it really was a lot of fun. After running around and sliding for a bit, we walked to the other side of the park where there's a splash pad. They knew exactly where we were going after a little while and ran straight over to it. Sabre loves the water! Tatum loves the water as long as it doesn't splash on her. She'll lay it in all day long. After the park, we went to a friend's house and the puppies played with some other doggie friends. I tell you all of this because then, on Saturday morning, the puppies woke up, played for about 40 minutes, and then slept almost exclusively for the next five hours. And after that, the only reason they woke up was because we took them back out for some play time! It was a strange (but very calm and relaxing) Saturday morning.

Over the past few years, I have struggled with something I like to call the "never-aging disease." It's not scientific or anything, and most people disagree with me that it's a disease, but I struggle from it nonetheless. When I was about twelve years old, I was frequently told that I looked as though I were sixteen! I always took it as a compliment because I enjoyed looking older than I was. However, pretty much around that same age, something happened. I apparently stopped aging. Since I apparently looked about sixteen when I was twelve, and I apparently look sixteen right now, it seems as though I haven't aged in eleven years! I'm constantly told that I should be grateful that I look young. The popular phrase is, "Someday you'll be grateful!" Well let me tell you something, Folks. Today is not that day. You see, here's what happened. Travis and I went grocery shopping yesterday. He was getting some vegetables, and I decided to go get something we'd forgotten in the frozen foods section. At one point while I was walking back, I was walking the opposite direction of these three boys. The oldest of the three boys was probably thirteen or fourteen (it's hard to know, because I wasn't really paying a whole lot of attention to them). As I walked past them, the older one said in that flirty teenage way, "Hey..." and smiled at me. I smiled politely and said hi back, and continued on my way. And then I felt saddened by the entire thing. A boy in middle school tried to..what's the word? Flirt with me? I don't know. But I'm desperately ready to look my age, you guys. [sigh.] Travis was less than understanding of my distress. He tried to convince me that perhaps this boy just likes older girls, but we both know he didn't think I was twenty-three.

Still can't shake off the sleepiness. Blah. What's a girl to do? My husband is watching something about all the parts of an engine. Or how to assemble one. Or disassemble one. I have no clue, but he offered to let me listen to it. I dramatically declined. Ok, I've used all the brainpower I have. It's a wonder I get anything done around here.