Pop!

My bubble …it has been burst.

And I just…I can’t think of any words

There are no words right now. None. Well, there’s one word.

Craptastic.

There are also other words, but since my Grandma reads this blog, I’m not going to use them.

I sat on this for a day thinking it would be easier to write about and it’s just, it’s not.

It’s not easier. I should be used to it by now, because the cycle of my life is that I come up with a plan, a plan that has worked for 100s of other people, a plan I’m very excited about, I begin to implement that plan, and the universe takes a giant crap on my head. I brush the poop off and I reorganize my plan and I keep trying, I morph my plan until it only vaguely resembles my original plan and yet, I still am not making any headway.

Maybe that’s why I’m so hesitant to try new things, I figure it’s not going to work out for me anyway, why try. But this one was important to me and this one was a real plan and I thought I was done.

Remember my ethical dilemma? No, not the dead animal one, the early certificate one. If I hadn't been so ethical, I wouldn't be dealing with this right now. All I had left to do was paperwork and a test and they changed the rules on me 1 day after my last requirement was complete, but before I had a chance to apply. If I had taken that stupid early certificate and applied when I got it, I'd be on my way. But I didn't, I didn't think it was ethical. And NOW it's going to cost me a lot of money.

Hey, guess what though, I never learn. I have a NEW plan.

Actually I have 2 plans, 3 if you count the one where I plan to win the lotto. One of the 2 depends heavily on the willingness of a 3rd party. So once I contact him and get the “No Way.” Or the “Okay.” I will unveil my new plan. Plan #5697.

A New Direction

Landon has been standing up in the middle of the floor on his own for some time. He has been cruising along holding on to various pieces of furniture and toys.

On Saturday afternoon he took his first unassisted step. To me! Completely unprovoked! Mah preshus babee is growing up.

Of course he has no idea what he did. And he's only done it once since then, towards Clint.

Video of him with a walker cart thingy to come later this week.

Wordless Wednesday

Explanation

The last post was a favor to a friend.

There’s a special place in our hearts for gnomes. She may very well have a painted cement garden gnome in her parents’ attic, and we may or may not have spent several days out in her backyard creating homes for gnomes…actually that might have been the fairies, but whatever, we liked the gnomes.

In Scotland there’s a loch, Loch Fyne to be exact where scuba divers have dropped gnomes in a certain area, creating an underground gnome garden. The main dropper of gnomes says he encourages others to drop their gnomes as well.

The idea behind the post is that “I dropped my gnome in it” could conceivably replace “I put my two cents in.”

I also believe is could replace other sayings, it’s a smurf of a saying:

“Shut Up!” “Oh, drop a gnome in it.”
“It’s not rocket science.” “It’s not gnome dropping.”

So, go forth and gnome it up.

Getting it out there

I do not normally post my views on politics or religion or parenting decisions on my blog. As such I will probably never get the “you have arrived” hate mail that the big bloggers seem to get. As it is, either you know me or Clint, or you came here looking for a recipe for tomato soup from scratch, and a select few of you may have followed a link when I commented on your site. As a matter of fact I’m having a lot of trouble trying to make a controversial post just to get a 6 word sentence on the end out into the world.

Why? There are 2 categories really:

Category 1: I don’t care about the decisions in your life that have no bearing on mine.
Category 2: I think you're a person capable of making informed decisions and do not need my opinion unless you ask for it.

But mainly, I don't care.

I don’t care if you’re gay or straight or married or civil unioned. I don’t care if you bottle feed or breastfeed your baby. I don’t care if you’re Buddhist or Christian. Or Muslim, or Atheist, or Wiccan. I don’t care if you co-sleep or crib sleep. I don’t care if you use cloth or disposable diapers. I also don’t care what kind of toilet paper you use, so there! I don’t care if you work or stay home. I don’t care if you make $1,000,000 and I don’t care if you don’t even make $10. I don’t care if you have 17 children, or 7 children, or maybe none. I don't care if you potty train at 2 or 3 or 4 or beyond. I don't care if you homeschool or send your kids to public school. I don't care if you're a democrat or republican. I don't care what kind of car you drive. I don't care if you have an abortion or not. I don't care if you circumcise or not, I don't care if you vaccinate or not.

It's not my business.

So there, "I dropped my gnome in it."

Solid proof that the truck is mine

Clint and I had a gas mileage conversation last weekend where he discovered that I had been getting about 400 miles/tank, and a tank was lasting me 9 days. In which I revealed that I was not using the A/C unless absolutely necessary. Disturbed that I was able to do this and that he never was when he drove the truck, and inspired by how I achieved it, this week, he didn’t use his A/C all week and still got the same gas mileage in his car. He suffered for nothing.

Just wait until he hears this: I last filled up on August 30. I still have half a tank of gas.

BWAHAHAHAHA!!

The Next Jerry Lee Lewis

Except without all that cousin marrying stuff.

Trying something new...

Doing it the normal way, just in case.

Which do you prefer? Format wise?

Small Change Challenge – The cop-out

What?

It’s September already?

No seriously, so much stuff I didn’t do this month.

I was supposed to donate to a school supply drive. There was one at work, but it was the brokest week of our lives, so I didn’t get to buy anything for it and all of the sudden it was over.

**Rummages through desk.**

What did I do, what did I do…I gave a co-worker one of my apple pies. He’s not a kid, he could have afforded his own apple pie. Doesn’t count.

My bone marrow donation card came in. I already used that one though.

I think this is the month I have to use my ace in the hole. This is the month I have to play that card and it means for the rest of the year I have to behave myself and actually follow through on challenges.

Dang it.

Here it goes.

I’m a Girl Scout leader. I have been for 5 years, this school year will be our troop’s 6th year. It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my office, bored off my butt, thinking, what I need is an extra curricular activity. I know! I’ll get my sister to let me be a Daisy leader for her daughter. When I was a brownie, my troop leader was a young engineer – she wasn’t even related to anyone in the troop. And so I called and began the arduous process of setting it up.

I got online and I heard all these horror stories about troops and parents and behavior problems and un-reliability. I was scared. But I have been blessed with quite possibly the best troop ever.

I don’t mind doing the paperwork. And when I decided to have a baby, I told the Moms that I needed more help, and they stepped up (well, those who didn’t, quit.) I have 7 girls in my troop. And I love every one of them. I am so glad I did this, it’s totally worth it.

Hey, I can even tie this into the month of August. This month we took the girls on their annual cookie trip. My parents allowed us to use their lake house, we built a campfire, took a night hike, looked at stars, swam, played a little bit with compasses (the directional kind, not the circle kind.) They had a blast. They earned 3 badges and had a blast doing it. Their only complaint? Why can’t we stay longer?

Monthly Newsletter #11

Dear Landon,

It’s been almost a year. It doesn’t seem that long. Well, some parts do. Like Wednesday evening, when you were just plain mad all evening. And when I finally got you down and took my shower and was just about to drift off to sleep, you were up and mad again. Presumably because you were awake. Or maybe you were still mad that we had the audacity to make you be born 11 months ago. Or maybe you were upset at the news coverage, I guess it was a slow news day so everyone decided to replay news from 2 years ago. We want news, not olds, people.

But I wanted to poke her with the dinosaur...

It finally stopped raining long enough to get in the pool a few times this month. You are kicking like a pro, and I can get you to motorboat every once in a while. We’re still working on not diving head first into the water and trying to breathe it. It’s physics really, and as much as I’d like to change that for you, I don’t have the power.

Get me!!

I think we need to talk about sharing. Sharing is a good thing. You should share your toys with other kids; it will help you make friends. I’ve been trying to do some type of charity all year (and probably will continue to try to do something once a month for ever) to instill the idea that you should share your wealth in one way or another. But there are some things you should keep to yourself, and some things that have rules. The dogs share their toys with you, but you should not share your toys with the dogs. Primarily because their toys don’t rip to shreds as easily as yours do. While I understand the urge to give them the rest of your chicken, as fast as you can, so mama can’t stop you, and watch them scurry around like fish in a tank at feeding time trying to eat it all before they get caught. This actually teaches them to beg from you. And while I see that you don’t mind sharing your wagon wheels with them. A lick for Scarlett, a lick for you, a lick for Scarlett, a lick for you. One day you’ll have set out a pound of bacon on the counter for breakfast, you’ll turn back to the fridge to get the eggs out, and you’ll turn around just in time to see Scarlett make off with the bacon. You’ll chase after her and she’ll swallow the whole thing in 3 gulps, it’s like she’s a python and can unhinge her jaw. And that’s not something that we want to teach her is ok. Bacon is sacred. Also when I tell your girl friends in high school that you used to share food with the dogs like that, they might not want to kiss you, and you will want them to kiss you.

I know it's in here somewhere.

You seem to have a need to put things inside of other things. If I hand you one small toy, it’s not all that cool, if I hand you a container to put said toy in and take it out and put it in and take it out and put it in and take it out, its da bomb! So I can see the allure of the dogs’ food bowls. Lots of little stuff to take out and put in and take out and put in. Plus, it’s small enough to put in your mouth, and it must taste ok, you keep doing it. When you’re older and have molars and can crunch it, I probably won’t stop you from eating it, but for now? Stop trying to eat the dog food. I’m sure it won’t hurt you nutritionally, but since you have no molars, it’s a choking hazard and the very last thing I want to do after giving you the Heimlich is tell the good doctor that you were eating dog food. I know, you share your food with them, they should share their food with you, by all accounts it’s totally unfair of me to put those kind of restrictions on you. There’s a whole nother separate issue about how some dogs don’t appreciate you messing with their food, and while our dogs seem ok with it, I don’t want to get a call from your friend’s mother about how you were trying to get a snack from the dog bowl and their dog bit you. I’m such an evil mother. You can tell your therapist all about it, and how I outted you to the internet as well.

Who knew door stoppers were so much fun.

Other people’s dogs will also probably not tolerate you whacking them with a spatula for the fun of it. Poor Scarlett just sits there and takes it. Fiona at least has the sense to get up and walk away, she knows she’s faster than you and you can’t catch her. Yet. I don’t know if it’s that Scarlett thinks it’s ok that you do that to her, that she thinks she’ll be in trouble for abandoning you, or if she’s just biding her time so she can lick your face again and maybe get some of your leftovers that you like to carry around on your cheeks.

Eeeew pink!

This past weekend we bought you a new slotted spoon and spatula. The whacking that followed was more whacking than an entire season of Sopranos. Shortly after purchasing them, the sky fell out and we were stuck in the store for a good 15-20 minutes before I had enough of the whacking of the display where we were sitting, trying to wait it out and we just walked through the pouring rain out to the car. We also went to a kitchen and bath store, the kitchen section is your play ground. You know how some kids throw a fit when you make them leave the toy store or the toy aisle. Hell hath no fury like an infant parted from his measuring cups.

Do you really think you deserve this?

Next month you turn 1. I can hardly believe it has almost been a year since you took over as CEO of the Wood Life. I hope you realize that the position as CEO is not a lifetime position and one day the tides will turn. After this stint you should realize that you may not be CEO again until you move out. Enjoy it while you can.

Love,
Mom

Education

New Math

4 + 4 = 1.5


Who knew?

Life Skills

Someone learned to blow bubbles (motorboat) in the pool this weekend. Someone did it several times in a row on Saturday. Someone pretended he had no idea what his mother was doing on Sunday when she tried to get him to do it again, and possibly reliably enough to shoot a video. Someone has no idea how much trouble he's going to be in with the internets once they read this.

Photography

Someone has also discovered that when the little silver box comes out, he should mug for the camera when really the person behind it just wants him to keep doing what he's doing.

Reading

Someone discovered the joy of pulling all the books off the shelf at Barnes & Noble, while Mom and Dad try and find a decent children's book that doesn't look easily digestible.

In which I become a thief

The remnants of tropical storm Erin headed through Houston last Thursday. We got about an hour or so of rain out at my office, but not too terribly much. I had class on Thursday evening, and while I heard about some flooding in East Houston, nothing said that HCC might cancel the classes. So I went ahead and went into town.

I got to the building, parked on the 5th floor like I always do.

I went down to the 1st floor and out the front to get dinner. Just like I always do.

The security guard said “Good Night!” to me like he always does.

I came back in and the security guard had me sign in, like he always does…(why? I don’t know, because when I leave I don’t pass him again.)

And THEN he tells me that HCC is closed. And in my damsel in distress mode, I made a big deal out of it because a) I have no money to pay the parking garage guy and I need a validation sticker and b) I was thinking on the ride over how I wish I could just go home and it turns out I could have – but instead opted for a 2 hour pointless side trip.

The way this building works is that they can shut the elevators down so you can leave via any floor of the parking garage, but you cannot get up to any offices with out a badge. They shut it down like that every day at 7pm, but also are able to do that, if say…an office closes for the day.

So he lets me up to the 7th floor anyway – doesn’t seem like a very secure thing for him to do, but maybe he recognizes me. Except if he recognizes me, why then does he tell me “Good Night!” every time I walk through to get something eat if he knows I’m coming back. He’s right, there’s no one up there, and there’s a sign that says they’ve closed the campus. Except if I hadn’t made a huge deal to the security guard about it, I never would have seen the sign and they didn’t bother to broadcast that news on anything.

And then I turned criminal.

I had no money. No cash, the parking garage only takes cash. I hadn’t been paid – payday was the next day, my allowance fund was not even enough to bother finding an ATM.

I knew where the receptionist kept the parking validation stickers, and without so much as a backwards glance, I walked around her desk and opened the drawer. I looked to see if I could sign in and account for the sticker, like I always do – but there was no sign in sheet anywhere.

I assume HCC has to pay some amount of money for those stickers and I suppose, the guys in the parking garage might have bought my story if I hadn’t gotten one. But if HCC didn’t want me to steal a sticker, they should have called me and told me my class was canceled.

Tonight, in some morphed bit of reasoning, we are making up the missed class by having a field trip, during what should be tonight’s class. So somehow, a 4 hour class that we missed and a 4 hour class tonight (8 hours total) will all be made up for by a 4 hour field trip. I’m not arguing, I just want to know where the logic of 4+4=4 comes from.

Current Events

Guess what’s on the news today? No, go ahead, guess. It won’t be hard. I’ll give some clues. You tell me how many it took you to get it.

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Its kid related.

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Its China related.

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Its toy related.

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Its paint related.

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Its lead related.

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If you don’t have it by now, how’s life as an ostrich?

How many more lead paint related recalls are coming? It makes me afraid to buy toys. Luckily I’m not big on buying toys to begin with, but still.

It started out with cheap vending machine jewelry, but has moved on to Thomas the Train and Mattel. Every time I hand him a toy with any kind of paint on it, I think “Is this going to make him dumb?” “Am I poisoning my own child?”

And as a special bonus, this makes me oh so proud to own stock in Mattel.

A boy and his truck

We went to Babies R Super Expensive this weekend, we were looking for some more tank top outfits that are tank tops and shorts in one. We thought we bought them there before, but I guess not. We also needed a few more bottles, as 2 are MIA and 2 are visiting the grandparents. I had a coupon for 15% off in my wallet, but forgot it in the car, and I left Clinton alone in the store for not more than 3 minutes while I went out to the car to get the coupon.

3 measly minutes. And the 2 of them found this:


That's a reenactment of my face when I saw the price.

He was not giving it up. And I figured for sure that when we got home, he'd just ignore it, but he did at least play with it. And he's even got his hand signals down, at least for the right turn. Nice and safety conscious.

Or maybe not.

Carrot results

I tried to pull up just one, but a bunch came with it. Here's my biggest carrot:

For some size perspective, these are pictures with a teaspoon:

I still have a few left, the package said 60 days to harvest and it's been 60 days, but I thought I'd give them a few more weeks. Also tiny carrots? Not that tasty.

Keeping the lynchers at bay

I know it's been a while since you had a picture and the one I'm about to post is not a new picture, it was actually taken in June.

If he's playing with my toys, I get to lick him, right?

My eye has been hurting for a few days, yesterday when I put my contacts in, I thought to myself, I should probably wear my glasses, but I didn't. Because I'm vain.

Mid morning I told my supervisor I was going to the Whole Health Center before my eye fell out. It's like a clinic at work, for $10 you see a nurse practitioner, and she can write prescriptions or whatever for general issues.

I made the minor mistake of describing the pain as "pressure" and the woman FREAKED OUT. She suggested I go home immediately - despite the fact that I have a deadline of (well, today) for my 250+ page report. I told her I had a deadline and that I couldn't get home to take my contacts out until this evening, I can't drive without them, and I'm not driving 60 miles to take my contacts out and come back. Anyway, she prescribed the drops I felt I needed and an antibiotic I feel I don't need. I'm doing the drops (also antibiotic) for a couple days and if it gets better, I'm not taking the pills. She also said something about if it didn't fix it, that I could come back and they could give me a shot and then we'd "re-think" the breast feeding. Now look, I'm not a breastfeeding nazi or anything, I'm not a member of LLL, but I've made it 10.5 months. And surely a scratch on my eye is not going to be the reason I stop with only 6 weeks* to go. If it’s not healed next week, I will go see a real doctor. And I do think it's a scratch and not so much an infection, simply because the last 3 contacts I have put in my left eye have only made it a couple days before ripping in half. I understand the need for the antibiotic approach for keeping me from getting an infection from the scratch, but the drops are also antibiotic and I think it's overkill.

Since I have a high deductible insurance plan, and as such will be paying my entire cost of prescriptions and doctor visits until I shell out $1100, I looked up the price of the prescriptions online and found that they were both on Target's $4 list, so I decided to go there to get them filled. I dropped them off, the pharmacist said it would be 10 minutes; I wandered the store and came back. She asked if there was a Dr. who the NP worked under and I said "no" it's a work clinic. And she said "Oh, well I’ll just fill them under the NP's name, since she is legally allowed to write prescriptions." Uh...yeah, I mean, shouldn't you? Shouldn't you fill a prescription under the name of the person who wrote it anyway? Whether or not she works with a doctor. Or is that just me? So then it was another 10 minutes, because rather than page me and ask, she just waited until I came back and then didn't bother to do anything else towards getting the prescriptions ready. Whatever, I can't complain; it was only $8 for something that would have cost about $40 at Walgreens (according to their website). I started my drops last night and have applied them twice this morning, and while they sting at first and actually make my eyes redder, they do seem to be working, because I don't have the pain I had before.

* My goal was originally 1 year. 1 year THEN wean, so technically, it's more than 6 weeks.

Ethical dilemmas continued

FAIR WARNING, THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. It's a little gory and very sad, you may want to skip this post. And also not read it either while eating or shortly after eating
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Ok, I warned you.

On Friday morning, Clint left for Gun Barrel, and I was preparing to take my girl scouts to Lake Limestone. I had a bunch of errands to do, and one included taking Ivan to the vet for what seems like will be his annual cortisone shot for his mosquito allergy. Apparently we can’t do anything to prevent this, without allergy testing and weekly allergy treatments, so, he had an appointment on Wednesday, Clint left work early to take him and then couldn’t find him. We rescheduled for Friday morning, so I was looking for him. The cat knows when he has an appointment and knows exactly where to hide, because I couldn’t find him either and ended up calling and telling them that I would need to call back if he resurfaced.

In my hunt for him however, I was in the backyard, since we have a section of fence that’s like at a 45° angle and has been for a few weeks, I thought that as long as I was out there, I’d go see what we’d need to do to fix it. Ever made a decision in which you truly wish you could turn back time? I come up to the fence and notice a particularly foul odor. And I’m looking and I see what I think is possible fangs from a snake and maybe and eye and some skin that looks scaly. And I looked on the bottom side of the fence.
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It’s not a snake. It’s not fangs. It’s a claw. Now, I can’t tell if it’s a raccoon, or a cat or a possum. But I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I ran back into the house, horrified. Remembering the other night when I heard a cat crying and I couldn’t find it. Remembering the nights that Scarlett was back in that corner of the yard and I could not for the life of me get her to come in.

I called Clint, one of his household duties is the removal of dead animals. He used to share this duty with Shane. I have issued orders of removal for a mouse, a squirrel and now, this – what I hoped was a raccoon. I told him of my grisly discovery, and went on to the Girl Scout trip. I can honestly say that animal was in the back of my head all weekend. (I did find Ivan and took him to the vet and all is well with Alexander, and also the gray cat that does not belong to us, but apparently we feed.) So when Clint finally got home, and went to inspect the dead animal, he said he needed my help in its removal due to the angle of the fence. I asked if he could tell me it was a raccoon. And he was silent. And I knew. And he said slowly, “I … can … tell … you … it’s … a … cat.” And I said “NO!!! Tell me it’s a raccoon.”

And all I could think about was the week I was missing Alexander. How during that week all I wanted to know was where he was. If he was dead, I wanted a body, I needed closure. Here’s the thing, this animal, which I would still like to believe may not have been a cat, had already lost a significant amount of hair, there’s no recognizing a cat by its skeleton and dried up skin. And there had been lost cat posters around the neighborhood a few weeks ago, but not within the last week or so. That cat has been hanging on our fence for at least 2 weeks. We put him in a black trash bag; he’ll go out with the rest of the week’s trash on Wednesday. How do I get over this? How do I live with myself for not being able to tell someone what happened to their cat? What if I call the lost cat poster people and it turns out not to be their cat? Or worse yet, what if it is? And who’s to say which of the lost cats is the one we have? The cat, like ours and so many others in the neighborhood had no collar. I’m heart broken for this cat, and his/her owners. And I’m mad at myself for not looking harder for that crying cat a few weeks ago, when I may have been able to save him.

I know now, that when I hear a cat crying, I will walk the fence of our yard. But that doesn’t save this cat. This cat that I'm still hoping is actually a very skinny raccoon.

Is this an ethics test?

Saturday's mail contained my completion certificate for the roofing systems class I'm currently enrolled in. A class which is still supposed to meet 6 more times. That certificate is all I need (in addition to what I already have) to contact the TREC board and get permission to take the inspector test. I can't wait to see if any of the other guys in the class decide they no longer have to come since they already have their certificate.

Monthly Newsletter #10

Dear Landon,

This month you discovered that you and Noah are not the only babies in the world. You met your new cousin, you stared at her in disbelief. She’s so small. You fretted over her and gave Uncle Austin a dirty look when you thought he made her cry. You met one of her friends, who is about a month older than you, and she ran all over the room and you bit her butt. Or maybe you were trying to give her a zerbert or kiss. We’ll never know. But you most definitely liked her. There was much screaming for joy. And “yea!” clapping.

You’ve begun cruising with some regularity. I set you down on the floor and you rarely stay there, it’s off to find something to pull up on. Standing is the way of the future. Also, baby proofing is apparently the way of the future as well. Someone we know has a cabinet fetish and has some strong pull towards the pantry when it’s open.

You still have an aversion to most of the toys we present to you, instead favoring things like a broom handle, or dog toy, or a plastic cup, or the dogs’ water bowl. The dogs have been kind thus far, allowing you to play with their stuff, although they don’t seem to understand why they get yelled at for playing with your stuff. Their interest in where you are and what you're doing and that they come poke their noses in your face makes you giggle almost uncontrollably. Scarlett even brings you a rope occasionally thinking you might throw it for her. And you don’t, but one day you will, she’s sure of it.

With my new job and Daddy picking you up everyday, and having given one of your car seats to your cousin, we have switched car seats around and bought new ones, I used to take you in with the carrier and now in the mornings I have to carry you into Linda’s and hand you to her. For the first week you were terribly upset. Every time I handed you to her, but you seem to have realized it’s the same process, just different a mode of transportation.

Love,
Mom

My day can only get better

I dropped my 2 cans of soup and 2 packages of macaroni and cheese off in the reception area this morning...I'm pretty sure there will be a school supply drive this month. My job is totally making this small change challenge thing easy.

I’ve already had a terrible day – it started last night. When I discovered that the plate thingy around my tailgate handle was stolen, I thought it had just fallen off because it's broken before, but there’s clearly a dirty handprint where someone took it. I assume it's a bad design and someone else's broke and they took mine instead of buying a new one. It's a $20 part, people, it's not that expensive, it's a hassle, but there's no need to make someone else go through it.

Trying to be vague about it, Clint told me a story last night that has my hackles up, I cannot stop thinking about it and how awful it was. I don't really know what's worse, this story or the M!ke V!ck one, it's that bad in my opinion.

This morning when I left the house I saw a woman who does NOT live on our street walking her dog, shooing 2 dogs who had gotten out (the dogs do live on our street, or at least one does for sure) off of our street onto a busier street. I should have stopped then and picked up those dogs, but I took Landon to his baby sitters first because I don’t know the dogs’ temperaments, and when I got back I couldn’t find the dogs. It made me sad to think that a woman who has a dog would be so careless as to shoo a dog onto a busier street. And this woman walks with a stick in her hand, presumably to whack at other dogs when she comes across them, at least that's what I think now, since she was waving it around wildly at those poor dogs. I tried to be all “I hope one day her dog gets out and someone shoos it further away from her house and onto a busy street.” But I can’t even do that, because it’s not her dog’s fault that she’s cold-hearted.

When I got to the babysitter’s and opened my back door to get Landon out, his bag for the day spilled everywhere.

When I got to work and opened the back door to get my stuff out, my bag with my food drive donation spilled everywhere.

And now I have a headache.

I just want to go back to bed, can I go back to bed? I didn’t even get any Landon loving this morning because he was asleep the whole time. And I have class tonight so I won’t see him again until 9:30 or 10 tonight.

Small Change Month wha???

Somehow my numbers and Beth's numbers are screwed up, I think she skipped a number and went with the month number, but if you'll remember she gave us 6 weeks for one challenge and blah blah blah, she says this is the end of challenge 7 and the beginning of challenge 8.

Guess what? I didn't do anything this month. She didn't give specific instructions "do something for a charity" is not all that helpful. Is this the month I cash in on my normal non-profit work as a Girl Scout leader? Or do I say that because I did a couple things a few months ago, that one of those counts for this month? But I already feel bad for having kind of ignored the whole, clean up a local park or playground one in favor of using cloth napkins. I do have an out. At work this week they're collecting canned goods for a local food bank. So If I can remember to pick a few things out of my pantry or stop by the grocery store, I can drop those in the "lunch bag" in the reception area and I will get credit for this month right, even if I have to do it tomorrow?

Next month's challenge is to find a way to donate school supplies.