Dirt Pies

But What About the Big Bad Wolf?

The kids and I were sprawled on top of my bed yesterday after a whirlwind of cleaning. I was lamenting that I'd always wanted a Pottery Barn house, one that's beautifully decorated and always clean. One where no one panicks when the doorbell unexpectedly rings. Carolina piped in with, "I always wanted to live in a house made of straw!"

?????

Party Animal

Walter is now wearing the dreaded doggy cone. I think he looks like he partied too much and came home wearing the lampshade. His expression, however, does not say "party".

We are trying to cure his hot spot at home. Mom took Winston to the vet with this and they put him under (all I can hear are dollar signs), shaved his leg and applied medicine.

So instead, last Friday night while you were, undoubtably, doing something fun, I was at home shaving the dog's leg. Amazingly, he allowed this. I had his leg hanging in the air like a chicken bone while trying to get all four million hairs off. Every few seconds I would croon, "Who's a good boy?" and his tail would do a half-thump. I have to give him tremendous props for being such a good sport.

I then applied peroxide and soaked his wrapped leg in tea bags for five minutes. Do you have any idea how long five minutes lasts? The tea bags (with their tannic acid) don't really seem to be doing enough, so we've graduated to hydrocortisone.

All the while the real fun is in the cone. Immediately after I put it on him, his tail curled completely underneath his body and his face hung to the floor. I've never seen a dog look so humanly depressed. But the awkward thing is trying not to laugh as he bumps into everything in his path. That would just be rude. But yet, it's like having your drunk Uncle Larry follow you all over the house. Every few minutes you hear a thud behind you and then you watch as he tries to extricate himself from whatever has befallen him. He no longer attempts to make it into the bathroom with me (not a bad circumstance) and I've seen him get stuck only to have to put it into reverse.

It is, however, less funny when he runs into the back of your legs with his cone. Or if your Mouse's height, the back of your head.

Going downstairs is a breeze. Coming up is altogether different. Every step he gets the cone stuck on the step above him. The first few times I had to help him up every step as he looked at me with a, "wouldn't it just be easier on us both to take off the torture device?" But as with everything, it's a learning curve and he can now make it unassisted with only a few bumps along the way.

So I try very hard to not laugh, smirk, or even benignly smile in his presence. But what I do in tight spaces he no longer fits into... well, that's my business.

Waterlogged

I am in a rain stupor, a rain coma, a rain fog. It is eating at my sanity like Chinese water torture. I don't know how much more I can take. It has now ruined Halloween (which, for the record, I know is pretty whiny considering all the people in the Atlanta area who lost their homes, and some their lives, in all the flooding we've had over the last five or so weeks).

I've discovered that what is important to my kids about Halloween is not so much the candy (well, to some degree the candy) but that their friends get to see them in their costumes. They've spent weeks planning and dreaming about tonight. It's the childhood version of a Vegas weekend.

Rain has been in the forecast all week, but it was supposed to clear out by this evening. It didn't. Our church, instead of moving Trunk or Treat inside, cancelled it altogether. We went to the big church closest to our house for theirs, but we knew nobody there. No one got to "ooh and ahh" over my Bobby Soxer, Darth Vader and Alice in Wonderland. And that's just wrong.

So, we decided to hit the houses of our two favorite neighbors. In the rain. They weren't home.

Not to be deterred, plan C was to go out to the Abbotts' house and trick or treat with them in their neighborhood. It wasn't raining there. I got two miles from their house when I got a call. Rain. They were going to have to go door to door in the minivan.

Here's Alice:


And Darth Vader (and since I've already been asked, "Yes, Darth did wear cowboy boots while fighting the intergalactic forces."):


For the Bobby Soxer, scroll a couple of posts down.

Playing hoops at FBC Cartersville:

And Carolina so enamored with her ability to stick candy to her front teeth.

So, we've come home. I'm letting the kids gorge themselves silly on cheap candy. Maybe we'll round off this Halloween by reusing their buckets as barf pails after they've eaten themselves sick. What's the Halloween equivalent of Bah Humbug?

Rotten

I found him with Oliver Jones (Juliana's beloved animal friend) and wrapped in her blanket. And yes, that is my couch. He went too far when he asked if I could lower the lights and bring him the remote.

October Hayride

Last night we had our annual cookout/ get-together/ s'mores fest/ fire pit/ hayride/ horse viewing/ dog petting event at the Brands'. The kids were indescribably excited to see their friends since we haven't been to our church in about a month. Juliana and her best-church-friend, Alexandra did the eleven year old squeal. It's the same squeal you do at 39, just different in volume, intensity and pitch. And to be sure, I was pretty excited to see some of my friends as well.




Holt did not stop running from the moment we got there until I dragged him to the car, other than to stop long enough to scarf down a dog and a s'more and to sit next to his good buddy, Samuel on the hayride. At one point when he was hiding in a tree, I coerced him into a quick picture, which was followed by a look, a sigh, and a "Mooooooooom, I'm playing." His pants will never be the same.





Carolina chased dogs the whole time. That's what she does. She also asked anyone who looked remotely receptive (other than me... what's with that?) if they would hold her. I'm sure people think we must completely ignore her at home.




We were there for four hours. Four. And it was the best time we've had in ages.

Good Buddies (most of the time...)