2014 ANNUAL VACATION ODYSSEY, PART I! Snakes and dolls.

Hi guys! Where have I been all your life for the past entire week? RIGHT HERE! But I was in the throes of our ANNUAL VACATION ODYSSEY, which means being busy with the usual assortment of Doritos, tooth fairy failures, and snakes. SNAKES. Before we even left the house. The night before our departure, Buddy the Wonder Dog woke me up to go pee or eat cat poop or stare at me adoringly. I opened the bedroom door to let him out, but he wouldn’tRead more

Buddy’s sock fetish causes bodily harm.

Saturday morning dawned with a familiar sound. BLUCK. BLUCK. BLUCK. BLOOP. That is Buddy the Wonder Dog throwing up a sock. After the first BLUCK, I was at Buddy’s side, soothing him, moving cloth items out of BLUCKing range. I was already off in search of paper towels when Hot Firefighter Husband rolled over and said, “Honey? Buddy’s throwing up.” In the mess I found a pink ankle sock. The Tyrant! Damn her habit of stripping down wherever and throwingRead more

Damn Gem marks a decade

I was 30 years old and just married when we brought home Boston, our yellow lab. Goddamn, we loved that dog. He was big, independent, and athletic – “a real dog’s dog,” a trainer once told me. One evening, when he was 8 years old, he climbed up into my lap, which was unusual. Normally he rested on my feet. On this night, he repeatedly wedged his head beneath my hands, only resting after my arms had encircled his torsoRead more

Vacation Odyssey V: The (long long long long) Road Home

When we left Cape Cod, we drove to Northampton, Massachusetts, to visit one of my oldest, dearest friends. We stay in touch via email, but we hadn’t seen each other in years. She had never met the Tyrant! What? Everyone should meet the Tyrant, and watch her dance inappropriately to that new Robin Thicke song, which is my new go-to tune for feeling all BOO-yah. Have you seen the video? Wowser. It makes me feel warm and cozy inside, andRead more

Vacation Odyssey, Part IV: A boy and a rooster.

Yesterday, as I hung some clean laundry up on the clothesline, the rooster started pecking at my foot. (Pause. Reread previous sentence. Yeah, that’s right. I was using CLOTHESPINS and everything.) Rooster Boy – you may recall he was injured by a weasel – has been semi-domesticated. The Farmer rocks him to sleep at night, and he spends his days strutting around the yard. So I was surprised when he dug his sharp beak into my foot, and I reachedRead more

VACATION ODYSSEY, PART III: chipmunks, weasels, goats and pee.

This is how a weasel eats a chicken: IT BITES OFF THE HEAD AND SUCKS OUT THE GUTS. I am not making this up. I know such cool nature facts because while on Cape  Cod, we are staying with our friends, one of whom is an actual Farmer. A weasel ate two of her chickens, and damaged little Rooster Boy. So Rooster Boy has been living in the house at night, where he sleeps soundly in a crate right nextRead more

Hello Kitty’s second life comes to a strange and mysterious end

You may recall that a few short weeks ago, Hello Kitty the betta fish suffocated to death in a cloudy soup of her own feces. My bad! But I seamlessly and secretly replaced her with a new Hello Kitty. The Tyrant attributed the new Hello Kitty’s shimmering beauty to the fact that we had started feeding her again. “I think it’s working, Mom!” she said. And so I was credited with restoring Hello Kitty back to health. Yay, me! But.Read more

Buddy crosses the line. GIN to the rescue.

Buddy the Wonder Dog and I had been been really bonding what with him thinking I’m God and all. But then last weekend he BROKE MY FUCKING FINGER. Bastard. BROKEN. Pedigreed, expensive, canine bastard. Sunday was scheduled to be a banner day for the My Left Hook entourage. We headed south to visit BFF and her family, which had been a therapist-ordered necessity after the therapist asked me about my closest friend and I burst into tears because I MISSRead more

Dead fish, birthday dogs, and steady husbands.

Hello Kitty the fish is dead. LONG LIVE HELLO KITTY. Because I did the old switcheroo yesterday while the Tyrant was at school. Listen, I know it’s important for kids to learn about death and everything. But if your kid’s Betta fish suffocates to death in a soup of its own feces so toxic that pieces of its fins had started disintegrating, you should spare your kid the facts of life for just a little bit longer. This scenario mayRead more