More Otis

In response to my curious Animal Planet loving pal K, here are some pictures of Otis with his food and water bowls and one of his bones. He was happy to take the pictures at his bowls because we "coaxed" him over by putting handfuls of ice cubes into his water and giving him an extra handful of kibble! He is becoming quite photogenic...I suppose out of habit as M is constantly snapping pictures of him. I can't imagine how many photos he'll take of the baby when it comes.

So, here's some more Otis...just for you, K, from your Aunt Ouiser.

Somebody needs a haircut

In addition to the fact that (apparently) both M and I ascribe to the age old "who needs haircuts in the summer" adage, our dog is badly in need of being cue-balled. Most labradoodles' hair is left long, but we like Otis's short. It's funny because it was highly traumatic for me the first time I took him in for a haircut. We've now figured out, however, that his having less hair means that there is less hair for attracting dirt and debris for him to drag into the house, there is less hair for the typical "dog smell" to adhere to, and he's much less fidgety and itchy with short hair. That's not to mention that with his face being so light, all the dirt on his face shows up making him look like a little hobo-dog.

Despite all of that, and in thanks to M for fixing my little blogger problem, here's a picture of the little guy, wishing you all a very happy Saturday morning!! Seriously, how cute is my dog??

Ants in my Pants

Last night, M and I went to our friend Paul's soccer game. Because it had been sprinkling off-and-on all day, it wasn't too hot and I showed up despite this ridiculously obnoxious cold I've been battling all week. Of course, I had never been to the soccer fields and I had no idea what to expect. It did not occur to me to take chairs or a blanket, and I realized my mistake as soon as we arrived, but I was not worried. God made a ground so I could sit on it, right?? M and I plopped down behind Paul's team and watched. Slowly, more friends arrived (four of M's co-workers and one spouse). We all noticed that there were a lot of ants crawling around us and on us, but they were primarily those little ones that don't seem to do anything but crawl..no big deal. Then I noticed some bigger ants crawling on my pant legs, and I started to get that feeling that bugs were crawling all over me. I remained as calm as possible...until it happened.

Ants had gotten into my pants. So, there I am hanging out with all M's friends and cohorts with ants crawling around in my undies and stinging my butt. I tried squirming around a little hoping to squish them with my ever widening rear end. No such luck. I whispered to M, "there are ants in MY PANTIES." He chuckled and whispered back, "you have ants in your pants." He did not realize the trauma that my poor posterior was under. I continued to squirm, and I finally tried to discreetly rub my butt to squish the ants, but there was no way I could do it without full-on shoving my hand down the back of my pants and scratching away. That would be unseemly. I stood up and shuffled my weight between my feet, praying the ants would just succumb to gravity and fall down the legs of my jeans. Yeah, right. There was absolutely NOTHING I could do. I sat back down, this time sitting on my heels instead of the ground, hoping I could kill the ants with my feet. Somewhere around this time, my butt went pretty numb, but I still wanted to cry because my butt was stinging a little and I was completely embarrassed. I'm pretty sure that at some point the ants traveled a smidgen south of "butt cheek", and I was fairly uncomfortable the whole night. When we got to the car, I bet M that if I took my pants off my rear end would be covered in red sting marks. He admitted that at some point he looked over and thought I looked like I was in a substantial amount of pain. Now I worry that someone else may have noticed it, too. Would they have guessed that I had ants in my pants? Hopefully not...and I could blame it on the baby if I had to, I suppose. It was not my night, and, for the record, I forgot to check my butt for red marks, but I did feel like there were ants in the bed all night.

On to bigger and better things- FIVE SENSES FRIDAY:
Sight: Otis "in jail" behind the baby gate we installed at the top of the stairs (we're trying to slowly get him used to changes around the house). He looks very pitiful.
Sound: Otis breathing in my ear during a nap the other day.
Taste: Fries from Wendy's last night after the insect attack
Smell: I don't think I've smelled anything since Monday...lots and lots of congestion
Touch: Otis licking our fingers as we brushed his teeth the other night. He really likes that poultry flavored toothpaste, and he'll lick anything that comes even remotely near the stuff. It's gross- and brown!!

Happy weekend, peeps!

A very happy puppy

There are moments when I'd like to wring Otis's neck. Those are usually the times when he's chewing up pillows or running wild through the house with some expensive undergarment. Then there are moments when I can't imagine loving the dog one ounce more than I do. Right now is one of the latter moments. M brought in a box of stuff from my old office last night. Buried in the box was a tennis ball that I kept in my office for entertaining Otis when he came to visit. (One good thing about my old job was that dogs were welcome to come by to say hello.) Needless to say, Otis found the tennis ball. He has been the most adorably content dog in the world since. He has his puzzle bone in his mouth, and he is wandering through the house, playing with the ball like a cat. It's so cute- it melts my heart. Of course, he tends to knock the ball under the furniture a lot, which means to keep him happy, I have to dig around for the ball every three minutes or so, but it's worth it. Right now, he's laying in the floor at my feet, knocking the ball back and forth between his front paws. His two bones are on either side of him...

I was going to post a pic of the happy puppy, but something is messed up with the security settings, so you'll all have to wait. (Note to M...help!)

The cat's out of the bag

I guess it's official...we've just about told everyone (tomorrow's the big day for M's dad and sister) that we're expecting. "Expecting what?" you ask. A little Pearson baby (or maybe a gigantic Pearson baby- have you SEEN my husband??). We're thirteen weeks along, and I anxiously await the cessation of first trimester symptoms. I'm told the second trimester is usually pretty low key, and that sounds fantastic to me as I haven't had the energy to accomplish anything in the past couple of months.

We're going back up to Fort Wayne this weekend for M's dad's birthday (I just finished icing and "sprinkling" the birthday cake). His sister and her family will be there as well, so I know M is looking forward to seeing Sophie. I wonder what she'll think about the baby. She has always been pretty good with Jackson, maybe just a tad overbearing. Hey, what do I expect from a first born??

We finally had the opportunity to tell my family last weekend, although it turns out my aunt Mel had already spilled the beans to a handful of people. Luckily, it hadn't gotten back to my brother, and I think he's pretty excited. He's going to be an awesome uncle. My daddy and Cindy are thrilled as well, as we knew they would be. They've already taken to calling themselves by grandparent names.

Beyond the baby front, there really isn't much happening around here. Otis got his shots this week and he seems to be suffering from the same intestinal distress that plagued him after his last extended stay at the vet. Poor little guy...who knew that poodles had hyper-sensitive intestines? Watch out, Sara!

Oh, we got our new camera the other day, but M was at a conference, so it hasn't been played with yet. M is planning on busting it out over the weekend, so maybe there will actually be pictures on Monday!!

Happy Weekend to all-

Oh, five senses Friday:
Sight: Otis trying to actually jump ON the car when I picked him up Monday at the vet.
Sound: I heard the baby's heartbeat last week! Also M talking on/to my stomach in the deepest voice he can conjure up. It also counts as a feeling, as it tickles like crazy.
Taste: Cheese Krystals from the motherland. WHY are there no Krystals in Kentucky?
Smell: Smells are not a good thing right now, but the cheese Krystals did smell tasty.
Touch: My brother's whole body tensing up as he gave me a hug and I told him not to hurt the baby. M says the look on his face wasn't half bad, either.

One of those things

So, we're not on the road until this afternoon, and I figured I could sneak in one more post- especially since I have one of those weird Ouiser questions floating around in my brain. M and I rented Batman Begins the other night. (I'm on a superhero kick, I suppose.) At the beginning Bruce Wayne's dad is talking about how the depression is going to ravage the less fortunate people of Gotham, so he has built a rail system to create an inexpensive mode of mass transportation for the people. Throughout the movie, Bruce Wayne's parents are remembered for their generosity and kindness. I digress...

As Thomas Wayne was telling Bruce about the rail system and seeming like a world-class citizen/billionaire, I asked M, " do you think it's possible for idealism to truly exist in a person who has so much?" I've been thinking about that question for a couple of days now. Is idealism alive in the people who have both the means and the power to change the world?

Obviously, there are standard answers available here. Bill Gates give oodles of money to various philanthropic causes. John Edwards is devoted to eradicating poverty in the United States. Al Gore is a crusader for our ravaged planet. But, do these people have both the means and the power to create real and substantial change? If anyone believes that Al Gore would have been able to spend the last six years devoted to the environment and making An Inconvenient Truth if he'd been elected president, think again. While the environment would still be important to him, his responsibilities would be too broad for such focus. John Edwards has flat out stated that he'd never have been able to make strides in the war on poverty if still holding an elected position. (For the record, that won't stop his presidential bid in 2008.) Bill Gates has more money than God, and money equals a lot of power, but is it the right kind of power to make a difference?

I wonder if, in the process of acheiving power and wealth (ala Gore, Edwards, and Gates), you lose the ability to remain a true idealist? Does the corruption of business and politics muddle your idealistic goals? Does the necessary dose of pragmatism and a healthy shot of realism change those goals, and does it change you? I really don't know the answer. I know that there are loads of grassroots movements out there that are making a difference. There are plenty of celebrities shedding light on a myriad of global issues. I'm not saying that the world is so corrupt that change is impossible. I don't think that for a second. I'm just thinking about the scale of change. (It's a scale issue, M.)

I'm going to think about this for awhile, and I'll probably bore my poor husband to tears on the afternoon journey. I just thought maybe someone else would find this question as appealing and baffling as I. Any thoughts?

Outward Bound

Not "Outward Bound" in the outdoor training way...outward bound as in the "bound for out of town" way. M and I are heading out of town for an entire seven days, leaving work, the house, and my blog alone for the duration. We're headed to Fort Fun tomorrow afternoon to spend a few days with his dad, then we'll head south (woo-hoo) to Tennessee to spend some time with my family. M is actually very nervous about leaving because we are having to board Otis for the week. Pretzel gets too wound up for Otis to be there that long, and I am afraid the bobcats and other wildlife around my dad's house might actually eat him. Alas, he's off to "doggie day camp." Hopefully, he won't pick up that nasty parasite again. That wasn't fun the first time around.

I did pick up some fabric today, so I'll have a little project to work on while we're at M's dad's. I'm going to make the Mini Moopy Bunny. I picked out four fabrics, and my favorite two were in the $1 bin, so I got some extra of those. One is a dirty orange (think Texas Longhorns, sorry Allison) and the other is green and orange and brown and maroon...it has a "connect the dots" motif. I adore it, and I kind of want to go back and buy all that they have of it.

I'm also thinking about running to the library tomorrow morning and picking up an old Nancy Drew book to read while we're away. We passed the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys section in Barnes and Noble the other day, and I've been thinking about it ever since. My stepmother used to take me to the library to get Nancy Drew books to take on vacation, and I usually read them in the car before we ever reached our destination. Amazingly, I can barely even read directions now in the car, I get too carsick. Bummer.

M just took Otis with him to return a video, and Otis is officially becoming a "real dog." For the first time ever, he hung his head out the window. My little boy is all grown up.

It's a Wonderful Life...an ode to M

What a fantastic day. It's really quite fabulous outside, and M and I have been able to spend the whole day together- running errands and just being "us." There aren't a lot of days that allow for that, and I really, really love the ones that do. We watched the ladies' finals of Wimbledon this morning- both grimacing at Henin-Hardenne's inability to finish what she started. We grabbed lunch, took an entire carload of clothing, a TV, an old mirror, and some very fancy shoes to Goodwill, bought a new wireless mouse for the new computer, and M had some ice cream. Of course, the entire day has consisted of one of us laughing at the other one, which is par for the course with us and my absolute favorite thing about our relationship. I love that my husband makes me laugh- even when he's bothering me or when I'm in a bad mood. He is wonderful like that.

So, here is an embarrasing list of five things I love about my husband:
1. He is the kindest, most genuine person I have ever met.
2. Kids and dogs flock to him, and I take that as a good sign about his character.
3. He is very tall. (I realize this is completely superficial, but I am very short, which means that I appreciate height more than the average person.)
4. He is unflinchingly loyal.
5. He always grabs my hand when we cross streets or parking lots and makes sure that no moving vehicle can get near me. Of course, when we have kids, will he protect me or protect the kids? Either way, I think it will still be adorably sweet.

There you have it, my embarrasing list. I should make a list of five things that I love about everyone I know- you know, just to remind myself of what I love about my friends and family...

Happy Saturday!!

Five Senses Friday

I was all prepared to think of my "five senses" and blog about them...then I rolled the chair right over poor Otis's tail. He didn't whimper or yelp, he just popped up and looked at me like, "I thought I was being good, mom. Why did you just try to torture me?" I felt and still feel awful, so I gave him three ice cubes and sat in the floor to pet him. He's now forgotten about the tail incident and wants to play. I think he just ran into the family room to chew the velvet throw pillows. Awesome.

Okay, back to the point...

Five Senses Friday-
Sight: Fireworks going off all over the city as we drove home on Tuesday night
Sound: Mary Poppins belting out "A Spoonful of Sugar", kids laughing during Mary Poppins, "Snap! Crackle! Pop!" from the Rice Krispies I just ate
Smell: Apple Pie baking on Tuesday afternoon
Taste: Eating the apple pie on Tuesday evening!!
Touch: sheets when you get too warm- so you roll over and find a nice cool spot

Practically Perfect in Every Way

Last summer, during the Kentucky Theater's summer classic movie series, they played Mary Poppins- my all-time favorite movie. M was out of town and no one would go with me, so I headed downtown for dinner and a movie all by myself, which I had never done before. Dinner was good, but it was weird eating all alone, I'll admit. I headed over to the theater. "It's sold out. Sorry." What?? I was literally devestated. This had been my favorite movie since I was around 8, and I had missed my opportunity to see it on the big screen. I'm pretty sure I called M in San Diego crying.

M drives by the Kentucky every morning, and he noticed last week that Mary Poppins would be played again this year. You can bet I didn't miss it this time, and M got to go with me. It was so fabulous- as brilliantly wonderful as I'd hoped and imagined. Little kids laughing. Grown people like me singing along to all of the songs. Thunderous applause at the end. As we walked back to the car, the two little girls behind us sang "Let's go fly a kite." It was really fantastic, and I was the definition of giddy throughout.

I have wanted to be like Mary Poppins my whole life. Who wouldn't? She's practically perfect in every way! She's beautiful and clever ("We'd better keep an eye on this one. She's tricky.") and imaginative and she sings more beautifully than anyone on the planet. All that and she has a magic carpet bag and a talking parrot umbrella and Dick Van Dyke. I don't know what I'll do if my children don't love Mary Poppins. I think I will take it as a personal insult.

So, a whole blog entry about a children's movie. Here's to all of your favorite childhood movies and memories. Happy Thursday.

All-American Fourth

Clad in jeans and a white tee; eating a burger (albeit the non-traditional Boca burger), baked beans, and apple pie; discussing the summer blockbuster we'd taken in (Superman Returns is worth the 7 bucks), I realized that M and I had a pretty traditional 4th of July. We were the All-American couple yesterday. It got me thinking about how I feel about being an American. Am I proud to be an American? Yesterday was the definetely the day I was supposed to be as we showed off our superiority as a nation in creating fireworks displays and staging hot dog eating contests. There are other reasons that I've questioned my pride as an American citizen lately. The World Cup, for instance. Watching the faces of German spectators yesterday was like watching the faces of people whose dogs had been collectively hit by cars. When the Americans went out, it was more like, "well, what did you expect?" There will be no American in the Wimbledon finals this year, and it's not that big of a conversation topic.

America is a unique country in that we rarely, if ever, show a unified pride in ourselves or in anything. We are, as a general rule, too self-involved and self-important to care about the greater good. Don't get me wrong, Americans will rally behind a cause, but we've got an expiration date for caring about others. The whole country proudly flew flags and gave blood in the fall of 2001, we sent money and aid to tsunami victims in 2004, we sent millions and all of the trailers and lumber and supplies we could muster to the Gulf coast last summer. Where do we stand on most of those issues now? Ann Coulter berating widows of 9/11 and people wondering where the money went. A nation playing a game of "he did it, she did it" in the wake of Katrina's disaster. Here's an idea- maybe it's a little of everyone's fault. Let's get over the blame game and learn from our mistakes. What a concept.

The war in Iraq is a whole different reason to question my American pride. I won't even go there. I can't understand why so many people are dying. Why? Why? Why? And why, if it was so urgent to quash Sadaam's rule in the wake of "we think he has WMD'", have we not gone after North Korea when we know that they have them? Maybe we don't hold a grudge against them like we did Iraq.

I'm not saying that I'm not proud to be an American, I'm just saying it's not a black and white issue. M pointed out as we talked about this yesterday that he thinks he is proud to be an American and even if he's not, he's lucky to be one. Now there's a true statement. Wouldn't it be great if all Americans collectively realized that one simple truth? As Americans we have more than anyone else, and I'm talking about tangibles and intangibles here. Yes, we've got our SUVs and IPODs, and we have schools and hospitals and roads, but we also have opportunities and freedoms that people in "lesser" nations could only dream of.

I'm still not sure that's something to be proud of, though.

On a lighter note, though (as I hate to be a negative Nancy), I did learn yesterday that my husband is taller than Superman, and I am proud of that. :)

Borrowed lexicon

Have you ever thought about how many words and phrases you pick up from your friends or even where you pick up some of the things you say? I couldn't sleep last night, and I stared at the ceiling thinking about it. I don't understand where these random thoughts come from. (It's reminiscent of M and I discussing things like the concept of matter and then wondering why people think we're nerds.) So, here's a shout out to some of the random people and characters that have influenced my dialog, and if I've left out anything glaringly obvious, let me know.

"Little bit."- Jennifer Aniston as Rachel Green on Friends
"Wicked"- Sara
"WOOOOOOOOOOO"- Tommy Taco
"Cutest ever"- also Tommy Taco
"Fabo"/"Fabulous"- the illustrious Pat
"D'oh"- MEP, as influenced by Homer J.
"I'll prove it like a theorem." (Okay I don't say this, but it's one of the funniest things I've ever heard, so I wanted to type it, and I will say it if ever asked to prove anything.)- David Schwimmer as Ross Geller on Friends
"Loads" as in "I've been beaten loads of times"- Harry Potter

I know there are loads of others, but I can't think of them, or I can't remember where I learned them.

For a more intelligent twist on this entry- do you know that one of the things I missed most while I didn't have internet was dictionary.com? I cannot stand it if I come across a word that I don't know. It doesn't really happen all that often (not because of my overwhelming intelligence as much as the dumbing down of society), but when it does, it grates on my nerves. I rely on dictionary.com because it's fast, easy, and I've never been around a dictionary that didn't smell moldy. I think that's a major difference between fairly intelligent people and fairly unintelligent people. If you don't know something, do you try to figure it out or do you dismiss it as something you'll never need to know? The word I ran across while without my beloved online dictionary was in an article in Newsweek or Vanity Fair. I can't remember which, and I can't find it now. It bothers me every couple of days when I realize that the author of the mysterious article knows one more word than I.

Sometimes, when I realize what an enormous geek I am, I wonder how I landed such a fantastic husband. Oh, wait, he's an enormous geek, too. It works.

Easy like Sunday morning

You know, I have a real soft spot in my heart for old school Lionel Richie. "Easy like Sunday morning," is just a wicked awesome song. There is a point to the unsolicited commentary on easy listening- this morning was in fact pretty laid back. M got up with the dog without my having to win at "rock-paper-scissors." When I did roll out of bed, I brushed my teeth, threw on M's old Northwestern cap, ambled to the top of the stairs, and muttered something about Cracker Barrel. Amazingly, M understood perfectly and followed suit. I had french toast with apples. M had french toast with maple syrup and grapefruit juice. When we got home, I took a nap. Not a bad Sunday altogether- especially when you consider that M washed and cleaned out the Honda for me (even the sticky stuff at the bottom of the cup holder- God bless my husband).

After showers, we headed to Gumbo Ya-Ya for a quick early dinner (yum- red beans and rice) and to the grocery store. Now M's in the backyard encouraging Otis to chase birds. Speaking of Otis- he had a moment today. Otis loves ice cubes. They are his favorite treat (which is great because they are free). I was making lemonade for M this afternoon, and I took the ice cube holder out of the freezer to put a couple of handfuls into the pitcher. Otis ran up to my side for a cube. I dutifully gave him one. Three seconds later, he was back, so I gave him another. After the scenario repeated itself twice, I turned around. He was making a pile of ice cubes. Most of the time, we think Otis hit his head a few too many times as a puppy, but then he has moments like these that make me think he's just playing dumb- you know, like Jessica Simpson claims.

M wants me to announce that Otis just almost caught a squirrel. I'm glad he didn't. That would be gross.