the semi-reformed nerd

{life} happy birthday, hubs!

 

I asked The Captain what he wanted to get Brett for his birthday, and he said he wanted to write this blog post.

So I let him give it a shot. To say I was a bit disappointed would be a mild understatement. It's like he doesn't have opposable thumbs or something.

 

fdsjlj;fdkl;fdakls dfljkfdjskdsjkl; jlfdsfksdl

(... and then he snorted on my computer screen.)

 

Needless to say, I'll take over from here. Today is, in fact, the hubs' birthday. This weekend promises to be a bit crazy -- birthday, his high school reunion, our friend's wedding (not to mention TCU Homecoming, which we aren't going to be able to make... and yes, there will be at least a tear or two shed over that one).

I'm sure I'll have plenty to blog about next week between all the food, gifts, cake, pie, more food, more pie, beer and who knows what else. We even took today off of work to enjoy it. We never take the same day off from work unless we're travelling or something. Here's to a great weekend. :)

 

PS: If you've stumbled over from Jenni or Kelly's blogs today, WELCOME! I'm fun, I promise. And the pup is always cute, so there's that. And while I owe my faithful readers a recipe or five... I do like to cook. So I'll humor you, entertain you and feed you. How's that for service?!

_____________________

This time last year: 

• Happy Birthday to the Hubs!
• Roasted Pork Tenderloin with Sauteed Peppers and Onions

 

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{life} this is the face of a shoe killer

 

Yup. This is the face of a shoe murderer. An eater of shoes. A shoe chewer.

... and let's just say the shoe won't be posted due to the graphic nature of the crime.

Rest in peace, Nine West peep toe wedge pumps. We only knew each other for a few weeks. But you were good to me. I'm sorry you had to meet your fate via some super chompy (albeit cute) sharp puppy teeth. You deserved better than that.

 

 

All things considered, we've been pretty lucky. The Captain has never chewed a shoe (that I actually wear) since we got him last December.

So when I walked into the living room to get my shoes this morning and discovered one of them trapped in the depths of the puppy's crate, I was shocked. I wasn't even mad. I was impressed he was able to drag that thing that far, that quickly, without me even knowing it.

... and a new lesson learned today? When you give the pup the meanest of the mean glares and simply point at the crate, he'll actually go in there and sulk for 20 minutes or more. Pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.

Just call me the Puppy Disciplinarian. Grr.

 

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{life} the pup is going through some growing pains

I quickly snapped this shot at the dog park yesterday morning. I have no clue what's going on with Brett's glasses but I swear to you he's only wearing one pair. Weird.

We're fairly certain our little pup is in the midst of some growing pains. If you follow me on Twitter or keep up with the blog's Facebook page, you already know... but just in case, here's the short list (so far):

1. He chewed his first shoe. I went out with some new friends on Thursday night after work, only to come home to one very pretty art project -- also known as the Artist Formerly Known as my Left 'Fancy' Flip Flop. RIP dear flippy floppy. You were so pretty. Luckily, you were pretty cheap too.
2. He peed on a lady at the dog park. The Captain has never, ever, ever peed on a human since we've had him. But just minutes before this picture was shot, he walked right up to the lady standing right smack dab in the middle of the park, lifted his leg and let it flow. She didn't even know what hit her. Also, um, well... she was less than happy about the entire situation. Yeah.
3. He likes chewing on us when it's time to go to bed. He used to be a pretty quick bed time puppy. But lately? He'd rather jump up on the couch and start playing alllllllll over again. He's always been a hand chewer, but good grief. It's reaching a whole new level of almost cannibalism.

So far, that's about it. I have a feeling we're just getting started in the 'Trials of The Captain Turning Two.' We may not know exactly how old he is... but I think we're pretty dead on. Good time.

 

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{life} I think we're raising a hipster puppy

 

I've always considered myself to be an animal lover.

I may not be one of those people who volunteer at the animal shelter or help rescue organizations (God bless y'all, by the way). And I may not have been one of those kids who brought home every sick bunny, bird and/or mutant country rat... but I'm an animal lover. No doubt about that.

I don't know about you, but I feel like I'm hearing more and more about abused and neglected animals in the news lately -- especially in the DFW area. There have been so many reports of dogs being seriously hurt at the hands of *excuse my French* heartless, worthless douchebags that it makes my heart hurt to hear about it anymore. I honestly have to turn the radio/TV off and start thinking happy thoughts. It makes me so incredibly sad... and I feel helpless.

And then there are the shelters. I've heard more about overcrowding in the past week than I think I've heard in the past year. It's troubling. Very, very troubling. If I could, I'd snatch up 25 furry little ones and live in one gigantic, super smelly but oh-so-happy puppy zoo. There are worse things in the world, right?

But I can't do that. And I can't stop the *excuse my French* heartless, worthless douchebags from hurting innocent animals. As much as I want to and wish I could... I can't.

But I can love on our crazy little hipster puppy. I can love on him like crazy and make him know that he's so ridiculously loved and we are so very lucky to have him in our lives. I wonder what his life was like before we adopted him. And sometimes my mind goes to some sad, dark places... so I have to actively choose not think about his days before us. Because I'll never know. And maybe it's better that I don't.

 

 

On a much lighter note, I asked The Captain to give me his best GQ look for these pics. And then he spralled out and started showing some leg. I may have rolled my eyes... but let's face it. I know photography gold when I see it.

... and I wish I were 25% as photogenic as he is. Gah.

 

 

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{life} how to help a pet deal with moving

I was worried about a handful of things leading up to our move earlier this month.

1. I had no idea where we would put all of our stuff since we were downsizing from a two bedroom (one bed and one office) to a one bedroom sans office.

2. I was concerned about the totally ridiculous potential extra tolls we'd have to pay to get to work from our new place.

3. I was fairly certain we'd have to bury at least one nice plate, vase or mug. We may have a bit of a reputation in that department.

I never thought I'd have to worry about how The Captain handled the move to the new place.

He stayed with Brett's parents the day of the move. When we picked him up and brought him to his new home, he was okay... or so we thought. It turns out he's not a fan of an entire apartment filled with big, heavy boxes that are all bigger (and heavier) than him.

... he looked a lot like this for the next two or three days.

 

 

Totally not normal. It made me so sad. He laid around and moped from cushy place to cushy place... and hid under the couch on occasion too. It absolutely broke my heart.

It wasn't until my parents came over a few days later that he perked up like normal. Naturally, I'd already told him about my puppy concerns. So... they showed up at the door with gifts. For the dog.

It's amazing how a hamburger toy, a squeaky cow and a big bag of doggie beef jerky can perk a pup up.

Good. Grief.

 

 

Considering The Captain's abandonment issues and the number of times he's had to find a new home, I guess his uneasiness was to be expected. We just didn't anticipate it... but we inadvertantly planned ahead.

A few weeks before we moved, we started a new routine of going to the dog park on the weekends. We wake up early (usually on Saturday, sometimes Sunday), grab coffee for the people and some water for the four-legged furry one, and off we go to play with all the other crazy puppies.

It has quickly become my most favorite part of the week.

Because we've been doing since it before the move, the pup is used to the park and recognizes it when we pulled it.

It's the best thing we could've done for him.

I guess it's safe to say the dog park is something stable... something normal to him. It's something familiar. It's exactly what he needed right after we moved.

Now that we've been in the new place for three weeks or so, I can happily say the pup has adapted. He's happy again. We still go to the dog park every weekend and we've started taking really long walks around the new neighborhood looking for a new puppy girlfriend. (Please don't ask if we talk to him about his girlfriends when we come home from work.... *cough*...)

Bottom line: Happy puppy = Happy Julie. The end.

 

 

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