The car makes the canine.

We were driving into an adjacent neighborhood today to go to Pauly's favorite breakfast spot (you've got to check out the King Street Grille in Malvern - Randy makes the most decadent blueberry muffin french toast you'll ever hate to love, considering it's about two days worth of calories...), and while on our way, we came across this unbelievable sight. Look at this picture to the right - is it not a postcard???? First of all, I love the classic car. I'm a sucker for old cars since my brothers and father have a never ending love affair with classic Mustangs. Little known factoid: my very first car I ever drove was a 1967 Mustang. How coolio is that? Anyway, second cool thing about this picture is the two completely awesome doggies just hanging out in the car like the canine versions of James Dean. Soooooo incredible. I'm happy I convinced Pauly to stop the car and let me hop out to snap the photo. You can see a bigger version of this picture at the bottom of my blog - the detail makes all the difference. Amaaaaaazing.

Don't use this picture for your passport.

When I look back at old family pictures, I realize that my foolishness was caught on camera for all eternity - much to my parents' delight. Of course, they'll deny this and claim that the picture in question is "cute" or it was "appropriate for the time". I do believe that's a bunch of horse manure. It's called taking advantage of the situation, Mom and Dad. And now, I am happily at the helm, and well, I've got some revenge up my sleeve. Sorry, Zeke, you're an innocent pawn in this game and the next generation will feel your wrath.

Look to the right - here you will see what I call the "Boo Boo Picture". Zeke came to me today with big tears in his eyes. He had a tiny cut on his middle finger and needed a Spongebob bandaid. "Sure", I said, "but only after you hold your boo boo up for the camera..."

But it's MY birthday. I should get what I want.

Do you see that picture of the little blonde chihuahua on the right hand side of the screen over there? Well, I really want her. I want her badly. She's up for adoption on Petfinder.com right now. Pauly says no of course. I think it's only fair that I get her since it's MY BIRTHDAY, for God's sake. He thinks I'm getting like one of those old ladies that starts to collect cats or something. What's so wrong with that???

Wordless Wednesday.

As you know by now, Zeke has a "thing" for fashion. Or at least he thinks he does. He likes to accessorize. The latest? The green froggy boots. Apparently, they are seasonless, defy all weather conditions, and go with any outfit. Whatevs.

Pump the brakes, sister.

I just wanted to run my errands, get some groceries for the meal I was taking to a sick friend, then boogie on home and enjoy the ride while doing so. It didn't happen. As I was doing forty-five in a twenty-five, the unthinkable happened. Those darn red flashing lights, the ridiculously embarrassing high-pitched sirens - OMG, he was pulling ME over. What a sucky sitch. I had to juggle the iPod out of my lap, put down the cell phone, turn off Tom-Tom, and lower the volume on Zeke's dvd player all while fishing around for my driver's license. Didn't that copper know I was too BUSY to get a ticket today??? Jesus. Anyway, here's where all the right stuff clicked into place: I found my license and then...BONUS...I found my little Get Out Of Jail Free Card that my brother the piggy (cop) gave me a few years back in addition to the nice, big, fat, FOP symbol for my license plate. Yippity skippity. I handed it all over to the big daddy at my window, he smiled, asked where brother piggy worked, we chatted for a few minutes about brother piggy's job, then big daddy told me he was "happy to see that Zeke and I were buckled in safely" and to have a good day. GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAA! I was all smiley and happy and polite and ready to put on my little turn signal to leave when Zeke yelled from the back..."I TOLD MOMMY TO SLOW DOWN - SHE'S A DANGEROUS DRIVER!"

Thanks for diming me out, punk.

Mountain momma.

I got a little beach time in this weekend, but it wasn't salt water I was looking at. It was mountain lake water. I'll settle for that, even though I'm really a salt water babe at heart. I have to say, though, it was definitely a good little beach day even though we didn't have that salt water breeze and the funky smell of rotten shell fish. It was a beautiful day, the sand was clean and, well, sandy, and Zeke and Pauly had a great time splashing around in the lake with Mom Mom Cookie and Pop Pop. It was nice. And, for the first time in a long while, I saw Pauly sit back and close his eyes and maybe, just maybe....relax for about an hour. Now that's saying something. Life is short Pauly, ease up and smell the roses every once in a while!

Smell ya' later.

My mom reminded me the other day that I used to constantly ask her when Zeke would start talking. I worried all the time when he was a baby - was he ok, would he walk at the right age, would he get potty trained, would he ever know how to talk? Ter-Ter (my mom) would just roll her eyes and tell me it was coming. How very little did I know.

Fast-forward 3.3 years and Zeke is walking, talking, peeing & pooping on the big boy potty, and well, also proudly doing "bom-boms". Just what are bom-bom's and how do I know he's doing them, you ask? Well, the bom-bom goes back a few generations in my hubby's family (when in doubt with all the "strange" stuff that your kid does, blame it on the hubby's genes...) - it's basically just a..."fart" with a crazy alliteration-filled name. Ew, I know. But, aside from myself, everyone does bom-boms. Admit it. But what everyone doesn't do is announce their bom-bom's in the middle of the King of Prussia Mall or Boscov's. That kind of doesn't work for me. It does, however, work really well for Zeke. He'll deliver the bom-bom, then announce it proudly for all to hear. Tonight, it happened at Bertucci's. "Ah, hello sir, hope you enjoy some nice bom-bom with your pepperoni wood-fired pizza..." How completely embarrassing. Now, at least it takes a moment for Zeke's general audience to "get" what he's talking about. I mean, would *you* really know what he's talking about if he said "I DID A BOM-BOM"! and I scooted him away super quick??? Probably not. You would, however, know in a few seconds once your olfactory senses kicked in...

Make my cake chocolate, please.

I finally have someone who understands the true meaning of a birthday. I've been telling Zeke for the past few weeks that my birthday is coming up and we should start getting excited. He's constantly asking me what day it is and if we're having a party today. I keep telling him that it's not for a little while (7 days to be exact - wooooo hoooooo!) and that we can still keep the countdown going. Every night when Pauly walks in the door, Zeke asks him if he has "mommy's present". Heheheheeeehhehheee. Nothing like a little toddler pressure to get the hubby moving on the ol' b-day gift. Gotta' love it. But really, I never actually got all jazzed up about my own birthday. I love celebrating other people's b-days, but mine, well, whatevs. NOW, tho, holy moly, it's so fun now that I have Zeke to count down the days with me! I think he thinks a birthday fairy is coming to leave me birthday gifts under my bed...so maybe, just maybe, if I wish really, really hard...she will. Stay tuned. And hey Pauly, if you're reading, I'd like a nice necklace and those L.L. Bean Wellie Boots in the Dark Umber Springer print, size 6 please. If in doubt, ask Zeke, he knows exactly what I'm talking about...

One tough hombre.

I don't think I know anyone who doesn't like chocolate. If I ever did know someone who disliked it, I guess I erased them from memory. Simon (chihuahua #3), is no exception - he *LOVES* his chocolate. Now, I know what all of you doggie-lovers out there are saying, I hear you in unison chanting "BUT CHOCOLATE CAN KILL DOGS"! Um, yeah, I know, but so can the streets of Trenton (where this poor little pup was found before I adopted him). But Sy made it through that, so I don't think a morsel of chocolate is going to be his kryptonite. I indulge him once in a while and give him a bite and he trots away happy as, well, a former street chi-chi, now eating a nice piece of chocolate. Tonight, Simon went too far. As I was unpacking our lunch cooler, I found a few leftover Peppermint Patties and threw them on the table. Zeke saw them, snatched them up, and ran for the hills. As I yelled for him to stop in his tracks, he panicked, dropped one, and Sy scooped it up and headed for the Happy Hut. (Side Note: the Happy Hut is a tiny little heated doggie hut located in our den for the chi-chi's. It stays heated year-round for optimal chihuahua pleasure.) Now, as I said, I'm fine with Sy having a taste of chocolate - milk chocolate, that is. If you know your candy, you'll know that Peppermint Patties are coated in DARK CHOCOLATE - *not* good for a pup. As soon as I realized all of these details, I ran and dove in the Happy Hut. Simon (all 4 pounds of him) wrestled with me, wouldn't give in (that's the STREET in him...) and simply swallowed the Peppermint Patty, foil wrapping and all. I've never lost battle to a 4 pounder before. Tonight I did. It's been about 2 hours and Sy is happy as, well, a former street chi-chi who just enjoyed a nice Peppermint Patty, wrapper and all.

To the left of the shed.

I finally had my hair cut and colored last Friday. As many of you know, I was about 2 weeks overdue and was starting to get "creative" with my hairstyles. I was working the baseball caps, hairbands, ponytails, etc. I was really, really in a sad state. Well, happy, happy, happy...Dawn (my hair stylist) worked her magic and I'M BACK BABY. Goodbye hairbands. Anyway, Dawn is such a funny chick. She's a stylist who runs her business out of her home because she has FIVE KIDS. (Give me a minute to compose myself....). Yep, she has five kids and they're all under the age of about 15. How nutto. So, when I'm sitting there in her little 1 chair "mini-shop", there is constant entertainment. On Friday I got the latest story regarding her 3 year old: Hayden was out in her back yard playing with sidewalk chalk. Apparently, nature called. Hayden didn't answer the phone. Or the cell phone. Or the pager. Hayden ignored all of nature's attempts to get him into the potty. At the last possible minute, Hayden realized making it to the potty wasn't an option, so he proceeded to poop on the ground next to the shed. Of course, Dawn's 5 year old daughter ran in to share this delightful gossip with Dawn. Dawn ran out and was shown the offending matter by her daughter - and there it was right next to the shed just as she was told. Dawn asked Hayden if he pooped next to the shed and he said no. She showed him the poop and told him she knew he did because it was right there on the ground. Hayden said "how do you know that's not a piece of brown sidewalk chalk? I think you should pick it up and write with it to make sure". WOW. I don't think Hayden should meet Zeke ANYTIME soon.

Blue adieu.

Things just aren't the same anymore. Everything's changing and I'm not liking it. I like continuity, patterns, order. This mongrel three year old that happens to live with me is rocking the boat in my house and it's just not good. You see, his tastes are changing. Drastically. What's with that??? Since when does he have a say in what he wears and what he watches??? I used to be Queen Bee in charge of all that was cool. Now he thinks HE knows right from wrong, cool from loserdom. When did it all change? And here's the ultimate question: when did Blue's Clues become so lame? I mean, just a year ago, I based an entire birthday party on this tv show. I spent a few hundred dollars on crap with Blue's perky face plastered all over it... and I liked it! Blue is my friend for a few reasons. #1: she's a dog. #2: she's a she. Now, Zeke never knew Blue was a girl, but I did. I think if he knew she was a girl, the love affair may have ended sooner. He still doesn't know, but for reasons unknown to me, Blue is out. She's banished to the "inadequate" list. She just doesn't make the cut. Blue is out, Spiderman is in. I don't like Spiderman or even spiders, for that matter. I'm in for a long, estrogen-free haul...

First class ticket to Funtowne.

The past two mornings I've walked out onto our deck, as I always do, to see how the birds are doing. Zeke and I like to bird watch, even for just a moment or so, and I simultaneously check the weather while we're scoping out our feathered friends. The difference in the past two mornings, however, was the distinct crispness in the air. It's coming, folks. Fall, that is. I feel a sense of melancholy about this for the first time ever. I'm usually *ready*...ready for the cool air, the pumpkins, the apple cider, and most importantly Halloweenie. I'm just not ready yet. I think having Zeke with me all summer made it quite different this year. He has changed my mind about loving the summer and all the fun that goes along with it. I've relived my summertime memories through him this year - and it's been superfun. Having a 3-year old is awesome - it gives you an excuse to go down water slides, get on roller coasters, have your face painted, and eat Tootsie Rolls. It's simply, summertime fun. And I'm not ready for that to end yet.

That cookie's gonna crumble.

The other night we were rushing around trying to get out the door for a dinner out with my MIL (mother-in-law), Mom-Mom Cookie. We haven't seen Cookie in a while, so I really didn't want to be late and more importantly, I didn't want any last minute chocolate milk spills, mud pie creations, or bug box fiestas. I simply just wanted to brush the hair, teeth, wash the hands/faces, and get in the car. As I was rushing everyone out and simultaneously applying a coat of mascara in the car mirror, I turned to see Zeke walking out of the garage with this outfit (???) on. Now, I'm all for accessorizing, but I like to keep the accessories in their proper seasons, at least. The earmuffs simply didn't work for me in AUGUST. And especially with a sleeveless tank top. Ellie, the elephant...she'd go well with anything really. She's like Mikimoto pearls - timeless...

I would if i could but i can't so i won't.

Thursdays turn into crazy days sometimes. Yesterday was just that. I was going to hang low - even check in with my doc for a "mini-tuneup". It never happened. Mom-Mom Mare and Poppy had other plans. You see, I told Poppy about this new development of homes being built way far out in Chester County that "have the appearance of being matured over several centuries". WWWHHHHAAATTTT???? Sounds exactly like my dream home if you ask me. So, Poppy being Poppy (and loving the real estate sitch as much as I), decided we HAD to go take a gander (twist my arm...). Well, holy moly. I'm in love. $1.7 million in love, to be exact. But really, I don't know if it's an impossible dream. (Pauly, close your ears...). The builder has some creative options for purchasing your lot, etc., etc., so who knows what could happen. Let's just say my wheels are really turning. Anyway, that was just the beginning of the day. After all that heavy window shopping (and I'm really, really not a good window shopper), we had to do lunch/some real shopping. Well, at lunch I saw the following thing that really freaked me out: let me set the scenario...I'm in the ladies room washing my hands at the sink. I look in the mirror and old lady #1 walks by me with the Wig from Mars. Completely 3 sizes too big for her tiny cranium and so brown that it would have been a few shades too dark for her back in her twenties let alone her mid-eighties. I giggled - a lot, stifled it and rinsed. As I was drying, I turned to walk out and was almost knocked onto the floor by the vision in front of me. Old lady #2, clearly old lady #1's friend/sister (she was talking to old lady #1) was walking towards me WEARING THE EXACT SAME 3-SIZES-TOO-BIG-FOR-THE-TINY-AGING-CRANIUM-2-SHADES-TOO-BROWN-WIG-FROM-MARS. Clearly they got a BOGO (buy one get one free) on the Mars Wigs. I wish I had the cahunas to snap their photo.

I did however, get this classic photo (see top side photo...) in one of the shops we stopped in...who, in their right mind, would ever post something so silly? I'll tell you who: someone who's never had a kid. Funny how I NEVER would have looked twice at this 3 years ago. Now it just slapped me in the face with stupidity and uselessness. Here's the deal, people: if I could keep my kid under control at all times, I would never have the need to hire the $10/hour babysitter just to preserve my sanity. duh.

3 new friends for Zeke.

So, a lot of mommies do contesting blogs to win swag and give away swag (a.k.a. stuff). I don't really use my blog for that kind of stuff. I like to blog about my family, my doggies, myself - it's just my "thang". But I came across this little contest through a friend's blog where they're giving away three LIFE-SIZED stuffed doggies to one lucky little kiddo! In order to enter this contest, I have to put the link to these puppy dogs on my bloggity-blog-blog and then go back and leave my name, etc. Easy enough. So here it is, check it out if you want to see what I hope will be coming to our front door sometime next week! Keep your fingers crossed...because our three chihuahuas & especially Zeke want some big 'ol company!!!! http://www.5minutesformom.com/3961/three-stuffed-puppies/

Ruling with an iron tongue.

Why is it that sharing doesn't ever seem to be an attractive option to a 3 year old? Or a 40 year old, for that matter? Case in point: Zeke never wants to share. Well, yeah, of course, he's three. The sharing thing hasn't quite clicked yet. I'm constantly using the buzz words "share nicely", "let your friends try it out now", etc., etc. He looks at me like he just knows I'm blowing smoke up his Spiderman bigboy underwear. I stick to my guns though, and try, try again each time we encounter a sharing sitch. But what about my 40 year old baby (Zeke's daddy, my hubby)? Why doesn't HE ever want to share??? Case in point: there's one chocolate bar left. We both want it. He picks it up, we have words regarding said chocolate bar. He smiles, knowing he has the upper hand because a) he's taller than I, and can lift it way above my head if I choose to instigate anything physical related to obtaining the chocolate, and, here comes the insane part... b) he knows what he's about to DO to the chocolate bar so he doesn't have to share it. He proceeds to lick the entire bar, top to bottom, to claim it as his own. Sharing isn't an option at that point. And the 40 year old baby knows it.

Délicieux.

Can I just say that I *love* Trader Joe's???? Ever since I went to the nutrition playdate at Jaime's, I've really been thinking about changing our eating habits. I was sidetracked by vacation, but now we're back and today was really my first big grocery shopping I've done since The Big Turnaround. The nutritionist said the easiest way to a healthy kitchen is through Trader Joe's, so I went there and did it. I bought everything I need for the week and I'm giving it a shot. Tonight I made lasagna with a vodka marinara sauce and I have the rest of the ingredients for some pretty healthy din-din's all lined up for the week! I'll let you know how I do and how the men in my house like it...stay tuned.

Summertime funk.

Man's Smelly Feet Trigger Police Raid

Mon Jul 9, 2007 12:08pm EDT

BERLIN (Reuters) - German police broke into a darkened apartment fearing they would find a dead body, after neighbors complained of a nasty smell seeping out onto the staircase.
The shutters of the apartment had been closed for more than a week and the mailbox was filled with uncollected mail.
But instead of a corpse, they found a tenant with very smelly feet, asleep in bed next to a pile of foul-smelling laundry, police in the southwestern town of Kaiserslautern said on Sunday.


Interesting that I came across this article this evening. Why, you ask? Well, because as I was sitting out on our deck "cloud-watching", as Zeke calls it (I call it sleeping with my eyes open), I noticed that his fingernails were grossly long and dirty and in need of a clipping. Don't ask me why,but he seems to enjoy me grooming him, so it's never a problem getting out the clippers and trimming him up a bit. After the digits were clipped, he said "now my toes, Mommy". Ummm, ok. I hesitated a bit based on the outward appearance of this child. He was duuuurty. Like, Center City street pigeon dirty. He wasn't just visibly dirty, he had the "summertime funk" steaming off of him too - you know that smell - dirty hair, dirty skin, dried up sweat and playground dirt. He was gnarly. But, since I gave birth to El Dirtybird, I figured I could handle some dirty piggies. Then he did it. He removed the Crocs. OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN. The smell. The sight. The hell I entered was unimaginable. I think there were live maggots crawling in between his toes and THEY were actually crying because of the nasty stink. And he had the nerve, the gall, to plop that sickness on my lap! What did I do? Well, he's my boy. I clipped his toenails, of course. Then I power washed him.

Supersoaker 2000.

Zeke and I had a fun week - we played with friends, did quite a few play dates, and in between I chipped away at the laundry mountain. But, today, I had to put my foot down, resist the invite from Jenn to go to Dutch Wonderland, and get my junk done before the weekend rush. First up, take The King to the vet. ("The King" is our first chi-chi, Otto. After 10 years and tons of lovin', he has earned the whoppin' good title of "King"). The King has had an eye sitch going on for WEEKS now - seems that a nasty infection took hold of his gorgeous baby blue, and it's been taking a while for it to clear up. So, Dr. Jane (our vet) has been checking on him weekly to be sure he's healing up nicely. By the way, major shout out to Dr. Jane - each visit has been a freebie - she's only been charging me for the meds - HOW COOOOOL IS SHE??? Lovin' her for sure. Anyway, in addition to Otto's eye conundrum, Timmy (chi-chi #2) has exhibited a limp in his right leg for about a week. Now, I don't know about you all, but I can't let a little defenseless animal limp, for God's sake. He needs help. And if I have to sell my house and move into my car for a few months while we pay off the vet bills...well, at least I have an SUV. Pauly, on the other hand, prefers the limp. Needless to say, Timmy went to see Dr. Jane with us today, too. (Pauly lost.) So, there we were: Zeke, me, and two chi-chi's making our way into a packed waiting room with some major pooches coming in for the kill. Apparently "chihuahua" is synonymous with barbecued spareribs in doganese. How do I know that? Well, the salivating German Shepherd and Rhodesian Ridgeback staring at my pups were the first two clues. Luckily, the vet tech behind the desk sensed the impending doom, and ushered us into the exam room STAT. As we were waiting, I was standing there talking to Zeke about what color lollipop he was going to get from Dr. Jane, when I felt something warm on my flip-flopped foot. I looked down only to see Timmy peeing on my toes. Wow. Not good. And that was only at 9:30 this morning. I couldn't get angry though because, you see, Timmy and I have a lot in common. We both pee when we get nervous.