Monday, July 31, 2006

The Reasons Why

Before we got Henry, Joey and I spent two frantic weeks trying to figure out what to name our furball.

After a long, hard search we finally settled on Henry. We have decided that when we have children, we are keeping our unborn child's name a closely guarded secret (kind of, but not entirely like, Alex's legs) until he's born.

This is because lots of people we've told Henry's name to (family members excluded!!) have hated it/said something negative about it. Especially if they haven't seen him when they heard his name.

We figure it'll be harder for people to have such rude responses to the name of our child someday if it's kept a secret until the baby's born. Fewer people have the gall to say "Wow, that's a terrible name" when it's a child and once they've seen it.

So, here are some sample reasons why we ain't tellin':


1. "You named him what?!" (I heard that just this morning, actually.)
2. "Well, he sort of looks like a Henry..."
3. "Henry, huh. I'd have gone with Oscar," doesn't build much morale.
4. "What kind of a name is Henry?" (This would be particularly upsetting if we'd picked something that we really liked that you don't hear every day. But, Moms, don't worry. We won't name any of our kids anything like Buttercup or SheDaisy.)
5. "I think you should name your dog after your father. 'Doug' has a nice ring to it," While this suggestion is not only great but hilarious, Dad would have killed us.
6. "Wow...is that ethnic or a family name, maybe?"

We haven't heard all of those since naming Henry, but about half. So we just decided that when naming a baby, it's best to keep it super top secret.

But we're not having a baby...or planning on having a baby
for a couple years at least. :)

My Teeth are Nearly Three Years Old

On Saturday, in our mail came the two boxes of Crest Whitestripes Renewal that Joey and I had bought off of Ebay (for less than you can buy one box in the store, I might add). We had done just the regular Whitestrips before our wedding (about a year and a half ago) and really liked them, so we decided to try the high-octane stuff this time.

It claims to take 20 years off your smile which, when you're only 23 doesn't leave you with much left.

This is probably the main reason why my teeth have been achy all day long. I have naturally sensetive teeth that don't like the age reversal process. They have been sensetive to air, saliva, temperature changes of any kind, and liquids--all within the last 24 hours. I'm not sure about food because I haven't eaten anything drastically hot or cold yet.

Hopefully the adverse affects dwindle soon, or at least I'm able to suck it up for the cause, because my teeth are getting quite twinkly white.

Joey's a regular Einstein, he even thought to take a "before" picture of himself! I can't wait to see how much different 23 year old teeth look from age 3 teeth. If I can talk him into it, I'll post both side by side when we're done taking our teeth to the Fountain of Youth.

In the meantime, I think I'll just keep my mouth closed and drink room temperature water.

Retraction

Previously I had stated that I would never consume a SoBe NoFear again.

I must retract that statement because on Sunday, July 30, 2006 I consumed 1/2 a can of SoBe NoFear (one serving) on the way to church.

The SoBe NoFear was consumed with my evil sidekick Alex. Joey, who was up by himself up front driving the car, determined that SoBe NoFear was the most disgusting thing he'd ever tasted. Alex and I don't really mind it too much. We drank the entire can (which is pretty ginormous, like 20 oz) on the 18 minute drive to church.

I do have to admit I was so wired during Sunday School that my hands were shaking.

Friday, July 28, 2006

The Lone Ranger

Today I am the only person around. It's pretty fantastic--the phone hasn't even rung once!

So far today I have:
  • Checked the newspaper to see if our baseball team made it to state. They did.
  • Eaten a roll with peanut butter on it
  • Painted my toenails. Three coats. (Hot pink, naturally)
  • Listened to an episode and a half, so far, of Adventures in Odyssey
  • Cut about 1/4 of the 160 squares I have to get cut today
I'm really enjoying my day to get my work done at my pace, my volume level, and listening to what I want to on the radio.

The real perk is that I can use the annoying, squeaky paper cutter all morning without driving anyone else crazy! I don't even have to go crazy because I can listen to Odyssey while I do it.

Ahh....Fridays in July.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Alex Needs All His Teeth Pulled Out

So The Kid went to the dentist today because his tooth hurt. He left with the following diagnosis:

3 cavities
Receeding gums (down to the roots, aparrently)
1 cracked tooth

I figure he just needs to pull all his teeth out and wear falsies. He doesn't have to worry about braces, retainer, or really brushing anymore if he does that.

A major downside would be, like, if he gets a girlfriend someday (IF I let him) and he takes her on a first date and his teeth fall out because he was too nervous to propertly adhere them to his gums. His girlfriend would be freaked out and she'd probably almost puke because, naturally, she wouldn't know that his teeth were falsies.

But I doubt he'll follow my suggestions, he usually doesn't.

Henry and His Toys

Henry learns to like a red balloon, but of course, not for long enough for us to capture it on video.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Henry Looks Sad

 Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

3 Parakeets, 2 Shih-Tzus, and 4 Humans


There were more domesticated animals than people in my home last night. It was...crazy-go-nuts.

Henry and Ernie kept mauling each other, the Parakeets were checking each other out, and us 4 humans were trying to keep Ernie from eating the Parakeets.

Like I said, crazy-go-nuts.

Things were going as well as could be expected--we took Henry and Ernie to Saylorville with us and they blew off some of their puppy steam. They really, really, really wanted to play frisbee with the big boys, but just weren't quite big enough yet. This really made Ernie sad, but I think he's survived.

The four humans went to Gelaterie Stam for dessert, and we left all of our pets at our apartment.

Things started to fall apart at bedtime.

Sister and Stephen forgot their air mattress, so they were going to try to sleep on the floor. This did not bode well for Sister's back. She thought she might wind up on the couch if the floor was too hard.

I hoped that Henry wouldn't hear her move and begin his barking.

About 2:30 I got up to use the bathroom, and my movement scared the feathers off the Parakeets. The began flying frantically against the cage walls. I flipped on the light hoping that they would calm down.

It didn't work.

I snuck back to my room and shut the door, hoping that Ernie and Henry would stay asleep, and the birds would stop flying. I hated to think one might break a wing or something.

I also hoped that poor Sister would remain asleep!

My worst fears were realized a few moments later when I heard fluttering again. Then I heard a pathetic yip coming from the kitchen.

Henry was awake. Ernie too, turns out.

I mumbled for Joey to please get up and let Henry out, maybe he had to go potty. His yips were sounding more like "I have to go out now and I'm trying really hard to hold it!" than, "I want out because I'm a whiny puppy."

Getting up at 2:30 a.m. and going outside is not my idea of a good time since the bar down the street closes at 2:00 a.m. Granted: it was Tuesday and there are fewer sots on Tuesdays.

Joey stumbled out, picked up Henry and took him outside, where he promptly releived himself like the good little puppy he is.

We got the kennel and brought it back into our room with us so Henry wouldn't wake up Sister with his "I want out because I'm a whiny puppy" cries after we put him back in to go to sleep.

Fortunately he didn't cry too much.

6:00 a.m. came way, way too early. Poor Sister, sleeping on the couch as she was, was forced to get up when we got up.

Henry and Ernie fought/played for an hour until Henry had enough and started crying whenever Ernie came close.

The Parakeets' wings were not broken, fortunately. They didn't even seem to phased, considering all the banging they were doing.

Ernie has not yet eaten any of the three Parakeets.

Freddie (sister's Parakeet) has finally realized that the chirping coming from the northwest of him is two additional Parakeets and he is going bonkers trying to figure out how to get over to them so they can hang out.

Freddie is, unfortunately, a male parakeet and Mr. Darcy is a female. I hope we don't get baby parakeets out of this. :)

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The Difficulties of Taking a Good Picture of Your Pet

After several attempts to get a decent picture of Henry, we gave up. He moves too much.

Way, way too much.
When we tried to take a picture of Henry and Moo (my Texas Longhorn that Henry has decided is his new best friend) Henry spent more time licking Moo and mauling his right hoof than looking at the camera.

Henry also likes to try to lick the lens. This causes obvious problems because puppy slobber is not good for photo quality.

Fortunately Joey has ninja-like reflexes and he pulled the camera away before Henry actually got a good taste of it.

All ten times.

The picture of Henry's face as he tried to lick the camera would have been really cute, though. (But I'm not sure a "really cute" picture is worth $200.)

Yeah, so the entire top two rows are Henry and Moo, when he wasn't trying to lick the camera. As you can see, they didn't turn out so well.

So then we thought we'd try Henry on our bed. Moo wasn't there, and there were no squeaky toys, so we figured we'd have his undivided attention.

Wrong.

Henry kamakazi jumped off the bed on to the floor. He's much, much braver than Ernie. (I think Henry's objective was to get back to Moo.)

The best pictures we finally got were when Joey was holding Henry. Not only did most of Henry's body remain still, he didn't move his head as much, either.

His face is so cute.

Anyway, that's my story of Joey and I trying to get a decent head shot of Henry without him licking the camera. And I'm sticking to it.Posted by Picasa

Monday, July 17, 2006

Henry Spars the Ball

Our new dog, Henry, gets a little rough with his squeaky ball, with a little help from his master, Joey.

Henry and His Sqeaky Ball

Our new dog, Henry, finally starts to like his sqeaky ball.

Henry Meets Ernie

Our new dog, Henry, meets his cousin Ernie.

Socks + Shorts = Retake the picture!!

On Saturday, after we got our adorable puppy Henry, Joey and I decided to put miles on our car and to see the entire state of Iowa. So we drove to Waterloo to see my Grandma, who wasn't home, and then to Cedar Rapids to see my family.

(After that, we went to Monroe to show Henry to Joey's family. I am slightly concerned that Eric will attempt to snitch Henry from me at some point, he seems to like that puppy a lot.)

But I digress.

Since Zewditu was visiting at my parents house, and almost all of my parents kids were home (sorry Sister and Stephen! We really missed you!!!), she wanted us to take a family picture. Here is the first picture. Alex is holding Henry and Henry is wearing a t-shirt that says "Giraffe in Training". This shirt was originally Ernie's, but I bought a size too small so it never really fit him. It is way, way too big for Henry.

But I digress yet AGAIN! Sorry.

Here's the picture.

After we took the picture, Joey showed it to me on the camera.

"DAD! You're wearing SOCKS!"

"So?" Dad asked, giving me his "up against the wall" face.

"You can't wear long socks and shorts in a picture that Zewditu is going to be showing to people in Ethiopia! They'll think it's...normal or something."

"It IS normal." Dad argued.

"No, no it's not. We're taking another picture. Take off your socks."

"Alright, fine," Dad huffed at me as he took off his socks.

Poor Zewditu said that it was fine for Dad to have his socks on, that no one in Ethiopia would think he was weird. Comments began flying about how weird
I was for putting clothing on my puppy. I could see this was going downhill very, very quickly.

Dad got his socks off, grousing the whole while, and we all grouped together for one more attempt at a decent, civil family picture.

Joey pushed the time delay button, and the red light began to flash.

Dad and I were sticking our tongues out at each other, so the civil part didn't appear to be working. At least his socks were off, though, so we did fit into the decent category.

Just at the last minute, we whipped our heads toward the camera and flashed very charming smiles, as is illustrated below.

Now I must say, I think everyone looks much happier in this picture, without Dad's socks, than they did in the previous picture with Dad's socks.

This could be due to a couple things:
a.) In the first picture, everyone was so embarassed about Dad's socks that they weren't smiling very nicely,
b.) In the second picture everyone could sense that Dad's socks were gone, so they smiled more; or
c.) They were laughing at us stick our tongues out at each other like a couple of three-year-olds.

Either way, I like the second picture better.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Mrs. Woestman

So until Wednesday, I've never actually been called "Mrs. Woestman". It was becoming a sore subject for me. All the kids at church just call me Miss Jenna still.

There we were, it was 9:15 p.m. and all the youth group team was sitting around Dr. Brown's kitchen table. His wife and daughter, Krista, were dishing up ice cream. Tricia leaned down to Krista and said, "Go take this to Mrs. Woestman."

Immediately, I perked up.

Mrs. Woestman?! I thought, NOBODY has officially called me that yet! This is a great day!

I watched, wide-eyed, as Krista brought the ice cream over to my side of the table, handed it to Jamie and said, "This is for Mrs. Woestman."

Cha-Ching!

Not only had Tricia called me Mrs. Woestman to Krista, but Krista had actually said "Mrs. Woestman" in reference to me!

The meeting had started off on the wrongest foot possible for me, so this was just the thing to redeem it and bring it into "good meeting" status.

Now I feel so very much more grown up.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Nothing To Say

Sometimes, amazingly, I have nothing to say.

Today is one of those days.

I think I typed too much or something.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

The Rat















(Before) (After)
Poor Ernie has been shaved. He played with big dogs one weekend and his hair got all matted, so there was no choice.

We all still love Ernie, but he does look like a rat. Good thing hair grows back!!!

(That's my Sister holding The Rat in the second picture, by the way. She's pretty cool.)

The Biggest Sundae Ever

Last night, my amazing husband made me an ice cream sundae.

"Just two scoops of ice cream, please." I asked, as I watched him put the ice cream in the bowl. "I don't want too much."

"I know," Joey said, as he intently positioned the ice cream blobs.

I returned to my book while Joey kept making the ice cream. It was taking....a long time.

I glanced back up in time to see him putting an enormous blob of hot fudge topping on what looked like a sundae monstrosity.

"Wow." I said, as I grabbed a spoon.

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing. I filled the middle in with butterscotch and then I put tons of Cool-Whip on it, and there's hot fudge on top."

It was pretty amazing. Simply the amount of Cool-Whip doubled the sundae size, I'm pretty sure there was more of that than there was ice cream. I took my first bite.

It was predominantly Cool-Whip with a touch of ice cream and a hint of butterscotch.

My second bite was basically all butterscotch and Cool-Whip.

"Woah, you put tons of butterscotch on this!" I said as I tried to figure out just how much he'd put on there.

"Yeah, tons pretty much." Joey said absently, he was reading a book.

I ate about half the sundae (it was 9:30 at night) and couldn't finish the rest. This is what I get for waiting until after 9:00 p.m. to eat my dessert.

"Joey, are you still going to help me eat this?" I asked, as I poked the Cool-Whip.

"Um, no. I don't think so."

I ate a few more bites. My "small" sundae had grown to biblical proportions, and I was not going to be able to finish it, no matter how hard I tried. And I didn't need to finish it, either, if I wanted my jeans to fit.

Sadly, I dumped the leftovers into the sink and sprayed then down the drain.

Then I went over to Joey and gave him a big kiss for making me the best sundae ever, even if it was twice the size I'd expected. :)

The Alex Nickel

Usually when I have something really annoying that I have to decide, I pick up the phone and call Alex, my littlest brother. (He is much taller than me.) Alex generally answers my question for me quickly, painlessly, and I don't have to think about it anymore.

Me: "Hey Kid, I'm in HyVee. Should I get one of those really frosted cookies?"
The Kid: "No, that's disgusting. I hate frosting."
So I didn't get the cookie. I was rather disappointed, I might add.

Me: "Hey Kid, I have to go to the bathroom. What should I do?"
The Kid: "What did you call me for anyway? Go to the bathroom!"
So I did.

I have a problem this summer, though, since Alex is at camp. He can't use his cell phone much.

This morning, I had a Pop Tart that I couldn't decide if I wanted to eat warm or cold. I never get Pop Tarts, and I secretly love them, so I wanted to be sure that I ate it correctly. After staring at the Pop Tart for awhile and not coming up with anything, an idea came to me.

I started an email to Alex asking him what I should do. Then I got out a nickel from my wallet (yes, I actually had money in there for a switch) and marked a big A on it in permanent marker and named it the Alex Nickel.

Then, I flipped the coin. Heads--I ate the Pop Tart warm, Tails--I ate the Pop Tart cold.

I got tails. Twice. (Best two out of three, and all...)

I disregarded what the Alex Nickel said and ate the Pop Tart cold.

I don't think the Alex Nickel has the same power that an actual "yes" or "no" from The Kid. (I would feel too guilty for actually disregarding the word from Alex, but I don't seem to have too much trouble ignoring the Alex Nickel.) I guess it kind of works, though.

Do you think it's illegal to write on money with permanent marker? After I did it, I thought it probably was.

I hope I don't get arrested now. If I do, I expect Alex to bail me out of jail since this is all his fault.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Jenna Attempts Assertiveness

I generally have little trouble being assertive with: Joey, my siblings (particularly The Little Man), or close friends I have known for years.

I have trouble being assertive with: everyone else.

On Monday, I sent our newsletter down to the printers to be laid out and printed. Last month, they told me they needed a week to turn it around. I figured that, since it's going to be August and everyone else will probably be doing the same thing at the same time, I'd give them 2 weeks to get it back to me.

After I put it on the server on Monday, I sent an email and made a phone call to make sure it was received.

Nothing.

Just now, I called over there to make sure that the lady had gotten it.

"Oh, no, I haven't noticed that yet. Are we supposed to lay this out, too?" She asked.

"YES," I said, as forcefully and gently as possible.

I called the printer to set up a receiving time for the newsletter.

"Oh, gosh, I'm not sure about this." He said, when I asked him if I could have it by the 21st. "It takes a real long time and I just got two other school's recently."

I mentioned that last month I was told that I needed to have the newsletter to them one week before I needed it printed.

He hemmed and hawwed a bit.

I could see this was not going well. I was expected to shrivel, grovel, and back down, saying that it was OK for them to take as long as they jolly well wanted to get the newsletter back to us. Good thing I had been warned that we have problems with our printing company being punctual with their deadlines.

The printer was still going on about the level of inconvenience I would be causing them; he really needed two weeks. I glanced at my calendar to double check dates.

I steeled myself.

"Now, I sent that newsletter to you on Monday, and from Monday to the 21 is two weeks, am I correct?" I took a deep breath and barreled on. "I was told last month that I only needed to give you a week, and so even from what you told me then, I've given you plenty of time. I will expect to see it on Friday, the 21."

Silence.

"If, for some reason, you can't get it done, what is the earliest date you can call me to let me know?"

Silence.

Finally, I heard, "I think Monday."

"Great. If there is any problem, I will hear from you on Monday. Otherwise, since you will have had two weeks, I expect to see that newsletter on the 21. Thank you."

We hung up and I sagged back into my chair, feeling slightly nasty.

Being assertive to strangers really takes it out of me.

"Well...you AND them"

We just got a new truck at work, so two other guys (men, actually) and I drove the three Driver's Ed cars down to the dealer to return them, and to pick up the new truck.

First of all, I need to say that I really, really like my car. I drove an '06 Chevy Cobalt down there and the thing was sluggish, and when it idled, the entire car shook. (And I had trouble seeing over the steering wheel and nose.) Oh, oh, and when I tried to get out, I got all dirty because the seat is sunk down into the body, instead of raised up like on my Corolla.

But I digress.

I tried so hard to just follow the other two guys on the way down, but they were driving so slow. I finally gave up and passed them when we were driving 30 mph on Merle Hay Road. (The speed limit is 40.)

This, of course, caused a flow of "lead foot" comments, but I did point out that they weren't even going the speed limit.

We got the vehicles returned safely and went to pick up the new truck, a Chevy Silverado 3500. It was bright candy-apple red. And the cab was about 3 feet off the ground. And it was a three-seater.

I looked at the other two guys.

I looked at the truck.

I thought, Man, this is going to be cozy. Hopefully CW4 takes the interstate on the way back home so we can get this over with as fast as possible.

We hopped into the cab (I had to take a running start) and drove off.

CW4 drove right on past the on-ramp to the interstate. Obviously we were going through town. I suppose if you're gone from the office, you might as well make the most of it. Except that I really didn't even have time to be doing this in the first place...

When we finally got back, I came back to my desk, plopped down, and got right back to work.

Someone came over and said, "So, how's the new truck?"

I said, "Oh, it's great. It's a little cozy with 3 adults, though."

She said, "Well...it was you AND them."

I thought she didn't understand me, so I repeated, "Yes, I went along and rode back with them."

She began to feel uncomfortable, like perhaps I understood she had just inferred that I am not an adult. She quickly made an excuse, and exited.

I sat, confused, staring at my computer screen blankly for a momen.

Was she just inferring that I'm not an adult? I thought to myself.

Oh well. My adult status in question does not change the fact that it was still really uncomfortable riding back in the truck with those guys. I hung on for absolute dear life on every "opportunity corner" so I would slide as little as possible.

For the record, I do think I'm an adult though. So there.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Butterfingers

I don't know what's happened to me, but for about the last four months, I have been a klutz.

It's pathetically embarassing.

In the last week I have:
1. Jammed the shredder, almost to the point of being permanently broken. It was so jammed up that it took two hours to get all the little pieces out.
2. Jammed the copier.
3. Dropped a huge stack of alphabetized papers
4. Dropped my celery and peanut butter while eating lunch.
5. Deleted something I was working on (ARG!)
6. Tripped on my own feet.

I suppose it could be worse, but I'm beginning to feel like an incompetent bozo! People probably don't notice my slip ups as often as I feel like they do, but I hate being a butterfingers.

At least I can type 100 words per minute, otherwise they might ditch me for being a klutz, however recently I've picked up the tendencies.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Attention!


Attention one and all!

After my wife discovered my previous illicit post (don't tell her that I know her password!), she invited me to join the fun here! Now that I have my own name and password, I am ready to announce the arrival of one Joseph A. Woestman to the blogosphere.


PS. I think I kinda look like that guy from Boondocks . . . not that I support or endorse anything in that comic. I've never read it, actually.

Jenna and the Tunnel of Love


Howdy all you regular readers of Jenna's blog. Since this is my first post on "life according to jenna," (shh, don't tell her!) I thought I'd go ahead and describe what I see whenever my wife comes in the room.

Yep, you're right. Tunnel vision. I've got it bad. Is that normal?

-Joey

Joey is Incrediboy!



It amazes me how much Joey looks like Incrediboy in this picture.

Joey does not, however, bear any resemblance to the evil tendencies of Incrediboy. Joey is much, much nicer than that.

Joey is Incrediboy because:
1. He found the free oil change certificate that I asked him to find, even
after I found it in my car. So what must have happened is that he magically made another one. Now we have 2 free oil changes! Yay Joey!

2. Joey can read my mind. He knew instinctively that I really wanted the air conditioner in on Monday, and I never even said "It's so stinkin' hot in here"
one time that day! When I called him Monday afternoon, he was already at Home Depot buying the stuff to install our unit.

3. Joey has superpowers. He can make things happen that I can't, such as reaching things on the top shelf of the cupboards (he doesn't even have to climb on the counter!) and setting the tent up without mixing up any of the pieces. Joey also has incredible skills at things like fixing his car and being my best friend.

4. Joey can fly. (Well, almost.) He likes to jump off high things like he
can fly, though.














Yep, my husband is totally awesome.

My Two Husbands?!

Scary, I know. Not only is Joey kissing both sides of my cheek at once, but my neck is really skinny and my nose is really big on the end.

Those Photo Booth "mirror" settings will get you every time.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

A Whole Family of Racoons

So that "wildlife" in my ceiling turns out to be a mamma racoon and her herd(?) of little babies.

The ceiling tile she's set her nest up on is bowed. She must be a big 'un.

Drama, drama, drama.

Since we'd been poking the bowed ceiling tile for about the last 3 hours to try to identify what, exactly, was up there, Mamma Coon had gone off to some other section of the ceiling.

Not five minutes ago I held a large piece of styrofoam across the hallway (because of course that will keep us safe from enraged Mamma Coon, if she should decide to come down) as five brave men held up a net to catch the babies.

It turned out that there were four little tiny babies who began squalling and carrying on just as soon as they got their little eyes adjusted to the light. (Actually, they looked more like furry moles than racoons, but they're really itty bitty.)

So far, Mamma Coon has not showed her mean face, but she probably will soon. Her babies are sitting right outside, by the hole she used to come inside in the first place, and she's got to be able to hear them.

Poor babies, they're so cute. I hope she comes for them soon.

I'm awfully glad they're not in the ceiling anymore--can you imagine when they got bigger? What if they broke a tile and fell through to the ground?

Poor things. Anyway, the mystery is solved!

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Sock Fireworks

I've pretty much been tired all day. This is mostly Joey's fault for throwing his unmentionables "over me" this morning on his way to work. They landed on my head and SCARED ME TO DEATH.

He argues that they merely landed near me, but I know different.

I decided about 12:30 to take a nap, so I climbed into my bed and got a book. I figured I'd fall asleep in no time at all.

This was not, unfortunately, the case. I began to wake up, pretty much the second I got in bed.

"Joey, what would happen if I threw this bear up into the fan?"

Joey turned a page in his book and said, absentlhy, "It would fly over and hit the wall."

"Oh. So I shouldn't do that then."

"No, probably not. But socks are OK." Joey grabbed one of his wadded up socks and tossed it to me.

I threw it up into the fan. The sock went up, hit the ceiling, came down and hit the fan, and flew sharply to the left, landing in the laundry basket.

"WOAH!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" I was really awake now. I grabbed the sock again and tossed it up. It landed in the laundry basket.

Joey, at this time, was quite amused by my antics and was scurring all over the room to collect socks. I began throwing them, rapid fire, into the ceiling fan. Most of them were landing in the laundry basket.

I was laughing harder and harder, tears were beginning to work their way out of my eyes.

Joey looked at me, "You ARE tired, aren't you?"

"I guess, maybe. Did you do this as kids or something?"

"Of course." Joey presented me with another pile of socks, ripe for the throwing.

My siblings and I never even thought of this. We really missed out.

Monday, July 03, 2006

WE HAVE AIR CONDITIONING!

I was shocked.

While I was on my way out to grocery shop, I asked Landlord to put our air conditioner unit in at his convenience, but before Henry arrives, please,

Not 30 minutes later, I arrived home to find Joey (my wonderful husband), some random guy, and Landlord all finagling the huge, ugly air conditioner into place.

I also found out that Joey, who can aparrently read my mind now, stopped at Home Depot on the way home from work to pick up caulk to seal our little air conditioner we keep in our bedroom.

HOLY COW!!! Our apartment was a very comfortable (to us) 83 degrees and cooling when I left.

That sure beats 87 degrees with humidity (which is what it was when I left), or the all-time high of 95 degrees.

Now we won't broil poor Henry in his kennel. Whew.

I Am Too Short

This morning I was in a hurry, but I also had to get gas. I stopped at Casey's, for the first time since they've redone it, and hopped out of the car to get the pay-at-the-pump started.

I could not find it.

It wasn't on the pump anywhere that I could see, just 3 slightly high gas pump thingys. (What are those called, anyway?)

Every gas station, especially new ones, have pay-at-the-pump anymore, so I knew it had to be there. I looked up and it was then that I spotted it. The card reader was about 6 feet in the air (I'm not joking, I had to stand on my toes to get to it) and the very base of the keypad began 4 inches above the top of my head. And I'm wearing thick-soled flip flops today.

I struggled to get my card in and out of the reader, guessed what the little screen was telling me to do (of course I couldn't read it, it was eye level for my Dad) and then tried to get the overly high gas pumper out of the holder and into my car.

All of these actions were far too difficult. Getting gas is supposed to be fairly routine, or so I thought.

Why do they make everything so blasted high, anyway? I tell you what, I'm never going back to that Casey's again.

Oh stink, I just realized I forgot my receipt on the pump. But then again, it was a foot above my head...

Joey Saves The Day

On Saturday night Joey and I were going to bed much, much later than normal. (Like 11:00 p.m. later.) We'd been watching a movie that didn't get over until 10:30, so by the time we got home, loafed around, read our books and got ready for bed, it was coming up on 11:30.

We finally got settled when we heard a strange, obnoxious noise coming from the parking lot next door.

It sounded like skateboards.

We ignored it for about 3 minutes, then decided we'd better check it out. You never know, after all. Dave wants us to keep an eye out for his property and all.

Sure enough, it was two tallish highschool guys wearing long black basketball shorts, no shirts, and skateboarding. And screaming and yelling. At 11:30 p.m.

"Call the cops! Ooh, do it!" I urged Joey.

Joey, always the one with more sense, said, "Well, let's just wait a little bit."

We waited about another 3 minutes.

"They're still doing it and making tons of noise. Call the cops. I've always wanted to call the cops." I started looking for our phone book.

"Let me yell at them to be quiet first, if they don't then we'll call the cops."

"No way! Then they'll spray paint our cars and beat down the doors and kill us in our sleep. Just call the cops."

"I bet we'll be fine." Joey yelled out the window for the guys to be quiet.

Nothing happened.

I grabbed the phone book and started looking up the cops' number. Joey hesitantly picked up his phone and dialed it.

"Hi, I feel really childish, but there's a couple kids skateboarding in a parking lot outside our window and they're making a ton of noise....OK, thank you." He hung up the phone. "They're sending someone."

"YES!" I shrieked. "I wanna watch."

So we turned off the lights and hunkered down by the window, watching and waiting for the cops to come.

To our dismay, the two skateboardin' dudes saw something (the cops?) and relocated to the other side of our building, away from our window.

We never got to watch them get busted, but at least we called the cops. Next time we're calling right away so we can see the cop car roll in...

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Henry vs. Ivan


So last night we decided maybe we weren't totally satisfied with the name for our new puppy. Fortunately we haven't got the puppy yet (July 15!) so we can still change our minds.

Up until last night, it was going to be Henry. All the other Shih-Tzus we know have such awesome names: Gus, Sam, Ernie. We want our little dude to have a name of similar caliber.

This brought us to our drive down to Yankee Doodle Pops last night. Joey was throwing out names, and I was generally saying "no" to names like Keith (no way, Jose), Alvin (Alvin and the Chipmunks?), Vladimir (no, no, and no), Hugh (reminds me of 20/20), Gunther (how many different ways are there to say no?!), George (not bad...but not good either), Guthrie (that's a street name), and Randy (absolutely not, former bosses' name).

We liked Andrew, Larry, and Doug but figured we shouldn't name a dog after my brother, grandfather, and/or father. Johnny wasn't a bad option either, but we figured that name fell under the same rule, Johnny of course being short for John (who happens to be Father-In-Law1).

Sorry, Alex, we never really considered your name. But we still like you.

The several two we agreed upon were Charlie and Wally. Neither one of these prooved acceptable because Charlie is too similar to Charlie's Angels and Wally is too much like Walmart...Wally World. I hate Walmart.

So then we were back to Henry. Maybe if we called him Prince Henry it wouldn't be so stuffy sounding?

This morning I picked up a book of baby names from the library, and we think we happened on a keeper.

Ivan.

It doesn't have a cute little "ie" ending on it, but it's not a half bad name. Especially if we registered him as Ivan the Terrible on his AKC papers. I particularly like Ivan the Terrible, since this little guy is about as far from terrible as my mom is.

It's getting down to the wire. Will it be Henry or will it be Ivan?

Input is appreciated.

We'll keep you posted. (As if you're dying of curiosity...)