This is Important!

If you only learn one thing about me through this blogging journey of mine.  This will be the most important of all.

As for me and my household there is only one...and I mean only one Hot Sauce!

 Perfect amount of hot, Perfect amount of vinegar, Perfect consistency, Perfect color "The Perfect Hot Sauce"

Learn it! Love it! Live it! 

Because this little guy will be making appearance after appearance with me, You can bank on that.  I have even been known to travel with my own bottle.  Because if you ever try to give me it's evil nemesis "Tabasco" I will promptly send you packing and vacate your establishment steadfastly!  It's that serious. 

Happy Hot Saucing 
The Reluctant Domestic

*okay, so it's not really the most important thing to know about me, but it is pretty important.

Itunes is playing "You Could Be Mine" Guns N' Roses

Buddy the Wonder Dog

I have a dog named Buddy.

He is truly such a good boy. He is loyal to a fault, loving and never wants to disappoint you. 

He honestly deserves better pet parents, sometimes I think he tries to communicate this to me.  But I just pretend not to notice and pat him on the head.  I can't let on to him that I know this as well.  It would totally blow the whole master image and I already have two little bitches (that would be female dogs I'm referring to thank you very much.  You shouldn't think so ill of me this early on in our relationship. ;) Save it for later, when it's really needed) that do a good enough job of that already. 

Buddy came to us as a stray and is not, what is known as a "lucky dog".  He has had more than his share of tough breaks.  His most recent you ask?  Well, about year or so ago, Buddy and his best pal Cowboy were engaged in a "turf war" with one of the local gangs (stray dog pack).  It happened in the middle of the night, like most shady dealings do and it got pretty heated.  The Husband had to get up and go check on our late night warriors, who were honorably defending our homestead or well......to tell them to shut the H E double hockey sticks up!  There were a few battle wounds but nothing serious or so I thought....... 

A few days later Buddy was lying on the floor in my bedroom.  As I was walking past him, I glanced down and my eyes fell on a festering, oozing wound.  Guess where that wound was?  That's right.  Right smack dab in the middle of where the sun don't shine, sweet Caroline.  This poor poor guy.  It really was Buddy's luck.  Cowboy got a few scratchs on his face and nose but Buddy got a bite in the balls!  That were now infected.  I called The Husband in to take a look.  He looked at Buddy's now holey male parts and then with a look of pity, locked eyes with him.  They had silent conversation.  Buddy looking fearful.  Husband projecting confidence and compassion that it was all gonna be okay.  I looked back and forth between them while this went on.  Something only understood between males who have been kicked or bitten in Buddy's case, in their nether region.  "Call the Vet, take him in" And so I did.  Buddy made it, his balls did not.   Life just ain't fair sometimes. 

On to the point of this story...

Yesterday morning when i went to let the two smaller furry heathens (a.k.a Posha & Sugar) in my hoard out to pee.  I looked to my immediate left where Buddy normally resides.

This is what I found......

Then I found this, it was still attached to Buddy at the time.  When he decided to make an appearance from wherever it was he spent the night. 

You could imagine my surprise.  Not only was Buddy not where he was suppose to be.  But, you see this wire/cable whatever it is called?  It was supposed to have held a 150lb dog.

This is Buddy.....

Buddy is not 150lbs

This is also Buddy.  Notice anything about him that is a little different from your average four legged friend?  That's right.  Good observance.  Buddy is three legged (attributed by another tough break and a car)  and also not 150lbs.

So here is my question.  How does a three legged, not 150lb dog break a cable meant to hold a 150lb dog?  I don't get it.  I don't see how this is possible. 

Then while hauling him into his holding cell......I mean laundry room.....I mean hell (I mean that for both him and I, because that is what the laundry room is an extension of hell.  I actually think it also might be a portal.  Fortunately I'm a christian.  But mark my word when those days come, the fires of hell will open up thru laundry rooms) my brain takes over and I am suddenly saddened by this situation.  I think to myself maybe something out there was feeling sorry for Buddy and said "you know that poor dog has had it "ruff" ( ha ha, bad joke.  couldn't help myself) and caused that cable to snap, setting poor Buddy free to roam once again.  And for one night Buddy ran.  He could feel the wind in his hair, new grass on his back, pee on trees and limbs he had been eyeing for months, thinking to himself "one day, oh yes one day".  He could go kick it in the back with Cowboy.  Give him a "what up, Dog?" (literally) sniff. 

Thus the dawn cometh...... and all of Buddy's doggie dreams were shattered once again, at my first bellowing of "Buuudddyyyyyy".  Sadness....Some Dogs have all the luck,  Buddy just isn't one of them.

But he will still always greet you with excitement and a tail wag no matter what.  What lessons we can learn if we really pay attention.

The Reluctant Domestic

P.S. Incase you are wondering why Buddy is on a cable in the first place, it's because he started getting a little chase happy with folks traveling on two wheels.....

*Garbage is playing on my itunes :)

The Reluctant Domestic's Question/Thought for today

Is it Ean?  Is it really "Ruff" being this cute?

Because I personally feel like I should be wearing a shirt that reads, 

"It's 'Rough' with Ean being this cute" and a haggard photo of myself replacing the adorable puppy dog....

I kid you not 2 seconds before I picked up the camera, he was throwing a fit.  What does this entail for my future?!

Happy Day to you all

The Reluctant Domestic

*My Itunes was silent while posting this but I feel I should have been listening to something like Nation on Fire by Blitz

My Sister

I have a sister.

She is seven years older than me.

She is clumsy, and falls a lot.  I'm forced to laugh at her a lot.

I'm the evil little sister, I'm 7 years younger.

She drives me BANANA SANDWICHES!!!

Here are the reasons why:
1.  She is always trying to hug me, and will chase me around trying to touch me. 
2.  She says "ya know" after every sentence.
3.  She will call my cell phone. When I don't answer, she will call my work phone.  When I don't answer, she will call my cell phone.  Then she will leave me a voice mail, when I have repeatedly asked her not to. 
4. This isn't the last, but it is the worst.  She is absurdly, insanely, yack worthy TALENTED!!! 

SHE MADE THIS...

She even hand made and hand painted the birds, flowers and the tiny little eggs hidden inside.  Ridiculous!

AND THIS....

My dad's 80th B-day cake.  She made replicas of his ties he wore to work like a million years ago.  She thinks she is so smart!  And the oyster shells. My family is kinda obsessed with oysters, except for my mom.  She's lame, sorry mommy.  Love you

 

SHE PAINTED THIS...

This I have to forgive because it was for the future Superhero Ean's room.  But it does further prove my point so it had to be added. 

SHE DESIGNED THIS

She also did the charcoal of my father when in high school.  That is what this was designed from.  And she will probably kill me once she sees this because I don't think this was actually finished.  But I needed it to exhibit my evidence!

  SHE MAKES HOMEMADE GIFTS....AND I GRUDGINGLY LOVE THEM

Even made the recipe card inserts! I mean, who does this?

AND THIS IS HOW SHE WRAPS SAID HOMEMADE GIFTS!

*RELUCTANT DOMESTIC ROLLS EYES

Notice cute kid in the right corner and lazy brother in the left.  Lazy brother is a whole different kinda blog!

I rest my case!  Ridiculous, right?
My sister so so soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ANNOYINGLY talented.....
and I love her more than the air I breath.  I'm awed by her daily and thankful for her every minute.  Though I will never admit it this out loud.  I have a rep to keep up! 

She blogs also.  If you would like to be annoyed too.  Check her out http://goodcrazyblog.blogspot.com/
Make sure to check out the poison ivy post,  it will someday be a classic!

Forever the jealous little sister,
 
The Reluctant Domestic

P.S.  I was listening to A.F.I. while blogging.  Just in case anyone might be interested music is a pretty big part of my life. 

Crossing Over

When my son, Ean was around 7 or 8 months old I decided I could no longer pretend and I officially threw in the towel.   I walked across that invisible line that exists between breeders and non-breeders and officially joined “the dark side”.  

I had to finally come clean with myself and the world.

I didn’t just love my son; I started to like him as well. 

Don’t get me wrong; I knew from the moment he was born that I loved him. That I would do everything I could to make sure he was clean, fed, a decent little person and most importantly keep him alive and in one piece until his father made it back home from overseas!  

However, this new found revelation of mine did not come with ease.  You see…. well, there is just no easy way of saying this except flat out.  I’m not a lover of kids or babies.  I mean they can be cute and all from afar, but up close my senses start screaming. FLEE! FLEE! FLEE!   We (children and I) have seemed to always have this unspoken agreement.  They stayed away from me and I from them.  Occasionally I would lock eyes with one.  It was much like attending the zoo in a way, standing opposite of them in observance of something totally foreign and wild to you.  A look of curiosity in each of our eyes saying the unspoken words “I just don’t know what to do with you” or “you’re just so weird, this is awkward”

I will admit, I did throw a few wistful glances over my shoulder during my cross over. I stared into the eyes of those I was leaving.  The contempt and smugness obvious in their perfectly mascaraed eyes.  I know that look I had that look.  But I turned around, thankful I did not turn into a pillar of salt.  It would have been impossible to keep Ean alive as a sodium statue; the husband would have been displeased,  and with my no mascara “in quite awhile” eyes, that were now filled with the image of my son I stepped over the line.  WILLINGLY!  Slightly reluctant but willing.  Who would have ever “thunk” it.  Not me for sure. 

See, this is what happened he started smiling, and smiling and smiling and smiling!  Really this kid smiles a lot!  Yes, he had been smiling for several months but somehow it changed.  It went from “awww look at him smile, do you think he has gas?” to an infectious, life altering, the clouds align perfectly and the sun shines on his perfect little face. His little mouth turns up and his lips almost disappear in smile.  Those chunky cheeks (he gets those from me, although cute now, they past the age of 14) become two perfect little rising orbs, his eyes shift turning into two diamonds that wink sparkling light and it strikes my very soul.   And Beaver Dam IT!  The world changes! (I know I still hang my head in disbelief and shame) You start to see it differently for the first time in….. honestly I don’t know how long. 

When we first start out in this world, everything seems magical and wonderful.  Think about it we descend into this world and at first everything is hazy and kind of surreal.   

Then as your vision starts to get sharper you discover you’re in a land full of Giants who make everything you could possibly want appear! Before you even know you want it!  Before you even know what it is and know that you want it!  Then as we grow bigger, we are filled with lullabies and fairytales and toys and parties.  And everyone gives you attention and tells you how cute and smart you are.  But, Somewhere along the way the magic dies.  We become jaded, hormones set in and we hate our parents, we hate everything actually, lol. (Probably because of the subconscious reality that we thought this cool place we started out in isn’t magical after all).  Philosophize that!  

*Side note:  I like to affectionately call these jaded, parent hating years “The Dark Ages” because teenagers can be such monsters.  You want to either a) wear black and mourn their figurative death and wait for the their glorious resurrection.  Where you can rejoice at the reemergence of your new and improved child.  Or b) you want to call a priest, have holy water thrown on them and hope the demon possession inside will release your child before their head spins around and you get covered in puke, just another thing for you to clean up. This is just an observation. :) 

I digress, back to smiling Ean....

When that little guy smiles at me, it brings the magic back into my life. I’m able to see it thru his eyes, the wonder the excitement.  How much we take for granted in this go, go, gadget world of ours.  Thru Ean’s eyes, the eyes of a nine-month-old baby, I see the magic of life again.  The true miracle of our very exsistence. I’ve been humbled against my reluctance at "digging" being a mom.  I’m finally starting to learn the new lessons life has to teach me.  I’m learning to get over myself (sort of).  I’ve been reminded of all the good that has to be left in this world. Because something as awesome as that little being; gifted to an undeserving me, could not exist with out it.  It’s just not possible. 

And all I can think about at this moment is…stupid husband for knocking me up and proving me wrong!  Hey, remember I said “sort of”  ;)

Ean! Mommy said NO!

 

Seriously mom? You're not serious, right?