Thank Goodness It's Friday…..We're Exhausted!

That was a long week!

Enjoy the weekend!

Where's The Bear?

Mr. Bear

There are many things I miss about when the kids were younger, but not being able to find the thing they cherished the most, and required in order to go to bed, is not one of them.

That little bear above has been the reason for many tears and conflicts in our home.  Mr. Bear was left at restaurants, relatives' homes, hotels, and even in Hawaii.  Imagine being in the middle of the long trip home from Hawaii and realizing the damn bear is missing?  During a layover in San Francisco we called the hotel to begin the search, but had no resolution when we boarded the plane for the next leg of our trip home.  A six hour trip where we drank beer and assured Connor that Mr. Bear just wanted a little more vacation time.  The calls started up again once we got home and I finally found a person in housekeeping who was willing to try and track down Mr. Bear.  We, of course, never admitted to Connor that it was possible he would never see Mr. Bear again.  While waiting to hear back from the hotel we scoured the Internet looking for a replacement, but with no success.  Fortunately, the story ends on a good note and the bear enjoyed an expensive ride home aboard a Federal Express plane.

Do you know any kids, maybe your own, who had a deep attachment, maybe even an obsession, with a stuffed animal, pillow or blanket when they were young?  If yes, then you've been in a similar situation many times, venturing out at any hour of the day or night to retrieve the lost treasure.  What's confusing to me is if they love these things so much why do they leave them everywhere?  Oh yeah, you can't live without your (insert name), but you have no idea where you left it!  What you want to say to the crying kid is, "What if I left you everywhere we went?"  "How would that make you feel?"  I know that's inappropriate, but that's what I wanted to say every time we went through the Missing Mr. Bear Drill.  What?  That's harsh?  Sorry, did I say this was a blog where you might find good Parenting Tips?

What's also confusing to me is how kids decide what "thing" is going to be their ultimate prize possession.  For example, take a look at Connor's bear, it's made from a scratchy terry cloth fabric and has "Baby's First Christmas" stitched on it.  A treasure? I don't think so, and I have no idea where that bear came from, but it looks like something I threw in the cart at CVS on Christmas Eve when I was grabbing stocking stuffers.

I've also observed that the prize possession of one child is the one thing another child wants most in the world.  Taylor was attached to a Barney pillow that was the size of a pillowcase.  There was not much drama around Taylor's pillow except that his cousin wanted it and, once he figured that out, he took every opportunity to dangle the forbidden fruit in front of her.  One Halloween a little girl came to the door with a Barney pillowcase as her candy bag and, like any parent looking to avoid the next potential meltdown, Tom gave the little girl $20 for the pillowcase.  After giving the newly acquired Barney pillowcase to Taylor's cousin she promptly lost interest in all things Barney.  It really is true, you only want what you cannot have.  As a side bar, I'm still impressed with that little girl's willingness to give up her candy bag for $20.

Taylor's deal was binky's (aka pacifiers) of which we had about 50 at any given time.  We had them stashed everywhere, every room in the house, every car, purses, briefcases, jackets, etc.  In fact, I recently spotted some binky's in Tom's underwear drawer (you'll recall that's also where I found his secret scissors).  We approached the inventory of binky's like we did milk, "I'm going to the store do we need any binky's?"

My nephew lost his ReRe, a pink Princess Belle blanket, on a trip to Ocean City's boardwalk.  As we were walking back to the car after a fun night at the rides my nephew asked, "Where's ReRe?"  You know what followed.  Finger pointing and screaming about who had ReRe last.  My sister and I ran back to the pier and frantically checked with all of the ride operators and after about 30 minutes we found ReRe with the guy selling ride tickets, no doubt turned in by a kind soul who understood someone would come looking for that raggedy blanket.

When I look back on the hoops we jumped through to find Mr. Bear, to get the kids to go to bed, to eat, to be good in the car or out to dinner, I hardly recognize those people.  Were we really so lame?  How did we let those little jerks get the best of us?  Who knows, but if we're lucky enough to become grandparents one day we'll get another opportunity to be exploited and manipulated.  Perfect.  We're good in those roles.

For now, I'm just grateful that we no longer have to wonder Where's the Bear?

Nothing Says Summer Like … Tequila Shots

Third photo in the "Nothing Says Summer Like" series.

This might be the last one in the series if Social Services gets a look at this photo!

Punxsutawney Phil Sowerby

Accuracy Rate: 39%

Mr. Punxsutawney Phil Sowerby
Resident Groundhog
Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania

Dear Phil,

I am writing to you in advance of your upcoming holiday to implore you to emerge from your hole and NOT SEE YOUR SHADOW, as we have suffered enough from the "polar vortex" and could really use an early Spring.

Come on Phil, do the right thing!

P.S.  Your accuracy rate is not that impressive!

Sincerely,
Patti Gregory
Blogger Extraordinaire

*******************************************************************************
Blog Followers:
The Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, established in 1887, will have a live feed on its site this Sunday morning so you can watch Phil's prediction.

Nice Tom … Real Nice

Here's your sandwich, Patti.

Tom writes silly names on the sandwiches that we pack to take to the beach and passes them out when it's time for lunch.  One Saturday when my niece was just learning to read she declared that she was going to hand out the sandwiches.  She carefully read the name on each sandwich and Tom would tell her to whom the sandwich belonged.

"Dotty" was the name Tom wrote on my sandwich that particular day.  I don't know any person named Dotty, but that's a name from Tom's collection of commonly used sandwich names.  Some of the others include: Morty Marino, Pista Trubitt, Morta Kai, My Name is Manly, Mattakeeta, Vincent L. Boone (the yard guy), Peggy (what the yard guy calls me), Mr. Dougherty (a neighbor at the shore), Jody, the name of my HS boyfriend, etc. You get it, nonsense, but it entertains us.

As my niece worked her way through the sandwiches she stumbled on one of the names, which was not surprising considering the kooky names Tom used.

"Meeeesooooo," she stuttered.

Her Mom and I encouraged her to sound it out as Tom screamed, "That's mine. That's mine."

After chastising Tom for his impatience, I told my niece to try again.  She gave it another try uttering, "Meeeesooorny."

"Come on, try again," we all cheered on.

"Meeesooohungy?"

"Oh, I know what it is now."  "Me So Hungry," she declared!

In a flash, Tom was out of his beach chair grabbing for the sandwich.  He sat back in his beach chair, unwrapped the sandwich, and crumpled up the foil.  I leaned over and asked, "Is that what you wrote?" To which he responded, "Just forget it, please!"

When he wasn't looking I recovered the crumpled foil, unwrapped it and read the name he put on his sandwich:  "Me So Horny."

Nice Tom … Real Nice.

Nothing Says Summer Like ... A Nap on the Beach

ZZZZZZZ!

Second photo in the "Nothing Says Summer Like" series.

The More You Know the Better

Herd the News?

While I generally subscribe to the adage, The More You Know the Better, in this case I'm not so sure.

While sautéing the $8.99 per pound Grass Fed Sirloin Beef for tacos I looked at the packaging the beef came in and read some information I think I could have done without.

We've all heard about the bad stuff going on with our meat:

• Antibiotics
• Growth hormones
• Animal by-products in feed
• Cages, crates and crowding

But, I was unaware of some of these other "Fun Facts" printed on the meat wrapper (that fortunately don't apply to the meat I purchased.):

• Beak trimming
• Dehorning
• Teeth clipping
• Tail docking (Whatever the hell that is, and don't' feel compelled to tell me if you know.)
• Electric prods 
• Bedding for Pigs required (No wonder pigs have a reputation for being lazy.)

Scary stuff!  As I continued to stir the meat, I thought about my Mom and how she would never have bought in to this whole foods nonsense (her word), and would have pointed to me and said, "You turned out fine."  I think I did, but that's not to say I don't wonder about all the ACME (or ACAME as my Mom called it) meat I was fed in my lifetime.

By the way, my older son thinks Taco Bell has the most delicious food on Earth.  I can't even begin to think about where that "meat" comes from!

So, when it comes to food I'm not sure how I feel about The More You Know the Better.

Nothing Says Summer Like ... the Log Flume

Ocean City Boardwalk

First in a series of "Nothing Says Summer Like" photos to help remind us of the sunny and warm weather ahead!

Do You See Him Yet?

Waiting and Watching.

Charlie Brown and Bella are somehow able to sense when to take their posts at the kitchen window to watch for the approach of the Mailman.  Once the enemy has been spotted, the dogs run to the far end of the house to look out the sliding glass door, then back to the center hall to look out the windows on either side of the front door, then back to the kitchen window, and finally to the kitchen door to try and get outside.

It's not that bad since this routine only happens when the mail gets delivered, which would be every day except Sundays and holidays.  The cycle takes about 30 seconds, but since the dogs are simultaneously barking at the top of their lungs it seems like 10 minutes!

I was only kidding when I said it's not that bad, it is bad, it is really bad!

Where Have All the Awkward Photos Gone?

5th Grade.

I was motivated to start this blog after watching an online video encouraging 50-something women to take risks and to start doing the things they've been talking about doing.  So while other viewers of the video may have been inspired to do more important things, I took a risk and started this silly blog that my friends and family encouraged.  Since I took the risk to put myself out there as a blogger, I thought I would take another risk and reveal this school photo of myself from a time when I clearly took some (unintended) risks with my personal appearance.

If you are from my generation there are likely lots of these awkward shots in your family photo albums, but for our kids, school photos are probably the only opportunity for an "awkward" photo.  Since any photo that does not pass their critical self-evaluation, can't be edited and retouched to their satisfaction, simply gets deleted.  It never existed and it won't resurface 40+ years later when your sister finds it and gives it to your niece to put online.  My guess is that even an awkward photo of my kids would beat this beauty since they at least have straight teeth, good haircuts and decent clothes.  Things I was clearly lacking judging from the photo.

So, let's break down the photo.  Wow, look at those teeth.  Imagine taking a "wait and see approach" today with your kids' teeth?  There's too much to say about the teeth, so I'll reserve it for a future blog post entitled, At Least We Got Your Teeth Fixed.

Now, let's focus on the hair.  School photos are taken in early September, so the hairdo I'm sporting in the photo is obviously the result of my grown out summer haircut, most likely styled by a barber so that only one trip was required for the kids' summer haircuts.  I think my resourcefulness may have started in middle school.  Do you see how I used that light blue barrette, at just the right angle to create a really great look!  Not!

Today's kids have it easier than we did, at least when it comes to personal appearance.  In addition to straight teeth and whitening toothpaste, there are no $5 haircuts, they go to salons not barbershops, they get haircuts more than once a season, and they have an assortment of hair products at their disposal.  No AquaNet for these kids.  (Is that even manufactured anymore?  Probably not, I think it was banned as a flammable toxin.)  And, those are just some of the personal appearance advantages for the boys, what about the girls?  Highlighted hair, waxed eyebrows, manicures and pedicures, etc.

This post would be too long if I were to talk about the clothes I wore back in the day, but you can assume, correctly, they were bad too!  Thankfully, I did not yet wear eyeglasses like my sisters did because you know they were crooked and there was probably tape someplace on them keeping them together.

Hmmm, I don't seem to be lacking confidence in that photo, do I?  So, maybe the crooked teeth, bad haircuts and clothes were the things that made us who we are today.  Who knows?  But, what I do know is that we all need to learn to laugh at ourselves, imperfections and all.

So if you need a good laugh today, at your own expense, ask yourself Where Have All the Awkward Photos Gone?

You Are Not Alone. Thank You Google.

Keep reading, you'll understand.

The ability to find any information you are looking for by simply typing a question in the Google box has changed our lives.  It doesn't matter the question you ask because you will find that someone has already asked the exact, or a similar, question.

For example, if I'm making a recipe that calls for garlic powder and I only have garlic salt, I might Google: How do I substitute garlic salt when my recipe calls for garlic powder?  That's the kind of convoluted questions I type, but I always get my answers.  This example of a Google question is pretty straightforward, so it's not totally amazing to receive pages of posts from other people wondering about the same thing.

A better example is from a few months ago.  I let Charlie Brown out for his final bathroom break of the night and did not see the deer on the lawn eating the apples that had fallen from our tree.  The deer fled and Charlie ran through the invisible fence in pursuit of the apple snatchers.  The family split up to search the neighborhood looking for Charlie and I spotted him just as he was walking into the path of a car's headlights.  I screamed and closed my eyes, the car stopped, the family came running, but we couldn't find Charlie.  I asked the driver of the car if she hit the dog and she did not know.  Fearing the worst, we used our cell phones to shine light under the car, but alas, no Charlie.  As we all stood around completely confused, Charlie walked towards us from the shadows of a neighbor's yard.

We had no idea if he had been hit by the car, as he seemed perfectly fine.  When I got home I Googled: Not sure if my dog got hit by a car?  And sure enough, there were many other dog owners who had been in a similar situation.  And, if the elderly driver who was unsure if she had hit Charlie went home and Googled: Don't know if I hit a dog with my car? She too would have seen that she was not alone with her question.  Unbelievable.

The absolute best example of Google demonstrating You Are Not Alone with whatever problem you are facing is the one I heard this morning at tennis.  Someone brought up Google and we all started sharing our experiences and wondering how we ever lived without it.  One of my tennis mates exclaimed that just this morning she Googled: Why does my vagina vibrate?  She had been worrying about this condition that had plagued her for a few days, but thanks to Google she learned she was not alone, and busily began to read all of the posts from others who had experienced the same problem.  She did not elaborate, so maybe it's not a problem, just a condition to be examined, but in any case her fears were put aside because she found fellow vibrating vagina comrades.

So, the next time you Google something and find your answer, and are reassured that You Are Not Alone with your question or concern, remember to say Thank You Google.

I Want to Go Back … No Road Salt, No Potholes, and No Uggs Required.

Beautiful Antigua.

With all of the cold and snowy weather we've had lately doesn't this photo of Antigua look so inviting?

Have a nice weekend and stay warm!

My Kitchen is Not Your Office

That's the Face!

With the bad weather of late Tom has been around the house more than usual, and when he decided to work from home yesterday I don't know why I envisioned a cozy day sipping hot chocolate and watching movies in the TV room.  When Tom says he's working from home, he works, and despite living in a house with a room called "the office" he worked in "my kitchen" all day.  I could only run the water and the microwave when he was between calls and I had to keep the dogs quiet, which is impossible.  I kept forgetting about the "no talking in the kitchen" rule and would walk towards the kitchen talking to the dogs in a high-pitched voice only to be greeted by Tom glaring at me (see above photo).  Come on, really?  Go clean your car off and go to the office.

When the boys were little and asked Tom what he did for a job he would keep it simple and just say, "I talk on the phone and get mad."  While he may have intended that answer for a young audience, I have to say my observation is that that's what he actually does do for a living.  He was on the phone, with a few short breaks, for about 8 continuous hours and towards the end of the "normal" work day when the calls slowed down the banging on the laptop commenced.  Seemed to me like an awful way to spend the day, but I am eternally grateful that he actually appeared to be enjoying himself.

Another observation I made after listening to "work talk" all day is that despite being out of the workforce since 2006 "Action Plan" is still a super popular word.

Now if Tom were writing this blog he might make a few observations about how I spend my days.  That would be unfair, as the new blog and the snow have really impacted my productivity.  Just saying, I'm usually soooooo much busier!

I don't think I'll encourage Tom to work from home when the next storm blows in because he doesn't get that My Kitchen is Not Your Office.

Newel, Ewer and Orr: Keeping Your Marriage Spicy!

Keep your copy by the bed.

If you are a crossword puzzle person, like me, you probably recognize the words in the title of this post as the answers to clues commonly found in crossword puzzles.  If you are not a crossword puzzle person, like my husband, then these words might be new to you.

On our recent flight home from vacation I brought out my New York Times Crossword Puzzle book and asked Tom if he wanted to do a puzzle with me.  I don't generally like to do puzzles with Tom because he likes to go through all of the Across clues before he looks at the Down clues while I like to do all of the clues around each new answer I enter.  He also insists on holding the pen and writing in the answers which completely annoys me.  Whatever, it's good to do things together, right?

As we moved through the puzzle I dazzled my husband with my smarts.

Tom:  Stair post.  5 letters.  Hmmm.
Patti:   Newel.
Tom:  Wow.  Are you sure?  How do you spell it?
Patti:  N-E-W-E-L.  Try it.
Tom:  Okay, that works.  Let's see, what's next?  Large Jug.  4 letters.  Hmmm.
Patti:   Ewer.  E-W-E-R.
Tom:  How do you know this stuff?  I'm impressed.
Patti:  No big deal.
Tom:  Next.  Hockey legend Bobby.  3 letters.  I know this one.  Clarke.
Patti:  I thought you said 3 letters.  Does Orr work?
Tom:  Wow, your really smart!
Patti:  Thanks, honey.

Ladies, brains gets the guy every time, so get yourself a copy of a New York Times Crossword Puzzle book today and see what a difference it makes in your marriage.  And, until you become a seasoned puzzler, like me, do not hesitate to look in the back of the book at the answer key.

Who would have thunk it?  New York Times Crossword Puzzle books Keeping Your Marriage Spicy.

Warning: Posts Are Not Fact Checked

Photo credit: 22 year-old son (last month).

I'm proof that any clown can author a blog.  You just start writing stuff and put it out there, it does not even need to be accurate.  Now the posts on this blog are purely for entertainment purposes, so if a slight massaging of the facts creates a laugh, who cares.

What's the harm?  Your side hurts from laughing?

What I am bothered by are the bloggers who put themselves out there as experts and people like me, who constantly troll the Internet for help, get fooled.

For example, I have been on a campaign to feed my family healthy meals and so I follow many "clean eating" blogs for recipe ideas.  This morning I saw a recipe that looked intriguing, Vegan General Tso Chicken made with Cauliflower.  A closer look revealed ingredients that included a 1/2 cup of corn starch and 1 1/2 cups of soy sauce (not even the low sodium variety).

Now you don't need to know much about healthy eating to know those ingredients are not healthy, but the real crime is the claim by the blogger that the cauliflower tastes just like chicken.  There's no chance that's true!

You won't get any expert advice on this blog, especially regarding dogs, but you should still be forewarned, my Posts are Not Fact Checked.

Summer Flashback on a Snowy Day

A Man and His Dog.

On this cold and snowy day,  I am yearning for the lazy days of summer.  This is Tom and Charlie last summer taking a nice afternoon nap at the beach.

He Probably Ate It!

Charlie's the one with the cone, of course.

Charlie Brown has always been a bit of a problem child.  My husband calls him "damaged goods" because he often has some physical or mental ailment.  We purchased Charlie from a breeder in the Pinelands of New Jersey that operated out of a trailer.  Okay, it did seem sketchy, but what did we know it was our first dog purchase.  I know two other people who purchased dogs from the same breeder and their dogs are a little wacky too.   Perhaps the breeding was a little too close?  Don't worry, the breeder is no longer in business.

In the past few months Charlie has had surgery on both legs for torn ACLs.  The surgery is quite expensive and the physical therapy after recovery is also pricey.  The waiting room at the veterinary hospital where I took Charlie was full of patients every visit, so I am not alone in my willingness to shell out thousands of dollars for my pet.  If you have any college-age children trying to figure out what career to pursue, I would suggest Veterinarian.  Seems very lucrative!

As a side note, when Charlie was in his pre-op state he was an angel in the waiting room sitting patiently with all of the other the four-legged patients, but when we returned for his post-op check-up he was back to his old asshole-self acting like a nut towards the other patients.

Last week it seemed like Charlie was almost back to his regular self when I noticed he was licking one of his front paws, non-stop.  When I looked at his paw there was some blood in his fur and it appeared as though a toe nail was torn away from his paw.  Great.  Since it was late afternoon when the paw dilemma occurred we had to wait until the next day to get it checked out.  Since Charlie sleeps in our bed we were kept up most of the night with the constant licking.  (Sleeping arrangements in our house deserve a separate post.)

We are well known at the Vet so Charlie was seen the next morning.  I carefully described the details of Charlie's latest ailment and after the Vet took a look at his paw he told me, "It looks like it resolved itself."  "What resolved itself?"  "He must have had a hang nail and worked it off."  "So, it's gone?"  "Yes, he probably ate it."

I paid the fee and went home to check our bed to make sure Charlie did, in fact, eat his hang nail!  I could not find it in the bed, so I guess ... He Probably Ate It!

Don't Judge Me

January 18, 2014

Don't worry it's not a fire hazard, the boys are allergic to real trees.  All of the other Christmas decorations have been put away, but I always have a difficult time letting go of the tree.

By the way, the record for how long the tree has stayed up is May.  I did remove the Xmas ornaments and decorated appropriately for all of the holidays that followed Christmas, including Taylor's 18th birthday in April.

Look how happy everybody looks in that picture with the birthday Christmas tree!

Personal Grooming in the Car

We've all seen drivers grooming themselves as they cruise along in their cars, women applying makeup (okay, sometimes men), men shaving with battery-operated razors, hair brushing, etc.  Well today I saw something new.  At a red light, the woman in the car in front of me was brushing her teeth, aggressively.  I watched her wondering, what next?  I then saw her take a drink from a water bottle, and again thought, what next?  She then opened up her car door and answered my question with a big old spit.  Gross.  At the next red light she started the process all over again.

Unfortunately, she turned at the next street so I was unable to ride up along side of her car to try and get a good look at her teeth, which I hope were pretty since she totally grossed me out first thing this morning.

Please do not mistake me for a prude when it comes to personal grooming in the car.  There is nothing better than pulling down the visor, sliding open the mirror, tilting your chin up, checking out your nose (inside), turning your face from left to right, shifting closer to the mirror to get a look at your teeth, and then sliding the mirror shut and flipping the visor back up.

What?  You are not going to pretend that you don't engage in this activity every opportunity you get while in the car.  It's even better when you are a passenger, with a supply of tools in your handbag, and are free to do your own Personal Grooming in the Car!

I Have a Medium

My husband often complains that the popular media portrays men as buffoons (his word), that TV shows present the father as a person who gets no respect from his wife and kids, and is just a dope.  While I certainly do not feel that way about my husband there are times when, well, he earns the right to be the butt of a family joke.

Tom, Connor and I went to check out the new yogurt store that opened near our home.  It's one of those places where you get a container and serve yourself the yogurt and toppings that you desire, your purchase is then weighed to determine what you are charged.  Connor and I love all things ice cream and yogurt, but Tom would normally prefer pizza or potato chips as a treat, so Connor and I were both surprised when he chose a Medium container.  As he made his way through the line he added several flavors of yogurt to his container and then piled on several different toppings.  We were really confused until he got to the checkout.

I should let you know that "cheap" is not how anyone would ever describe Tom, but he is weirdly stingy with certain things.  For example, when Connor was a little boy he accidentally threw out a few dollars in change at an Eagles game.  Yes, I'm sorry to say, Tom actually found the couple of dollars in a trash can, a trash can at the Eagles game.  Have you ever been to an Eagles game?  I digress.

Anyway, holding his ginormous (gigantic and enormous) yogurt concoction, Tom informed the cashier, "I have a medium."  It was at that moment that Connor and I understood Tom's new found love of yogurt and assorted toppings.  The cashier placed his yogurt on the scale and announced to him, "That will be $10.50."

So, sorry Tom, but sometimes the men in our lives deserve the ribbing they receive from the people who love them the most.  As you can imagine, "I have a medium" has become a staple in our home when we want to mock Dad.  "I have a medium" has only been topped by "Is that all the pasta?"  That's a post for another day!

Does Anyone in this House Have any Common Sense?

Brussel Sprouts are Dangerous.

That is the question put to me last night by my 16-year old son, Connor.  So, what prompted this snarky question?

Last week, I sliced my finger while chopping brussel sprouts (for the lovely boy who asked me if I had any common sense) and spent 4 hours in the local ER before leaving with 7 stitches and a promise to return in a week to have them removed.  Well, yesterday was 7 days since the accident and at 10 p.m. I had not yet made my way back to the ER, so I decided to take out my own stitches.

Now this is a job my husband, Tom, would normally enjoy, but since he was out of town it was up to me.  Did I mention I am terrible with all things medical?  Armed with really good scissors, that I took out of my husband's underwear drawer (yes, I know his hiding spots), I attempted to take out the first stitch.  Well, I'm a freak about this stuff and could not do it.

Enter Connor.  "Mom, I'm not taking out your stitches.  Put the scissors away and put the band aid back on."  "Come on, Connor, please help me.  Just cut the knots off."  Guess what happens when you cut the knots off of stitches?  The rest of the stitch is under your skin.

So, I need to find my way to the ER today and explain the situation to a doctor who will probably be overworked and completely annoyed with my stupidity.  Or, maybe I'll wait for my husband, the banker, to come home tonight and see what he can do with his secret scissors and tweezers.

That's what prompted my son's sweeping indictment....Does anyone in this house have any common sense?  I wonder what else I'm doing that demonstrates my total lack of common sense?  I'll let you know.

Another Busy Day for the Dogs!

Charlie Brown

Bella

Yahoo! I'm a Blogger. Sounds Important.

Welcome to my blog.  My name is Patti and my hope with this blog is to spread laughter.  I am married with two boys and two (bad) dogs and have been a stay-at-home mom/wife since 2006 when I retired after 20 years with a consulting firm.  I think I'm funny, but my boys tell me I'm not, thus the title of the blog: Come on, that was funny!  I try to find humor in the daily routine of life - - - the kids, the dogs, the husband, the schedule, the stress, etc.  I'll try not to make this blog all about my family, but the truth is that's probably what will happen because there's a lot of material there.  Sorry.  And, sorry to my husband and kids in advance because I will not hesitate to exploit and expose you for a laugh.

My dogs will definitely feature prominently in my blog because I think dogs are hysterical.  We never owned a dog until we bought Charlie Brown six years ago.  The dog confirmed what I secretly suspected and that is that we suck at parenting, two-legged and four-legged.  We did not treat Charlie Brown like a dog and as a consequence he quickly became a neurotic dog that could not be left alone.  Yes, I became a crazy dog lady and Charlie Brown was my co-pilot.

We decided to get another dog to keep Charlie Brown company, so I could actually go places without him, and three years ago we bought Bella.  They are both apricot-colored Golden doodles (the results of a Golden Retriever and a Standard Poodle hook up) and they have invaded our home and hearts.

So hello all and let's have some laughs!