Land, Ho!

The darling Czech Pecker and I are on a mission from God. Okay, not a mission from God. We're just on a mission. We're on a search for some land. We're looking for about 3 to 5 acres, not a lot, just enough to put up a modest house and give the dogs room to run and howl. Most importantly, it will be OUTSIDE the city limits.

See, we are currently within the city limits, and it sucks. Big time. Let's talk about somebody complaining about the noise from our dogs and calling Animal Control on us. Yes. Somebody complained about my dogs barking. Now, Huskies rarely "bark," at least in the way that other breeds bark. Huskies have a unique way of communicating that is a cross between wolf howl, yodel, bark, and an attempt to imitate human talking and singing. If you've ever been around a Husky or Malamute or any other Northern breed, you know what I'm talking about. Alone, it's no big deal, but if you have a small pack, like I do, they can sometimes engage in a small cacophony of communication. They are usually at their loudest when we humans are with them because we talk to them, and they talk back to us. Evidently, this is a no-no within the city limits of our small town that thinks it's more important than it really is.

Oh, the visit by the Barney Fife-like Animal Control officer was quite amusing. The darling Czech Pecker showed him our kennels, told him that the dogs were neutered and spayed (or scheduled to be). The guy asked what our "purpose" was with the dogs. Um, did he think we were running a Siberian Husky dog fighting ring or something? The darling Czech Pecker looked at him oddly and replied, "They're PETS." He later told me that he thought about replying that with all of the SNOW we get around here, we're training for the Iditarod, but chances are, Mr. Barney Fife Wannabe has no idea what that is. He probably even thinks Alaska is a foreign country.

SO, we are searching for a place OUTSIDE the city limits with enough room for us all to Husky talk all we want. As for whomever complained about the "noise" from my dogs, may he/she be plagued by an unexplained, non-stop ringing in the ears that is 100 times more annoying than the occasional dog howl or bark.

Reports of My Death Have Been Almost Exaggerated

I've seriously been running around here like a crazy woman the past few weeks. Okay, so I'm always a bit on the psychotic side, but it's been crazy turned up to 11 lately.

First, J.P. made his First Communion! And there was much rejoicing....yay! Here he is in his mafia suit, looking suitably holy and all:

It was an exciting day, for many reasons. The Mass itself was lovely, and it was certainly very moving to watch my son receive Communion for the very first time. Afterwards, we walked over to Croghan Hall for a short reception and to chat with some friends. We had plans for a family party in downtown Greenville after this, so we picked up the cake that I had ordered from Maria, who makes the BEST cakes ever, and headed toward Sticky Fingers BBQ. Maria had delivered all of the Communion cakes that she had made for everyone to the church, so it was convenient for us.

This is when the real FUN started. The cake I had ordered was 3 tiers with a First Communion boy figure on top. On our way downtown, THE BOTTOM TIER STARTED TO COLLAPSE! By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the bottom tier was smashed, and my hands were covered in cake in my attempt to hold up the cake to keep the rest of it from falling. The good news: the top 2 tiers remained intact. This, I told the darling Czech Pecker, earned me an extra beer.

At the restaurant, the food was fabulous, naturally. We're all BBQ whores, and Sticky Fingers has some great BBQ. I had that extra beer, too, and it's a good thing because the next INTERESTING thing happened after the party.

We were leaving the parking garage, and the gates were stuck. Annette was at one exit, these women at the exit beside her, and a cop was behind them, trying to get someone on the phone from the City of Greenville to come fix the gates. We were behind the cop. We got out and were looking at the gates, seeing if they could be forced up in some way without breaking them. And THEN, the cop car slipped out of gear and started rolling back TOWARD MY BRAND NEW TRUCK THAT I HAD ALL OF TWO DAYS! The darling Czech Pecker bought it as an early Mother's Day gift for me, a Chevy Silverado. My mother and grandmother are giving me hell over it because they think it looks weird for a woman to drive, in the words of my grandmother, "a big ass truck." I am now calling it my B.A.T. Mobile and am looking to get some magnetic bat symbols to go on my doors. Then, I could yell out in my official voice, "Kids! Dogs! To the B.A.T. Mobile!"

Anyway, back to the Parking Garage Incident. According to the kids, I let out a high pitched, "eeeeeek" although I don't recall it. They're still giving me hell over it. Fortunately, the cop jumped in his car and caught it but it still tapped the front bumper of my truck. The damage is very minimal, though, and you can't see it until you are right up on it. An adjuster for the city came out yesterday, and they will be paying to get it fixed.

After First Communion, I had to switch gears into POP ART, the school's annual fundraiser. There were mosaic projects to be finished, and I worked on those until I was seeing tiles and grout in my sleep. By the time the actual party arrived, I was a bit loopy, and I added to it by indulging in several cosmos. I slept very well the next morning.

THE DOGS are keeping me busy, as ever. We've been treating the pups, Mac and Kate, for demodex, but the initial treatment was not working very well, especially for Mac. I took them back to the vet this past week, and now they are on another treatment. Today is Day 5, and I can already tell a difference. Maia had her spay appointment last week, and Skyy has her appointment next week. Dougal is still going on his toy raids. Mojo and Natasha are still fussing just to hear each other "talk." Sitka still likes to stand there and sing arias because she has a big mouth. As for the "little guys," Wiggles still thinks he's a Husky, and Dudley is spoiled rotten and thinks I have to carry him up and down the stairs. He's fooling us all, though. When he thought I wasn't looking, I saw him making the trek all by himself. Little jerk.

We're now doing the countdown until school is out for the summer. That is about the time when I will need your prayers to start in earnest.