It was an honest mistake.

Two different women brought in schnauzers for grooming today, Sam and Bravo (those are the dogs, not the women).

At around 2:00, Bravo's mom showed up for, well, Bravo. I went and got Bravo and made sure the lady liked the cut. AFTER CHECKING HIM OUT VERY CLOSELY, she said, "Yes, very much. Thank you."

I asked her if she wanted to set the next grooming date. (We get extra $$$ for each one we pre-book. Woo. Hoo.) She said yes and played with the dog while I set the appointment.

I thanked her and sent them on their schnauzy way. Went back to give the groomer her tip, at which point she tells me, "You just gave that lady Sam."

WHAT?!?!

Quickly looked for a cellphone number for her and of course there wasn't one. Called their house and the husband (who's retired - they're all retired) answered. Explained what had happened and he got a good laugh out of it. Apologized and asked that they return Sam a.s.a.p. so maybe Sam's owner doesn't have to find out what happened.

Sam was returned before his owner came, so all's well that ends well.

OK. I may have been a dumbass in this situation, but, really, who's the bigger DA here? How can you not know your own dog? Sure, I call all my dogs by the wrong name because I stupidly started with the "B" thing. But I'm pretty sure, almost positive, that I would never bring home the wrong dog.

Gossip: There is a (older, duh) couple who bring their dog to daycare several times a week. (Wait, should that "a" have been an "an"?) I love the dog, but I cannot stand them. They always come together, dressed alike, think they're dog is so special, leave the door wide open (pet - pun intended - peeve) and talk with fake Tina Turner accents. There is a huge sign that says "DO NOT LEAN OVER THE FENCE". Every single time she leans over the fence. The owners have asked her repeatedly not to lean over the fence. This gets all the dogs all fired up and it's hard for the daycare person when they get all bunched up like that. I am not naming dog names (to protect the innocent), but one of "Scruffy's" friend's mom came in today to drop off "Boo Bear". She asked if Scruffy comes to daycare. Yes, all the time. Then she told us how they're neighbors and every time there's a social event at the club, Scruffy's mom gets rip roaring drunk and makes a complete ass out of herself. She hangs all over Boo Bear's mom like they're BFF's, then never remembers a thing. They run into each other a few days later and Scruffy's mom acts like she's never met her before.

This must explain why she hangs over the fence all the time. She's drunk and can't remember being told not to.

So we were wondering what to do today.

It's nice out so the options included going to the lake, going for a hike, hanging in the yard with the dogs, or going to Iris' pool.   We could also go junking.  My mother, being the Casey Anthony trial addict that she is, suggested that we watch that.  We were both in very indecisive moods, so we decided to watch some of the trial while we waited to see if one of us could make a decision.  It wasn't on.  We finally decided to get some groceries.  Got home, put everything away, and still couldn't figure out what to do with our day.

Oh I know!  Let's plan a wedding. 

OURS!

Everyone knows that same sex marriage is now allowed in New York.  Robin and I have always said that when it became legal in our state, we'd do it.  No proposal, no ring.  It's just always been a given.  Just like me going to college.  Never talked discussed it.  It was always just a given. 

Robin has been Facebooky lately and before I knew it, Ingrid and she were instant messaging each other about us getting married in New York.  Ingrid offered to have us use her backyard for the ceremony.  She had an amazing party last year and wants to do another something.  At first I poo-pooed the idea, but then I put some thought into it.  Why not?  I'm from New York.  I was born and raised there.  Went to the same school from K-12 with the same kids.  Except for my mom and Nelson and brothers and niece and nephew, some college friends and some other friends, most of the people I would want to attend my wedding still live up there.

So why not get married up there? 

We are dirt poor and this is not the time to be planning a wedding, but I think we will be able to throw something  together if we give it a year.  Plus (anyone who knows me knows that this is really reason number one) that'll give me a year to lose enough weight to be a fetching bride.

Rather than working on my tan or throwing the ball for Brady, I have been googling wedding dresses all afternoon.  Wow!   That feels so odd to say!  I've considered white, off white, champagne, and now I'm having a pale pink moment. 

I haven't officially asked Ingrid to be my matron of honor (HA!  Talk about an oxymoron) but I assume she knows I assume she will. 

I have always joked about having my wedding catered by Popeye's.  ("Popeye's Fried Chicken" for those who are not fortunate enough to know what it is.  Like the people of Hendersonville.)  It is hands down THE best fried chicken, not only on the planet, but in the entire universe.  Called my mom at around noon.  The Casey Anthony trial was supposed to be on until 12:00.  They weren't home.  What?   Called their cell.  They were out because the judge called a recess.  They went junking instead.  Started talking about the wedding and made my mother miss garage sale after garage sale.  Nelson loved it.  Told them about my Popeye's vision.  Then we got the giggles imagining all my wedding guests going through the drive through placing their chicken orders.  Robin and I would be at the end and pay the bill, of course. 

Neither Robin nor I have been to many weddings, so we have no idea what to do.  We've had several people offer to help us, and believe me, we are going to take everyone up on their offers.  I always wonder why people (brides) get so stressed out.  What's the big deal?  Well, I am not saying I'm stressed out, but I will admit to letting Bodi outside without being on a leash.  She's a fence jumper and I have never ever done that before.  Didn't even realize I'd done it until Robin called me an idiot and yelled, "ARE YOU INSANE?"  (I'm so lucky to be marrying her.  She has me on such a pedestal.)

So when does the pre-wedding, gotta be a skinny bride, weight start flying off?  I wanna make Portia look fat.  My mother offered her grandmother's wedding dress (I'm sure that's hot).   20 inch waist.  Too big.

Did you know that chewing ice is a sign of anemia?

Well, it is. Years ago I was constantly chewing ice and didn't think anything about it, other than how fun it was to annoy Robin and my co-workers. The more they complained, the more I crunched. I went to the doctor for something else. She asked me if I chewed a lot of ice and, lo and behold, turned out I was anemic. Took some stuff, ate some steak and spinach, and it went away. So did the ice chewing.

I have been unusually tired lately and chalked it up to starting a new job. Some days I work 10 hours, 9 1/2 of which are on my feet. It would be normal for me to be tired. But I have also noticed the ice chewing has resurfaced. So I'm thinking anemia has set in again.

Rationalizing my self diagnosis, I thought it was very fitting to take a nap today. Got home around 1:00 (1/2 day today), grabbed a bite (a leftover piece of pizza from Saturday's adventure at "Mellow Mushroom". Don't "ew" me. I froze the leftovers that day), and settled in in my dark cozy bedroom for a snooze. Within seconds, the dogs were going nuts. Knowing their barks, this wasn't just a squirrel or bunny or walker byer. I had to get up to see what all the ruckus was.

They were going apeshit over the guy across the street washing his windows. He is always doing something - pressure washing his deck, mowing the grass, gardening - but I guess it's the little motion of the white paper towels that was sending Brady, Bodi and Buddy into orbit. Maxx and Baxter couldn't have cared less.

Now...back to that snooze. Could someone bring me a spinach and steak salad for dinner?

Weekend Highlights

Our friend, Tina, the one who gave me all the ham and now refers to herself as "The Hamster" (I need new friends) has lived here for eight years and has never been to Asheville.  So we took her on an adventure yesterday.  We picked her up at 8:30 and hit a few garage sales before my 9:30 nail appointment.  They dropped me off and went to a flea market down the street.  Tina bought a Michael McDonald CD for fifty cents and we had to listen to that all day.  They picked me up at 10:30 and off we went.

A couple weeks ago, someone had told Robin about the Asheville Farmers Market.  We actually went to it on Friday and got some tomato and pepper plants.  Also got some of the best cheese ever (Amish Jalapeno Pepper.)  I googled the market at around 3:30 on Friday while Robin was napping.  Closes daily at 5:00.  If we left immediately, we'd have an hour there.  As I was googling, Iris called to see what we were doing.  When I told her, she said things like, "Why do you have to go to Asheville to get plants?"  and "Lowe's has tomato plants and they're guaranteed.  I bet those Asheville plants aren't guaranteed."

Iris hates Asheville and I don't know why.

I could be wrong, but I think I have Iris figured out.  If she doesn't like something or some place, we are not supposed to like it either.  And it really pisses her off when we do.  There are a handful of restaurants, the German one included, which is my favorite, that she has practically forbidden us to frequent.  There's an Irish pub in town called "Hannah Flannigan's".  "Never go to "Hannah Flannigan's" on St. Patrick's Day," she tells us whenever we go by there,  "You'll never get in".  Guess  where WE were on March 17th?   We have hit every single place that she hates and make a point of telling her how much we loved it.  Even if we didn't.  It's just a satisfying little game I like to play and it appears Robin is now on board too.  See next paragraph.

After hanging up with Iris on Friday, Robin came out and asked who was on the phone.  Told her the gist of the conversation and she grabbed her car keys.  "Let's go to the farmers market".  When we got home, before Iris and Joe left for Temple, Robin had to call and tell her how fabulous it was.

So we took Tina there yesterday.  She loved it too and we all bought cheese.  And dog biscuits.   Left there and went to "Mellow Mushroom" for lunch.  Hit up a few shops (just looked, thank you) and then went to some thrift stores.  Tina, who is a very excitable person, is going on vacation in a week and was beyond thrilled to have gotten some clothes for her trip.  I still have the words, "I CAN'T BELIEVE I GOT THIS BLACK DRESS FOR TWO DOLLARS!!!!!  THE TAG SAID FOUR DOLLARS, BUT IT RANG UP TWO DOLLARS.  TWO DOLLARS!!!!!!  I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!  TWO DOLLARS FOR A BRAND NEW BLACK DRESS.  LOOKS GREAT ON ME TOO!  I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA PAY FOUR DOLLARS, AND I WOULD HAVE TOO, BUT IT RANG UP TWO DOLLARS.  TWO DOLLARS FOR A NICE DRESS THAT LOOKS GREAT ON ME!  I'M GONNA WEAR IT OUT TO DINNER ON THE BEACH.  TWO DOLLARS!  I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!!" echoing in my head.

While I tried on something (that didn't fit), Robin got in some trouble with an old Mexican man.  When I caught up with her and Tina, they were literally doubled up with laughter.  Robin had been holding a shirt on a coat hanger and walked by the man.  He was wearing a mesh basketball shirt and the coat hanger, unbeknownst
to Robin, got caught in one of the little holes.  She kept walking and the hole got bigger and bigger.  The man started yelling at her in Spanish and Robin just laughed.  Tina was a big help, "HERE, TAKE A QUARTER AND GET YOURSELF ANOTHER SHIRT.  WE'RE IN A THRIFT STORE.  TAKE THIS QUARTER AND GET A NEW SHIRT.  YOU CAN BUY A SHIRT FOR A QUARTER IN A THRIFT STORE.  HERE'S A QUARTER.  GO GET ANOTHER SHIRT."

I walked right by them pretending I didn't know them.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful.  I know what you're thinking.  Like the above was eventful? 

When we got home, however, I did receive an exciting email.  A few weeks ago, I read a book by an author named Lisa Lutz.  I had to google her.  For some reason, she struck me as approachable so I sent her an email.  Told her about the type of stuff I write about and sent her my query letter that I've been sending out.  She wrote back yesterday with some good, albeit somewhat discouraging, advice.  Won't bore you (why stop now?) with the details.  Point is, she wrote back.  She was on the NY Times best seller list - funny funny writer.  I will say that she told me that unless you're famous or have an MFA, which Robin's smarty pants niece is working on, chances are I'm not gonna be too successful selling a memoir.  We'll see about that, Lisa Lutz.

I also hit up ELLEN for help.  She must be working hard on it because I haven't heard back yet. 

Today we were supposed to put a roast in the crockpot and go to the lake.  I woke up at 6:45 to find Robin not in bed.  Went to the kitchen and found a note, "Dear Boo.  I woke up at 3:45 violently vomiting.  Also had shooting pains in my arms and chest.  I may have been having a heart attack.  Let me sleep in."

My first thought was thank God she hasn't eaten any of Tina's outdated ham.  I have been called an idiot for eating that ham for the past three days.  It's fine.  It was just a little outdated.  What's a little outdatedness on ten cent ham?

Iris just called to check on Robin. 

I:  "What do you think it is?"

Me:  "A bug."

I:  "Do you think it's something she ate?"

Me:  "I think it's a bug."

I:  "She told me last night she was going to take a Unisom.  Do you think that's what it is?

Me:  "I think it's a bug."

I:  "She doesn't wash her hands enough.  She needs to have some Purell on her desk at all times.  I wonder if she caught a bug from someone?"

Me:  "Probably."

I:  "Should you take her to the emergency room?

Me:  "No."

I:  "OK.  Well call me later.  She probably just has a bug."

My mother just called to see how she's doing and suggested I make her a ham sandwich for lunch.  Also told me she bought a bumper sticker yesterday, "I gave up drinking, smoking and sex.  It was the worst 15 minutes of my life."  Nice find, Mom.  Way to go.

HAIR HAIR EVERYWHAIR

As you know, I am now a receptionist at a pet resort.  As glamorous as I know that sounds, and it does sound glamorous, it's not all fun and games.  There's actually a lot of cleaning involved, mainly the floors.  Before I leave at the end of the day, I have to vacuum and mop the reception area. (BTW, I do not have doo-doo patrol, just in case you're trying to picture it, thanks.)

On any given day, I'd say 30 dogs walk through the reception area. 

I am off today and just finished my own floors.  What amazes me is the amount of hair my own heathens create.  20 times more hair that I deal with at work.  And between the two of us, these floors get swept twice a day. (Usually.)  I just swept and filled a big janitorial sized dust pan.  Then I dry "Swiffered".  Used three pads, front and back.  Then I wet "Swiffered".  Another three pads. 

Meanwhile, they're all just lying around on the furniture half watching me, half snoozing.  God forbid I bump the bottom of the couch and disturb their slumber.

All it's gonna take is one dog to shake or one little dog chase and everything will be right back to where it was. 

Five dogs.  Really?

How random!!!!!

I'm off today and wanted to make Robin a nice dinner.  Defrosted some chicken breasts and wished Robin hadn't eaten the rest of the ham.  Chicken cordon bleu would be nice, but oh well.  Don't feel like going out.

Robin just got home and ran back to her car for something.  She came back with a bag full of ham. 

We have a friend here, Tina.   Tina is a sweetheart.  She is about 6'2", blonde hair and married to a man 26 years her senior, with whom she is always upset.  We do things with her a lot.  She is an awesome shopper and has a good eye.  She would do anything for you.

Tina is very southern.  She is also VERY loud.  When she gets fired up or excited, she speaks very fast.  Her voice is very southern, very loud, and very fast.  She does not go unnoticed.

Tina stopped by Robin's office today to give her something.  One of the grocery stores had Oscar Meyer ham on sale for TEN CENTS a package!  Tina bought all they had and dropped some off for Robin to give me.

She walked into her office, which was full of people and began shouting, "LOOK AT THIS HAM!  TEN CENTS A PACK!  TAKE SOME HOME TO KIM. "

Robin told Tina, "Kim doesn't want any ham."  She looked at her like she had three heads.

Tina:  "YOU TAKE KIM HOME SOME HAM.  TEN CENTS A PACKAGE.  I BOUGHT IT ALL.  YOU TAKE SOME HOME TO KIM OR I'M GONNA COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR AND UPSET ALL YOUR DOGS.  YOU TAKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Robin agreed just to get her out of the office. 

As excited as Tina was to send Robin home with ham, I was equally as excited to be on the receiving end.  Not sure which is odder ~ the fact that I wanted ham earlier but was too lazy to go buy it, or the fact that our friend just out of the "bleu" (get it, cordon bleu?) brought us ham.  I can see a pink something or a dog related knick knack, but ham?

{OK.  I know this probably isn't funny or interesting or cool to anyone but me, but I promised my mother I'd write on my blog today and this was the highlight of my day.}

WHAT. A. FIND.

Last week when I met Iris and Joe at the bank, it was, "What time are we going to the Garden Jubilee tomorrow?"  And, "What do you like with your hot dogs?  You're coming over for Memorial Day."

Yesterday we ran into them at Walmart.  Glad I didn't have a cart full of frivolous items, like say shampoo or a new toothbrush.  No, our cart was full of litter, cat food and dog food.  And a new mop...we splurged.  After eyeballing the cart ever so not subtly,  Iris asked, "What time are we going to the commmunity garage sale tomorrow?"  And, "When should we go to dinner?  Saturday or Sunday?"

They live in one of those over 55 communities, but she is in denial.  I asked her if it was an over 55 place.  Her response?  "Why no!  We had a lovely black couple who lived here up until last August." 

Huh?


Iris' birthday is on Monday and we had planned on taking her on a Kentucky Fried Chicken (her favorite ~ OK, mine too.  Until they open a Popeye's in this one horse town) picnic.  'Twas to be a surprise.  Guess now we're going to dinner.  May still do the picnic thing on a less hot weekend.  Record breaking temps here right now.

Robin and I are not ones for making plans.  Robin wiggled out of the community garage sale and was evasive about the dinner.  We happily woke up this morning with no plans.  We soon decided that we could go to the community garage sale, then hit the pool.  Backing up a little, we went to Iris' pool last Monday.  Was chatty with a few old ladies until they were about to leave.  One of them came up to me and said, "You know, young lady (shows how old she really was).  You really aren't supposed to be here without a resident.  And you're not supposed to have food (as Robin shoveled Cheese Doodles in her mouth).  You got one thing going for ya...your hair is up."  Then they left.  A lady who stayed behind told us to ignore them, that they were the Pool Police.  Robin called Iris to see what we should do and she, too, told us to ignore them.  So we did.

We decided to go to the pool today in hopes that the Pool Police were tending to their own garage sales.  We called Iris at around 8:30 to see when they would start walking around.  They'd already left.  On our way over there, I was starving and demanded that Robin stop for an Egg McMuffin.  (The point of telling you that will be addressed below.)  We got there, double parked the car and began walking around God's waiting room.  Why do old people have so much tacky crap?  Couldn't find a thing and didn't see Iris and Joe right away.  Finally saw them from afar and Iris and Robin ran to each other like long lost lovers.  Joe had on turquoise pants and soccer sandals.  Nice look.  We told them that their community garage sales sucked and we wanted to go to some that we'd seen on the way. 

Iris had a few more neighbors to snoop upon, I mean, "visit" and we went back to their house to wait.  Not sure why these things come over me, but I told Robin to shove my discarded McDonald's wrappers in their mailbox.  When Joe goes to get the mail, he is going to go batshit crazy.  I can't wait to hear about it!

They finally made their way home and Joe didn't want to go to the other sales.  Iris got in the car and announced that they are not speaking to each other.  The day before, at Walmart, Joe bumped the cart into Iris.  She yelled at him and he said she was in the way.  She demanded an apoplogy and he refused.  Who knows how long this fight will last?  Dinner tomorrow should be fun.

I hit the jackpot at the very first sale.  I love pink and I love Christmas trees.  Bought the beautiful Barbie tree pictured above for fifty cents!  FIFTY CENTS!  Iris and Robin fake vomited the rest of the morning, but I think Iris is just jealous.  Sure she hates pink and is Jewish, but there is no denying the beauty that is my new treasure.  I called my own mother, knowing she would appreciate and share my enthusiasm.  "Hello?  Hello?   Kim?  I can't hear you.  My phone is dying.  HELLOOO?"

Also got a new pink lunchbox and an Irma Bombeck book.  Total splurge, $2.00.

We dropped Iris off and got to the pool at noon.  We met a mother (resident) and her daughter and son.  Daughter and son live very near us and invited us to a party next Saturday.  I need some younger blood, so I hope they were sincere.  Hell, I don't care if they were or not.  We'll crash it.  We talked a bit and told the mother about being yelled at by the Pool Police last week.  She'd already heard all about it.  Robin and I have visions of our pictures hanging in the clubhouse..."WANTED!"

I am now going to wrap up my pink Barbie Christmas tree and give it to Iris for her birthday.

Oh, and wait for the phonecall.  Their mail arrives at 4:00.

And I thought I was bad....

People LOVE to talk about their dogs.  Especially the type of people who bring their dogs to doggy daycare.  BTW, I was told today that I can bring my dogs to daycare for free if I can work without being distracted by them being there.  Can't make any promises.

It took me about an hour to learn how to tune out the Fluffy and Snowball stories.   We all know that the only fascinating dog stories are mine.  Period.  But today a old couple (their combined age was no less than 210) came in to check out the premises and told me a little bit about their angels, Mikey and Missy.  Normally I enjoy elderly people.  (It's kids I have issues with...just kidding...not really).  I can tell that this couple is really gonna be a pain in the tuckus, but I liked their story.

Years ago, they had a dog who died.  A few years after that they decided to get another dog.  They had beige carpeting and wanted a light colored dog who was at least three years old.  Went to the Humane Society and didn't see anything like that.  Then they called their old vet to see where else they could go.  Come to find out, a couple had just dropped off two dogs.  They were six months old and black.  Not what they'd had in mind, but they fell in love with them.  They took them and named them Mikey and Missy.

The couple wanted some info from the former owners, so the vet hooked them up.  The former owners told them what they wanted to know, and also mentioned that their names had been Blake and Lady.  They asked what their new names were.  When the new owners told them Mikey and Missy, there was a long dead silence. 

The prior owners names' were Michael and Melissa and, you got it, they went by Mikey and Missy.

Cool, huh?

The job is going super well.  She tells me everyday how well I'm doing, so that's good.  No puppies have complained (that I know of), so that's good too.  We close at noon on Wednesday, so don't think that I'm blogging from work.  Not that I wouldn't.