Tuesday, September 14, 2010

the dog who wouldn't stop puking

This is my dog/child. His name is Cassiuss Clay Kevin Stambaugh. I used to joke that he was Catholic because all of the Catholic parents I knew growing up adorned their kids with really long names. But then I met the Boyds. And they're not Catholic.

I think it would be funny if I named my next dog, Pope.  Pope John Mary Katherine. Then people wouldn't have to wonder if it was Catholic or not. Although they might wonder about something else.

Anywoo, Cassius had surgery to remove a growth on his leg. After popping a couple of the stitches out, the vet gave us a much larger cone. (and for only $27.99! what a deal...)  The last cone made Cash look like he got stuck in a lampshade. But this new baby is a satellite dish.  Anyway, on with the story... so because of the much larger cone, we could no longer put him in his cage when we were gone - he just won't fit - so we left him out. We had been doing this for about a week and a 1/2 and we were SO, SO, SO impressed that he hadn't destroyed the house. Then about 3:45am last Thursday night, Isaac and I were awoken to the sounds of vomitish noises. Isaac cleaned it up and we all went back to bed.  Then about an 1 1/2 hr later, it happened again. Puke on the bedroom floor. My mind immediately raced to this goofy dog and I started getting nervous. Friday swung around and things seemed good until about 5am Friday night/Saturday morning. The puke. It was back. On our bedroom floor.  I had to go to work fairly shortly after that, but the whole drive I just kept praying to the sweet Lord Jesus that Cash didn't eat a nut he wasn't supposed to (our backyard is nothing but hazelnuts) because we can't afford to keep sending him to the vet. I got to work and started checking out what the interest rates were on our credit cards, etc.... Then I got a text from Isaac. It made no sense. How could it be? I decided to call to get all of the details.

Turns out, after I left for work, Cash puked AGAIN in the bedroom (4x combines total).  Isaac let him outside. Later on, Isaac happened to catch him playing/eating something. Turns out the dog had puked outside too. What did he puke up, you ask? Wait for it.... Wait for it... a whole pair of my underwear. Isaac said by the looks of it, it had been in there a couple of days. Isaac and I were amazed/disgusted and hung up.  Then I got another text from Isaac that read - "And a sock too!".  Turns out the dog puked a 4x time that morning (Running tally: 6x total) and this time he puked up a sock.  Mind you, this is the 2nd sock he's puked up in 2 weeks.  So all of this time we thought he was doing so well while we were gone, he was simply grazing on our laundry. Unbelievable.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

been doing a little thinking

While driving tonight, I was creating a mental checklist of things that would make my marriage "perfect". Mmm, maybe that's not the correct term.  Regardless, if I was living in a "perfect world" and I had a "perfect husband" and a "perfect marriage", what would that look like?.... a few things came to mind, but one that stood out, was that Isaac would be proud of me. And then the idea came rushing thru..... Do I give him anything to be proud of? Am I the type of wife/person/human that he can be satisfied with?  I very desperately want him to be pleased with my so-called "accomplishments".  But more than that, I just want him to be proud of me. Of who I actually am, inside and out.  

Another thought... one that I've been chewing on for about a week now.... I think I'm in small group right now soley for the community aspect. I need people around me who I believe actually care for me. When I'm at my ugliest, they're there. There's really only a sacred few with whom I share the most ugly portions with, but for the most part, I know that I'm surrounded by 10-11 people who give a rip. I'm not really in small group so I can "grow in Christ". That may change in the future, but at this point in the game, I'm just there for the people. Maybe that's selfish. Maybe that's part of the evolution of the group. Maybe that makes me the weak member. But I'm not convinced that attending the small group simply for the aspect of community is wrong. At least not tonight.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

20 randomly weird, silly things about me

Here's some random facts that I've discovered about myself in the past few years.... feel free not to read, they're silly.

1) As much as I want to be "independent" and my own person with my own likes/dislikes, I've realized that I enjoy many of the same foods as my dad. We even order the same meal sometimes. And I heart Diet Coke and m&m's with the same ferociousness as my mother. We stand alike. We both leave 30 minute long voicemails... We when stress out, sometimes our bodies react the same way.

2) I constantly scan FM radio stations. I do not drive without the radio on. (although in the past 1-2yrs I have tried to every few weeks, turn off the radio and talk to Jesus) If a Foreigner, Maroon 5 or James Taylor song comes on, I will stop and listen. I will always listen to "Eye of the Tiger".  Honest to goodness.

3) There's some artists that I like, but I can't listen to without commentary. For example,
     John Mayer -  Man, he seems like a douchebag
     Jason Mraz - His first cd was sooo much better than the second one. I really like the first one... He wears funny hats. You know who else's first cd was better than the second one? Jars of Clay. yeah.
4) I think people who solely listen to AM radio are closed minded and silly. Go ahead and judge me, I just judged you.

5) I never make my bed unless I know someone is coming over. There is no point in making my bed when I'm the only one who sees it every day. Why would I spend 5 minutes making it and 3 minutes tearing it apart every night? That's 8 minutes that I can't get back every day. And since I'm always running late, those minutes are precious. (I also heard that people who don't make their bed get less dust mites. I'll be honest, that's not the reason I don't make my bed, but it makes me feel better about it)

6) I make the ugliest chocolate chip cookies ever. They're as flat as a 4th grade girl.

7) Dark chocolate speaks to me. It's just SO MUCH BETTER.

8) I hate spiders the way that Carrie Prejean hates filling out padgent applications truthfully.

9) I won't make brownies anymore without chocolate chips in them.

I have a crush on almost any long-sleeved plaid shirt. I think I always have. If it's a Blue or Purple plaid shirt, my heart skips a beat. Every 3-4 years I find a good plaid shirt. I recently found one at Wally World for $12. When I wear it, I feel cute and giggly. It has flowers on the inside of the collar and fits well. The only thing it's missing is snap buttons.
Side Confession: There's a whole row of long sleeved men's plaid shirts in Target. I walk by that section every time I'm in the store and just drool. And some of them have the snap buttons. Extra drool.

11) Talking theology with Isaac in the dark is kinda sexy.

12) I have always kinda hated games. However, there's a Bingo hall when you turn into my neighborhood and I'm looking for someone to go with me.

13) Football season means lazy Sunday afternoons with Isaac. It also means a big pot of chili and grilled cheeses made in the George Forman. And hoodies and pajama bottoms and blankets.

14) I have 2 birthmarks on my neck. And then to add insult to injury, I developed 3 freckles right in a row. I also have man hands and ex-large nostrils. I hate all of these things.

15) If I had the money, I'd change my hair every 2 months. I have no patience with it.

16) I'm rarely satisfied.

17) Cookouts are probably one of my favorite ways to spend time with friends. Even our wedding reception was a catered cookout and pies and cornhole. Down home fun.

18) If I'm in a large body of water, I will pee in it. I've actually begun doing this so much, I have to concentrate on not peeing in pools. I just grossed you out, didn't I?

19) Blues Brothers and the old Star Wars (and maybe the Lord of the Rings Trilogy) are the perfect movies any time of the day. The Breakfast Club is the perfect Saturday morning movie to wake up to.

20) Music speaks to me in ways that books just never will. There were many artists, (but mainly The Newsboys) whose music genuinely changed (or at least challenged) my thinking about God and life during my teen and college years. I would assume artists of any genre would desire their work to cause consumers to think about such things.

Life changing information, right? : )    So what are some of your silly things about yourself? And who's going to drive to Springfield Township and play Bingo with me????

Friday, September 3, 2010

saying good-bye

14 years ago, my mom and brother brought home the cutest puppy from the pound. The story is that a police officer found her in a dumpster. Who really knows if that story was a sham or not, but it worked, regardless. My brother named our new dog, Lucy. Dad renamed her Lucy Lee Skank Wilder. (somebody please tell me you remember the Gold Star commericals with "skank" as the star???)

Lucy hasn't been doing so hot these past few years. She's blind as a bat, old, angry and has selective hearing. She's an old man wrapped up into a 30lb frame with fur. The vet recently discovered she has a giant tumor which has been causing her pain and the loss of mobility. Lots of other terribly crappy things too, but the point is, at 3:30pm this afternoon, my parents are taking her to be put to sleep. The vet says it's the best thing. Dang it, I'm crying. Death sucks, even if it's just a dog.

Lucy and Dad were besties. Mainly because she thought his jokes were HILARIOUS.
Lucy was a big fan of the holidays.

She could touch her tongue to her nose. So, so talented.

In her prime.

In the past 5 years, that dog's breath could make the hair
on Isaac's back stand up. But she still had all of her real teeth.

her facebook profile pic.

We're smiling, but Lucy is obviously eyeing our leftovers.
She loved Super Bowl Sundays.

Lucy and the bug both dying. I thought it was poetic.
And lame. But this is my blog so I'll post what I want to.

Lucy always hated Cassius.

Grandma Wilder came over to say goodbye.
My brother John is holding Lucy.

I told them to smile. Grandma said there was nothing to smile about,
then immediately began laughing at her own non-joke.
She does that a lot. And I love her for it.

My final pic with Lucy. Nevermind my neck rolls. ew.
I'll miss you, Lucy.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

just wonderin'

Cash typically meets me in the front yard when I get home at night. Our routine goes a little like this:
* I park my car in the street and say hello to the dog by name.
* Cash then proceeds to crouch down and/or hide in the bushes.
* Obviously, I see him do all of this. But I play along and call out his name like I can't see him btwn what have to be, the ugliest bushes known to man.
* He then leaps out and greets me with a kiss/slobber fest, a few scratches (dog has claws like a raptor) and about 12 laps around the yard with a toy or stick in his mouth.

This is our routine and I love it. I never question Cash's love for me. Even when he hurts me, I know he did it on accident. He forgives and forgets very quickly.

And that's proof why Dogs are Jesus is disguise and Cats are selfish beasts from Satan. The End.
Just kidding. Sit down, Julee. Although, Dog spelled backwards is God... Just saying....

Anyway, back to my story... tonight I realized something. Cash is content in his own yard. His tiny, little fenced in yard. He doesn't seem to notice the most random, hideous tree. The tree that I would love to cut down one day... He doesn't seem to care that his front yard is decorated with 1/2 dead bushes. Bushes that were, I'm certain, disgustingly disfigured even before we moved in. Or the giant dirt pile that looks like we buried a body there. Cash is happy within his own fence. Maybe it's because he's never really lived anywhere else before. Maybe it's because he's grateful for what he's got. Maybe he just doesn't know any better.

I haven't fully digested this yet.... It just struck me as interesting.