Random Tuesday Thoughts

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Presented randomly in a purely random fashion.


So we have two beagles, and beagles are, of course, awesome dogs, and the #1 beagle of all time is Snoopy. Mouse has a Snoopy-themed bedroom, because Snoopy is awesome. And you know what’s even more awesome? A Snoopy license plate! Proceeds from the Snoopy plate go to California museums (and you know what’s awesome? Museums!). So if you’re interested in a Snoopy plate, go register your interest here: http://www.snoopyplate.com/

I really really really want this on my car


I wish there were some sort of way to make turn signals automatic. Like when you think about changing lanes or turning, the turn signal on your car goes on. And when you’re done changing lanes or if you change your mind, it automatically goes off. I think I want that feature even more than I want a flying car. And I really want a flying car.


Tonight (Monday) for a slightly belated Mother’s Day, we took Train Guy’s mom, dad, and brother out to dinner at Mrs. Knott’s Chicken Dinner Restaurant located at Knott’s Berry Farm. If you like fried chicken and you happen to find yourself in Orange County with nowhere to eat, check out the Chicken Dinner Restaurant. It’s pretty much Mouse’s idea of food nirvana. There’s not a single thing in the chicken dinner (which is sort-of prix fixe) that he doesn’t love to eat. Speaking of which, I think I’m going to go have my slice of boysenberry pie.



Why is it that good tv shows get cancelled while bad tv shows live on and on in perpetuity?


I have finally graduated from physical therapy. I have a congenital defect in my knees (thanks Dad! And Grandpa!) that makes them prone to dislocation, and while I’ve had a lifetime of knee problems, I did a super-tastic job of jacking up my right knee last June. I had this awful surgery in August, and honestly, the pain during recovery was far worse than being in labor. Because at least labor ended and there was a nice prize when it was over. Anyway, my knees are still quite weak (I can’t stand on one foot with my knee slightly bent for more than a minute–literally, a minute–I have to time myself) but they are doing much better and my surgery one doesn’t hurt anymore.


This concludes today’s episode of Random Tuesday Thoughts. Head over to the Un Mom for more Randomosity.

The Scrivener


Dada Means Doggie

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Scout is my first baby. Scout is a beagle. I got her when I moved into my very first apartment–I was starting graduate school and I’d always wanted a dog. I grew up in a house with no backyard and a mother who steadfastly insisted that she would be the one who’d end up caring for the puppy we wanted for Christmas, and, “if I wanted to take care of something, I’d have another child.” I can’t blame her.

Scout: an integral part of our wedding

So when I was finally out on my own, I found myself a hound dog. Scout is a 13-inch beagle (did you know there are two sizes of beagles? There are! Scout is the smaller one) and she quickly became my first baby. We’ve been through so much together, all these years. She’s a sensitive, intuitive dog, and always knows when I’m upset. She’ll come and nudge her head against my hand insistently until I pet her. She’s been featured in many a Christmas card. In fact, she appeared in our wedding.

After moving to Southern California in 2004, Train Guy and I decided that we’d like another dog as a friend to Scout. We adopted our guy Digory through a rescue organization called Beagles and Buddies. Digory is a 15-inch beagle (the other size) and is Scout’s polar opposite. But they love each other, even though Scout won’t admit it.

I’ll confess–one of my bigger fears in having a baby was these stories I heard about how the baby has an animal allergy and the family had to get rid of their family dog. I really don’t know how I could let go of Scout and Digory. I mean, we’d do what we had to do, but it would be really hard. It’s been a huge relief that Mouse has no doggie allergies.

Mouse meets hound

In fact, the doggies are pretty much the center of his entire world. It’s the biggest case of unearned love ever. As soon as Mouse became aware of the doggies, he’s been fascinated by them. The mere sight of them makes him laugh. We’d place Digory’s food bowl in front of the Pack n Play and Mouse would laugh and laugh while Digory ate. He loves his doggies. LOVES.

Unfortunately, he’s very, shall we say, enthusiastic about his love.  His idea of petting is rather forceful, and the tail is just irresistible. Scout, being an elderly dog, has much more tolerance for Mouse’s enthusiasm, while Digory is still a little freaked out. They’re learning, though.

The main thing that Digory has learned recently is that the baby is a source of food. We had always joked that Mouse would have the cleanest face on the block, and it’s proven to be true so far. Things were going well feeding Mouse in the high chair up until he realized that he could throw food over the side and Digory would go nuts for it, or hold down some food in his hand and Digory would jump up to get it. It got to the point where Mouse’s entire mealtime was spent feeding the dog in one way or another, so much to both of their dismays, Digory was banished behind the baby gate for meals.

“Dada” was Mouse’s first word. No, it didn’t mean Daddy. Dada means Doggie. Mouse constantly points to the dogs when they walk by. “Dada!” he says, as Digory makes a break for the couch. “Dada!” as Scout lumbers over to one of a thousand dog beds in the house. “Dada!” he says, pointing at a picture of a dog on our t-shirts. “Dada!” at the dog on the tag of a dog bed at Costco. “Dada!” at a dog picture on a menu at a local restaurant. “Dada!” at the park. “Dada!” at his stuffed Snoopy. One time Train Guy was wearing a Cal t-shirt with a picture of the Cal bear logo. “Dada!” insisted Mouse. “No, that’s a bear. Bear.” “Dada!” “No, bear.” “DADA!!!!!” all right, all right, it’s a Dada.

It won’t be long before Digory will be ready to curl up on Mouse’s bed for the night. Our time with Scout is slowly coming to an end. She’s elderly and won’t be with us indefinitely, but Digory is as healthy as a horse, and at age 6 he’s going to be sticking around forever. He and Mouse are well on their way to being best friends. I can’t wait. Every boy needs a hound.

The Scrivener

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