Murray Had a Mommy Day

Michelle is off from work all this week. I'm jealous. I get picture emails all day. Pictures of Murray sleeping. Pictures of Murray waking her up. At 9:30. I emailed Michelle at 11:00 AM, asking if she was able to fix the internet on the laptop. This was her response:

"I will. I'm getting out of bed soon."

What the what? I'm jealous, yet again. Then a couple hours later, Michelle emailed me saying that Murray has some green goo on his weiner, and she's taking him to the vet at 3:30. By the time I was getting out of work, she was still at the vet's office. I was able to leave earlier than normal, and I hopped on the number 7 bus and headed to Southie. I arrived to find a very happy dog and a very frazzled wife. Michelle filled me on the afternoon.

When she was in the waiting room, Murray got into an altercation with a bullmastiff. Apparently Clementine put Murray into a headlock, and he flipped. Like crazy Cujo growling. And he's never done this before, so Michelle was upset and embarrassed. She's afraid DSS for dogs is going to knock on our door and take Murray away from us because we're raising such a vicious beast. She keeps asking me if she's a good dog mother.

Then Murray peed on a display inside the vet's office. Nailed it. More upsetness and more embarrassment.

It turns out that Murray could have an infection on his thingy. Maybe even a UTI, who knows? They tell Michelle that she needs to get a urine sample from him. I can't even picture what this may have looked like, or how she went about it. I'm not even saying it because I think it's funny, because I know I will have to do it in the near future. How do I know this? Well Michelle managed to get a urine sample. Somehow. But she dropped it on the ground, and likely spilled it on herself. And for those of you not near Boston today, it's in the low teens and windy as hell. So she ends up getting a couple drops, and they can't even use it, because it's not enough. So, her efforts were fruitless.

Then we meet the new vet, and it's a disaster. We start getting lectured on what terrible parents we are. She's trying to get his heartbeat, and Murray is trying to jump off the table and kill himself. He's not a big fan of the dog food we bought him, but he'll eat it when he's hungry. The problem, however, is that we bought such a big bag of it, that it will take him another month to finish it all. The vet then tells us that he IS too skinny. You shouldn't be able to play his ribs like an instrument. Oh, and he threw up this morning. Then we get yelled at for giving him too many treats and that maybe he got into something bad for him. She then starts talking about his neutering and what a mess that's going to be. Because, oh yeah, Murray has undescended testicles.

Yup, that just happened. It's a good thing Murray can't read because, um, he's a dog, but he would be upset.

He's turning into a high maintenance animal. Good news, though, is that his coat came in the mail today from Lands End. Pictures and commentary to follow.

Murray's Snowstorm Recap

We got about 10 inches of snow in Boston, and I was psyched. Although it was really windy, so it was 2 inches in some places, and 2 feet in others. I was so excited to throw Murray Man into the snow, and we had some good times and some bad times. When we first took him out, he sort of freaked. He started thrashing around and running through the snowbanks. He was Tigger-bouncing around, and he had Michelle and I laughing our asses off.

The he started lifting his legs in the air. First the back legs, then the front legs. It appeared he didn't like the coldness of the snow on his feet. He peed a couple times, and then somehow, ignoring Newton's laws of physics, managed to make a number 2 while standing on one leg. It was a pretty impressive feat. He then lifted all his legs into the air, and fell over into a snowbank like a lumpy mess. It was pathetic and sad. Here he is dropping to the ground.

Later on in the day, I took him to the park with his orange chuck-it ball. He LOVED it. He was running and bouncing and digging, and I was really happy to see he was having so much fun. Please enjoy this video of his adventure. If you're squeamish watching dogs pee on lamp posts, please be warned.

So Michelle, being the excellent dog mother that she is, does her research. It turns out that it's most likely the salt on the sidewalks that is hurting Murray's feet. Which looking back, makes sense, since he curled up in the fetal position while on the sidewalk but ran around on the snow without a problem. Which absolutely breaks my heart, because I really don't have a choice when I take him outside. I have to get him on the sidewalk in one way or another. I'm trying to keep him motivated and moving, but he's limping behind me on three legs. It was so hard to watch.

Michelle's looking for boots. Boots for the dog. It gets worse when I write it and think about it even more. Not only would we look like douche bags, but they would constantly be falling off. And I'd be running through the snow chasing his little booties around as they blow down the street. No boots, please. He'll get over it, right?

Well it didn't get any better. She luckily found another solution. There is a wax or balm that you can put on their paws, and it acts as a buffer and healing solution for their tootsies. It's called Musher's Secret. So now before we take him out, I have lather up his paws with his foot balm. What high maintenance, good Lord. At first he was fighting me when I tried to lather him up. Now, he's like a horse waiting to have his shoes put on. He just stands there, lifting one leg at a time.

And it works. It actually works. I'm shocked and pleasantly surprised. I thought that the little man could tough it out. My thought was that he would get used to it. But if you saw him gimping around like Forrest Gump, you would have bought the foot balm, too. This dog is honestly teaching us a lot about ourselves. I know he's a dog. But I'm definitely finding out what types of parents we are.

Snowface.

Nor'easter is Brewing

The snow is pounding the East Coast right now, creating a white Christmas for millions of people. And it's coming my way. Right now, they have a snow forecast for anywhere from 7 - 15 inches in Boston. Since Murray is about 18 inches tall (I've never actually measured him), I hope we're in the higher range. I can't wait to see him disappearing in the snow while running through the park. He seemed to enjoy his first few inches of snow, and the cold air really gets him fired up. And I'm excited it's coming on a Saturday night so I can actually enjoy it on Sunday. I used to hate when it snowed on the weekend when it could have potentially cancelled school.

When I look for my company's name on the school closings, it NEVER shows up.

Now that missing work due to snow is out of the question for me, bring on the weekend snow. We have a slow cooker recipe ready to go for Sunday, the Pats are on at 1, we have some cleaning to do, and I think it's going to be fun.

Quick tangent. We defrosted a piece of london broil to cook on Thursday. But we didn't have the ingredients on hand. We needed a can of tomato soup, cream of mushroom soup, and onion soup mix. We made a special trip on Wednesday night to go to the grocery store and picked them up.

Quick tangent off my tangent. We also made a very special, yet unnecessary trip, to Mike's Pastry for the canoli I was craving. And even though Michelle didn't want any Italian cookies, I got her one anyway. Now that I can drive to Mike's in 5 minutes, it is a very dangerous thing. I used to think that Mike's was so good because it was a special-trip destination when I came into the city, but now that I can get here quickly, the allure is all in the taste. And I love the little Italian ladies behind the counter whipping up those blue and white boxes and quickly tying them up with that never-ending string coming from the ceiling. And driving through the North End is always fun, especially around Christmas time. But you shouldn't go on a Saturday night unless you want to ride 2 MPH behind cabs all night.

Back to my "original" tangent. Thursday morning. I'm sitting at work. I'm thinking about my delicious slow cooker london broil cooking all day lo-... CRAP! I forgot to set the slow cooker up before I left for work. Fail. So we're having it on Sunday.

But there's nothing better than being snowed in with nowhere to go. Which reminds me of my favorite Christmas song for this year. "Baby It's Cold Outside." There's no specific version I like more than any other, it's just that I love the lyrics. I actually love the little snip-it in "Elf," but it's not the whole song. It's literally this guy trying to get his girl to stay the night, blaming the weather for his antics. It's genius.

Click play, and then start to read your next blog post while this plays in the background. For your curiosity, I've attached the lyrics to prove that it's some guy trying to get lucky. MAYBE he's just thinking of her health and safety, but if I know anything about the relationship between men and women, I feel like I'm right. Maybe my mind's in the gutter. Wouldn't be the first time.

I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside
I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside
This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in
So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice
My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar
So really I'd better scurry - Beautiful, please don't hurry
Well Maybe just a half a drink more - Put some music on while I pour

The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there
Say, what's in this drink - No cabs to be had out there
I wish I knew how - Your eyes are like starlight now
To break this spell - I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell
I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Mind if I move a little closer
At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride
I really can't stay - Baby don't hold out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

I simply must go - Baby, it's cold outside
The answer is no - Ooh baby, it's cold outside
This welcome has been - I'm lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm -- Look out the window at that storm
My sister will be suspicious - Man, your lips look so delicious
My brother will be there at the door - Waves upon a tropical shore
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious - Gosh your lips look delicious
Well maybe just a half a drink more - Never such a blizzard before

I've got to go home - Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there
Say, lend me your comb - It's up to your knees out there
You've really been grand - Your eyes are like starlight now
But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Making my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied - If you caught pneumonia and died
I really can't stay - Get over that old out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

Baby it's cold outside

Brr its cold...
It's cold out there
Cant you stay awhile longer baby
Well... I really shouldn't... alright

Make it worth your while baby
Ahh, do that again...

My Trip to a Stop & Shop Gas Station

I've been the deadbeat blogger this week. I have no excuses. I've been lazy. Nothing good has happened. I have nothing to contribute. Ok, I have a few excuses.

But do you know what time it is now?

It's story time.

We go to the local Stop & Shop gas station in Dorchester. The way it works is whenever you go grocery shopping, you scan your Stop & Shop card to get discounts and the company keeps track of your spending habits. It's a win-win, in my mind. The other benefit you get from using this card, is if you live near a Stop & Shop equipped with a gas station, you get to accumulate and use gas points. Oh, how I treasure these gas points.

Let me break it down. For every dollar you spend at Stop & Shop, you earn 1 gas point. For every 100 gas points you accumulate, you save $0.10 per gallon on your gas purchase. We probably average anywhere from $50 - 100 on groceries every week. Not only this, but we also share a Stop & Shop card with Michelle's mom. Although she's only cooking for two, and occasionally 4 when Michelle and I drop by, she manages to manhandle the grocery store. She takes names. And I'm very appreciative of this. There's nothing better than checking my receipt, and realizing that Michelle's mom has done some damage. She conveniently lives nowhere near a Stop & Shop gas station. Which means Michelle and I get to use all the gas points. She does countless things to help us out, and this is another one of those gifts that keeps on giving the whole year. Kind of like the jelly of the month club.

So we'll wait a couple weeks or three before we go to Stop & Shop gas, and by then we can have somewhere around 300 or 400 gas points. 400 points is $0.40 per gallon OFF! I think our record was something like 800 gas points. We ended up paying for gas at a price of, like, $1.67 a gallon. I can't remember the last time I did that legitimately. This is legit, but it feels like stealing.

Ok, now to the original story.

I'm at Stop & Shop gas on Monday. I'm pumping, looking around, pretending to mind my own business. Based on how much gas I've pumped, and how big the tank is, I can tell I'm close to the end. $42. $43. $45! Whoa, slow down. I'm staring at the pump gauge, wondering when this thing is going to stop, and then I hear a trickle. Like a stream. I turn to my right, and see gasoline...POURING down the side of the car. What the fudge? The goddam pump didn't stop. What kind of shit is that?

This has always been one of my fears, but I always assumed that this wouldn't ever happen. Well, it did.

Side note: Another fear I have is sneezing too violently while standing too close to the subway train as it's approaching. "I was pushed!" Ghost reference. Michelle's never seen Ghost. I don't know how that's possible.

Ok, back to the story, again. I go to the kid in the shark tank, who is probably 13 years old. He's like, "Oh, I'm sorry about that. I'll have someone fix it." I'm still staring at him in disbelief. He asks, "Do you want some paper towels or somethin'?"

Uh...ye-ahh.

I am now equipped with wet naps, or wet wipes, or diaper wipes, or whatever this kid handed me, and I had to wipe the side of the car clean, while trying to suppress my fears of causing a spark while driving away and blowing up, Die Hard style. I think I'm discovering too many irrational fears. To me, they're very rational.

The Griswald Faaamily Christmas Tree

I love getting a Christmas tree. When I was a kid, we would always get Chinese food on the night we picked out our Christmas tree. It became one of our family traditions. And we always got the tree at Higgins. We trekked all the way out there last year and then again this year. It's about 30 miles from where we live now, but we love it. Here's a picture of our tree ready to haul ass down the Mass Pike. It was taken out the moon roof of the Pathfinder.

Murray's checking it out.

And a fun picture, as well.

We've had the tree in our house for 5 minutes, and it's already shedding like it's been up for months. We are screwed when we take this thing out.

Damn, he's strong.

So proud.

Murray: "Dad, it's leaning to the left. Are you blind? Move it to the right. No, YOUR right. YOUR RIGHT! Ugh forget it, you twisted it. Just...get out of the way, let me do it."

Murray: (To Meeche) "I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't it leaning to the left? I knew it was."

Still judging me...

Wa-pow.

Happy Engagement Anniversary to Meeche & Joe

The congratulations should go to the actual people, not the blog. And we're really not those people who celebrate their first hand holding session, so don't fret.

It was exactly three years ago when I proposed to Michelle. It feels impossible that it's already been three years, but at the same time, it seems like we've done so much. We had been dating for 6 years. I didn't wait so long because I was afraid. (maybe) I waited so long because we started dating when we were 9. (17) It wouldn't have been right for us to be married while attending colleges in different states. So I waited.

Oh, I also had monopoly money as currency, and couldn't get a credit card. I thought college students were prime suspects to fall into severe debt. The credit card companies wouldn't even give me then chance to ruin my credit. What the hell? The good thing about that, however, is that it forced me to pay cash for Michelle's engagement ring.

Woof.

Now came the hard part. How do I ask her? The possibilities are limitless. Jumbotron? Michelle ruled this out beforehand. Restaurant? Stick it in the dessert? Too risky. At a big family function? Too embarrassing. The cliches were out. Although I didn't really come up with anything original.

Michelle had always LOVED Chatham Bars Inn. It was bit out of our price range to getting married there, but since we spend so much time down the Cape, it's always a place we like to drive by and admire. We were going down the Cape the weekend of December 8th to have a family Christmas party. I had dinner reservations at the Impudent Oyster.

Favorite Cape Cod restaurant, by the way. You can safely order anything on the menu, but I always end up with one of the chef's specials because they're so damn good.

Ok, I'm back.

I had another dilemma. Do I ask her father for permission? I posted before that Michelle and her dad (and mom, too) are really close. And she's an only child. And she's adopted. Let's just say they love their daughter very much. So I was at work, telling people my plans. I said I wasn't really planning on asking her parents. I was scolded by everyone. Even the funny guy who seems like a tough guy is like, "Dude, you gotta do it."

Oh....kay. Now what. I'd already bought the ring, and I had basically been living at their house for about 5 years at this point. I think if I thought they wouldn't approve, I would have known by now. So I went over there when Michelle wasn't home, it was kinda awkward, and I let them know I was planning to ask Michelle to marry me. Her mom cried, and her dad said, "Well we've been feeding you for this long..."

Her mom agreed to take the ring down the Cape for me so I wouldn't be carting it around. I picked it up when I got down there, and put the HUGE friggen box it came with in my jacket pocket. So it looked like my left peck had an erection. Sweet.

Michelle is then acting all weird, like giving me odd hugs and everything. This girl KNEW. How the hell did this happen? Granted, she picked out the ring and we knew it was happening soon, but still. I think girls can smell diamonds the way bees and dogs can smell fear. So on the way to the restaurant, I pull over in front of Chatham Bars Inn. It was all lit up with Christmas lights, and it looked awesome. It was about 12 degrees outside, but I made her get out. The whole time, she's freaking out. What are you doing? Why are you pulling over? We can't stop here, keep going.

This is the same girl who will stop in the middle of the road if she can't find a parking space, and hold up a hundred cars in traffic. (One of the reasons I proposed)

I had a speech, man. It was Hollywood good. Like, chick flick happy ending good. Only not cheesy. And Michelle didn't hear a word I said. I could have saved so much stress and worry and done the Charlie Brown grownup voice and she would have been just as happy. She tried to pry the ring out of the box, but I may or may not have slapped her hand away so I could put it on. I'm doing this right, dammit. I even got down on one knee. So one cliche, big deal.

We then called our families, had an amazing dinner, and I got to tell her all the ring stories I had been DYING to tell her throughout the whole process.

Happy Engagemaversay.

Baby Talk

We got a random phone call from our cousins this afternoon. They were doing some Christmas shopping in the area, and asked if we wanted to join them for lunch. I'd already eaten lunch, but we can't turn down food and friends.

They just had a baby a couple months ago, and the baby had been sleeping the afternoon away. They were still planning on doing some more shopping after lunch, and the baby hadn't eaten yet. Michelle offered our place as a feeding spot, and then offered to babysit.

Michelle changed a couple diapers, given the baby a bottle, and asked me how cute her socks, shoes, jeans, legs, and sweater is.

Very cute, Michelle.

Michelle is great with kids. It's actually one of things which attracted me to her in the first place. She used to always be carting around her nephew when she was in high school, and I just loved the way she interacted with him. She has taught me a lot about babies and kids and patience. I need to work on my patience sometimes. I love kids. I've worked at a daycare and I did a Christian service project in high school working with second graders. But I have to admit that sometimes I focus on the negative instead of the positive.

Murray has been pouting all day. I picked him up at the groomer's, and I think he thought we had a kid in the time he was gone. He sniffed the baby, gave her a nose poke, and has been trying to get our attention the rest of the time.

He's been giving us the stink eye non-stop.

We're going to have kids eventually. We're just not ready yet. We're trying to be in a much better place financially before we welcome children into this world. Like, a lot better financially. Exponentially. But people don't like this excuse.

"Oh you're never ready to pay for a kid. Nobody's ready financially."

No matter what excuse you give people, they have a come back. We try to say, "We're still young, we've got time."

"You're never too young to start a family."

Come on people, how many ways can we say we're not ready for children? Take my answer and let it go. I was talking about this with my father in law recently. He said one time he was so sick of people asking him the same questions when he was younger, and his final response was the following:

"If I had a kid, I'd probably drown it."

He was joking. He's a great father, and he and Michelle have an amazing relationship. But he sure shut that person up quickly. If I get the children guilt any more, I may resort to this type of answer. Although nowadays, if I even thought something like that, I'd probably go to jail for pre-birth child abuse.

Life Lesson From When I was 12

Everyone has moments in their life which help define them. Moments which you never forget, and which often pop into your head from time to time for various reasons.

When I was 12, I was trying out for the summer travel baseball team. I was always pretty good at baseball, and was definitely good enough to make this team. Not only that, but I had an amazing tryout. I never had good tryouts, but I nailed this one. I made all the right throws, I was ripping line drives into the outfield, I had this locked up. And then came time for the cuts.

We were instructed to line up along the fence. The coach was standing about 20 feet from us. We could feel our parents standing behind us, rooting for us. Then the coach started calling names. Each kid called ran to the pitcher's mound and congratulated the next kid getting called. Everyone was joking and shoving each other around. Then I looked around, and there were about 5 of us left standing against the fence.

I don't remember the words which came out next, but I think it was something like, "And for the rest of you..."

I was crushed. Devastated. Never had I been so brutally rejected. And in front of so many of my friends. And my dad. And everyone else's parents. I'm pretty sure I was crying. I remember other kids crying, so I'm assuming I was.

It sucked that I got cut, but I guess I was right on the edge anyway. But it was the public way in which the coach did it. Even at 12, I could see that this guy was an asshole. Talk to each kid individually. Let them down easy. Let them know personally why you didn't choose them. Don't execute them at close range in front of their friends and family. Dickhead.

What happened next, however, is what taught me a great lesson. The 5 of us which played with the 11 year old team had a blast. We got the opportunity to play every inning of every game, and make friends with kids we normally wouldn't have talked to. If I remember, we won a tournament or two. Which made me realize that even if things don't work out the way you wanted them to, doesn't mean the journey's over. One window closed, but another one opened. It's really corny, but it's true. Who knows what would have happened if I made the A team instead of the B team? What if I rotted on the bench and played 3 innings in right field every game? (Right field is bad in little league, by the way). That could have killed my morale; maybe made me hate baseball. Maybe I would have given it up and missed out on playing in high school.

I'll never forget that day I felt I was humiliated, but I also try to remember the great summer I still had in spite of it. One rejection doesn't mean it's time to give up. Sometimes it means try it again. Other times it means try something else. Shit, maybe it's the world's way of saying you shouldn't do it at all. I used to loath the idea of fate and destiny. God or the universe decides our path for us. I always thought that was bullshit. But now I'm not so sure. I may be turning into a believer.

Yet maybe that's what my destiny wants me to think.