Spring Break, A White Trash Scenario & My Dogs Nethers

It's been awhile since I blogged.  We've been busy with fun family stuff, but all things that would bore you to death unless you are blood related to me.  And I promised never to blog about daily life lest you want to punch me in the face.  There's nothing more boring than a blog entry that tells you all about how someone went to the park that day and their kid went down a slide and then they had capri suns and they made a craft and then had dinner at home and OHMYGODWHOCARES? 

My sister came to visit!  It was spring break so we got tattoos!   Tramp stamps!  No, we didn't.  That was fun though, wasn't it Dad?

I'm fairly certain my sister not getting a tattoo was influenced by our step mother's rule that any female in the family who gets any sort of ink on her body gets an automatic exit from the will.  Yes, boys are allowed to get tattoos.  She's a woman from the South, which means she can say whatever she wants and it goes.  I'm desperately trying to become the exact same way because it's pretty awesome how she pulls that off.  (Although this fact about southern women scares me now that my two highly opinionated daughters are possibly going to be raised in the South.  I'm already super obnoxious, can they really top me?  Can we all live in the same house if they do?  What will become of my husband?)

Highlights of my sister's trip included drinking copious amounts of wine, actually staying up past 10pm, and watching her and my husband bicker like brother and sister.  


One evening they actually spent 30 minutes throwing a dog toy at each other.  I sat there watching it and contemplated calling the police.  They were both laughing and having fun, so calling the police was not actually merited, but I thought it would make a great white trash scene on our lawn if I could get us all out there screaming about a dog toy while squad car lights lit up the night sky.  I decided if I did call the police I would also totally wake up the baby and let her walk around the front yard wearing a diaper, because that's really the white trash piece de resistance. 

I'd have to say my favorite part of  Julia's visit was watching her try to find a big, Texas sized insect or reptile.  We would sit out at night in the dark and her reaction to bugs zooming at her head was more than enough entertainment for me.  I also delighted in the high pitch screams of my niece who was horrified that Nora was walking around holding 5 roly poly bugs in her hand during a walk we took.  Unfortunately, the only thing we found during their visit was a tiny snake that was already dead.  

It's a good thing Julia came when she did as it rained so much afterwards that I'm pretty sure Texas has begun floating away from the United States.  I hope this does not lead to a Hunger Games scenario.   

During my blogging hiatus my dog had some of manly bits removed.  The men that read this blog all just cringed.  All 6 of them.  

The process was super fun for both Mosby and I.  It began, as all fun stories do, with my husband traveling and ended with me sleeping with a 50 pound lab wearing a cone.

This dog is happy even after ball removing surgery.

When I dropped Mosby off, the fact that I had a spazzy lab puppy, a 17 month old in a stroller screaming and a 6 year old sobbing, "IS MY DOG GOING TO DIE?!" was not enough for the receptionist and thus she delighted in sharing the worst news I've ever gotten.  Did you know that it's just a myth that neutering an animal will calm it down?  Because I sure as hell did not know.  But the mean receptionist shot down all my dreams, right there at 7am before I had even ingested coffee.  People like that do not have souls.

We spent the next two days being run down by a dog wearing a cone on his head.  Since Evie and Mosby both follow me around all day, I had a toddler hitting me behind the knee on one side and my cone head on the other side, knocking my knee forward causing me to lose my balance all the live long day.  Good times!

After two fun days of watching my poor dog accidentely plow Evie over because he could not see her due to his lack of peripheral vision, my husband came home.  He declared the dog pitiful and when I stepped out of the room for one second he REMOVED THE CONE.  Thus began the second part of our journey, which was "Let's all constantly watch the dog and squirt him with water whenever he decides to visit his nether region via his mouth."  That went on for 12 blessed days and then we had our new and improved dog.  Micro-chipped and without cajones, that's how Mosby rolls now.

Evie is run over by Mosby for the 22nd time in one hour.

Let me just conclude with this information:  Both the veterinarian and the vet techs mentioned Mosby's procedure was made more difficult by the fact that he was very well endowed. 


I told my sister it was lucky Mosby had this done right before she visited, because it allowed me to proudly display his bits in a jar by the side of her bed in the guest room. 

As always, you're welcome for all the imagery I've given you to ponder.