Your Poop Bag is SO CUTE!

I noticed a couple of women outside walking today. One of the women was walking a large dog and they seemed to be having a friendly, animated conversation. I normally wouldn’t have given much thought to such a scene except for one little detail that I can’t get out of my head.

As I watched my eyes went to the woman with the dog. She was gesturing dynamically as she was speaking—one hand wrapped up in the dog leash, the other flailing a white plastic bag full of—um—poop.

(Now, don’t get all huffy on me just yet.)

(I’m not OPPOSED to people picking up their dog’s odorous droppings. In fact, I’m sure if I think about it long enough that I will be quite ECSTATIC that I don’t have to STEP IN it, or SMELL it, or SEE it.)

THE THING IS, I was just curious if she was AWARE she was waving around a giant bag of POOP??

AND---did her friend observe the foulness that was swinging closer with every enthusiastic statement??

I watched in wonderment and yet, neither of them seemed to acknowledge the stench encased in a thin layer of plastic. They just kept talking like it was a NORMAL thing for people to have bags of poop around their wrists.

I mean its POOP for heaven’s sake! POOP!

And she was WAVING. IT. AROUND.

NONCHALANTLY.

Like she was carrying something UNOBTRUSIVE. Like a water bottle. Or a grenade.

Call me a stick-in-the-mud, but I get appropriately embarrassed when I carry poop around. I don’t FLAUNT my bags of poop. No siree.

Brandishing sizable bags of poop---now that’s just downright boastful.

BLEH.

Oh. Hello? heh heh. So, um, I used to have a blog.


Here's a few things I've got rolling around in my head. Ahem.

1) Potty Training SUCKS. Fine kid...pee in your pants. See if I care. NO WAIT!!! I CARE! I CARE! I REALLY.... really.... care..... ah dang.

2) Some people have no tact. Sometimes I'm some people. Other times other people are some people and I want to latch my fingers onto their leg hairs and just yank.yank.yank.yank.yank. C'mon. Speak responsibly.

3) It would be awesome if I could jump over rivers and run super fast and kick the crap out of bad guys...you know, all that stuff that comes with being a veggie vampire.

4) Weird names are dumb...unless they're cool.

5) Once upon a time, I took showers. The end.

6) Michael Phelps is scarily disproportionate, but it's okay because he's a swimming freak of nature. What do other severely disproportional people do if they never find their inner dolphin? Just go through life looking weird?

7) Hemorrhoids terrify me. Never had them, never want to.

8) Bed bugs also terrify me.

9) I have this re-occuring dream where I can never find a bathroom that is clean, in working order, and out of view of everyone around me. What does that mean?

10) Little boys with wedgies...way cool.

Little Moments

I held Luke’s small hand this morning as we walked up the stairs together. It’s not an uncommon gesture in our home, but today was different.

Today, I looked down.

Today, I looked at that little fist wrapped in my hand and I realized I was holding time. I was holding in my hand a moment that would never be again. “He’s growing too fast; getting too big”, I thought. And I found myself torn between mourning the baby I’m losing simply because time must continue to trudge onward and being awe struck at the person my little man is becoming. He’s changing every day and that is as heart-wrenching as it is electrifying. Both terrifying and exhilarating, like a roller-coaster ride you wish would stop and keep going at the same time.

And then, all too quickly, we finished our upward climb and he let go.

Chris the Patron Saint of Patience

After a two month sabbatical, I'd like to announce to the world that I'm back, and in mostly good form...just a little heavier...and a little bit pregnant. And, now that first and second breakfasts are staying down, I'll try and be a better blogger. In the meantime I'd like to leave you with something funny or insightful, but I'm capable of neither of those so you just get weird.

The other night Chris and I were lying in bed. As with most nights, he was reading and I was trying to clear my mind of all the crazy so that I could drift off into a peaceful sleep.

(10 minutes of the aforementioned quiet reading and mind clearing)

(turning to face him) "So, I read this article on CNN today about how all these human feet keep washing up on shore in Canada."

(keeps reading)

"It got me thinking about WHERE all these feet are coming from. I mean, these so called 'authorities' just said it was a mystery and they don't seem very concerned about WHO they are coming from and WHY. Wouldn't you want to know why? There could be a serial killer out there who just hacks off people's feet as his SIGNATURE...you know."

(sighs loudly) "Maybe they're fake."

"No. There were six feet found and only one was fake. It turned out to be a dog paw in a shoe wrapped in seaweed. They said they knew it was fake because they did DNA testing on it and they were mad because of all the time it took, but don't you think that they could have just LOOKED at the bones and known they weren't human. I mean, c'mon...even I could look at a dog paw and know it wasn't a human foot."

(silence for a minute)

"And, four of the feet were right feet and only one was a left foot. Maybe the killer was trying to throw us off the scent..."

(looks at me) "I promise to never talk to you when you are reading."

"Oh, thanks."

(starts reading again)

"...but they also said it could be from the dead bodies of the people in a plane crash three years ago that were never recovered. But it's only FEET....why not hands or heads??? Weird huh?"

(sighs again)

"Sorry."

(silence)

"But what if you FOUND one of the feet. What would you DO...."