Just Call Him Lumpy

Of course the lumps are benign. And of course they aren't worth removing. And of course we can expect him to get more and more of them as he ages. It will be not unlike having a cuttlefish covered in fur as a pet. At least, I imagine cuttlefish to be lumpy to the touch. And to have horrible gas.

Lumps live on

Nanna's passing brought with it the end of fetching, the end of stick chasing, the end of the snoring dog. There is no more squirrel chasing, no heavy dog head, pressing against your knee and drooling while you sit on the couch, just waiting for you to glance down and catch a glimpse of the quick and low tail wag, and finally turn off the TV so we can go in the back yard and play.

And, so I thought, the end the of lumps. WRONG.

Recently, three suspicious lumps have popped up on Ozzy's not entirely lump-free body. In his 11 years, he's had two lumps. One was surgically removed, and the other was deemed benign and continues to chill on his ribcage. So I guess, historically, he's got a 50/50 chance that the vet will simply poke him with a needle and hand us a bill, and we won't have to discuss surgery or treatment options. We'll see in a few hours.

BBQ Sunday

Thank goodness for marriage. If it wasn't for marriage, Max and I wouldn't have flow to Brooklyn last April for my brother's wedding to a lovely girl from St. Louis. If we hadn't attended said wedding, we'd never have tasted the amazing BBQ that was served at the reception. Had we not tasted the aforementioned BBQ, we'd never have had the discussion about how much we LOVE barbecue with the bride's parents. And if we'd never had that conversation with the extra super fantastic couple from St. Louis, they wouldn't have found it necessary to send us an amazingly generous box of barbecue which we are currently preparing in our kitchen.

And that, dear friends, would have been a tragedy.

Turns out I wasn't ready

God bless Dramamine.

I'm Ready (nearly)

Well, I've got a carry on bag full of tiny toys wrapped and tied with ribbons, about four pounds of jelly beans and m&m's, and two ziplock bags full of goldfish and pretzels. I've downloaded Finding Nemo and Monters, Inc. to my iPhone, and I've got shiny red toenails. I'm ready for a vacation to sunny Portland! That's right, sunny. I used to love those hot Oregon summers, and I can't wait to spend a few days complaining about the heat with two of the best people I know (plus a couple of cute little toddlers). All I have to do now is get through the airport and plane ride without losing my shit. Whee!

Missing the girl

I've really been missing Nanna this week. Thanks to a crazy busy pace of life, I've been able to pretty much ignore the space left by her passing. I can just chalk Ozzy's increasingly troublesome behavior up to the fact that he is an increasingly troublesome dog, and pretend that my best doggie friend didn't die three months ago. But every so often, usually at dusk, when the sky is half dark blue and half pale orange, it just comes back--all at once. Heavily. Then she'll show up in a dream or two, or I'll read an old blog post about her...it's just not fair. And now I'm feeling all mopey.

Time to fly

While Max heads to Wyoming this weekend for a business trip, the kiddo and I are off to Portland to visit our peeps, both toddler sized and full grown. The flight to Portland is less than 2 hours, and it's the only one Samson and I have done solo before. Of course, last time, he was still in a Baby Bjorn. But this time, I'll have videos on my iPhone. Hooray for technology!

I'm the mommy, that's why

Samson's first three-word sentence:

"Bye-bye, duck shoe."

Nice try, kiddo. You'll be wearing duck feet for as long as I can physically overpower you or emotionally blackmail you. That is, you'll be wearing duck feet forever.

Add it up

This is my 700th post on ESF. Like, wow, man. Another fun fact: ESF will be 5 years old next month. If this blog were a kid, it would be starting kindergarten in the fall. Also, it would be named Horace.

700 posts. I feel like this post should have some real substance to it, something worthy of such a milestone-ish event. However, it is more likely that it will reference something cute the kid has done, maybe have a photo of said cute kid, and you will leave disappointed and never return. Such is life.

So I bought the kid a pair of slippers today, and they are duck feet. How awesome is that! So, combined with his super hero pajamas, I give you: Bat Duck.



Now, as a gift to me on this the day of my 700th blog post, please ignore the mess in the picture. I really need to be tidying up the house instead of writing on my blog, ha ha.

They'll fry your cat and put it on a stick if you ask nicely

To celebrate the birthday of this great nation, we booked our flight out to the Midwest to visit the Richmans in Minneapolis--also known as the PLACE WHERE THEY HAVE THE MINNESOTA STATE FAIR. Is there anything more patriotic than a giant vegetable contest or a deep fried Twinkie? No, there is not.

We also partook in a more traditional method of celebration, the preparing and eating of much foodstuffs. While it was mainly a grilling-and-beer sort of weekend, the baking arts were also well represented. Friends from San Diego came to visit, bearing the Greatest Pecan Pie ever, and I fell under the annual spell of ripe peaches at the supermarket and whipped up a Paula Deen peach cobbler. Because, you know, butter runs through my veins.

We made it out to pancake breakfast, but couldn't keep the kiddo awake long enough for fireworks--maybe next year. We did manage to fit in a trip to the beach on Sunday morning, as evidenced by the wet and (more than a little) stinky dog who spent the afternoon lounging in the sun in the backyard. I'm going to call it a successful holiday weekend all around.

Whoops

Oh, crap. I almost let another week go by without posting. because I've been so, eh, busy. yes. Ahem.

Max was out of town last week, we went to Tahoe with the Whittens over the weekend, and now I'm counting the days until the holiday weekend (one). Swim lessons, playgroups, lunch dates with Grandma, and lots and lots and LOTS of yard work.

Whew! I'm exhausted just typing about it.