I took Sammy to the groomers-something I do once a year when I get sick of finding little bits of mulch on my carpet that gets dragged in on his fur. They asked me at the pet spa (really?? spa??) what I would like for dear Sammy and I said, “Just do whatever you want.” Honestly, I can’t answer a question coherently anymore this summer. I am asked 500 questions a day (one day I will keep track and do a post of all the questions I am asked a day) and I can’t think straight-I don’t want to think straight when it comes to decisions about a dog’s fur.
He looks like a drowned rat. It is not pretty, you can tell he is so embarrassed that I am blasting his pic all over the internet can’t you? I told him what I tell everyone around here when they receive a bad haircut-“Hair grows back, you’ll be fine, get over it.”
At the pet SPA, I saw a piece of paper on the bulletin board that said, “Would you like a memento of your cat or dog? Keep your cat of dog’s fur clipping and I will turn them into a sweater or purse for you.”
I’m not kidding. Yes it was early in the morning, and yes my brain is fried from summer questions, and yes my vision is blurry from sleeping in my contacts every night, but I saw that ad with my own eyes. I went home and told Abbey about it and we both gagged and laughed at the same time and I told her I was going to buy her a new purse for her 17th birthday made from Sammy’s fur, and maybe the part where the fur had a little poop stuck in it won’t get into the purse, or maybe it will.
GROSS, GROSS GROSS.
Let’s move onto cute:
Do you think Janey might be teething?
Isaac desperate enough for chocolate chip cookies he actually makes them himself.
Patrick said, “Mmm, yum, fruit salad. Can I have some? But not the orange stuff.”
Poor Andrew. On Sunday, he was elbowed in the eye playing basketball on the trampoline. He thought his eye was gouged out, and the way he screamed, “OWWW!! My eye, my eye, my eye is gouged out! I am blind! It hurts so bad! I’m hurt, owwwww!!!!“, I thought his eye was gouged out also. I pried his hand away, and found that he was OK, eye intact, just a little red.
Then on Monday, he was hit in the nose with a golf club by another brother. (Both injuries were accidents.) And I thought he broke his nose and needed stitches. Because he yelled at the top of his lungs, “My NOSE, my NOSE, it’s broken, I’m gushing blood, my NOSE, I can’t breathe, I broke my NOSE. HELP!!!!“
And I thought we were heading off to the ER and instead I found a little cut and it must have hurt but for goodness sakes alive child, are you trying to kill me with adrenaline overload?
I told him just to call out that he was injured and save his diagnosis for the experts (that would be me.)
Here is Jeff and Patrick (the golf club swinger) acting out how to avoid golf club injuries:
The cicadas are out and making more noise then ever, and I LOVE that sound of summer. I know many of my friends do not-it signifies the middle of summer, or closer to back to school time. I love summer, you know that, but I also love back to school time. I love the sound the cicadas make in the evening-my favorite time of the day. I love the warmth and smell of August, when some of the little leaves start to dry up and fall, and the grass gets crinkly.