Paved with Good Intentions

So the experiment is on hold. Rush Limbaugh is on vacation this week. He announced this information on Friday by saying that the president is on vacation next week as well. And since Obama is clearly a pansy for needing a vacation after already having had a week of vacation, Rush thinks he might as well take one too. I was all ready to do some side-by-side comparisons. But it looks like it will have to wait until after Italy...

This Really Stinks!

Last night Brian and I let Reggie out around 9:30. We sat on the back steps peacefully watching him do his "business" and let him sniff around a little. All of sudden he takes off down the alley growling.

This is not unusual. You would think, by Reggie's actions, that the cats in our neighborhood are the greatest threat to safety and peace that our community has ever seen. Honestly. And he lives with two cats! But we would rather he not go chasing a cat around the block so we usually act pretty fast, yelling at him, "Come on Reggie, let's go in. REGGIE. GET OVER HERE!" And he responds fairly well and happily zips back into the house.

So this was the routine we followed last night when he ran into the alley growling. But as Brian and I went to follow Reggie into the house Brian said, "What's that smell?" It seems to me that "what's that smell" is never referring to the smell of baking bread or freshly picked flowers. Usually the reference is to something foul. And then the smell wafted to my nostrils. SKUNK.

And then the realization hit us. Our eyes met. I watched the horror sweep across his eyes...the same horror that was probably mirrored in my own eyes. It was no cat that Reggie chased down the alley. It was a skunk. Our little dog was in the house and we needed to find out if he had escaped the skunk's spray.

Upon walking into our house the scent that assailed our nostrils was more potent and vile than I had thought possible. We bent over to smell Reggie. We did not need to bend very far to be certain that he the smell torpedo had hit it's target.

I had heard horror stories of other dog owners whose dogs had been a little too curious with a small striped animal. I always worried that this could happen to us. We did not panic. There was no time for that though we would have liked to. We needed to move fast. We became an efficient crisis-management team. I shouted out commands.

1. I yelled at Brian to move the dog outside while I went to the Internet for instructions on handling this crisis. (I found an article walking me through the crisis step-by-step. I didn't read several articles to see what they said. I went with the first one. It seemed reliable.)
2. I began running bath water, opened windows, and plugged in an air freshener.
3. I then stripped down to little more than a pair of rubber gloves and told Brian to bring the dog in and deposit him in the tub.
4. I handed Brian the computer and told him to mix up the recipe for skunk-removal wash. (It involved hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap.)
5. We screamed about how horrid the house smelled, disbelieving how the 60 seconds Reggie had spent in the house had tainted our happy home beyond all reason.
6. I secured the area that had been sprayed on the dog and began washing it vigorously...all the while telling Reggie how bad he is.
7. Brian brings the mixture and we wash the aforementioned area with that as well.
8. Brian then removed the dog from the tub and dried him.
9. Reggie then did his happy I-just-had-a-bath dance and began running through the house totally unscathed.

We, in the mean time, are left with a house that smells like a mixture of burnt plastic and organic foulness. Every 20 minutes or so we would break down and start screaming about how bad it smells in this house! I made popcorn to try to cover the smell. Even that didn't work. Brian seems to have an especially weak constitution where the smell is concerned. When we finally head to bed Brian admits that he feels queasy. I ask if he's gonna throw up because I'm ready to boot him out of the bed. I can't handle cleaning up another disaster. Luckily he made it through the night.
Alas, when I awoke Brian had plugged in the little potpourri pot again, and the smell of skunk is clearly still present. And even though it's freezing in here (which is stupid because it's still August) the windows shall remain open until the stank too has passed.

We Report...You Decide

*I want everyone to know that the blog that follows has been written with a grand twinkle in my eye. I LOVE the friends I shall refer to and think diversity in beliefs is a wonderful thing.*

I have two friends who I enjoy immensely. We do not see eye to eye on politics. Let's face it, we don't see eye to knee on politics.

I loves me some NPR.

They loves them some Rush Limbaugh.

That pretty much sums it up. I think that NPR is fair and balanced, they think it's left-wing liberal propaganda. They think Rush is a great truth teller, I think he's a hate-spreading nut job. And basically...I think I'm right.

So we're always on each other about the information we've received from our various news sources - battling it out over "Obamacare" or gun control or foreign policy...you name it. So this week I had an idea. I challenged Terry to listen to NPR for one week and I'd listen to Rush for a week. (*Inhale Sharply* What have I just done?) He did not think he could go for a week without listening to Rush. (Oh for crying out loud.) So I said, fine. We'll both listen to Rush from 12:00-2:00 and then we'll switch to NPR for "Talk of the Nation". A better idea anyway so that we're both listening to the same discussions. Felicia agreed to join us as well. My goal in this experiment is to get a better sense about where the other person is coming from rather than just having heated debates every time we're together.

Also, I'd like to convert them into NPR fans. There. I said it. It's not a totally altruistic experiment. I want to bring them over from the dark side.

So yesterday, listening to Rush, I learned what a "waitress sandwich" is (in reference to something Ted Kennedy once did in a restaurant with another man and a waitress). I also discovered that, technically, the health care plan being proposed by the Obama administration is not socialist. It's fascist.

And then I switched to NPR and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Terry called me later to check in on the experiment. I listened to 1.5 hours of Rush. He listened to 20 minutes of NPR!!! He said he couldn't handle it. It was too boring. Hmmm...you mean boring because there aren't people ranting and raving - rather they are carrying on conversations in a rational and intelligent manner? Yeah. I guess I can see how that might be boring to some.

But the experiment continues. Currently it's eight minutes till Rush.

I can't wait to see what I learn today!

Baby Come Back

It is just shocking to me that I haven't blogged since May 13! And I have a list of blogs just waiting to be written. Why haven't I blogged? Let's see...

1. Piano Recital - Held on May 16 for my piano students. A lot of work but a great day. And I had the brilliant idea that I should prepare a piano piece also for the recital, serving to make it an even more nerve-wracking day.
2. London Calling - A week long trip to England with my great travel companion, Heather.
3. Blues Fest - One weekend spent in Chicago with my sister and her family, sitting in the park, listening to Blues, having an awesome time.
4. Pork Tastes Good - One week spent pig-sitting a baby pot-belly pig, which Brian fell head-over-heels in love with.
5. Cubs Game - The next weekend, also in Chicago, attending a stellar Cubs game.
6. Preach it Sister - I prepared, and preached, my second sermon on June 28. All my creative writing juices went to that project.
7. Breathe and Be Filled - A week long trip to Columbus, OH with 12 teenagers to attend the Mennonite Church USA biennial convention. I breathed. I was filled. It was great.

I think things should settle down a little bit now. But it has been a GOOD 1.5 months since my last blog.
Except today I have to go to the dentist again. Hopefully another angry blog will not have to follow. Ugh.

Blowing Through the Jasmine in my Mind

I love summer. I love every hot, humid moment. The other day I was outside working and I had sweat behind my knees and I was so happy I almost passed out. I always anticipate the summer like a small child who can't stand the wait until their birthday. There are all these first momentous moments that tell me it's getting closer; the first time I wear flip-flops, the first time I wear shorts, the first time I open the sun roof in the car...all telling me that hope springs eternal.

It has turned out to be a stellar spring. I decided that the first weekend in May was my "opening summer weekend." It was the perfect blend of fun activities and productivity that make a summer weekend perfect. (i.e. yard work, garage cleaning, car cleaning, a baseball game in Fort Wayne, a bonfire, a knit-in, shopping for outdoor furniture...) Mix that up with the perfect weather and you have a weekend that makes life worth living.

Making this spring even more special is that for the first time, Brian and I have a back yard that we enjoy spending time in. I love being outdoors as much as possible but our backyard didn't really have space for relaxing and was just kinda - yick! - even though I tried and tried to make it inviting. So last summer began the big patio make-over...which took the entire summer and meant that our back yard was even more of a disaster than ever before. We got it done just in time for the winter. Here are some before and during pictures...so you can see the mess that we lived with last summer.

So this spring it's like we woke up to a whole new backyard! We purchased a few items for the empty patio and now - voila! - a backyard that makes us not ever want to go inside to vacuum or do anything else that needs to be done. Here are the preliminary results. It's still a work in progress.

We drag a radio outside and chill at the table eating (I have declared that we shan't eat in doors until November) or we have a fire in our little fire pit and all is right with the world. And the piece de resistance:

Brian was all talking smack to me about how cheesy I was when I showed up at the cash register with my package of white lights for the umbrella (he also thought I was ridiculous for not choosing one color for the patio table chairs but getting one of each). But, he faithfully strung those lights up like a champ, and these lights make our patio completely festive, like we're on vacation every moment that we're back there. So until we get our dream house out in the country, I am completely content, more than that, really happy right where we are.

My Crowning Glory

I've had my share of issues with the aging process, but I feel like I've learned to embrace it fairly well. I've even watched those gray hairs pop up in my dark brown hair with increasing frequency, and, after the initial falling-to-my-knees, weeping, and asking-God-"why me?" jag, I've been completely fine with them. Really, I want to grow old gracefully, embrace my gray hair like those really cool earthy (a.k.a. hippie) moms with their salt and pepper pony tails and containers of home made hummus they bring to the park for their childrens' snack. Gray hairs? Whatever. You can take your shame inducing tendencies and bury them in a box. My gray hairs will serve as my badge of honor showing how mature and independent I am. Not vain at all. Not me.

But I'll fess up. I've been fine with those grays because, for the most part, they stay concealed under my still-brown curtain of hair. Most of them reside on the right side of my head, kind of level with the top of my ear. So they get lost in the rest of my hair. But I know they're there and they don't bother me a bit. (Remember, the badge of honor bit.) My hair stylist, Jason, constantly wants to flip my hair and part it on the other side. And I'm all, dude, that is where the hot bed of grays lie. Don't uncover them! The oxygen will probably make them multiply. But I go home, flip my hair back, safely covering the evidence of my lost youth. (And don't get me wrong, Jason is the best stylist I've ever been with. He just wants me to appear old evidently.)

And then the real kicker ocurred. One night while getting ready to head out, there it stood in the mirror. Staring back at me was one lone gray hair standing proudly IN THE MIDDLE OF MY PART. This one declared war. This one said, "Who are you trying to kid lady? You can't hide us forever you old hag." I feel differently about this lone ranger. He'll inevitably need a kemo sabe.

And so now, I don't know how I feel about the salt and pepper ponytail mom anymore. She seems so cliche. Do I dye the hair, pluck the hair, accept the hair? I've never thought of myself as vain but...I guess I think this blog is about me.

New Layout

Alright folks, here is my new layout...which I spent close to three hours (or what felt like at least 18 hours) trying to figure out how to put in place. And while I like it, it's not the one at the top of my list necessarily, it's just the ONLY ONE THAT WOULD WORK. I can not begin to tell you how much I have come to hate anything with "xml" in it because all I get are errors and I don't understand code and I should never have started messing with it in the first place. But then it became a mission and I was determined to not be defeated. However, after succeeding, I still feel defeated.

And I have not been updating here as much as I should. I feel guilty but then I remind myself that this is supposed to be for fun. But Brian and I finally have a patio we enjoy sitting on and Indiana has finally released it's icy grip on winter - thus, my time has been spent outside. And somehow dragging the laptop outside with me sort of feels like I'm defeating the purpose of being out there. I guess it's all about balance. I'll try to post some entries in the next few days in case anyone wants to know what's been going around the Showalter house.

Happy Mother's Day to All!!!