Second Verse same as the first...

Sooooooo....

This'll probably be a long one so feel free to go pour yourself some coffee or tea and settle on in. Go ahead. I'll wait.


All set? Okay.

First of all, I've been remiss in not showing off my latest Baby Bootie Accomplishments. This update can't be totally complete because what I'm about to show you prompted a significant redesign, but - so be it.

About two weeks ago, I invited a friend of mine over with her 6 month old baby. The baby was adorable, it was good to see my friend, and despite her mortification when the little one peed on our couch - it was a good time had by all. My ulterior motive was to try out as many baby booties on that little baby's feet as possible before our time ran out. You see, I drift in and out of my fondness for making these baby booties - and one of my nagging doubts has been will these actually FIT on a baby?? I mean, yes. They're shaped like feet. But how big are baby feet anyway? And would someone actually be able to put these on baby feet without Crisco and a crowbar? or worse, will they slip right off without the assistance of ever attractive Duct tape?

This was a very important moment of truth.


And actually, the modeling went quite well. Now I have tons of pictures of little chubby baby legs with little tiny baby booties to demonstrate the wearability of my products.


At first it was difficult getting them on her feet - but my learning curve is sharp and especially after some lunch, she was much more amenable to being a foot model.


The next three are my favorites:



Bonus points for the fact that she couldn't take them off herself.


Regardless, I'd like them to go on a little easier - so I redesigned the Bootie so that the opening is much bigger, but it has a front tongue which will either velcro or button on to the rest of the body and therefore keep the bootie on the foot. I'm still experimenting and I'll have to find another 3-6 month old to use as a guinea pig... I mean model.

In other news, we took Dexter to a park this weekend. Greg's been taking Dexter for walks at night and the other day he revealed to me that if it's late and the tennis court in the middle of this nearby park is completely empty, he'll close all the gates and let the dog loose. Greg lit up telling me how much fun Dexter had and how very FAST he is.

I swear I took no pleasure in telling Greg that this was probably illegal and either park officials or the POLICE would certainly not take a shining to a dog running madly around a public tennis court off leash.

Feeling bad about having quashed a good exercise and bonding activity for the two of them, I pushed for Greg to contact Animal Friends about the use of one of their fenced in fields. Apparently you can rent a half an hour of field time for $5. We see this as a bargain.

We immediately reserved half an hour on Sunday evening (their available hours are sort of weird, but whatever). We packed beach chairs and water, the camera, my ipod, portable speakers, dog toys, poop bags, and hats. Of course it was sort of chilly and overcast, but that didn't prevent this:


Apparently, he is fast.


And he can easily outrun Greg.



He was one happy, tired dog. Who knew it would make him deliriously happy just to run? Personally, I hate running. Anyway. We figured out one type of breed that's NOT in his pedigree. He is NOT a retriever. He'll run all over kingdom come and he loves having someone run around like a maniac with him - he even enjoys watching someone throw a ball or a frisbee (the soft kind that wouldn't hurt his teeth!) - but he will not actually pick up said thrown object, let alone consider bringing it back.

I've seen dogs leap into the air and catch frisbees and bring them back ... how do you get that? How does that happen? It seems to me it would be an innate drive to catch and retrieve. *sigh* It makes me a little sad.

Then again, seeing him pause all the way across the field, catch sight of me, and then come barreling towards me at the speed of light was heart warming, right up until that terror inducing moment when I was convinced he would be barreling straight through me and I was a goner.... except that instead he would either screech to a halt or skid around me. It aged me a little, but I'm sure it was worth it.

Now comes the moment when I tell you that Dexter has relieved every single stuffed animal he has of all of their innards - he's even turned two of them inside out just to be sure. He's severed all limbs. He's decapitated all heads. --- Except one. He's chewed off only one ear of this little puppy/rat thing, instead of completely destroying it, he carries it all over the house and cuddles with it. I would think of him as entirely adorable if I hadn't come home to this on Friday:


Looks sort of strange right - what's all that white stuff on the stairs? You see... that's what I thought. So I walked closer and the situation snapped into clarity.


That's his bed. We bought him this bed the night we adopted him. He slept in it that night. No matter where we put the bed at night, at some point during the day he carries it to the staircase landing. I guess he was honing the ritual till its slaughter.


It's nice that he turned it back over so as to hid the real gutting, but I caught on. I asked him repeatedly why he would want to destroy his own bed, but he played dumb and refused to answer.

What could we even do about it? It's his bed, we can't take it away from him. I will not buy him a new bed, because I will not be an enabler. If he wants to destroy his current possessions, I can't stop him. And yes - we were doing the frozen peanut butter kong thing!!! He STILL chose to mangle the foam.

We cleaned up the pieces and moved the bed. I thought the slaughter was over. I mean, you have to admit that bed is pretty slaughtered.

Apparently not, because this is what I found on Monday:



Yep. It's been double slaughtered.


The poor dog bed is now only the mere suggestion of a dog bed. I'm torn between doing something drastic like grounding him till after prom, or congratulating him because - for all I know - the dog bed had it coming. Maybe the whole sleeping-in-the-bed thing was a keep your friends close keep your enemies closer tactic.

All I know for sure is foamy dog beds will NOT be tolerated in our household. So says Dexter.


We also watched Marley and Me last night for the first time. I won't spoil any thing, but suffice it to say that (Despite the fact that Dexter is not allowed on furniture) it ended with Greg and I on the couch clutching each other, bawling, and holding Dexter across our laps. And Greg can now no longer deny that he is offically and whole-heartedly a dog person.