The Blonde Leading the Blind

They’re Just Babies
April 1, 2009, 8:13 pm
Filed under: The Disaster Twins | Tags: , ,

So, while I’m already on the topic of sappy dog stories…

I just realized that I’d been taking pictures for the past few days sans memory stick in the camera.  Turns out you can only take about seventeen shots before all of your internal memory is completely used and your camera will barely turn on.

Ordinarily, I’d just huff back inside muttering something about why do these kind of things only happen when Spider-Husband is gone and who in the hell put the camera back on the table without a memory stick in it, but today, I found a treasure trove that was good enough to keep my passive aggressive fit all to myself…

These so cool, didn’t know we even had these, adorable shots of the two best baby Chow Shepherds in the land.



This was back in the day when the Disaster Twins could actually lay on Doggy Daddy’s coat without fear of a serious scolding.


Oh, what a difference a couple years make, eh?



They’re still just babies…just a little larger babies than they used to be.


Fence Me In

Spider-Husband and I have contemplated getting a fence ever since the first winter of Chow-Chow, where the Blonde family spent many a midnight fighting off frostbite and questioning why we thought getting dogs was a good idea while the Disaster Twins took turns circling around the yard looking for that one special spot where the serious business could be done.  And, while the circling patterns have differed and the spots may have changed through the years, our fear of hypothermia and cursing through our clattering teeth has not.  

But, still we have endured.

Well, until this spring, when the rest of our phase of the subdivision is being finished, including the building of a new house that sits behind our lot and will soon contain a home whose back corner is approximately six feet from our property line.  ‘Cause really…who needs a backyard?  Thus, Spider-Husband has spent the past few weeks obtaining building permits, getting cost estimates, scheduling survey appointments, and picking out the perfect post toppers for our latest unexpected investment.

Last Friday was the big day.  Spider-Husband took the day off since I was in Boston for a business trip, which is probably for the best since I’m sure I would have had a meltdown when forced to hand over the credit card to pay for the little project.  And, I admit as I drove home from the Indianapolis airport, I was still a little uneasy about spending the money, worried that we’d made the wrong decision, and frustrated that we even felt like we needed a fence because of someone else’s decision to build as close to the property lines as possible.




I swear I had a hot flash of maternal pride – something like I imagine a parent must feel when they see their child doing something that makes them truly happy for the very first time.

Oh, Hal.  Oh, Bard.  You made Mommy’s day.

Who’s Watching the Watchmen?
March 8, 2009, 9:27 pm
Filed under: The Adventures, The Blonde, The Flicks, The Husband | Tags: , ,

Had Spider-Husband and I written our own vows for our wedding day, his list would no doubt have included a “to attend opening weekend of all comic book-based films and to strive to understand the deeper symbolism and life lessons bestowed upon us by the hardships endured by superheroes everywhere” somewhere in the text…probably right after the whole loving and cherishing stuff.  So it was with great excitement and the standard distrust my husband, the Marvel man, reserves for all things DC that we headed to a matinee showing of the long-awaited “Watchmen” release this weekend.

Potential spoiler alert…aka a tidbit someone could have let me in on in before the film started.

Watch men, indeed.  Coulda’ named the movie “Watch Billy Crudup‘s Glowing Blue Penis at 2000 Times It’s Natural Size” and given us all a little heads up, so to speak, so that one could at least brace themselves before seeing that bad boy light up the big screen.  In all fairness, it’s not as if I came unprepared.  And, a prude I am not.  I read reviews.  I knew the film barely qualified for its “R” rating.  I was ready for the extreme acts of violence.  And, I’d even vowed not to wince when “Hey! Isnt’ that Denny from Grey’s Anatomy?” gets snuffed in the opening scene.  But, Dr. Manhattan’s member dangling in my face for over 160 minutes…well, let’s just say I didn’t see that coming.

Apparently neither did the multiple families in the theater, who after seeing the very dark previews on TV coupled with the big ol’ “No one under the age of 17 admitted without a parent or guardian” rating, still thought this was the perfect family film to take their grade-school children to on a nice Saturday afternoon.  Seriously.  It did provide interesting pre-movie banter for Spider-Husband and me as we laid out our bets for how many shootings, assaults, and graphic murders it would take before Mom or Dad ran out of the theater rapidly dragging their horrified 8-year-olds along by the arm.  Had we know real-live penis was involved, we  definitely would have upped the stakes.  But, as it turns out, there are few things in this world that would cause a Midwestern Mom and Dad in the middle of an economic recession to sacrifice that eight-buck-a-head cost of admission.  Not even a big blue dick. Every single one of ’em rode it out.  To the end, baby.  Seriously.

So in summary…fantastic opening credit sequence, graphic violence, penis, penis, very intriguing plot line, random violence, more graphic violence, penis, penis, the plot continues to thicken, penis, gratuitous violence, penis, whoa – didn’t see that coming, penis AND violence, penis, bizarre plot twist, outright human destruction, subtle violence, penis, penis, penis, and rockin’ cover of Bob Dylan’s “Desolation Row” to close the show. So, really, how can you go wrong with a plot line like that?

Who’s watching the “Watchmen”, you ask?

It’s totally me.  Couldn’t look away, even if I’d tried.

For Crying Out Loud
March 6, 2009, 10:44 pm
Filed under: The Adventures, The Blonde, The Job | Tags: ,

Ending your Friday in tears as you drive home is always a great way to start a weekend.

It’s been a really stressful few weeks, and by about 4:45 p.m. this afternoon, my strength had just waned too far.  Hi, my name is the Blonde, and I’m a crier.  OK, so that’s a lie.  Truthfully, I’m a loud, foul-mouthed, passive-aggressive, who when too stressed, really upset, or truly angry, would prefer to unleash a tidal-wave- sized tirade of snarky comments infused with lots of witty barbs and choice curse words that would make your always inappropriate cousin Earl totally blush.

But…of course, that’s just not how we do things in a quasi-civilized society.  So instead, I keep most of my emotions in check, and when the shell starts to crack, I cry.

I cry because I can’t remember to do anything anymore unless I write it down, which means a lot of things have just gone undone lately.

I cry because my workspace is in total chaos as I move from one location to another and can’t find anything I need anywhere, nor the couple hours of free time I need to just get it done.

I cry because things have been unsettled at work since Christmas, and I can’t remember what it feels like for things to be normal.

I cry because I’m neglecting my blog, my books, and other things that bring me peace, because I’m trying to live healthier and cook at home, and pack my breakfast and lunch, and take the dogs for walks, and workout every day.

I cry because I know if I don’t neglect these things, I’ll never have to the chance to do the one thing I want most.

I cry because my job responsibilities are changing, and while I’m excited to have new opportunities and to work with new colleagues on new projects, I’m heartbroken about no longer being a part of the team of people that have made my job rock for the past three years.

I cry because it’s only two months before we leave for our dream vacation, and I’ve not been disciplined enough to meet one single goal I set for myself.

I cry because I feel guilty at how my feeling overwhelmed and stressed out impacts my family.

I cry because I can’t stop crying.

And when I can no longer feel my heart flip-flopping like a fish in my chest, my pulse pounding in my temples, and my mind running through the virtually endless checklist of all the things I’ve left undone, I stop.

And tomorrow is a brand new day.

Happy Cupid Day

Take one Nicholas Sparks-inspired romantic tragedy with a plot line jumping from a chance encounter at a remote seaside inn to wild horses to botched plastic surgery to Ecuadorian mudslides to, wait, “isn’t that the Green Goblin’s son?”, and back.

Add a so-horrible-it’s-hysterical mockumentary starring Bruce Campbell, of Old Spice and Evil Dead fame, battling it out with Guan-di, the ancient protector of bean curd, to save the townsfolk of Gold Lick, Oregon.

Don’t forget a couple of Taco Bell value meals.

Best. Valentine’s Day. Ever.

Yes, we have become those kind of people.

Superbowl Sunday
February 10, 2009, 7:47 pm
Filed under: The Adventures, The Disaster Twins, The Family | Tags: , , , ,

So, I realize it’s well over a week past the Superbowl and that no one is particularly concerned with what the Blonde family did to mark the momentous occasion.

But, my totally-on-her-game mother-in-law was kind enough to pick up the much-hyped 3D glasses for the “Monsters vs. Aliens” halftime preview that I managed to forget on three subsequent trips to the grocery store.  And, all she asked in return was the promise of a least one picture with all four of us all geared up for the Monstrous 3D Event…which everyone knows is the only reason I agreed to watch the game in the first place this year.

This little gem is all yours, Connie. 

Superbowl Trents

That’s a fine piece of photo composition there, eh?  

Spider-Husband was able to snag a halfway decent shot of the three of us which may or may not have been, in part, possible thanks to the wonders of Scotch packing tape.  I’m just saying.

Superbowl Chows and their Mom

And, lest Halas and Lombardi be the only hounds humilated in this post, I give you their canine cousin, Noah, or as his Aunt Blonde likes to call him “No, No”, who scored a touchdown of his own…

Superbowl Noah

…then headed immediately upstairs to take a celebratory whiz all over the Blonde’s freshly washed comforter and sheets.

It was a Super Sunday, indeed.

25 Random Things About Me
January 29, 2009, 8:08 pm
Filed under: The Blonde | Tags: ,

Ahhhh!  I’ve been tagged.

You Facebook groupies know what I’m talking about the “25 Random Things About Me” meme that you can’t help but get sucked into after seeing that random coworkers and classmates you haven’t seen in fifteen years have been tagged by other random coworkers and classmates you haven’t seen in fifteen years.  I’ve been dodging for days, then boom, out of nowhere – my friend Uncommon Al, and, gasp, Spider-Husband caught me – and twice in the same week no less.  And, since I actually like them both, I now must play along.

Rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you.

In completely random order:

1. I can walk you through the entire wastewater treatment process.  From the headwaters to the bioroughing towers to the release of effluent, I’ve seen it, I’ve smelt it, and on a few less than stellar moments, have stood in it.

2. I’m not exactly what you’d call an animal person, but today is not the first day that I’ve woken up to find a Shepherd Chow wedged in between me and Spider-Husband, head on the pillow and all, with another beast to my left licking my face like a Charms Blow Pop, and thought to myself, “These hounds totally rock.”

3. I was born during a tornado. I’m told my mother was saluted by a National Guardsman as she was wheeled down the hall toward delivery. He’s lucky she didn’t flip him off after enduring Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride to get to the hospital before I popped out.

4. When we were little, my sisters and I use to pretend like we were on The Love Boat and dating members of the crew. Christina was in love with Gopher.  Lynnette liked Isaac.  And, I had a thing for Doc.  Yes, Doc.  We used to smash potato chips on our bologna sandwiches and pretend like we were eating French cuisine on the Lido Deck, ’cause naturally foreign food is bound to be crunchy.  Duh.

5. I make an uncontrollable, obnoxious nonetheless, squeaking noise when I laugh too hard.

6. I was a double major in college – Journalism and History.

7. I once had a complete stranger ask me if my ass was store bought or homegrown, and to this day, I still have no clue what that means.  That’s probably for the best.

8. My mom is a total rock star.  Being a single mom, she gave up a lot over the years to make sure my brother and I had not just the things we needed, but also, the things we wanted.  And as I get older and realize what it means to be an adult with responsibilities beyond myself, that means a little more to me each day.  She is one of the kindest, funniest, and most amazing women I know, and I couldn’t be who I am today without having her help along the way.

9. I paper punched a hole in the bottom of my brother’s “Miami Mice” t-shirt when I was eleven just to see if a paper puncher would work on clothes.  It works surprisingly well.

10. My umbrella was destroyed while I walked to my American Lit final at Purdue in the pouring rain.  By the time I made it to the exam, I was soaked to the core, had mascara running down my face, and couldn’t stop shivering.  To  make matters worse, I reached up to wring my hair out only to discover that a bird had totally crapped in my hair.  Two hours later I turned in a soggy blue book with ink pen smears rendering most of my answers illegible and pigeon shit on the top left corner.  I got an”A”, so let that be a lesson unto all you youngsters out there.

11. I compulsively check my alarm clock before I go to bed at night and will only rely on my cell phone alarm to wake me up when I travel.

12. I have a thing for reality TV – Survivor, American Idol, Project Runway, America’s Next Top Model, Jon and Kate Plus 8, What Not to Wear – you name it, I’ve probably seen it.

13. I can’t stop myself from busting a move whenever I hear the Notorious B.I.G.’s “Hypnotize” – Biggie, Biggie, Biggie can’t you see?

14. I have a constant feeling of guilt for not forcing my dad to go to the hospital when he told me he’d been having really bad heartburn for a few weeks and needed to get a prescription for Pepcid like all his friends were taking. I giggled and told him it sucks to be an old man, then teased him about how grey his hair had gotten.  He died from a heart attack two days later.

15. I don’t like coffee or tea.

16. The last five songs I listened to on my iPod are: Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill”, 50 Cent’s “Hate It or Love It”, Cake’s “The Distance”, The Clash’s “Rock the Casbah”, and ABBA’s “Lay All Your Love on Me”.

17. Best concert ever:  Fleetwood Mac from the fourth row.

18. I have huge self-confidence issues, especially when it comes to how I look.

19. My Grandma traumatized me in college after sharing that she didn’t much care if Grandpa watched dirty movies “as long as it kept him off of her.”  Whoa! TMI, there Grandma. You can’t come back from something like that.

20. I can twirl a baton.

21. I never put much stock in fairy tale romances with white knights and love at first sight, damsels in distress, and fair princes that rush in to save the day.  My husband changed that.  And, boy, am I a believer.  Before we met, I was in a really bad place thinking some really bad thoughts, and out of nowhere, he appeared. He took a chance on a girl he barely knew and asked for a date he barely wanted.  We’ve been together ever since.

22. I like books. I mean I really, really like books.

23. I’ve broken the same ankle three times and not in glorious ways – tripping while carrying a watermelon at a special event I was running for work, falling in a pothole while walking back to my college dorm in the middle of the night, and perhaps the most embarassing, slipping on a wet ramp while trying to board a ride at the Indiana State Fair while on a date with the Spider-Husband-to-be.

24. I’ve planned all the landscaping for our yard, and I’ve done a bang up job, if I must say so myself. Take that Frank’s Nursery and Crafts.

25. My first car was a rusted out 1988 Ford Mustang with a leaky sunroof that I caulked completely shut after one too many trips to school with a towel draped over my head.  A little caulk goes a long way, sweetcheeks.