Crumb-y

When I was little I ate my peas in pairs. I imagined that if one went down the hatch he or she would be lonely and afraid, but if it had a buddy it wouldn't be so bad.

At age four I probably should have seen a counselor after watching "Dumbo". The scene where he is outside his mother's cage, in the rain while she swings him in the bend of her trunk...warped my soul irrevocably. Sometimes, randomly I think about how Buzz and Woody will eventually be sold in a garage sale. I have always had a bleeding heart for things that don't really deserve it.

Well, I got rid of my dog Raisin last week because he pees on everything. He was permanently banished to the backyard. It will be getting chilly soon and that was a problem because Hitler's moustache had more hair than Raisin. But I put my foot down. Raisin was not coming back in the house. He lived in the downstairs shower on really hot days as it was. Not the greatest life for a dog. So we found him a new home. Trouble is, everything feels crumb-y now.

Apparently Raisin ate every morsel of everything that even thought about falling on the floor. Now every time a cheerio crunches under my un-pedicured heel, or every time a shard of a Dorito stabs my foot, I think of Raisin. That thought of him leads to more thoughts. Does he feel rejected? Does he miss us? Is he wandering the streets looking for our house?

I watched "Marley and Me" last weekend with my husband, who by the way thinks my heart is made of the most vile, poisonous , icy stone imaginable for what I've insisted on. Let's just say that is NOT the movie to watch after you give your dog the shaft. There was a scene in which the mom had had it with her dog's shenanigans and told the husband to take him to a naughty dog farm. After a couple of days, she apologized and and rescinded her threat. Then at the end of the movie, there was a heart warming montage of pictures and music depicting the long and fulfilling life they shared with their dog. I almost drowned in the tidal wave of "I told you so" that silently poured off of my huz.

I wanted to post a sort of memorial, good -bye raisin photo, but the only photo I could find off hand was one where my husband was standing in the bedroom and Raisin was on the bed (oh my gosh Nic is going to kill me) and somehow the way Raisin's head was with his long nose and huge bat ears superimposed the perfect dog head speedo on my husband. It was the most amazing random photo, but I can't very well post it here.

So, I'm still not sure I did the right thing. The facts: Raisin peed on everything. He's too naked to live outside. I gave away my little doggy. Sigh. I just don't know. Good bye Raisy-boy. I miss you. Sort of..

Rare Leathers

My husband is a big fan of AXE products. He thinks they can do no wrong. I privately wonder if it is because each container has a picture of a confident dude flanked by two curvaceous beauties? That image so reminds me of the mudflaps on an 18 wheeler...you know the ones with the voluptuous chick who is writhing in her own attractiveness? Yeah, I think that's why he buys these products. He loves to find non-serious ways to be piggy. Let me share with you what his latest bottle of body wash says:

"AXE instinct shower gel. The masculine scent of rare leathers in AXE Instinct arouses your animal magnetism. Use Axe and instinctively act as nature intended...How Dirty Boys Get Clean."

Yeah, if the devil made body wash, this would be it and my husband would buy it.

So this morning I stopped him and said, "Who wants to smell like rare leather anyway?"

And what constitutes "rare leather?" So we commenced a show down on who could come up with the rarest leather.
Me: Ostrich Skin?
Him: Lizard Belly.
Me: Rat Pelt.
Him: Moose armpit.
Me: Chicken feet.
Him: Ant shoulder.
Me: That's not a leather!

I love my husband. I love his indestructible male confidence. When he comes in sweaty and I tell him to go shower, he says: "I know it's hard for you to resist my natural musk". So I guess it's a win win for me in the smell department. I can enjoy his "natural musk" or try my luck at beating off the women when he cleans himself with "rare leathers". I'm a lucky lady.