Warning: This post gets messy

Zoe has a problem. You see, she produces enough slobber for about 6 very large dogs. Basically, she has no control over whatever makes saliva, so I spend a lot of time going around cleaning up her slobber. I prefer cleaning Gus's hair. Anyways, the drooling gets particularly out of control during her's and BJ's feeding ritual. In his never-ending attempt to turn this bad dog into a good dog, BJ makes Zoe lay down before she can have her breakfast, lunch, or dinner. For a food-obsessed dog like Zoe, this is the very definition of torture, and as she waits for the go-ahead from the ultimate alpha-dog, BJ, she can't help but drool gallons. I, of course, find the whole torturing and dominance battle entertaining. Did I mention that I have no life.

Anyways, her is a picture of Zoe in those moments of torment while the food is right in front of her, yet so very far away.


Let's get a closer look at that saliva action.


Sometimes it bubbles. Is that too much information?


Considering I now have at least three blog post in which we are tormenting Zoe, I think I should probably take a break from Zoe posts before PETA finds me. Which of course means, (since, as I mentioned earlier, I have no life) my next post will most likely be concerning Gus.

Tony has always been very reliable. I know that he will be at the back door every morning when I let Gus out, and I know that he'll be mewing at the front door everyday when I get home from work.

Unfortunately, for the past week, he hasn't been at either place. We found out from our neighbor that Tony was killed by a car last week.

It feels weird not having Tony around. I walked to the cat food section the other day by habit only to remember I don't need cat food anymore.

Of course, Tony was the type of pet who would not have approved of me being all sappy upon his passing. He was a really horrible cat, and he was proud of that. Zoe has scars to prove that he was tougher than dogs. He was also smarter than dogs, but then again, Gus and Zoe are idiots, so the competition wasn't very steep in our house.

The oddest thing about his passing is that we no longer have Sienna or Tony, the pets we started our marriage with. Right as we are starting a new phase in life, we've lost one of the main symbols in my mind of our first years together.

And now we are left with just Gus and Zoe. Gus, the lovable mutt who is pretty much just fluff and goodness, and Zoe, the Great Dane who daily spreads cheer and saliva, but mostly saliva. Our child is coming into a interesting family, and now that Tony has gone to that place in the sky where there is an endless supply of tuna, he or she is probably coming into a safer family as well.

A Moment of Cheese

This morning, BJ and I heard our baby's heartbeat. It was without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Grinning, our doctor said, "That just sounds so good, you don't ever want to stop listening." Exactly.

Frustration Abounds

Occasionally, by brother's incredible absent-mindedness can become very troublesome to me. This week, it has truly been a thorn in my side.

I've been having one of those weeks where I just need to talk with my brother. I'm used to having pretty much unlimited access to him, so I typically talk to him on the phone several times a day. I know. It seems a bit excessive, but that's how we roll. Anyways, last weekend, he went home for Easter, and if you know me brother, you know that he never goes home without forgetting something (this is a quirk I happen to share). So this time, he forgot his phone charger. Usually, he would have a back-up with his car phone charger, but guess what? He forgot that one in Menard several months ago and has yet to remember it.

Now, living in these modern times, we have other back-up plans. My family uses Skype for special occasions, such as birthdays, so we decided to get on Skype last night. Immediately after logging on, I knew something was wrong. While he could hear me just fine, all I could catch was a syllable here and there from him. After both fiddling with our computers for 10 to 15 minutes, he typed this in the IM section: "I dropped some books on my web cam earlier." First off, yeah, that could be the problem. Secondly, who breaks their webcam by dropping books on it? Seriously, who does that?

So after three days of not really talking, I'm going through some serious withdrawals. Hopefully, his charger comes in the mail today, because I have a whole slew of random, meaningless, and border-line inappropriate things to say, and he is pretty much the only person willing to listen to me. Yes, let us all hope that charger comes in today.

Zoe and the Mystery of Passing Gas

Zoe is an idiot of a dog. She is seriously just not smart.

Not long after we got Zoe, we discovered just how stupid she can be in a rather odd way. We had known for a while that she was scared of her own gas. Every time she had a little toot, she would start running in circles sniffing her rear end and generally freaking out. But what really made us aware of her stupidity happened one day while playing Wii. BJ was having a bad game of golf, and after a particularly disappointing round, he unthinkingly made a tooting-type sound with his mouth. Immediately, Zoe started doing exactly what she would do when she herself passed gas. Since she is a dog, I can't pretend to know the motivation behind the things she does, but it was truly as if she couldn't figure out if her own body had made that sound and if so, why it would do such a thing.

After months of this, BJ and I still get a kick out of making the occasional toot sound and watching her panic and look at her own rear. Since we enjoy it so much, we thought you might also enjoy it. Here is a little video we made tonight of Zoe in a panicked state of confusion. You can ignore that last 10 seconds or so - I rarely use my camera for recording video, so I forgot how to stop. And of course, this computer doesn't have the right software for editing. But you should still get the general jest. As I said before, Zoe is an idiot.

Ten Weeks In

I hit 10 weeks in my pregnancy this week. Not too far along, but nearing the end of the first trimester. The nausea is easing, although it is still very present. I am now waking up two to three times a night for bathroom runs, which is seriously putting a hitch in my sleep cycle, but it is becoming a common part of life.

Last night at church, a group of ladies pointed out that they can now see my baby bump. This made me laugh because the bump is getting ridiculously noticeable. I've known women who didn't 'look' pregnant until several months into their pregnancy. I'm not one of those woman. We had a candle lit the other night, and I just about freaked out when I saw my shadow on the wall. I can't even recognize it anymore.

Honestly, this is all that has been gong on in my life the past few weeks. Pregnancy seems to take over pretty much everything. I can't do much besides being pregnant because I never feel good. So I'm basically sitting around while God is growing a baby inside of me. It is busy work. I may not look busy when I'm laying around all day moaning over my nausea, but believe me, I'm busy.

Checking the Vital Signs

When I was about 10 years old, I came down with a case of the flu. I was out of school for several days, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, my dad is a chronic worrier, so every time I got sick with anything was a time to panic.

I'll never forget what happened one of the nights I was sick during this spell. I was laying on the couch sleeping when suddenly the feeling of someone else being present woke me up. As my eyes opened, I saw Dad leaning over my chest checking to see if I was breathing. I whispered, "Dad, what are you doing?", and he jumped about a mile high. He had been so busy concentrating on my vital signs, he was more than I little shocked to find me awake.

Over the years, this story has provided a lot of laughs for my family. It is the perfect example of the neurosis so pervasive on my dad's side of the family, a neurosis I've inherited in fine form. But Monday, the story became a little more than a joke to me. Monday was our first ultra sound, and for the first time, I saw our baby's heart beating. It was pounding away at an astonishing 173 beats a minute. The pictures we brought home are fairly unimpressive. He or she is currently a blob with other smaller blods connected to it that will one day be arms and legs. But the image of the heart beating, now that was impressive.

As an added not of interest, when I told my dad that the heart is beating at 173 beats a minute, he immediately panicked and asked if that is normal and okay. He still hasn't lost his touch.

What has really been going on the past month

On Valentine's Day, this happened:


In the following week, I was an emotional wreck, so happy to be pregnant but neurotically nervous about everything. BJ was also very happy. But then, he realized that he would need to pay for the child's college tuition, which sent him into a rash of worrying.

The next week, we both settled down a bit, getting a little more used to the idea of becoming parents. At this points, bets started about the gender of the baby. My family was the only people who knew at this point, so it went something like this: I think its a boy, BJ thinks its a girl, Mom agrees with me that it is a boy, Dad is waiting to make a call until he can think of a way to word it so that he will be right either way, and Bro thinks it is left-handed. Don't ask.

The next week was the week BJ's parents were coming down, so we were (finally) going to get to tell them. We bought the following bibs to break the good news:


To clarify, the bib on the left says, "Don't look at me, that smell is coming from grandpa!", and the bib on the right says, "What happens at grandma's stays at grandma's!"

Once we broke the news to BJ's family, I got to tell my friends, and it was absolutely wonderful! They all squealed exactly like I was hoping they would. I have the best girlfriends ever!

And as for this week, the nausea has set in, and it has set in good. All food that is not totally bland sounds disgusting. Cheese is the worst. Especially melty cheese. There is a whole other slew of symptoms going on, but I'll spare you the details.

So there is a whirl-wind tour of life over the past month. I don't know what else to say except that we're happy.

I won.

A few weeks ago, you might remember that I got slaughtered in a contest with my brother to predict Oscar nominations. I would just like to announce that in last night's competition to predict the winners, I came back with a bang. I beat him by five! And I feel it is only fair to rub it in. Trust me, he did it to me. So, ha, Bro! You lost!

That felt good.

Confessions of my Weirdness

I have an obsessive personality. When something clicks, I can't stop doing it. For example, if an art project clicks, I'll sit at my desk for hours on end for days on end working on whatever it is I'm doing. Or last summer, I got on a hot tea kick, so I drank four to five cups of hot tea a day. During December of last year, I obsessively did crossword puzzles - several a day, actually.

My current obsession is pretty weird. BJ and I love Netflix, and since we don't have TV, we use the 'Watch Instantly' section of our Netflix pretty regularly. Well, last month, I discover that Netflix had posted all ten seasons of Murder, She Wrote to their 'Watch Instantly' selection. Since then, I have obsessively watched Murder, She Wrote. I watch it when I'm folding laundry, when I'm planning menus and grocery lists for the week, when I'm lying around being lazy. I watch it all the time. In fact, while at work, I can't wait to get home so that I can settle down to a nice episode of the always clever Mrs. Fletcher solving a mystery involving several passionate and angry people in large shoulder pads circu 1985. That's my idea of a good evening.

Not that this is important or even interesting. I just thought I'd put it out there. I find that my oddities are less shameful when they're brought out into the light.

Zoe (aka "The Mess")

Remember back when Gus was a puppy and I had countless blog posts with pictures of him sitting or lying around. I was able to do that because Gus spent most of his time sitting or lying around. Zoe doesn't. Here name is Greek for life, and let's just say that is a very fitting name. She if very lively.

However, I have been getting requests for pictures of Zoe, so tonight BJ and I attempted a photo shoot. We mostly ended up with pictures like this...

or this...


There was one time when I thought I had a good shot, but she decided to like her gigantic jowls with her gigantic pink tongue. So pretty.


After several minutes of these failed attempts, BJ figured out that if he made a continous high-pitched sound, it confused her enough that she would sit still for a few moments. So we ended up with these cock-eyed pictures of her looking utterly confused.



Thankfully, we did manage to get one good picture of Zoe, and in this mother's opinion, it is pretty precious.


And as for Gus...

well, let's just say that the years haven't changed him much.

Further tales of BJ's car

BJ picked me up for lunch today in his car. You know, the car I've written about before. The car that barely runs, but somehow continues to run.

When the car is turned on but not moving (a.k.a. idling), it makes a constant vrooming noise. It's like, "vrOOom, vrOOom, vrOOom." Yeah, something like that.

Anyways, we went through the drive-through at the bank while on our lunch bank, and while waiting in line, are car was making this lovely sound. This is the conversation that ensued:

Me: I'm starting to see why you never take the drive-thru in this car.

BJ: Yeah. It sounds like a purring kitten...with pneumonia.

On aging

I turned 25 last Friday. For the first time in several years, I got to spend my birthday with family. BJ and I headed up to Alton where I got to relax and laugh with my in-laws while eating homemade red velvet cake. It was lovely.

Twenty-five is a kind of big one. It's the halfway point to fifty and an official quarter century.

I noticed the other day that my hands are aging. Really, it's my thumbs. My thumbs are getting wrinkly.

And around my eyes are the slightest hint at coming wrinkles. I've started applying extra moisturizer in that area every morning.

I really don't mind aging. To me, it is exciting watching how the story is unfolding, but there is this one thing that keeps nagging me. You see, my Grandma Pierce and Aunt Doe (women who I happen to have entirely too much in common with) were beautiful 20-, 30-, 40-, all the way to 60- somethings. But around seventy, they became funny looking. It isn't just that wrinkles and gray hair are waiting for me. Everyone has to face that. It is the abnormally large nose, progressively frizzier hair, and stooped posture that gives the allusion of overly long arms that I'm dreading. There's at least a 50% chance that 50 or so years from now, I'm going to be funny looking. Pierce woman don't age into dignified, Helen Mirren-esque ladies. We age into caricatures with over-exaggerated features.

But that is enough of that. Thank you everyone for the birthday cards and Facebook messages. You made it a very special day!

The verdict

Only 6 right for Best Picture

4 right for Director

4 right for Actor

An embarrassing 3 for Actress

4 for Supporting Actor

4 for Supporting Actress

So in all, I got 25 out of 35. Argh. They were tricky this year.

Here's my best guess

Well, I've compiled my list of predictions for Oscar nominations in the hope of humiliating my brother by have vastly more correct. We'll see how that goes. (Here is a list of his picks).

As a side note, I'm not crazy for having ten Best Picture Nominees. This year, they have switched to having ten in that particular category. For the first decade or so of the Academy Awards, there were always ten best picture nominees, so they are returning to that old tradition. I, personally, am thrilled about it.

Best Picture

The Hurt Locker

Avatar

Precious

Up in the Air

Inglorious Basterds

The Fantastic Mr. Fox

Up

The Hangover

A Single Man

Nine

Best Director

James Cameron (Avatar)

Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker)

Clint Eastwood (Invictus)

Lee Daniels (Precious)

Quentin Tarantino (Inglorious Basterds)

Best Actor

Jeff Bridges (Crazy Horse)

George Clooney (Up in the Air)

Colin Firth (A Single Man)

Daniel Day-Lewis (Nine)

Jeremy Renner (The Hurt Locker)

Best Actress

Sandra Bullock (The Blind Side)

Meryl Streep (Julie and Julia)

Emily Blunt (The Young Victorian)

Carey Mulligan (An Education)

Saoirse Ronan (The Lovely Bones)

Best Supporting Actor

Christoph Waltz (Inglorious Basterds)

Woody Harrelson (The Messenger)

Matt Damon (Invictus)

Alfred Molina (An Education)

Stanley Tucci (The Lovely Bones)

Best Supporting Actress

Monique (Precious)

Vera Farmiga (Up in the Air)

Anna Kendrick (Up in the Air)

Julianne Moore (A Single Man)

Penelope Cruz (Nine)

The Snow Storm of 2010 (way better than the ice storm of 2009)

We had a beautiful snow Friday night. This is a picture of our yard fresh after the snow:


Sadly, the snow was too dry (aka it was too dang cold) for the snow to pack well, so we didn't get to build a snow man while everything was still pretty. But today, after a very long Sunday full of church and BJ's first funeral (a legitemately big deal for a preacher), we ran home and built a quick snow man on the top of our chiminia. In my opinion, it is awesome.


In further news, I will hopefully be posting tomorrow my Oscar nomination predictions before they announce them on Tuesday. I have a bet with my brother that I must win! Not that anything is actually riding on it. I just really want to win.

Love Hurts

This afternoon, BJ and I watched the movie 500 Days of Summer. The movie is pitched as a story of "boy meets girl, boy falls in love, girl doesn't." The leading male character is a romantic guy who believes in love, soul mates, and all that good mushy stuff. He falls in love easy, hard, and fast. In other words, he is BJ 10 or so years before he met me. And BJ had a few (translated "a lot") of "boy meets girl, boy falls in love, girl doesn't" moments back then.

It only took a few minutes into the movie to realize we were about to watch the pre-Kalyn years of BJ's life. It was a little hard to concentrate on the movie because of the comentary coming from the sofa:

"Girls like that are the spawn of satan."

"He's getting played."

"Yeah, and then she'll say, 'I wish I were in a van driving home so I wouldn't be here talking to you.'" (That was one of the lower moments.)

And the classic and oft repeated, "She's evil."

It was actually a sweet little film that I enjoyed thoroughly. For BJ, though, it was maybe a little too reminicent. But I would definitely recommend the movie to those who like an artsy flick, those who can laugh at the acute pain only love can inflict, and those who haven't been left too bitter by girls kicking them in the crotch (figuratively speaking, of course).

Poor BJ.

Bad Dog Owner

I forgot Gus was outside. Again. But this time...


...it was raining.


He looks even more depressed than normal.

A bit of joy

It's always fun to have a new puppy in the house. They bring laughter and excitement as you get to know there different quirks. This is especially true when the puppy is a breed you've never owned before. Suddenly, you have a whole new set of tendencies to discover.

Sienna was a Lab through and through. She was friendly, tirelessly energetic, and always kid-like. Gus is a herder in every way. He pushes people around when there is somewhere better he thinks they should be, and he refuses to let them move when he likes where they are. He's surprisingly graceful when he runs in the yard, and when he is given a job, he does it with a sense of purpose and tenacity that I can only hope to emulate in my own life. For example, the other day I told him to herd Zoe back to the house. He did. He would stand solid in front of her until I said, "Okay, Gus". He would then let her run a few feet, stop her again, and wait for me to give him the go-ahead. We did this for the entire length of are very big yard.

Zoe is a whole other dog who we are figuring her out slowly. When we first got Gus, I did a post about everything I loved about him. I've decided to do the same for Zoe, so here it goes:

1. If you've never read the comic strip Marmaduke, I would recommend you read it. Zoe is the female version of the lovable but ornery Great Dane. She is full of moments that make us laugh out loud right after we yell, "No, Zoe!"


2. While God gave Gus a nice heavy built-in sweater for our Kentucky winters, he gave Zoe a t-shirt. This means that for the first time ever, I get to buy doggie sweaters. So cute!


3. Like Marmaduke, Zoe is a hoarder. She stacks all of her toys and raw-hides into piles and than lays on them. It is not unsually to see Zoe laying on her stuffed monkey with a rawhide under each paw. She always steals Gus's rawhide and then takes turns chewing them. Maybe that is why he doesn't really like her.
   
4. Great Danes love to sit on people. Zoe isn't aloud on any furniture, but she is aloud to sit on our laps when we are in our arcade chair. She literally plops unto our laps the second we hit the chair. Here is a picture of her waiting for one of us to come hold her. Did I mention she's subtle?


5. When Gus or Tony refuse to play with her, she just sits down a few feet away from them and barks incessantly at them. She is very vocal about her disappointment.


6. She's scared of her own gas. Tonight, she tooted a little, and after staring at her own hind end for a minute or so, she proceeded to chase her tail for about ten minutes. I think she thought the sound/smell had come from there. Great Danes aren't known for their intelligence.


7. Her ears are floppy. I don't feel I need to elaborate on that one.
8. She's lazy. She does have energy spurts, but they are for the most part mild. Most of the time she just wants to be laying around, especially if she can have someone to lay on.

I'm sure there will be many blog post to come on the antics of Zoe, but for now, suffice it to say that she has brought a lot of joy into our house. I know she is just a dog, but she is no less a blessing from God.

The Necklace

I love the clothing and jewelry by Anthropologie. Unfortunately, I'm a secretary, so I can't afford anything they sell. This is why I (strongly) hinted to my mother that I would like anything whatsoever from their website. Being the awesome mother she is, I opened up a necklace (a.k.a. The Necklace) on Christmas Eve night. Here is a picture of The Necklace:

Unfortunately, my husband taste in jewelry is not as (what's the word?) eclectic as mine. So he basically hates the necklace.

Being the differentiated woman I am, however, I have resolved to wear my new favorite necklace to my heart's content, so yesterday morning, I came downstairs dressed like this:

My charming husband's 'good morning' to me was, "That necklace actually doesn't look horrible with that outfit." You know what? Maybe charming wasn't the word I was looking for there.