Libraries can be Gross!

We frequently visit the local library.  Savannah devours books so quickly, that if we didn't I'd have to get a second job just to support her book habit.  But, luckily, the world has libraries and we know how to use them.

The other day my sister sends me a text that says:

I just picked up a library book to read and a tostito fell out of it.  It wasn't mine.

Gross, right?  But, I responded:

Savannah picked up a library book last night and a fingernail clipping fell out.  

In the gross contest, Savannah wins.

Here is the rest of the story.

She was soaking in the tub after her first afternoon of cross country training.  Her legs were sore so I recommended a long soak in the tub.  Take a book.  She loves to do this.  When she came out, she said something gross happened in there, but she didn't want to tell me about it because it was too disgusting.  Seriously, she said, too disgusting.

No way.  Come on.  Lay it on me.

Ok, she says, taking a deep, calming breath.  "I picked up my library book and something fell out of it.  Into the bath water.  I thought it was just a piece of paper, so I left it there.  And I stayed there in the bath with it.  But it started to bother me, so I picked it up to fling it into the trash.  AND IT WASN'T A PIECE OF PAPER!  IT WAS A FINGERNAIL CLIPPING!"  She shuddered at the memory.

Not only did she find a fingernail clipping in her library book, but she soaked in a tub with it, and then picked it up with her bare hand.

So, let me say here:  People, please, do not clip your fingernails or toenails over your open library books.  It's gross.

Just a Walk in the Park

In an attempt to improve my physical fitness, I have been walking everyday.  Every single day.  Step after step after step.  On a treadmill.  It's not a thrilling activity and I have to motivate myself by having a selection of audio-books or TV programs to watch to pass the time. (Currently it's Fifty Shades Darker or episodes of How I Met Your Mother)  I would walk outside regularly, but my body hates the outdoors during this time of year.  I'm allergic to it.  All of it.  But, tonight I decided to talk a walk on the wild-side and throw caution to the wind and walk this tiny gremlin outside.

Well, I had a second motive here.  Fillmore needed his toenails trimmed, but they are so darn sharp afterwards.  A long walk on the cement is the perfect doggy nail file.  The dog nail trimmers were in the car.  Why?  Because that is the most logical place to keep dog nail trimmers.  So, I used my key fob to unlock the car, which was parked in the street, and snuck out the door with a tiny dog under my arm.

Unfortunately, it seems that my walking workout has not yet increased my speed, because in the time it took me to get to my car, the alarm had reset.  I open the door and set off a symphony of honking.  Surprisingly, no one came running at the sound of the alarm to protect my car and the treasures contained within.  What is the point of car alarms again?

So, after a quick nail trimming, Fillmore and I set out.  He immediately began showing off his awesomeness by peeing on nearly every single blade of grass that we passed.  In doing so, he tripped me numerous times.  But, after a block and a half of stumbling and swearing, we got into a rhythm.  We made it all the way to the park before we encountered a ferocious beast disguised as a cute fluffy black dog named Sophie.  Sophie thought Fillmore should die a gruesome death.  Fillmore saw her coming, squared his shoulders, and said, "Bring it."  There was much snarling, leash wrestling, and ipod fumbling (save the dog or save the ipod?  it's a tough decision).  Apologies were exchanged and we moved on.

I reinserted my earbuds and cranked up Lady Gaga.  But, I can't hear anything else when I do that.  A runner snuck up on me and Fillmore attempted to amputate his ankles.  I was unprepared for this surprise attack and did not have a tight grip on the leash, so Fillmore had a little extra length at his advantage as he made his lunge.  This made the runner do an amusing hurdle like jump and earned me a scowl.  He's my 5 pound guard dog, what can I tell you?

We managed to make it out of the park without any bloodshed only to walk up on a police officer loading up his cruiser and about to head off to work.  Fillmore's fearsome growl was building in his belly and I could feel the vibration travel up the leash.  Crap!  This was a recipe for disaster.  I quickly picked him up to avoid spending a night in the slammer.  That was my signal to cut the walk short and we headed back home.

I'm back to treadmill walking tomorrow.

Winter Finally Arrives in February

We are experiencing our first major snow of the season today. And it's February! Luckily, it's also Saturday, so we're staying home. I still have to go out a few times to shovel off the back patio for our little Fillmore to be willing to go outside. But, I don't mind that. So, I've already planned out my indoor activities for the weekend. Crocheting, reading, movie watching, and game playing with the kids. We may have to add snowman making to that list.
On the crochet front, I've completed my granny stripe blanket (finally) and put a cute edging on it. I'm really happy with how it turned out.

And here is my latest project: A rainbow ripple pattern that I was planning to put up on etsy as a baby blanket, but Savannah is arguing that she should get to keep it. She's hard to turn down.

I've been hooked on this BBC show called Doc Martin that I've been watching on Netflix. So, I think I'll be finishing up that series today and maybe finishing up this ripple blanket. Then I have to choose an edging for it. I'll keep you posted.

A little Bieber Fever

Savannah got to perform with the dance team at the varsity basketball game!

Ripple Ripple Ripple

I had planned to make each of the kids a crocheted blanket for Christmas. I think I started working on Savannah's in early November.  I started getting worried when I wasn't even half way done by Thanksgiving.  I was carting this giant bag of yarn with me just about everywhere that I went.  I needed every spare moment to crochet.  And I was able to complete it.  About a week before Christmas. And it turned out fabulous!

I had to make Myles a fleece blanket in his school colors because there was no way to finish another crocheted blanket. Both kids are very happy with their gifts. 
Last weekend Savannah and I saw some ugly doll pillows.  I decided to make us some.

Pretty cute for ugly pillows.

New Years Bomb

Savannah spent the night at a friends house on new years eve.  When I picked her up the next day, she asked me when new years happens.  At midnight, I told her.
"Well, my friend's grandma said she let the little kids stay up for new  years until 11.  That's not new years."
"She probably meant they watched the New York new years on TV," I told her.
"So, is that what time the bomb drops?  At 11, not midnight?" she asked.
"The bomb?"
"Yes, mom.  The bomb.  Does it drop at 11 or 12?" she asked with great exasperation.
"Well, there is a time difference between here and New York City.  So, it's midnight there when it's 11 here." I explained.
"So, why don't they put the show on an hour later here, so that the bomb drops at midnight for everyone?"
"I guess it's because that show is done live," I told her and started to giggle. 
"WHAT?" she asked, giving me the look foretelling of the teenage attitude that is right around the corner.
"When the bomb drops in New York City at midnight there and 11 here, does the whole city blow up or just Times Square?"
She pondered that for a second. 
"Oh, I meant ball."
hee hee.

SQUEAKER! And the Post Christmas Trauma

For Christmas this year, Fillmore got what may be the very best Christmas present ever. A squeaker toy! He truly loves squeaker toys. With A Passion!! And he's got some incredible skills too.  Lucky for us, he is able to remove the plastic squeaker from nearly any squeaker toy in under an hour.  An hour is about the maximum amount of time a human can withstand the constant squeaking from these toys.  So, it works out perfectly. 

But, this year, something magical happened. Fillmore got a squeaker toy and seemed to be savoring the squeak. He laid out on the couch and just squeaked and squeaked. Strangely, thought, he didn't seem to be trying to destroy it like normal. Just SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
Unfortunately for him, this was coupled with many other Christmas gifts being opened and assembled. So, in a fit of stress, I was forced to take the squeaker toy and put it up to maintain my sanity.
Fillmore was not pleased.
And to teach me a lesson, he chose to curl up and pout on a blanket I am currently crocheting. 

I felt sorry for him the next day and gave him his other squeaker toy.  (He got 2.)  And, due to the trauma he endured the previous day, he took that squeaker toy and tried to hide it from us.  He hid it behind the Christmas trees and then sat on the couch and keeping vigil over the toy.  After that spot became too risky, he went and retrieved his toy and tried putting it under some pillows and sat to watch it again.  But, as soon as someone sat on the couch, he had to find another safe hiding place. 
It was very funny to us, because he's never done this before.  It's always been procedure for him to rip open the toy, retrieve the squeaker, spread all stuffing from one end of the house to the other, and then play only with the little chewed up plastic squeaker. 
Day Three with this squeaker toy, and he was again trying to hide it under the tree.  I was able to grab my camera without drawing any attention from him and snapped a picture of him. 

As soon as the camera flashed, I was busted.

That afternoon, he finally ripped open the toy and got his squeaker out and I was not forced to put the squeaker toy up again.  (The first one hasn't been returned to him yet, though.  So, we still have another round of this to go.)  And, I'm still finding bits of stuffing around the house.