No Filter

Let's play a game. Close your eyes and imagine that you are standing in line at the bank. It's about 10 in the morning and there are two people ahead of you. As you're waiting for the next teller the man in front of you farts so loudly that unless you were deaf there is no way that you couldn't have heard him. What do you do? 

Pregnant people amuse me greatly. A couple weeks ago my barista friend Kristy discovered that she was pregnant. Now Kristy is a wonderful woman. She has a kind heart, a good sense of humor and is going to make an excellent mother. That said, I have noticed that since she started manufacturing her mini-me  her "Filter" has been switched off. You know the one I'm talking about. The little mechanism that keeps all those snarky remarks inside your head from coming out your mouth? Yep. That's the one. It's off.

Now, awhile back I was reading through my Zobmondo book when I came across this scenario: "Would you rather always have say what's on your mind or never say what's on your mind?" I thought about it for awhile and decided to go for the latter option. Mainly because I have far too many wicked thoughts running around upstairs and being forced to say them would probably land me in the hospital. I never considered pairing the former option with pregnancy. Pregnant women can get away with just about anything. 

That said, let's return to the bank where Kristy stands in line behind the man who has just dropped the biggest bomb since Hiroshima. Her internal monologue went like this, "Oh, My, G-D...! That. Is. Rancid!" At the window teller number one is finishing with his customer, "That will be twenty...-chuckle-...twenty one, two, -laughter- and three." Teller number one succumbs to laughter followed shortly by teller number two, and it is then that Kristy realizes that her internal monologue was not internal at all. Oh no. In fact it was incredibly external and everyone has heard what she has said, including the man in front of her who is now beet red.

This is going to be the most memorable 9 months ever.

Jasper reads?

So last week I was browsing thru my books when I came across one of my favorites, Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers.  The last time I read it was in College. During Mid-terms. It wasn't the best idea I ever had. -grins- I had no self control whatsoever and became a hermit in my free time for about a week. It was lovely. Anyway, I was in need of a good read so I picked it up and said goodbye to The Captain for a few evenings. 

Now The Captain is used to my reading retreats. He understands that every once in awhile I need to lose myself in a good book. He has become acquainted with my random outbursts of laughter and tears and knows that if he needs to reach me when I'm in the zone he may have to wait until the end of a sentence/paragraph/whatever.  

Jasper on the other hand is not familiar with this "reading" thing. He sees an object that is occupying more of my time than him and gets jealous. While I was reading he had his own way of telling me that it was time to put the book down. 

 When that didn't work he tried this instead.

The little punk. Of course he ate the pages I was just about to read. 

This Face

Dear dog owners,

Be advised. If you see this face:

(Note the forehead wrinkles of shame)

Something you love has just been demolished. 

Exhibit A:

Magic

Here's a little bit of fun for you music lovers out there. Oh, and people with coffee breaks too. Ah, and also for people with boring jobs. Or awesome ones. This will be good for you too. 

THE MUSIC BOARD courtesy of Nothing is True.  

Jasper Eats Homework

So Michael left Jasper alone in the apartment for about 20 minutes today to go down to the school to get a massage. When he got home Jasper had torn into a stack of papers Michael was grading. This means he get's to tell his students tomorrow that his dog ate their homework.

Best. Ever.

Jasper Redecorates

So the Captain and I were bad parents this week. Last Sunday we made plans to play paintball with a military friend of ours who was transferring off the island. My limited experience with paintball told me that the adventure would have us out of the house for 2-3 hours and that it would be perfectly acceptable for us to leave Jasper alone for that time. Well, it took us a little longer than expected. When we stood in front of our door 7 hours later ripe with bruises, dread overtook us. "Oh please Lord. Let us still have a living room."

When we opened the door... oh I wish we had taken a picture. It was pure chaos. There stood Jasper surrounded by all sorts of rubbish, looking up at us as if to say, "Hello parents!! Look what I did to the living room! Don't you just love it?!" The rascal had taken it upon himself to pee four times on the carpet, gnaw through our Rosetta Stone headset and the power chord to Michael's computer and toss paper all over the living room. It turns out that the paper we found came from Michael's Bible, which lay in a state of disarray surrounded by family history and preface pages. The cover had been torn from the binding and a chunk had been taken out of the spine but upon close examination we discovered that no text had been damaged so Michael dusted it off and took it to school where it would be safe.

Looking at the mess we were astonished but not angry. I mean, what can you really do at that point? It was our fault that we had left him alone for 7 hours and while he knows he's not supposed to pee on the carpet there was no point in scolding him because he would have no idea what it was for. So we picked up the pieces and resolved to put EVERYTHING up the next time we left the house. Absolutely everything.

Sabbath morning nap shot

I don't even know how this happened.









All I know is that I want more of it.