Halloween!

As Tara mentioned in the previous entry, our Halloween plans were to dress up the dog, hand out candy, and then hit up a party. Luckily, we realized early in the evening that we were old and toned down the, admittedly, over-ambitious plans.

Tara worked in the morning, but when she got home we headed out to the middle-class beacon of disposable culture: Costco. No doubt everyone is already aware of the magnificence of Costco; the glory of buying in bulk, the markdowns, the sense of power in showing off my black "Executive Member" card, the free samples, and the $1.50 all-beef hotdog and soft drink combo. Magnificent.

We stocked up on candy. Two bags of fun size candy bars (each containing 150 pieces), and a box of full size candy bars, not to mention a few of our general staples: a bag of Andy Boy romaine lettuce and some sliced turkey. We tied it all together with a couple pepperoni pizzas that were marked down. Another quick stop at the beer distributor and we headed home. When we arrived at home it was around 5:30. We hefted everything inside, filled up a bowl with candy, and began getting down with our festive selves. We put our pumpkins out front, hung up some cool little lattern lights, tossed the pizza in the oven, and opened up a bottle of wine.

Then, for the next hour and a half or so, we sat out on the front porch, drinking wine and eating pizza, handing out candy, and questioning kids about their costumes. There were some fantastic ones, cute little kids dressed as oompa-loompas, bumblebees, and giraffes, and then there were the lazy teenagers who had no costume whatsoever. One of them was on the ball when I asked him about it, stating "I'm myself. I thought I'd go as something scary this year." Another boy came up without a costume and simply began stuttering when I asked him about his lack of costume. His mother came to his aid, explaining that he has a mask in the car, but chose not to wear it because "it makes his face sweat".

Trick-or-treating ended around 7:30 and we headed upstairs. We tossed around the idea of going to a party or a bar, etc, or even just watching a scary movie, but finally we just settled in and watched the Phillies game and went to bed.

Just an update...

For any interested parties, here are some things that have been going on with us lately.

We took the motorcycle saftey class. It was fun. It was four sessions, two in class ones in the evening and two riding lessons on sunday mornings. We were both very nervous, in the first riding lesson, I, Tara, was almost killed by a rogue motorcycle. In the second I nearly killed myself with my own bike. Dan however did very well, never falling or faltering and in the end we both passed with somewhat flying colors and are now licensed motorcyclists. Scary, I know, keep yer children out of the road.

Last tuesday we bought a motorcycle. It is an 82 Kawasaki 440. It's a crazy little bike that rumbles and grumbles and has weird handle bars. But we both like it and Dan doesn't know it yet but we're going to clean it up all nice and maybe he'll repaint the tank. We'll prolly upgrade in the spring. Oh yeah, and it's, i mean his, name is Tommy. Rusty Tommy our first little motorcycle.

Dan is in the process of applying to law schools. He's such a smarthead he's going to apply to Harvard and Yale. Looks and brains, I don't know how I got so lucky to find such a man.

We are going to dress Jack up like a shark tonight for Halloween and give out candy for trick or treaters. Then we may hit up the local PNA because Dan is intent on getting a membership though neither of us are Polish. But I guess I was part of the VFW and wasn't a veteran of war, foreign or domestic.

That's about it. Thanks.

It's Almost Halloween!

...And that means decorating and eating pumpkin pie and drinking cider and most importantly- getting costumes for our pets! Now unlike most children, we cannot take Abby and Jack and Mow Mow into a store and let them pick out what they want. So we chose for them. Of course we put a lot of time into thinking up the best outfit for each of them, something to match their personalities*. We thought "What most defines Jack? The fact that he's a little dimwitted? No... The fact that he is a big pervert and his wiener is out at the most puzzling of times? No... Oh, he bites, let's make him a shark!" So we did.
The costume is a little small, it is supposed to fit dogs between 30 and 50 pounds, Jack is about 55. With his figure though we figured he could pull it off. He can.

Then we had to decide the same about Mow Mow. Now, this cat is the best cat in the entire universe. No joke. I'm not exaggerating. AND, she is beautiful. Not in that standard "oh that's a pretty cat" kinda way. Mow Mow is a one of a kind gem. We didn't want to make her a rock for Halloween though. So we figured most appropriately that she should be a jack-o-lantern since she herself once had her eye cut out. So we got her a little shirt.


Isn't she the prettiest cat you've ever seen? Don't lie. She even has a mane. A real mane. It's around her neck, it's made of fur that is longer than her other fur. Your cat doesn't have that.

We haven't gotten Abby a costume yet. But we will, don't worry. And it will be posted for the world to see.


*In actuality we put little thought into these costumes, in fact we walked into Target and found the pumpkin shirt in the awesome cheapo bins at the front of the store and happened to stumble across the pet costumes in the back by accident. The shark costume is in fact awesome and probably the only thing there that could have fit our dogs. We do love our pets though, don't get me wrong. Just not enough to not make them dress up for our entertainment.

Dan Jumps on the Bandwagon

Dan likes to go online. It's just his thing. He blogs, reads articles, keeps up with all the current events and even the past ones too. He likes Wikipedia a lot. He also likes television- cable television. He's also seen a lot of movies. All sorts of movies. What Dan doesn't do is keep up with current trends of strings of movies- like Harry Potter, or Saw. And though Dan knows how to read, he never read any of Harry Potter books either. I know, weird.

Me, I don't like the internet much. I find it tedious. Convenient? Yes. Quick and easy? Yup. My cup of tea? Nope. I like the good old days when people had to slave over books for hours researching for papers. Personally, with so much information at the tips of my finger, it's so easy to read and research that I don't take much away from the research. I find I don't remember much of what I had learned after one week of turning the paper in. But anyways.

I like movies, and for the most part I was up to speed with the prequels to the now being released sequels. Not Dan. This caused a bit of a dilemna when I wanted to go see the newest Harry Potter movie (which sucked btw omg blar blar!!). Having never read or seen anything of Harry Potter, he was in no shape to go see this sixth installment. but, being the kind and loving person he is, he decided he wanted to watch all the movies so he could go with me to see the new ones. So we did. One weekend, about a month ago, we sat down and we watched the first five movies, finishing the last one at about 9:15 sunday night. We both had to work early the next morning but had the undefeatable urge to see the final movie. So we did, in IMAX at the Mills mall at 10:30. *spoiler ahead- what a shitty movie. Lucky for Dan though he has no idea yet just how crappy it was since he hasnt read that book yet. He's getting there though.

So recently we started watching the Saw movies. I have seen all of them already, I like them. I was sad when Luke died. He had never seen any of these either but with the new one being released around Halloween he was nice enough to watch them with me so he could see this movie with me as well. So we watched them, we finished them about a week ago. Now we play Mafia Wars. The end.

7 In Human Years

[Xposted at DanMustBlog]

In November of last year, Tara and I toyed with the idea of getting a dog. For me, this meant researching every possible breed of dog I might be interested in. My ideal theoretical canine companion for years had been summed up in the description "a dog who loves me and hates everyone else". Beyond that, I wanted a good looking dog, medium to large build, with short hair. I started keeping my eyes open for dobermans and boxers available on PetFinder.com. Tara, on the other hand, did what she does best, which was to look at puppies online and fall in love with each and every one.

We kept our eyes open, waiting for the day when the perfect puppy would be available. We emailed about a few, but missed out each time. Then, while in training for my new job, I happened across a listing on Petfinder. There were 7 puppies, which they had named by the days of the week, in Youngstown, OH. Two of them had rottweiler like coloring, and the rest were different, one brindle, one looking like a collie, etc. At my first chance, I called the pound and was told that they were all from the same litter, boxer-german shephard mixes, and of the two with the rottweiler coloring, one was male and one was female. Tara had requested a female, so I asked the gentleman if he could hold the puppy for us. He said he could only hold it until 7:00pm, adding that it was a kill-shelter and that if somebody came in to adopt the puppy and he turned them away, it would be on us if something happened to the puppy due to us failing to come by. With the guilt trip hanging over my head, I assured him we would be there, and we filled out the paperwork over the phone to save time when we got there.

Getting there in time would be no small feat. I got off work at 5, Tara around the same time. We were living in the Highland Park neighborhood of Pittsburgh, so by the time I got home from work it would be 5:30 or 5:45. Google Maps puts the trip to the pound at one hour and 30 minutes. Add rush hour traffic into the mix and it was going to be close.

After work, Tara and I hopped in the car and booked it to Ohio. We turned into the pound's parking lot, just as the dashboard clock turned 7:01, and hopped out. The lights were out, the door was locked, and the last employee was getting into his minivan. We stopped him, telling him that we had a dog on hold, that we drove all the way from Pittsburgh, blah, blah, blah. He reluctantly let us into the building and took us into the holding area where the animals were kept, and found our beautiful little puppy. She was only five weeks old, weighed 5 pounds, and fit in my cupped hands. As we stood there, holding and fawning over the cutest little thing in the world, the man pointed out that, unfortunately, we wouldn't be able to take her since it was too late to do the paperwork. I quickly informed him that I had done it over the phone with the other gentleman. He looked at me incredulously, but went into the office to double check.

Upon finding the paper, he tried to thwart us again, pointing out that all dogs need to be fixed before they can be released, but then retracted the statement due to her extremely young age. Three weeks older and it would have been a mandatory trip to the vet, but her youth was our saving grace. We paid the $42.50 adoption fee (borrowing .50 from the pound employee) and carried out our newest family member.

We hadn't planned ahead, so we stopped at a Target on the way home. I carried her in my coat and we picked up some food, a harness, a leash, and some toys. People ooh'd and ahh'd at her, although the best reaction was from a father who replied, to his daughter's cooing about how cute our puppy was, "they get bigger."

But for now, she was still just a tiny little puppy. The first few nights, we tried to teach her to sleep in her crate, assuring each other that we wouldn't give in and be those people who let their dog sleep in the bed. But after hearing her whine and cry and bark, we relented and allowed a third member into our bed. She romped here and there. She was so small that she couldn't make it up the steps into the apartment on her own so we would have to pick her up and carry her. In the mornings, she would run around and "help" us get ready. When I would take my morning constitutional, "Puppy", as we referred to her, would curl up in the crotch of my pajama pants.

She was "Puppy" for quite a while. We didn't want to give her a name prematurely, only to find it unsuitable as she grew up. Before long, however, we felt that we were familiar enough with her personality to begin thinking of a proper title. Nothing seemed to fit. She was cute and feminine in her beauty, yet too stoic and proud in her stance and coloring for a name like "Tulip" or "Sunshine". And we hoped her to be large, another issue with cutesy names. Add our hope to come up with something similar enough to "Puppy" that it wouldn't be a huge jarring change from the sound that we'd [temporarily] found for her. In the end, Tara came up with it.

"What about Abby?"

"That's a good one."

"We could give her a middle name, too. Like Winters. That's got a nice ring to it, Abby Winters. Do you like that?"

"Yeah, that's nice. Sounds familiar, though. Doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Kind of, I guess."

"It does. Where do I know the name Abby Winters from??"

We kept the name, despite the fact that a quick Google search solved the mystery of where I knew the name from [nsfw].

Quickly, we started noticing Abby getting bigger. She was able to make it up the steps unaided. Not only could she keep up with us on walks, but now she was outpacing us (not to mention pulling!). Where she could once walk under our coffeetable without taking notice, she became distinctly aware of its presence after hitting her head time and time again. Her first toy was a small foam PNC-football that she could barely fit her little puppy teeth around. Eventually, though, she lost her baby teeth, and her new fangs were more than enough to tear the poor little football to shreds.

Just as our little puppy changed, our family grew as well. A new kitty, the distinguished Admiral Goonie-face of the S.S. Polyphemus, joined our clan, as did the canine expatriate, Jack (whose name was changed from Jacques as he went through the immigration station). We moved from our ritzy one-bedroom apartment in swanky Highland Park, to our monstrous house. As we worked to build it into a home, Abby and the other pets stood beside us, supporting our move and helping to make our household a warm one, full of love. Here's to it continuing for many years.

Happy First Birthday, Abby!

Sweet Mod Kitchen Yo!

Dan wanted a red kitchen. Not a pale sweet pink or a Casablanca meets Studio 54 maroon, but red. Bright red. Now personally, I'm more of a "seriously?! well what about just a red accent wall?" kinda gal, but I thought about it. I got my icy blue bedroom, so Dan can have his red kitchen, if it sucks we change it. He decided on red walls all around, and cream colored cabinets. So off we went to Home Depot for some paint. The older gentleman in the paint department gave me a lecture on red paint. Apparently it is a feat almost impossible to pull off if one does not first prepare their walls with a grey primer. Sold! Load up the primer, load up the red! "Oh, and what is this high gloss cream for?" he asks, and upon hearing we were repainting cabinets, "Cabinets?! Primer is a must!" Now these weren't his exact words, and under any other circumstances I would never consider buying a primer, but neither of us had much experience in dealing with red paint or with cabinetry, so we figured better to spend some extra money and time with the primer than to botch these things up and have to rebuy and redo everything after it all looks like crap. So, we headed home with a trunkful of paint.

The kitchen walls were white, cabinets a dark brown, and the counter a gross kind of yellow.

The walls were bare with the exception of some art that Dan drew (I helped).


So one day we said "bye bye boat!" and primered the kitchen. It wasn't a very difficult task seeing as it was just going to be painted over anyhow thereby cancling out any notion of needing to be precise with the details. A few days later we started in with the real paint, and holy begonias, what a pain. It took three coats of this red to completely cover the white, and it seems to be impossible to get it to cover solidly around the edges, something I've personally come to terms with with the reasoning that it will one day be covered by moulding. It doesn't look bad though. Because the paint is semi-gloss it shows all of the imperfections with the walls (and there are a lot). But I must say, it looks far better than I thought that it would, and the cream cabinets contrast it quite nicely. It all looks very modern, due in part to our new black stove and the fact that we have only hung black and white artwork. The cabinets are still being painted (I hope to finish them today in fact) and after that the kitchen will be finished except for some few minor details and a new counter which is planned for a very distant future.

*Dan painting over the primer. Notice the jar of money on top of the refrigerator? That's our swear jar.

*The kitchen wall leading to the hallway, there is a nook in the wall directly in the center of the picture where there will one day be shelves for our awesome cookbooks.

*Red walls- cream cabinets coming soon.

Building the wall, continued.

Dan and I threw a housewarming party. Partly because he wanted to throw a party, and partly because we needed something to really motivate us to get stuff done around the house. Our main focuses were the kitchen and finishing up the entry way between the living room and dining room.

We were almost finished with the entry way, it was down to needing one more small coat of spackle, some sanding and then it would be ready to paint. If only that is how things really work. One day shortly before the party Dan was standing back and admiring his handy work when he realized something just wasn't right. Now I don't want to put any words in his mouth, I wasn't there for his realization or his reaction so keep that in mind. But the top wall that we built wasn't straight. In fact, it was horribly unstraight. It was hard to miss, it looked great compared to how it had looked for so long with the horrible jagged edges of plaster and metal mesh, but that didn't change the fact that our entry was lopsided and terribly noticeable once you actually looked.

So we had to rebuild our doorway. Dan tore down all of the corners and we had to go Home Depot for some thin wood to put in some shims and get more drywall. It didnt take that long to fix but it set our schedule for being finished for the party back by about two days. We didnt have as much time to layer the spackle and so the corners and the places where we spackled onto the drywall were noticeable But alas, with a day left before our grand party, we decided to hell with it and just let the spackle dry. Dan painted it the next day, leaving mere hours for it to dry before our party.