Here we go again . . .

School starts tomorrow. 
This semester's lineup is: 
Jewelry (making)—not part of the fashion major but it should be, don't you think? 
Fundamentals of Nutrition
Draping
Cardio Fitness
and Genealogy. 

Maaayybee Fashion Illustration, too.  Right now that class is full, and it's from 7 to 9 p.m. on Wednesdays anyway, which would be an extremely difficult time (which is why I didn't sign up for it in the first place).  So I might see if I can get into it, and I might just forget it until later.  But if I do wait I might end up having to take it in the summer, which would totally stink.  We'll see.

Anyway, wish this burned-out chick Luck!

Give a Dog a Bone

I have a Tucker dilemma . . .

Over the last month or so Tucker and I have been having a battle of wills.  Sort of.
At first I wasn't sure that's what was happening, but now I think that's what it is, and it all started around Thanksgiving. 

Those of you who think I totally hate Tucker should be pleased to hear that he frequently benefits from my exploits in the kitchen. When I'm cooking I often toss him a scrap of cheese, a bit of gristly meat that we people wouldn't want, a little bit of egg, etc—but only things I know a dog should eat and would be fairly good for him (unlike my kids who've been known to toss him a bit of pocket-lint and then laugh while he snarfs it up).  In fact, I've done this often enough that whenever I go into the kitchen he will now go sit on the top of the stairs and watch me hopefully until I leave the kitchen again.  Sometimes he does the cute dog-face thing; sometimes it works out for him, sometimes not.

About Thanksgiving time . . .   See, every time I cook a turkey—after we've carved it and had our turkey feast, and then had turkey sandwiches for the next day or two—I take the carcass and boil it up to make turkey soup.  After about three hours of boiling, any bits of meat that were left on the bird will come off easily and you have a fabulous, delicious broth, too.  Yum!  So this Thanksgiving, as always, I cooked my broth, strained it, and saved the meat off of the bones for the soup.  And, as always, there was a lot of skin and cartilage left over.  And, as I often do, I gave those things to Tucker.  So on that particular night Tucker got enough turkey to fill his dog dish generously—since he hadn't eaten his regular meal yet, I thought I'd let him have a turkey-goo dinner.  And boy, did he love it!

Well a week or so after Thanksgiving I noticed that Tucker wasn't so keen on eating his dog food.  This is the exact. same. food we've been buying ever since we got him a couple years ago—the same food he practically inhales with his entire back end wagging for the whole five seconds it takes him to eat it.  The same food he searches the floor so carefully for after he's emptied his bowl.  Weird.  But I remembered that when we first got him he did express a distaste for the very first brand of dog food we ever bought—wouldn't touch it (we returned it and got a different brand). So maybe he was tired of his regular brand now.  ??  When it ran out, during the first week of December, I bought a different brand.   Again, he nibbled at it, but didn't really eat much.  At first I didn't really notice . . .  the holidays, you know.

Tucker drops one ball, and waits expectantly for Brandon to throw the next one.

But when I told the kids to feed him one morning and their answer was, "He still hasn't eaten his food from yesterday morning," I took notice.  For the next two weeks Tucker would not eat his dog chow. I consider dogs to be pretty much the biggest gluttons I've ever seen (next to humans—humans know better than to overeat or eat stuff that's bad for them; dogs don't).  So, yeah, I worried when our dog wasn't eating his food.  I kept an eye on him.  He wasn't losing weight, he wasn't vomiting or having diarrhea, he was still bright-eyed and playing ball with the kids, and he was still begging mightily for—and gobbling up—anything I'd toss his way.  I wondered, "Is he sick?  He doesn't seem sick.  Did he swallow a sewing pin during one of his floor scavenging sessions?"  Worrisome.


I contemplated Tucker's behavior throughout the Christmas celebrations; he seemed perfectly healthy except for the not eating thing.   I  knew that he was getting more scraps and leftovers than usual, but I didn't think they amounted to two whole doggy meals each day.  Or did they?  Then I noticed something else:  Bruce tossed about five teeny-tiny bits of ham in with Tucker's food one day (seriously, not one of them was bigger than about a quarter inch).  And Tucker very meticulously licked out the ham and left all the rest of his dog food there.  Hmm.  Could Tucker be on some kind of a hunger strike?

"Here, eat your food, Tucker!"
(he didn't)

No!  Not a dog!  I kept watching him, but I also decided to dig in my heels—no. more. scraps!  But last Friday he was looking so pathetic, and I was worried enough about him not really eating in such a long time, that I gave him the scraps of spaghetti that my girls hadn't finished that night.  Sure enough, he snarfed it up, wagging his entire back end, in about five seconds.  And he wasn't sick afterward, either.  So I really did dig in my heels:  NO more scraps.  Period.  I stuck it out for the whole weekend, and so did he.

On Monday he was just annoying me.  He still refused to eat, and he was moping around the house giving me pathetic, sad dog-face all day, and begging, begging, begging (even though his dish was full of clean, "fresh" dog-food).  The very last straw came when he started licking my hand every time I walked by.  Eeeeeeewww!  Ugh! I've been kissed by a dog! I have dog germs! Get hot water! Get some disinfectant! Get some iodine!

The weather being unseasonably warm, I sent him out to the garage. After a while we let him back in the house.  And guess what?  After about an hour of good behavior, he went right over and ate up his dog food without any fuss.  And he's been eating it ever since.

The dilemma?

I just boiled up some beef ribs to make a nice broth for tomorrow.  There's really nothing to them but cartilage and connective tissue—just some nice, big bones that a dog would love.  Should I give him one or not?

2011 and 2012

Well, it's another new year.  I am not sorry to see 2011 go away, but it wasn't a bad year, either.

In 2011 I started my second semester of school.  The 2010 fall semester was where I warmed my toes; in 2011 I jumped straight into the fire.  But I learned some good things, and survived my three semesters of 2011.  I have almost maintained a 4.0 grade average (that icky algebra class killed it with an A minus).  I still don't know if I'll pursue this all the way to an associate's degree; I am strictly taking it one semester at a time.

The craziness of going to school and being a mom, and just life in general, led me to go on strike in March of 2011.  My kids still don't always see a mess and clean it up, but they are much, much better at doing a job—and doing it well—when asked.  They are also learning to cook.  And, when I've had classes that kept me at school when they were getting home from school, I could always count on Jason to get everyone home, and count on all of them to straighten up the house and get dinner started before I got home.

Our work/financial situation in 2011 was a trial—but this is nothing too new.  (Soon after we bought our house in 2000 Bruce lost got laid off from his job, and we have truly struggled to make ends meet ever since.)  Last year Bruce worked part-time for Hartvigsen School—a school for special-needs children, usually severely physically or mentally handicapped kids.  Bruce loves working with people, and he does very well in teaching situations, but the pay . . . you know, school pay and part time . . .  

Bruce also worked part time for Office Depot.  In March a friend called him with the offer of a sales job that looked very promising; unfortunately, it would be seasonal work and out of state.  We considered it:  the job at Hartvigsen would end in about five weeks, and Office Depot had no intention of giving him more than about ten hours a week. We went with a prayer and a gut feeling and sent him away to Colorado Springs on April 10—Easter Sunday, and my birthday. Two weeks later he went to Indianapolis, Indiana.  After a miserable eight weeks of separation, little pay, and much more prayer, Bruce decided he should really come back home to pursue a masters degree in a field he loves.  To pay the bills, he immediately took another sales job, but it didn't really pan out either; we earned about $1200 for the entire summer. After searching for anything better, he finally got a job with Convergys (a call center) in September.  The company is kind of stupid, and the pay is too low (but we're kind of used to that), but he loves working with people on the phones and helping them. Best of all, Convergys will reimburse his school tuition—he is taking a few pre-requisites this year, and will be pursuing his master's degree in marriage therapy soon. Yay!

The kids were as amazingly awesome as ever!  In 2011 Jason got his driver's license—the freedom from having to run every. single. errand. all. by. myself  far outweighs the trauma of teaching a kid to drive.  Maybe it's like labor and delivery vs.actually holding your baby; the baby makes you kind of forget how awful it was. ;-)  (OK.  I actually refused to go driving with him for the first two months, and after that he wasn't bad at all.)  Lindsey started high school in 2011 and she is doing very well.  Jason perfoms in the school band and Jazz Band, and he and Lindsey were in the school musical (Jason with the orchestra, and Lindsey with the chorus).  Brandon was also in his school's musical; Ryan and Brandon both ran for student office last year.  Kaylie, Rachel and Jessica remain in the tops of their classes in reading, and are great students anyway.  Michael got a job at Convergys at the same time as Bruce did, and has helped us a lot.  He's been thinking of going on a mission.

my amazingly awesome family

Things can be hard for us sometimes—just like anyone—but, you know, it's not so bad; in fact, it's good.  Over all I am happy, I like what I do, I like my family and the things they do.  We all enjoy excellent health; we are glad to be together, and we are optimistic.

And now it's 2012, a new year.  The time we resolve to do so many great things and then never do them.  We may start out with a bang, but it's often very short-lived.  I'm no different from anyone else.  I can't help feeling, at this time . . . or thinking, anyway, of things I want to accomplish. But I also feel a little foolish and even a little discouraged about setting goals when I remember past years' resolutions that fell so quickly to the wayside.

However, in spite of all that, I do have goals for this new year.  I'm not going to make them public—this year they are all mine.  Just a few, but they are good ones (I'm not planning to become a Mistress of Evil this year, or anything like that).  But how to get motivated and remain motivated?  Sometimes this seems beyond my own power.  To figure that out, learn to tap into the strength to really change—this is what I want 2012 to be about.  I think that, perhaps, that is my real goal. 

And, yes, I am optimistic.

Happy New Year!

What do you want for dinner?

First of all, I must say that we had a great Christmas!  Santa was very generous (although he did leave a lot of work for me to do!)!  We enjoyed visiting with our families and playing a new game that Lindsey got. It was a good holiday.

But, the bad news is that I am experiencing morning sickness. :-/ Now, don't go getting all excited...it's not real morning sickness—I have absolute proof positive that it isn't (if ya know what I mean, ladies).  No.  It just feels like morning sickness. Waking up starved but thinking that any food is 100% unappealing, feeling slightly nauseous all day long, feeling exhausted all day long... No fun.

I can't help thinking that all the Christmas food—tasty as it is, and fun as it is to make—has had a negative effect on me.  Right now raw veggies—no dressing or dip—and water sound the best.
My kids disagree.  When I ask them what we should have for dinner, the unhesitating answer is, "Pizza!" 

Eeeeewww!

The question is, what should I make for dinner tonight?

Fall 2011 Grades

Here they are:

Yay me!  :-)

I'm not prepared to go back in two weeks.  I guess I'll have to take that time just relaxing, playing, and entirely enjoying myself.