The Joys of Maidonhood

I feel like hell.



It's snowing outside in massive amounts and truthfully the dreary gloom usually appeals to my inner goth but for some reason today it just makes me cold.





And then hot.





And then cold again. Damned viscious cycle.



If I didn't know better I'd think I was pregnant. Or going through menapause. Or becoming a man. Considering the liklihood of any of these three happening is slim-to-none, I don't think I'll panic yet.

Fattie fattie two by four

Have you ever had a dog that was too fat to jump on the bed? We do.

When she jumps it's as if she has no concept of height or effort necessary and instead she smacks into the sideboard shoulders first and looks at us as if we've done this to her on purpose.

We have not.


She's on diet food and limited to small portions. But the other dog (the gay boy) often forgets that he has to eat to live and in his absentmindedness he becomes an enabler, allowing her to eat herself to miserable extent.

I find it humorous. And sad.

But when she tires walking from the kitchen to living room and has to pause (coochie to carpet) to take a breather, I'm more amused than sad.

Does this make me a bad mother?

Sometimes I feed her the dog food one piece at a time JUST to make sure she has it in her mouth long enough to chew it, thus prolonging digestion, or so I've told myself.

There must be something else we can do for her.


Is there a Jenny Craig for dogs? Weight watchers? Nutrisystems?

I'll hire Richard Simmons.

Necessary Ratings

Deep down I've always known I was a bandwagon girl.

Posting only to an unknown and nearly foreign blog in attempts to protect myself from public scrutiny has grown old. I guess you could say I long for the types of attention even my poorly written acquaintances get. So here I am...jumping on board and attempting a PG 13 version of that thing I do best...

Mind speaking.

Here's hoping the result is readable.

I give no guarantees.