Drip-Drop, Drip-Drop

"Drip, drip, drop...little April showers..." or at least that's what happens when it rains in Bambi. The rain that came last night to Blythe showed up around 3 a.m. The lightening and thunder started, then the light sprinkling, which quickly became pellets of water. Laying in bed, I thought "The A/C vent is open and that water is going to start leaking right onto our bed." Because of the way our rental house has been built and modified over the years, we have a unique feature in that our room and the guest room roof's seem to tilt at just the right angle that water can run into them. Each time it has rained since we've lived in this place, if we aren't home to catch it, our bed and the guest bed get soaked and we have to air everything out and do all the laundry. This was the situation when we came home on Memorial Day weekend, with the flu. We found our beds all soaked and nasty, and we had to sleep in the living room on the couches.
Well, the drops started falling about 3:30 a.m. We layed out towels, hoping it would just be a little sprinkle and we could sleep through. Then the drops caught the ceiling fan and were whirled across the bed as it became wetter and wetter. We grabbed all the big bowls and went to work catching as much of the mess as we could, to no avail. Joe took care of the guest room with one ice chest, and had to do the same in our bedroom. So we retired once again to couches, for a night of Maggie crying in her kennel (she knew we were there and ignoring her) and kinks in our backs and necks. Yes, we know we need to move and we want to move.....and moments like these make us want to find something new and perfect and WAY over budget, just to not have the hassle.

4th of July

We spent the 4th of July weekend at home with nothing special planned. On the evening of the 3rd, we decided to do some "baby" fireworks at our house. We sat outside in the alley next to our house and started the show. This was Gwen's first time doing fireworks. She was really exicited. She and Joe lit sparklers and were having a good time, until Gwen turned toward Joe with it and burned his hand. He reacted, and said "No Gwen! Daddy has owie." The she realized that they could hurt. Following that we lit a really big firework on accident, and it banged and popped a few inches from our lawn chairs, causing everyone to react with surprise. At that point, Gwen was scared and didn't want to see anymore "fire." When we tried to get her to do some more, she started crying and getting upset. The following night, Joe and I took her out on the rhino to a canal bank by my mom's house to see the big firework show, and she was scared of the same thing. She actually turned her head away, said "No fire, Mommy," and cuddled up to me and went to sleep in my arms. She never does that! So fireworks weren't a big hit this time, but we have more left, so we might be able to coax a better reaction from her if we don't burn ourselves or threaten our own safety.

Maggie's Been 86-ed

I thought it would be Gwen, since she's been a biter in the past and becoming more and more aggressive with the other kids. But it turns out that our white, brown-spotted one-year old boxer, Maggie, has one-uped Gwen on the daycare "bad girl" list.
Let me explain: We got Maggie last July. She was cute as a pup, but has become a force of energy the last six months. We live in a not-so-great neighborhood, if you can believe that Blythe has one. Our friend Matt was trimming out trees last fall, when a scary little boy stopped by and asked Matt, "Where's the dog?, What time do these people go to work?, Does the dog stay outside?" Psych-o. So, since we only have a front yard and we were pretty sure our boxer (which many brothers mistake for a pit) was on the grab-and-go radar, we decided that she needed a play place. Hence, our good friends Bruce and Teri offered to let Maggie come over and play with their two St. Barnards, Rebel and Rascal.
A couple of holes in the yard, and everything was going pretty well. Until last week. Maggie went over, and while Bruce went to the store, she proceeded to find a remote control and chew the be-jesus out of it. Once, Bruce could handle. We offered to replace it, but he wouldn't hear of it. Maggie spent a couple of time-out days at home, and Joe took her over this morning.
Joe walked in this afternoon looking quite grave, and said, "Well, Maggie's been permanently kicked out of daycare." It seems that once again, Bruce left for the store and this time was only gone for 10 MINUTES. He came home to find ANOTHER remote control trashed. Well, Maggie's going to be staying in her kennel at our house, we're going to give Bruce money for two replacements, and we're looking into some kind of discount obedience program. Maybe Julian can whip our whipper-snapper into shape. Stay tuned!