Better late than never… Cousins come to GA!

A few weekends ago we were blessed with a visit from Z’s cousin, Sarah. You’ve met her before… although the focus of the last post she was in was more about her GIANT furry family member, Remus.

Well… for those of you who are new to Life in these times… , allow me to fill you in.

Sarah and her hubby Brian decided it was time to expand their family by adding a four-legged friend about the same time Z and I made a similar decision and brought home Buster and Pigsby. In fact, Remus and the Bostons are only a few days apart in age… although you’d never know it by looking at them. Let me show you what I mean. This are some snapshots of the puppy-cousins when they first met last Thanksgiving. They were all only just at 5 months old.

Clearly, the Boston’s look more like chew toys compared to the BEAST that is the Irish Wolfhound… aka the worlds biggest breed.

While Remus may look menacing by his size alone, he’s actually a complete scaredy cat. It took him quite a while to feel comfortable enough around the pups to get out from behind Sarah’s legs when they came around him and actually start playing!

Needless to say we were super excited to have them visit and couldn’t wait to see the three puppy-cousins in action once again. Unfortunately, Buster and Pigs had to be quarantined the whole weekend for acting like snotty little bitches and ATTACKING Remus! Yes, my two, super sweet albeit incredibly mischievous, 20 lb Boston Terriers attacked their BFG cousin. {That’s Big Friendly Giant for those of you who did not have the pleasure of diving into Roald Dahl during grade school.} What turned into a “getting to know you” dance of sorts… aka Remus trying to keep track of both pups as they circled around his feet and underneath his enormous legs… quickly, and to my complete horror, turned into Pigs latching on to Remus’ ear {drawing blood} causing the BFG to whimper and cower in fear. So instead of getting some super adorable puppy-cousin time, this is what the Boston’s weekend looked like:

bad dogs

And this is what their weekend looked like once they started whining like little babies that Remus got to be out and about having fun…

hushed bad dogs

Out of sight… out of mind. I was so pissed at them and CONTINUOUSLY apologized to Sarah for what happened but she reminded me that this is their turf and although they are super tiny in comparison, they have dominance over the house. The first time they met they were on neutral ground so it makes sense that they would be much more territorial in this meeting. Ah well. Sarah, Remus and I still managed to have a great weekend. Z had to work most of the time so Sarah and I had a chance to catch up and have some girly fun looking through JoAnn fabric for craft ideas for the nursery! I also introduced Sarah to the one and only FLYING BISCUIT which she quickly fell in love with {as if there was any doubt}. All in all it was a wonderful visit and I’m so thankful we could make it happen. Here are a few more shots of all the fun {all the fun that the Boston’s missed out on… so sad}.

UGH! love that face! Our next dog purchase {which probably won’t be until after Buster and Pigs kick the bucket} will definitely be a big dog!


Kisses for mama

Until next time…

Have you ever experienced a KUJO moment from one of your pets that is normally super sweet?

Pigsby’s Day Out

Happy Friday everyone! Guess what, It’s storytime! This story is about a brave little puppy who set out to explore the vast landscape that is… Georgia. So boys and girls, sit back, relax, and enjoy.

Pigs got out on Wednesday.  Out of the house, out of the fenced-in back yard, OUT! And he had himself a little adventure.

Z and I are fortunate enough to have a fenced-in back yard. I don’t know what I would do with those two crazy pups if we couldn’t just open the back door and let them run around. Well, I take that back. I would probably do what I ended up doing for about an hour that day… PANIC!
Z was home from work when he let the pups outside for a bit. Nothing out of the norm, same ol’ same ol’.  About 30 minutes later he looked and Buster was standing at the door looking in. Both pups are generally together when they come to the door but it’s not something to be alarmed by when one or the other of them is there staring at us alone. SO, Z opened the door and let him in without a second thought. He shut the door and right as he got back to the couch to sit down he looked back and Buster was staring back outside: something very unusual for a pup that was just begging to come in. So he got back up to let him out again but right as Buster stepped out of the door and onto the patio, he stopped and looked back at Z. Also unusual for a pup who was just begging to get outside.
At this point Z called for Pigs and didn’t get a response. Usually when we call for them, if we don’t see them immediately we can at least hear some kind of rustling of leaves as they come tearing across the yard. But no sound. No pigs.  W.T.F.
Z stepped outside to investigate further and Buster started walking toward the far right edge of the fence. The side that faces our least favorite neighbors and the place where their yappy lab mix puppy, Moses is usually tied up. Buster walked over to the fence, pointed out the justbigenoughforpigstosqueezethrough hole and looked back at Z. Oh Shiz.
At this point Z put Buster back in the house and went on a number of scans. He walked through the neighborhood calling Pigs’ name. He drove through the neighborhood calling Pigs’ name out the window. He drove around the outskirts of the neighborhood calling Pigs’ name and looking for any sign that “PIGZ WUZ HERRE”. He even got the word out to any neighbors who were outside in their yards, including the Comcast guy working on the satellite dish next door.
Now, for those of you who haven’t been with Life in these times… long, allow me fill you in a little on Pigs.

8 weeks old. Only a few days after he joined the family. Here it’s obvious why we named him PIGS

Pigs is what we like to call our little SPEDlette {Special Ed} dog. He’s darn cute, but not all there. He was the runt of the litter, earned himself a night in the emergency room after catching pneumonia last Thanksgiving and usually gets winded simply by running across the house in the excitement of knowing he’s about to be fed.

It’s not uncommon for him to fall asleep half way through playtime (aka chewtime)

He’s “special”. He kind of reminds me of ED the hyena from The Lion King.

I think it’s his crazy eyes and that whole “I have no idea what’s going on but I’m happy about it” look.
He’s also a snuggle-bug. If you are in our house, guest or frequent visitor, and you sit on the floor, he will do everything in his power to get into your lap.

He’s super lovable and would follow anyone, stranger or not, into the sparkliest of candy lands or darkest abyss of terror. That’s Pigs.
Needless to say we were quite concerned for his well-being during his grand adventure. Not only that he might run out into traffic or be picked up by some puppy-eating lunatic, but that walking around too long in the mid-day heat/sun would be too much for his little spedlette lungs to handle.
After about an hour and numerous trips out and about searching, Z decided to check a slightly more extended area around our house and neighborhood, anywhere with people, really. There is an elementary school across from our neighborhood and a Kroger right down the block so he thought he’d scope them out first.
As he was driving around he decided to turn into the neighborhood next to ours {next, but not exactly CLOSE… especially from the perspective of a foot-high, 20 lb, lazy-eyed boston terrier}. A few turns and he finally spotted him: trotting along the sidewalk behind the mail man, happy as a clam and panting {aka wheezing} like his life depended on it {which it most likely did}. Z pulled up, called, “Pigsby!” in the tone of “you dumb-ass” and watched as Pigs turned right around and headed toward him. Z texted me to share the news and I was beyond relieved, then I was just annoyed at the fact that he was dumb enough to pull off such an escape. Actually, for a full understanding of my thought process throughout this whole ordeal, as I sat in my office 40 minutes from home knowing there was NOTHING I could do to help, here’s my basic train of thought:

-Receive text from Z that Pigs had gotten out
“Ugh… stupid dog, what a pain in the butt! First they tear the house apart, now this. ”

-Remember that Pigs doesn’t have a collar or any kind of ID that would link him back to us and is kind of Special Ed
“OH MY GOD, someone is going to steal him or he’s going to walk out into traffic thinking a car is some giant toy to play with and I will be heartbroken for life!!!”

-Hearing that Z still hasn’t seen any sign of him after almost an hour.
“I should leave work. I should leave right now and help look for him. I’m such a terrible puppy-parent. PANIC, WORRY, PANIC, WORRY, PANIC”

- Get news from Z that he’d been found
quick sigh of relief  “YAY! Hubby found him!… Ugh… stupid dog”

So I’m definitely happy to report that Pigs is safe and sound and didn’t wind up in the arms of some psycho puppy eater or as roadkill… puh. Z said he was quite overheated when he finally got a hold of him and passed out on the cool kitchen floor, still panting, after drinking his weight in water. Yay Pigs!… stupid dog.
In other news… MAJOR kudos to Buster for not following Pigs right out of that hole, but I guess someone needed to be the responsible sibling and rat out his little brother.
In the end I learned a few very valuable lessons:
Number one: Always have an ID on your pets, even if you have the “security” of a fenced-in back yard. We went out that night and snagged two brand new collars with ID tags.  They are so stylish now.

And camera-shy apparently! Pigs is in red, Buster in blue!

Number two: While they drive me crazy and have caused more around-the-house damage to last me a lifetime, I love these pups and would be terribly heartbroken if either one were to disappear.
And so life for Pigsby continues in the Pierce household… that is until Z punts him out the door for destroying one of his instruments.

Until next time…
Any guesses to what crazy adventures the pups will get into next?

Not one end, but two.

Happy Friday after St. Patty’s day everyone! Hopefully you are all still filled with green beer and remnants of cheer.

I did not get to share in the feast O’ St. Pat, due to the fact that I was teaching high schoolers the hand jive until 10:00 pm {Tons of fun, by the way!!} but I did make a point to stay up late and snuggle with the hubs over a few episodes of True Blood. Which, by the way, the verdict is still out on.
It’s an ‘interesting’ show but I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. We’re 10 episodes into the first season and just about every character is now annoying me. Most of the ones I actually like either have tiny bit parts, are winding up dead or have decided to make me hate them for one reason or twelve. 

But, while I could spend an entire series of posts observing the oddities of the VAMPIRE LOVE FEST, I digress. 
Today I’m going to talk about something somewhat familiar, but slightly new.
Are you ready for it?
{read this: weak stomachs brace yourselves}
As you know from yesterday’s over-share, in the past few days Pigs has mastered the art of projectile poop. I’ve seen, smelled, and cleaned up more than Mother Nature intended and thought, foolishly, that it couldn’t get any worse.
This morning’s routine started like any other with my early morning wake up call, 4 dates with the snooze button and a refreshing shower before heading downstairs to let the pups out and grab some breakfast. As I descended the stairs a foul smell hit my nose and I knew. Another poop-covered morning. 

Yes, friends, Pigs still has his art down pat {I know some of you were probably worried his talents were diminishing…eww}. I half expected it so wasn’t entirely surprised. Luckily I was smart enough to surround their kennel with newspaper last night in hopes that it would catch any fast flying feces. It did, making the clean up much easier than yesterday. The morning continued with me hollering for the hubs’ assistance while carefully carrying the poop-covered pups outside so we could switch out the dirty kennel for the clean one {yes we have two, and thank the sweet Lord we do!}. I then tossed the pups in the tub and gave them a good scrub down. All this while still modeling my bathrobe and twisty-towel head. Things seemed to be going smoothly at this point but as I’ve already prefaced, it was no where near the end. After towel drying the pups I brought them into the guest room where I normally get ready as to not wake Z {I’m such a good wife}. They hopped up on the bed with me and snuggled up in my lap while I alternated between drying my hair, and them. Ah, the calm before the storm.
I noticed that Buster was shivering a little in my lap but thought it was because he was cold from his wet fur. 
Nay, Sara. Thou art wrong in so many ways.
Well folks, it turns out that Buster has been feeling a little left out due to all the coddling and attention his power-pooping sibling has been receiving as of late. So, he decided to join in on the ‘fun’ and ‘excitement in his own special way.
All of a sudden, while still sitting on the bed in a position similar to the “butterfly stretch”, with both pups in my lap, and my hair thrown over in front of me so I could dry the back of my head, I feel something warm hit my left leg. It was one of those sensations when you aren’t really sure if you’re imagining things or not and you aren’t even certain of where you should look to find the answer. Well, there was no need to look once the smell hit me.
In total shock I threw my head back and saw it.
My leg, covered in puppy puke.
Good morning.
I called for Z and did everything I could not to look at it, smell it or freak the EFF out. 
I’ve dealt with puppy puke before but this was something out of The Exorcist. It wasn’t chunks of food or a watery mess but instead had remnants of a rope toy, a rubber bear, and the, now infamous, Mr. Duckie. Apparently Pigs wasn’t the only one indulging in the toy buffet. The puke’s path of destruction traveled from my shin and calf onto the bed, down the comforter and hit the finish line in a pile on the floor. The image has been burned into my brain forever. 
After suppressing the urge to join Buster in his VOM excursion I quickly washed my leg, cleaned up the pool of puke on the carpet, tossed ALL of the bedding in the wash on the HEAVY SOIL setting and sped through the house like a bat out of hell trying to get ready for work while the hubs dealt with the rest of the puppy mess.  I’m so lucky and thankful to have a sweet hubby who will get up HOURS before he has to and battle two tiny poo and puke monsters with me and then make me breakfast. After washing his hands of course.
Oh Friday, why do you hate me so?
Until next time…
Thanks for all the tips on pet carpet stains everyone. Now… how to remove the puppy puke image from my mind forever! GO

DIY Gifts Part 2… Calling All Chocoholics

Before things get dirty… and the most DEFINITELY will…the title of this post makes me think of a Demetri Martin joke…

I’ve heard of many chocoholics, but I ain’t never seen no “chocohol”. We got an epidemic, people: people who like chocolate but don’t understand word endings. They’re probably “over-workaholled”.

Love him.
You should too.
Anywho… time for the next DIY gift-giving adventure: Chocolate truffles.
I got the recipe from a fabulous little book I snagged from JR’s discount SUPERSTORE in NC {a great source for discounted cookbooks} called Cooking with Chocolate by AvnerLaskin.

I was going to a cookie swap and since, as we last learned in my cinnamon honey butter post, I don’t have a standing mixer. {I JUST bought a hand mixer with a little Christmas money, so YAY to that… but still no stand mixer. Anyone want to donate one? Can I haz this one please!} SO, I wanted needed to make a sweet treat that didn’t involve the normal cookie-making-processes and I stumbled upon a mouth-watering photo of dark chocolate truffles. Yum. They had to be made!

Here’s what you need…
Heavy whipping cream
Bittersweet chocolate chips
And here’s what you do:
Bring 1 cup heavy whipping cream to a boil and pour 10 oz. bitter sweet chocolate into large bowl.
Pour cream over chocolate pieces and get to whisking!
Pop the chocolaty mixture in the frig for 30 minutes or until slightly stiff.
Once chilled, place in pastry bag and pipe into tiny piles. Mine looked like giant, shiny, Hershey’s kisses.
NEXT, channel Meredith Grey and prepare yourself with heavy duty {disposable} surgical {kitchen} gloves.
There are no pictures of this part because Z was away and I was too covered in chocolate to take pictures. Basically pick up the tiny piles of chocolate and roll them in the palm of your glove until round-ish.
Then dip truffles in cocoa powder.
Helpful hints: roll all of your truffles first and then dip them into the cocoa. It gets really messy and becomes hard to form the balls if you alternate between the soft chocolate and powder. 
ALSO, don’t take too long to roll the truffles because the heat from your hands will melt the chocolate and make rolling harder as well.
You can coat the truffles in as much or as little cocoa as you like. I did a little more than I should have but some people prefer a more bitter taste before they bite into the heavenly sweetness!
AFTER cleaning myself and the kitchen up, I packaged these pups for delivery.
I found these adorable tins at JoAnn Fabric for 70% off. I think they were each around $1. Thank you Christmas sales!
To give myself more work I cut out pieces of wax paper to lay between the truffles and started with one at the very bottom of each tin. Aren’t they cute?
This was such a fun project and I had enough left over for Z and me!
Try them out and tell me what you think!
Until next time…