So. Let’s start with the obvious. Google should be taken away from me. Last week I was doing some research to find out when my chickens would lay eggs. I was googling around when I read this:

After the yolk is formed in the hen's single ovary, the yolk drops into the body cavity. From there it goes into the infundibulum, or "funnel". It then starts it on its way down the oviduct. The oviduct is more than 2 feet long and is lined with glands that secrete the materials for the albumen (egg white), shell membranes, and shell. The egg color pigment is added in the last stages of this process. It takes twenty-four hours or more from the time the yolk is released until the completed egg is laid.

You should know, I already had issues with eggs. They smell. If I ate it, it had to be hard boiled or fried until it was no longer resembling an egg. If anything smelled like egg forget it I wouldn’t touch it. If you scrambled an egg in a bowl you better wash it, then put it in the dishwasher and use the sanitize setting and scalding hot water. If food smells like egg I’ll straight up throw it away.

So imagine me sitting there reading the above statement, then imagine the wheels in my head turning and now where are we?

Right after I ovulate my body releases this gelatinous stuff that contains the unused egg. Since I obviously relate everything to humans I realized that eggs are nothing more then ovulation, dead egg secretion and I TOTALLY FREAKED THE FUCK OUT MAN. I mean I would never fry up that ovulation juice and cook it. I would never eat one of my own eggs so why in shit sake would I eat a chicken egg?

Just like that I was off eggs. No more baked goods. No more egg sammiches. No more egg washed pretzels. No more ranch dressing. No more beloved mayo. NO MORE ICE CREAM.

So imagine during our recent trip to Lego Land when I got my husband an ice cream cone while he was on a ride, and it starts melting everywhere.  Instead of doing the logical thing and licking the sides clean for him I wrapped the whole mess in a bunch of paper towels and handed him a gooey cone full of melted mush when he was done with the ride.  He wanted to drop kick me right then.  Why couldn't I be normal?  Why couldn't I just lick the fucking ice cream and clean it up?  BECAUSE IT'S OVARY JUICE.  IT COMES OUT OF A CHICKENS POOTER.  NO THANK YOU MAN!

So. In honor of my new found egg hatred I’m giving away a voucher from Dove Ice cream for Any (1) Dove ice cream 8.67 oz or larger, Dovebar multi pack, or Dove bar miniatures multi pack. You can go ahead and eat the chocolate covered ovulation juice. Me? I’ll be watching from the sidelines wondering who let me have Google. How do you enter?

1. Leave a comment

2. Follow me on Twitter @wilddreemer and tweet about this give away (tell me about it in the comments)

3. Link to this post on your Facebook and tell me how I can find it in the comments section

4. Link to this post on your blog.

I will pick a winner on Monday the 5th.

I think, free ice cream is definitely once contest you want to enter. Because a whole multi pack of Dove bars….That is like a little bit of sex in a box if you ask me.  Or, if you asked me two weeks ago.

I’m featured today on shoe Friday. Come drool over my sweet heels
http://jodifur.com/2011/08/shoe-friday-139.html

How to love your wife lesson #1

When you receive the following text:

"BABE, ABOUT DINNER."

With the following picture….

Followed by a second photo like this…

A good husband replies

"MMMM CAJUN STYLE, MY FAVORITE."

 

Be this a lesson to all men.  That is the only appropriate answer.  

Men.  Take note!

Fucking dog!!!
You wanna know what a day in my life as a dog owner is like?
Monday I take Charlie out to go potty. He starts pooping and the next thing I know he is hopping around yelping. I turn sound and he has a piece of my hair dangling half out his butt with poop on it.
DINGLE BERRIES PEOPLE
Being the smart pet owner I am I know the next thing he will do is try and drag his butt to get it out. Which was fine UNTIL he took off for my office. So I take off after him because I CANNOT have him dragging shit all over my office floor. But he’s a quick little shit and he is in my office and down the hall before I even set foot in the door. The other girl in the office jumps out and tries to stop him but it was like one of those movie scenes where he ran right through her legs nearly crashing her over. Then ran all over while I chased him all around the whole time staring at dingle berries flopping around out of his butt.
Just as I predicted he headed for his bed and started smearing poop on it. I finally cornered him and then had to carry him into the bathroom and
PULL FOUR INCHES OF HAIR OUT OF HIS ASS.
Then clean his mess up and take him back out to finish pooping.
So if you are wondering what my work day is like with Charlie there you have it.
*note I attempted this blog from my phone while dropping off Brandon at school so ignore any errors.

With Blogher11 coming up next week (omfgnextweekIhaven'tevenpackedpanicattackfreakoutohshit) There has been lots of discussions about clothing, what to pack and shoes.  Everyone keeps saying they must be comfy shoes.  So I have to ask, do these count as comfy?

I started blogging after I had Brandon.  None of my friends had kids, I was kind of lonely as a parent and I thought there were people out there who just might listen to me.  It all started with Myspace blogging.  Then I saw my friend Emery had created a blog, Moms are for Everyone.  I loved it and I knew right away I had to start one too.  I didn't have many followers at first.  

My first really big follower was Patty.  Patty, my dear sweet Patty (A Day in My NYC).  She sent me a baby gift for Codi that I still have.  She sends cards, and emails, and I still read all of her old comments. She sends me bagels:

And hand knits me scarves for my birthday:

She sends me Christmas cards, and chocolate covered Oreos but most of all she sends me LOVE!  I met Patty.  It was the greatest moment. She was everything I knew she would be.  Loving, sweet, amazing, kind and, as good of a friend in person as she was online.

Slowly I developed friendships.  We became partners.  All of us women (and a few men) who knew nothing about each other but LOVED EACH OTHER.  

A great example would be today.  I went to my mail box and found a lovely gift from Sarah at Tunay Na Mahal.

I didn't ask for it.  She just knew I was hurting and sent it to me.  It made my day.  I had been having a rough day today after losing Sparky and this was the perfect pick me up, along with the quote that came with it,

"My little dog — a heartbeat at my feet." Our pets, hold our hearts in their little paws. We hold them in our hearts. Our Heartbeat at my Feet keychain reminds us of the unconditional love animals bring into our lives everyday. 

It warmed my whole heart. In fact I'm having, " heart beat at my feet" put on his gravestone now.

You see, I didn't start blogging to advertise.  I didn't start for give aways, and reviews and all of the stuff blogging is now, I started for friendships.  That is what blogging still is to me. 

I can't tell you how many times I've opened the mail box to find a card from Mathers (or a sweet treat) that hit the spot and made my day.

I love being able to go online and ask a parenting question.  Or vent about my husband.  Or tell you all that I'm bat shit crazy, losing my  mind and dear God if I don't get chocolate now someone will die.  

I still read Cakerwakers to this day.  When she went on break I bothered her to no end via email that I missed her, come back, I need you and your pictures of cupcakes and treats.

I met Jessa, who loves me because I'm just as crazy as her.  I love reading her blog.  I love our Facebook chats now.  I love the relationship we have built together and that there is someone in the world who understands my head, that I can trust to vent it to.

I've built relationships so strong that Laura felt comfortable telling me her story, to this day I cherish the day she told me, the moment she told me and in return I mailed her a card, some junk food and some love.  

Because that is what we do in this community.  We are there for each other.  We pick each other up when we fall.  We send virtual drinks, and hugs, and sometimes mail of chocolate when times are desperate.  

I hate what blogging is now.  I hate that it's about money.  That I get less readers because I don't do reviews, or I don't give away free things.  But I don't mind.  I'd rather have the few readers I have now that read me because they love me and we are virtual sisters, then have a bunch of readers who were only coming to my blog looking for something free.  

I love all of my readers.  My loyal readers.  The ones who checked on me when I took a break.  The ones who emailed me to find out if I was still alive, was I okay?  The ones who said just the right things when my dog died. 

I love this blog.  I love the family I've created through it.  There are so many of you I would like to mention, and maybe over the next few weeks I will do that, I will start to highlight some of my favorite bloggers, so all of you can meet some true friends too.

I want to thank all of you, for always being there for me.  For reading my blog and for always understanding.  

Nine days ago my best friend died.  Originally I planned to tell the whole story.  Tell you all how it was my fault.  How, I take all of the blame for it.  But, I'm afraid typing the whole story out will just tear me to shreds so…the short version, my five month old sweet little puppy Sparky was run over.  The worst part is that the person who hit him didn't call me.  They left him in the road to die over night.  WHAT IF HE COULD HAVE BEEN SAVED?  I am livid.  How dare you not call.  How dare you hit my dog and not take him to ER or call me or DO SOMETHING.

FUCK!

The next day some guy riding a bike saw him in the road, removed his collar, moved his body into a bush, rode home and called me.  Imagine making that phone call.  I had Codi sitting in my lap. I was out of town at Donner Lake and some guy has to call and tell me my dog is gone.  I put Codi down, he went awol about that and I walked outside.  I broke down.  I was shaking.  I just lost it.  I haven't broken down like that since my grandma died 11 years ago.  Rob and I drove home, got the body, wrapped it in his favorite blankets and put in him the freezer until the next day when we could have a little funeral.  We went to the guy and got the collar which is still in my purse.  We drove back to the lake and tried to have a good weekend with our kids.

Well, that isn't true.  The real story is, we drove down here, got the body and I drank an entire bottle of wine walking up and down my private road looking for my cat.  By the end I was tottering left and right not really walking straight.  We went back to the lake, and I went to bed.  I woke up hung over at 7pm, ate about 5 bites of food and went back to bed crying.  

I cried a lot.  

Brandon cried a lot too. Big huge sobs.  Screaming SPARKY SPARKY SPARKEEEEEEE over and over.  I had killed my sons dog.  This wasn't helping matters.  

So I did the only logical thing. I told them we would get a new puppy.  

Sunday when we were done at the lake instead of driving home to do laundry we drove all the way to another town and bought a new puppy.

Meet Charlie.

He is cute.  But he is not Sparky.  I bought all new leashes, collars, food dishes, everything.  I didn't want to share anything of Sparkys.  Fuck, when we got home I didn't even want him to go in Sparky's yard.  I couldn't go in the house forever.  He's a good puppy.  He is young, and he needs me and part of me needs him but, HE ISN'T SPARKY.  I'm trying hard not to compair them.  Not to look for differences.  But it is hard.  Sparky was potty trained.  Dog door trained.  He slept through the night.  He sat on command.  He sat if you just pointed one finger.  He ran with me.  He had just been groomed THE DAY HE DIED.  

Charlie is a menace.  He chews on stuff.  Bites me.  He's a holy terror.  But he makes me laugh and that is good, because laughing is better then crying right?  I miss Sparky.  I miss him to pieces.  I want my dog back.

I promise to commence happy fun blogging this week.  I promise. 

Just.  

Not tonight.

His bush.  Where he is buried.  He loved this bush.  He bounced in an out of it daily.  I can't even look at the bush right now.  But he is buried there.  With his bear, his shoe and his blankets.  The words are blurring into one now, so I'm going to go.  

Fuck this is hard.

I will write more soon.  Tell you all what happened to Sparky and introduce you to Charlie the new pup. But, I'm afraid to write it all down right now.  So, until then….I give you a look into my head:

Please don't say sorry…anything but sorry