Allergeez

Something blew in over the weekend (I don't know how that's possible since there hasn't been wind in San Antonio since December) and I woke up Monday with that itchy-eyed, stuffy-nosed, overall gross allergy feeling.

The worst thing about having an allergy attack is that it's not technically a true sickness, so you can't take off from work/school in good conscience, but you feel just as awful as if you had bronchitis or a blinding migraine.

And then there's always the debate: Do I take Benadryl and risk falling asleep while drilling a cavity (the bottle says 'do not take if operating heavy machinery'...do you think that includes dental drills?) or do I stuff a bunch of Kleenex inside my mask and hope for the best?

In other awful news, Jeffrey took part 2 of his Step Exam today. The test started at 9 am and he didn't finish until 5 pm, with only a 20 minute break to have a little snack. Oh my goodness! How smart does a person have to be to become a doctor?

(Answer: Very smart. Like my husband.)

It's going to be quite difficult to wash my hair while crossing my fingers for the few weeks until his scores come in--so don't judge me if it starts to get a little Ke$ha around here.

Doggie Daycare

This weekend we "dogsat" for some friends. This basically consisted of us actually trying not to sit on the dogs. Our friends have two little white fluffy dogs that weigh about 4 pounds each. The only dog I've ever owned is Dixie, also known as "The Sixty Pound Beast." We're not really used to having to watch where we sit around her.

Anyway, we adjusted to our weekend with tiny, breakable puppies with the help of these instructions from Caleb...

Lucy is the white one, Maggie is the brownish/gray one. If you mix them up they will never forgive you.

Directions:

-1 scoop of food per day in the evening, 8-9 o'clock usually. If you're late Lucy will remind you and be really annoying. Maggie is sometimes funny about eating, but if you sit on the couch and put her bowl on the floor next to you she usually eats.

-If you want Lucy to come, her command is: "GET OVER HERE"
-We didn't realize we taught her that until it was too late...

-Their vet is Babcock North across the street from the old HEB. 210-690-6030
-We hate them, don't take your animals there.

-They stay in their crate at night and during the day. Just tell them to go to bed, they'll do the rest, except lock the crate (no hands).

-Any other questions? Call Bethany!

[Here he drew a tiny, heart]
Caleb

Jeffrey and I spent a while laughing about this. I remembered one helpful hint from Bethany about the dogs, too. She had told me that if you ever want the dogs to leave an area they're in, just yell "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!" and they will leave whatever room you're in, regardless of if it's the kitchen, bathroom, or bedroom.

All this valuable/comical information came in handy when Lucy snuck out under a hole in our fence and escaped to the neighbor's backyard. Jeffrey and I stood on the fence slats at 10 pm alternately screaming, "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!" and "LUCY, GO TO BED!" until she meandered back to our backyard.

Best part of the weekend? Built in fluffy foot warmers!

Number One or Number Two?

I took this picture today in the bathroom at school...
There are only two options of what has happened here:

#1--Someone died in this stall, and the police have cordoned off the scene of the crime.

#2--Someone took a very serious, very disgusting, umm...#2.

What really happened? We may never know. One of life's greatest mysteries, brought to you by Lauren.

It's a Dog Eat Dog World

Actually, in my case, it's a dog eat flip flop world.

We started letting the beast stay out of her crate about a month ago while we ran errands. She usually just sleeps on the couch (which she's not allowed to do when we're home). Yesterday she ate two of my flip flops instead. But instead of eating two of the same flip flop, she ate one flop from each flippin' pair, so I lost two pair of flip flops in one afternoon. (Which begs the question: Does one of my feet taste better than the other?)

Distraught, I left the two unmatched, unmangled flip flops on the floor, wondering if I might try wearing them as a pair. When Jeffrey and I came home from the store today, the beastie had eaten the other two as well.

We put Dixie in a time out and she felt very sorry for what she did (for about 12 seconds). Then she saw a bird outside and had to defend our backyard's honor by running frantically around until the bird left.

I knew we should've gotten a komodo dragon. I'll bet this guy's dragon has never eaten his flip flops. (His kids, yes, but his flip flops, no.)

A Van Down by the River

I'm feeling a bit alone in the world today as my Uncle Gary is in Tanzania climbing Mount Kilimanjaro (true story, I had to use Wikipedia to double-check that Mt Kili is in Africa...many thanks to my World Geography teacher--er...coach...who made us watch Saving Private Ryan and The Patriot repeatedly instead of actually showing us a map) and my parents are in Lima, Peru.

My parents are doing on a mission trip working with an orphanage there. I wasn't worried about them going until my dad called me the day of the trip and said, "Hola!" heavily pronouncing the "H" sound, and then giggling, "I'm practicing my Spanish for the trip!" He has probably offended most of the locals by now and ruined America's reputation with his butchering of their language. (Just kidding, America's reputation has already been ruined...it happened when we let Britney Spears make that awful movie, Crossroads.)Anyway, with all my family spread out over the globe, I'm getting by with a little help from my friends. Yesterday we floated the river. It was a perfect day--slightly overcast so that the four of us who are eggshell white didn't get burned, but still hot enough to enjoy the cool river water.

Here's a picture of our little group...
(And actually, I wrote the last paragraph before I looked at the picture...no offense, guys, but we all pretty much look pale in the picture. I don't want to hear any more jokes about Casper from you.)

We tied all our rafts together at the suggestion of Caleb, who is an actual History teacher (not one of the ones who makes kids watch Saving Private Ryan), and who told us that the best way to stay together is to form a flotilla. He swears this is a real term from the Spanish navy for a formation of ships. At one point the flotilla failed us, when my raft seceded from the union during a trip down one of the chutes and the Lee's raft began to deflate. Then we had a period of reconstruction and recovered, just in time to raise our legs in happiness for a photographer standing on the banks whose photo we stole online to post here.

Afterward, the Gristmill. Umm...delicious! If you like onion rings the size of your face, you should go there. If you don't, well, just keep enjoying your granola bars and sushi for years after we die of coronary artery disease.

Puppuchino

Last week Jeffrey and I took a trip to Starbucks for a little late afternoon pick-me-up. As usual, we asked Dixie if she'd like to go on a ride.

She said yes. (Like this, with her eyes...)
We loaded up in the car and Jeffrey and I ordered our drinks (Jeffrey ordered a sensible, plain iced cofffee, and I ordered a high maintenance fru-fru drink, as per our personalities). When we drove around to the window, the man noticed Dixie in the back seat and asked if she would like a "puppuchino."

Huh?

Apparently, Starbucks is a dog-friendly coffee shop, so they offer puppuchinos for little doggies who join their owners at the drive through.

For those of you who aren't in the know, a puppuchino is a cup of whipped cream with a few sprinkles on top.

Dixie. Loved. It.

I have to be honest...I was a little worried about us having a barfucchino afterward, but apparently whipped cream sits nicely on a doggie's stomach.

The only problem now is the crashucchino that happens when all that Starbucks buzz wears off.

The Pessimistic Optimist

Today Jeffrey and I went to Sonic some happy hour drinks and a popcorn chicken snack to share instead of eating lunch late, then eating dinner late.

The timing of lunch and dinner are important because they are inextricably linked to my late night ice cream binges. These binges have become critically important to me since discovering Krazy Kookie Dough ice cream made by Blue Bell. For some reason the Blue Bell geniuses created this delicious cake batter ice cream and gaudily accented it with psychedelic yellow, pink, and green chunks of sugar cookie dough. I can only assume the reason is because after tasting this delicacy once, you will crave it with Cookie Monster-esque fervor and the bright colors will swirl as you slip into the sugar-induced high. (But I'm only guessing.)

Anyway, when we ordered the popcorn chicken, the apathetic static voice responded, "Sorry, man, we don't have that anymore."

Jeffrey and I stared at each other, mouths agape (but without any popcorn chicken to fill the hole with). Jeffrey suggested mozzarella sticks, but my taste buds had already gotten prepped for popcorn chicken, I declined. We decided instead to go to Dairy Queen and get our chicken bites there, or rather, I decided and Jeffrey had to go along with it because I have to start school tomorrow and he gets to keep having summer.

He was not happy. (Really, he wasn't all that mad, but he just gets a kick out of acting grumpy when I get something I want.)

Once we got to DQ I irritated him once again by asking for honey mustard instead of gravy for our dipping sauce. As we waited for our chicken, he pouted. I offered to ask the DQ worker for gravy, as well.

"Don't," he grumbled, feigning anger.

When we got our order, I asked the guy for some gravy. He bent the rigid DQ employee rules and gave us TWO dipping sauces.

As we drove away, Jeffrey continued his act of sulking. "I can't eat it," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

He said matter-of-factly, "It's tainted with your disobedience."

We both laughed, and then Jeffrey said, "If someone had just seen that little exchange, they might think we really don't like each other."

The pessimist suddenly turned into an optimist later that night when we went to Pei Wei for dinner. As we walked out of the restaurant, I lamented, "UGH! I don't want to go to school tomorrow! I really do like summer better than school."

Jeffrey responded, "Well, you can get the best of both worlds, because tomorrow is still summer, and you also get to go to school."

Thanks a lot, gravy boy.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue

Something Old

Once upon a time, a long time ago (May 2007), my fiance, Jeffrey, and I took a trip to his parents' house for a little summer vacation. Being in love, but yet unmarried, we had to go through the usual bedtime shuffle routine. It was decided that Tom (Jeffrey's younger brother, who has Down Syndrome) would sleep in his own bed with Jeffrey, and that I would sleep in the back bedroom on the daybed. Being a lazy college student, I planned on sleeping in as late as possible, but the following morning I was woken slightly before dawn by a man's voice saying softly, "Ooooh....cozy!" as he spooned with me in the tiny bed meant for only one person. My sleep-logged body was too tired to turn around, but my groggy mind slowly realized that the person in my bed certainly couldn't be my future husband, because the hands holding my hands felt distinctly different. Finally I turned around and saw the smiling face of my future brother-in-law, snuggling in bed with me.

I slept with my brother-in-law before I slept with my husband. Yikes.

Something New

Fast forward to present day--we are once again celebrating a few days off at Jeffrey's parents' house in Fort Worth. This time I get to sleep with my husband and our dog instead of with Tommy (although two people and a dog in a full sized bed is only slightly less crowded than Tommy and me in a daybed). Sitting at the kitchen table making conversation with Jeffrey's two grandmothers, I had the misfortune of looking up at the exact moment that Tommy chose to try and scurry from the bathroom to his bedroom in his birthday suit. Problem--Tommy is not a fast runner...the war cry loving yelled by his family when he runs to 1st base in one of his baseball games is "He looks like he's dragging a piano behind him." And so, this mad dash from bathroom to bedroom was less of a streak and more of a slow pour of (naked) molasses.

At least I've seen Jeffrey do that before I saw it from his brother.

Something Borrowed

This is a borrowed story (and I'm sure my in-laws are happy to know that it does not have anything to do with either of their sons...or nudity) from one of my friends at dental school. During our summer screening clinic, my friend Sage (who has an Indian accent) received a patient with a thick Chinese accent. As you can imagine, there was quite a bit lost in translation as they went through the 8000 inane questions on our health history questionnaire. When Sage asked, "Have you ever had surgery?" The man responded by pointing to his pelvis and nodding in the affirmative. Sage asked for clarification, "You had surgery on your hip?" The man shook his head and pointed lower, apologizing that he didn't know the word in English. Sage asked, "Did you have surgery on your thigh?" The man again shook his head and tried to say a word to explain. While Sage quizzically looked between the patient and the computer page with a blank space next to surgeries, the Chinese man suddenly figured out the best way to explain. Quietly he stood up, turned around, bent over at the waist, backed his rear up to Sage's face, and pointed precisely to his anus. Sage quickly typed "hemorrhoids" into the computer form and prayed that no one had seen his patient's about face.

Something Blue

School starts again for me on Tuesday, and in an act of sheer rebellion, I got a blue feather clipped into my hair. When I went home my husband looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I told him that feathers in your hair is a big trend right now, but he didn't believe me until I found the news story that my hairdresser had told me about. Apparently, this feather trend is so popular that fishermen (who use feathers to make their lures) have been unable to fish in some areas because all the feathers have been bought up by hair salons.