Quiet.....Can you hear the Crickets?

I have finally broken down and got internet at my disposal again, not just at work. I went into the ghetto Cricket store kicking and screaming but walked out with a shiny new USB internet port thingy and just a $128 receipt. The Indian guy behind the counter repeatedly told me how easy it would be to install and use, etc. I got home and immediatley went to the laptop. After 17 failed activation attempts, 2 phone calls to technical support, and restarting my computer countless times.... I now have interent. I will faithfully blog again.....if I can get connected.

My Baby

Since I am normally a cynical blogger, I have chosen to write about the joy of my life today- Bentley. Bentley is my 17 month old handsome Rhodesian Ridgeback. He has so many quirks, my mom is about to watch him for a week and she just might go insane. He is a good boy, just very needy. For instance, when I get home he runs to his toy box and grabs a toy just to show me. Before bed I have to follow this routine: take his collar off, tell him I love him, tell him what a good boy he is, then say night night Bentley. He has to sleep touching me, usually right next to me like a person, at the very least his head will be on my legs. Bentley loves the Lisle and Hahn morning show but can't stand the station after 10. He never gets left at home without the tv on, he likes the Today show and Spongebob. He savors his food, never horks it down. Bentley does not like cheddar Sun Chips but loves the original ones. He loves his Nana so much that his butt goes out of control with excitement whenever she is around. He gets so hyper when he first sees her that he usually ends up in time out. Bentley is an excellent swimmer and loves loves the river but hates baths. He is truly a person trapped in a dog body! Mom, thank you for agreeing to take care of my baby, I will have a great vacation knowing he is with you. By the way, you don't have to do all of the previous mentioned things, like don't run out and buy Sun Chips!

Cash

Cash, aka Cassius. Cassius does not actually like to be called Cash but if Cassius was my name I would like to be called Cash so I call him Cash behind his back and Cassius to his face. Nothing rude or anything but when I say that my neighbor's name is Cash is sounds way cooler than Cassius. Anyways, Cash is my adorable 13 year old neighbor who is basically my only friend at CL. He comes over and we have deep discussions about life, family, friends, etc. He is extremely intelligent for his age and can carry on a conversation far better than most people my own age. When I first moved in he would not even wave at me, I was so offended. Now, he comes over all the time, eats dinner, airs out his family's dirty laundry, and asks for my advice on girls. Haha like I should be giving advice on relationships. When he first started being my friend he asked me if I had any kids. I said no and he seemed disappointed. He replied with "you should adopt a kid, you would be a good mom, you should probably get a boy around 12 or so." That might have been the cutest thing I have ever heard, seriously, ever.

Cookies on the Corner

Girl Scout cookies are the bane of my existence. In the past two days I have had several encounters with the devils. I don't like cookies, not a big chocolate fan, and don't normally crave something sweet unless it is Saturday night in Canyon Lake at Italian Garden and they happen to still have Tiramisu. If they still have the delectable desert, I see it as a sign that I am supposed to order it because for the next four months they will be conveniently out. With all of this being said, I love, love, love Girl Scout cookies. Probably just a childhood memory of my mother buying cases of them and hiding the thin mints in the freezer, the pretty colorful packaging, and the fact that you can't buy them at HEB. So, I broke down, bought two boxes, not for me mind you, but the fact that I said yes to the overweight 8 year old skipping school, does not sit well with me. I have never understood why it is ok to teach your children that skipping school to sell cookies is appropriate. So, the message seems to be if you have an opportunity to make some cash: skip school, stand on a street corner and pedal your product. Now it is cookies, what will it be in middle school? Perhaps illegally burned CD's or DVD's, not so bad. Now the little Girl Scout is in high school, she really needs a Louis Vuitton because everyone but her has one. Since she is needing about a grand, she skips school, sells drugs, and heads to Neiman Marcus. Meanwhile, the parents are sitting back, scratching their heads wondering where they went wrong. To those inadequate parental units: Remember that Friday that your daughter missed the spelling test? Sure, she sold the most cookies, she even got a trophy and another badge on her vest but ask yourselves, what did she really get from that day?

Genes vs Jeans

I am making a faithful attempt to resist my family genes by tricking my body into believing that I am not almost 28 and my metabolism is still that of a 12 year old. Not going so well, turns out that 12 year olds can eat CiCi's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still not gain a pound, with the exception of the San Antonio children of course. In reality, I can however eat one lean cuisine meal a day and loose weight. Almost the same, right? Oprah says... "Nothing ever tastes as good as being thin." I heard her say that a long time ago on one of her roller coaster diets and it has always stuck with me. It is so true, no food, with the exception of Shrimp Paesano, can taste better than being thin. Nothing in this world could be more exciting than putting on your skinny jeans, a stellar pair of heels, and a halter top.... and upon arriving home you still have blood flowing evenly throughout your body.

Box on the Wall

Television programs are not a priority in my life, not since Sex and the City season 6 last episode. I remember the day like it was yesterday, might have even shed a tear that there would be no more Mr. Big or Smith. I cancelled cable the next day. I probably was just trying to prove a point, but to who? Like anyone cared that I was mad at HBO, seriously. But at 23 I believed that my voice could be heard and that Carrie would come back to me if everyone followed in my footsteps. Carrie came back alright, in a terrible movie that to non-Sexers, would be a horrible portrayal of the 6 marvelous years I encountered. So now, 27 here I sit with pretty much zero cable and a box on the wall....for what purpose, I don't have a clue.

My sister has equipped my get-away house with expanded cable options, a recording device, movie channels, etc. I find myself going there, planting my butt on the over-sized couch and watching some show called John and Kate + 8. A show featuring the daily lives of a couple with 8 children. Seriously weird, that 2 people who seem decent would even consider bringing 8 children into this world is beyond me, however it is like a car accident. I have to watch and see what Mady does next. She is terrible, like the kid you see in the grocery store that is throwing their entire body on the commercial tiles next to the gummy bears and as soon as you see that child you no longer have the need for birth control. Wow, far cry from Sex and the City....

Delightful Dachshunds

I am a HUGE dog lover... must admit I am partial to Ridgebacks but generally love love love all dogs. EXCEPT... Dachshunds, can't stand them, in fact I have never even seen a remotely cute one. So, I am on a hike with my very large, beautiful, muscular Ridgeback on a beautiful day minding our own business. From around the corner comes this man about my age, with not one but two of the previous mentioned creatures. I just can't believe it, might be somewhat understandable if he had a woman with him. I don't see how he can take these ankle-biters out in public on their little cutesy leashes and still call himself a man. He was not formally gay, just was the type of guy that for sure would not wear the pants in a relationship. The wiener dogs acted as if they were going to attack my dog and myself, pulling this man from one side of the trail to the other like a rag doll. Quite a scene.