My favorite drinking glass has been sweating a ridiculous amount lately. Even after I closed the windows and turned on the AC (in MARCH), it was still sweating copious amounts of water. So last night Mike said "You know it probably has a crack in it" but I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe it. It was a gloriously blue, perfect, plastic glass for which to drink out of.
He was right though... As I was loading the dishwasher this morning, there it was. Plain as day. A giant crack (no butt jokes please, this is very serious) near the bottom (again, sensitive moment, no jokes) of my beautiful favorite drinking glass. So... it went in the trash. The glass that was plastic and wonderful and the color blue that all water should be.
It's dead.
This is almost more traumatizing than the time that my pantry died. Only this won't cost any money to fix, as we have plenty of other drinking glass. No blue ones though...
Also, if you did come up with any good jokes about giant cracks near the bottom of my glass go ahead and share them because it's kind of funny.
Also again, I came to a very spiritual conclusion today as Maggie and I were finishing up our jaunt through the woods or park or whatever you want to call it (the bluebonnets are starting to die, it's very sad. WHAT A DEPRESSING MORNING). As I was getting ready to load her into the car, an old couple got out of their car with their two dogs.
Two. Scottie. Doggies.
Oh Scottie doggies.
Jacques was the only thing that got me through "Lady and the Tramp" when I was little because, quite frankly, I find that movie to be boring, but I always loved him so I watched it for him.
They just...ugh they look like they're wearing some sort of cute dog outfit but they're really just made to look that way and oh the faces! I mean, LOOK!
Look at that snout. Just look at it.
And you can name Scotties things like Argus or Duncan or Mcleod! Because there can only be one...
I used to confuse Scotties and schnauzers when I was little but then I learned Scotties are a little smaller and their hair is usually cut differently. And they're nicer. Generally. This is only from my own, personal experience though. If you have schnauzers you're in love with....well that's your business isn't it?
As a side note, Holly couldn't say schnauzer when she was little, so she called them snarges. And there was a lady down the street from us who had two mean, barking snarges. No thank you.
Anyways, my spiritual conclusion, whenever Pete decides that he's had enough rolling in wet grass, chasing after tennis balls, and tummy scratches up the wazoo in this life and goes on to the eternal land of rolling in wet grass, chasing after tennis balls, and tummy scratches up the wazoo, then I just might get a Scottie to fill the dog void in my life. It's kind of odd that I would decide this earlier today as the two dogs getting out of the car were barking at us quite rudely, and the two old people getting out of the car were very polite. So maybe I should get an old person to take Pete's place instead?
I shouldn't even be thinking about such things anyways. My two favorite boys (Mike and Pete, duh) have been forbidden, by myself, to ever die.Now as soon as I go, they are totally free to kick the bucket, but until then they better be breathing normally.
p.s. as soon as Mike gets around to finishing touching up our family pictures, I'll share some with you. A few of them actually turned out alright! Especially the ones where we re-enacted the last scene from "Jurassic Park."