We've been blogged.

So, yes, this weekend we had a lovely photo shoot with Melissa P and her handy assistant husband. She's bulking up her Pet Portraits portfolio for her soon-to-be-open studio, and we we're so excited that Callie and I couldn't raise our hands high enough to be a part of this shoot. We're all about feeling glamorous for a day. Actually, I don't think Callie knows anything about being glamorous. Remember, this is the girl who's nose is often covered with dirt, a reminder of her favorite pastime-digging. She's a little rough around the edges, but damn, she cleans up nicely. I was just there as her accessory.

Please excuse me while I show off my amazingly beautiful and drama-queen-esque Callie MsStinkerpants Callerston. She really hammed it up...
That dog just cracks me up.

Thanks Melissa-and enjoy readers!

This is Callie's first modeling debut. She was totally ADD, so I'm thrilled with what Melissa was able to capture!

The regal Brittany:

I love this one below-Callie is just such a gorgeous dog, and I love her structure. She's all legs. Wish I could photoshop out my double chin, though.

This next one makes me melt. It's just saw "Callie".

And how could you not love this one? Her face = priceless.

Christians, and Baha'i's, and Scientologists Oh My!

I think it all started in 5th grade. I received a detention from Mrs. Hartnett because I wasn't wearing the right color green on the "free dress day" on St. Patricks Day. You see, I went to a Catholic school growing up and uniforms, plaid skirts and dresses galore, were all the rage. So, when it was a "free dress day" all hell broke lose. Of course, "free dress day" meant we still had to follow rules and guidelines, because what's Catholicism without rules and guidelines. So, this day was in honor of beloved Irishman, Pat. We were told to wear green, and well, I didn't have that much green in my closet, and my parents weren't the kind to rush out and buy me a new outfit to fit in. Probably why I still show up to the grocery store in mis-matched sweats and really don't mind. So, I pulled out this white and navy striped polo that I was in love with at the time. It has smaller green-ish stripes on it, and hell, I was in 5th grade, it was green enough to me.
But apparently, this little blond haired Irish girl (hello-my name is Erin McveryIrishlastname!!!) was here to raise all hell and break all the rules. I was given a detention, and came home and shockingly told my dad (I wasn't a big fan of telling him when I got in trouble.) This act of punishment was enough to cause my even more Irish blooded dad's blood to boil. He.was.pissed. He marched down to Mrs. Mangini's always chilly office, got a nasty remark from the ever delightful secretary, and finally had a "heart to heart" with the principal. She explained that because his daughter chose not to wear the right color green, that "Free Dress Day", I was not only given a detention, but such a "privledge" was probably going to be revoked next year. Yes, I was wearing what Crayola considered "Mountain Meadow", and well, just not green enough to cut the mustard. For that I going to be punished and burn in hell, and all the fun that goes with eternal life stuff. That mean mean woman, who considered herself at the top of the "Good Catholics" VIP list, was not allowing me into her "Good Catholics" club because I was wearing the wrong color green, and not only myself, but others had to pay for my poor choice in wardrobe. Sigh. I don't even remember if I served that detention or not.
So, it was on this mid-March day that I learned that Catholics weren't all they cracked up to be. It was confirmed a few years later. Could the off-shade color debacle have lead to my downfall in not receiving my 8th-grade diploma? Oh, wait, no-that was because my parents were 2, yes TWO, hours short on their "volunteer" hours. VO-UN-TEER hours. Yet another time when my dad marched around to the back of the school, into Mrs. Mangini's office and said how "silly" they were. Yes, volunteer hours on top of what they already paid to give me a "quality" education-because Catholics don't give their shitt away for free. But they sure expect you to give them your free time-and appropriate color choices. What did these two experiences teach me, besides study up on my color theory? It taught me that Catholics are on a big power trip, and I kept getting in the way.
Needless to say, that sort of tainted me on organized religion at a far too young of an age. Sure, I participated in the same church's' youth group throughout high school, but lets be honest, all my friends were doing it and if D.A.R.E taught me one thing, it's that I was supposed to do what my friends were doing, right? Oh, yah, and say no to drugs. Check.
Ironically, it was the same parochial school system that opened my eyes to other religions-you mean Catholicism wasn't he be-all-end-all? Shocking. I couldn't wait to tell Mrs. Mangini. It was actually a doctor of theology, Dr. Fox, my senior year of high school, that really stuck a chord with me when it came to religion. She was a former nun that instructed my first world religions class, and I loved it. I finally figured out that I was truly Hindu at heart. Ok, maybe not, but it was something I identified with. Maybe not the caste-system thing-that's really rather a bummer. But the karma idea, and reincarnation theory...I finally felt a connection to religion. It continued with Buddhism , its Four Noble Truths, and went on to Islam, and even skipped on over to basic Christianity. This truly was a class that would impact the rest of my life. Yes, I was born and baptized Catholic, and there are/were certain aspects that are ingrained in me, but ever since I could remember, I believed truths of many other religions, so how could I "claim" Catholicism.
Throughout college, I popped in over to the Mission San Diego for church, not because I felt obligated, but mostly because it was something comfortable and that I wanted to make a connection with. But try as I might, I couldn't.
When I first met R, way back when, he was a still barely in his teens, but connected with religion the same way I did. He was raised Presbyterian, but found the teachings of Buddhism interesting, and couldn't mark one box when asked his religious beliefs. So, up until our engagement, we didn't really discuss or debate as to which religious flag we'd fly.
Shortly after our engagement, we were trying to decide who we would have marry us. I never was one that had to get married in the Catholic church (condemn me to hell if you will, I figure I'm probably already there, along with some great company). I wanted to get married outside, where I felt more of a connection to all things spiritual than any church could ever hold on me. My dear MIL suggested the local pastor at the Presbyterian church, so I joined my future in-laws at a church service (they're just about as a rusty as I am with Catholicism) and honestly, I liked it. I mean, you didn't have to sit and stand nearly as much as my dear Catholic church. Overall-I liked it. It was like "Catholic Light". Something I'd consider when R and I make the spiritual jump-we've already talked about it just in case I end up the next Octomom or something. Churches are good for that kind of thing, right? I mean, totally the reason to claim stake on a religious conviction.
Having dinner with friends of ours recently, they brought up their latest adventure "Religion of the Quarter". That sounded like music to my ears. They're hoping to start a family soon, and well, they want free diapers, too. And I guess a little moral connection, so their little ones can start out on the right foot (or left, we're not hear to judge.). So, once a quarter they try out a new church. If they like it, they go back and if they don't, they've at least given it a shot. It also makes for hilarious stories, in which one where my friend E apparently raised her hand when asked if she"felt Jesus" and had to go up to the front of the church. And be saved. All by herself. They didn't go back to that church.
It got R and I talking on the way home that night. That's the way to do it. Sort of like I did with my Rogue. I think I know what I kind of "car" I want, but not sure until I test drive them all.
Recently, a friend of mine invited me over to her church. I took that as a sign that we should probably start test driving our religions pretty soon. I mean, I'm pretty darn picky when it comes to my hosts. I mean, "there are 19 major world religions which are subdivided into a total of 270 large religious groups, and many smaller ones. 34,000 separate Christian groups have been identified in the world." So, at one per quarter and 4 quarters per year...that's going to take...67.5 years. That's not including the crazy Christian groups, either.
But see, I have this problem. I'm um...liberal. I voted NO on Prop 8. I think Islam is a beautiful religion, and not all Muslims are crazy fanatics like my FIL claims. Yes, I do believe in one God, but that's not to say there aren't other Gods or those who beleives in Polytheism are wrong. I don't know about you, but my God is a loving one and loves all and forgives (almost) all. (Hitler-you're so not forgiven.) I think I'm going to have a hard time on this spritial trek.
I keep looking at Univeral Unitarinism, or what City Mama refers to as"hippie church", and wonder if it's the right fit for many-religion-loving me, or is it just too liberal? But then I reconsider that thought. Maybe I'm too liberal for religion? I guess I won't know until I try out the waters.
I just want some kind moral basis for our future (adorable) kiddies to relate to. Somewhere where they can look to for guidance and find the positive in spirituality. I also want them to wear whatever shade of green they want and not have a bad taste in their mouth. I want them to appreciate rules and traditions, but also celebrate those traditions different than theirs. I don't know if there is a house of God (or Gods) that will welcome me with open arms. I've grown accostomed to church welcoming you with one arm and flipping you off with the other because your wearing the wrong color green (can you tell I'm bitter?). I want a church that doesn't care if your black or white ar gay or straight or polka dotted or ...you get the picture.
Care to lobby me with your religion? I'm now taking reservations for our 2010 tour....

Dog Day Saturday...

What we were up to this weekend...

Um...can we say dramatic, Callie McCallerston? I cannot wait to see the rest!!

Dear America,

I know he sucks. I know "you can't stand him" (quoting mother-in-law). But please, please don't vote Steve-O off. He's the only thing that keeps my dear hubs watching DWTS with me. It's all I've got. Yes, the Woz is pretty entertaining, but he's just more sad than entertaining. Last night, I had nightmares that consisted of nerd glasses and yards of pink satin. O.K.-- Confession time (sorry, honey), R actually made me vote for Steve-O last night.

So please, America, do this woman a favor and keep her dreams of watching a stupid geared-towards-woman "reality" show with her darling husband alive. Vote for Steve-O. This girl cut off her DVR, so she's got to watch it live. Please America, this is all she's got.

Sincerely,

Erin

Foto Friday

Aperture practice, backyard.

Just thinking...

If there is one thing I love about summer, (there really are only a few-I'm much more a fall/winter person at heart) it's the summer nights. Yes, it's not even officially spring, but here in sunny San Diego, it was 80+ today in my inland town. It's pretty much summer-one of the two seasons we have here. Summer and "Suall"-a combo of summer and fall. So, it's 7:11 p.m. right now, and the sky is still barely lit and the temperature is perfect enough for my workout tank and capris. My allergies are kickin because I just spent some time with Cal in the backyard, checking on my roses (they're not dead-they're actually growing!), gauging the amount of weeding I have to do before the in-laws show up this weekend, trying to fend off the latest favorite digging spot of Cal's, and just remembering that yes, there is one thing I do like about summer. Those nights. It just screams "School's Out!" and as I listen to the kids of the neighborhood riding their bikes around the cul-de-sac, warm summer nights always take me back to my childhood. I duon't know why, but they always remind me of summer vacation and pool parties, and watching the sky grow dark while my sister and I gazed up at the stars on our plastic-strapped lounge chairs and I dreamed of becoming an astronomer.
Well, it's clearly NOT summer vacation, it's not even summer, and I'm no astronomer. It's March. Just past March 15th-the day I thought I maybe, just maybe, kinda thought I actually might have had a chance at winning the HGTV Dream Home. Yah, me and 43 kajillion other people. But maybe the stars would align and decide that "You know, Erin and R want to move up there anyways, and can't really ever imagine affording even a shack up there and their parents would be thrilled and R can transfer schools easily and Erin would find a job with ease and life would be pleasant and happy and they'd then have cutie little Italian Irish babies with curly hair to celebrate their excitement. And life would be swell."
But such stars did not align and I had my heart broken when I discovered it was some retired couple in Florida that won. Boo. I only entered 80 times-maybe I should have done 81?
I am a firm believer that life does work out for a reason. There's just too many coincidences to say that it doesn't. I actually am coping with the sad fact I did not win a contest where my odds are more in favor of me getting eaten by a shark, tiger, and goldfish all at the same time.
Do I take it as a sign that we weren't meant to move up north? I glanced on home prices recently and yes, that probably is the most likely sign. Do I take it as a sign that maybe it's best that we didn't get stuck with a 600k tax bill? Well, I do like our current bill of $64. I guess I don't know what the reasons are. I like to think we're learning alot with what we're dealing with now, at the beginning of out marriage. I mean, the fact that I had my MOM cut my hair the other day humbles me a bit. (And no, she's not a professional. But she did it when I was 5-why not 27?). Yes, I think it's good that I didn't win the 2 million dollar prize package because otherwise how could I fine-tune my already stellar grocery savings skills. I've perfected stretching the dollar, well, almost.
As sarcastic as I may sound, I'm actually OK with it. I guess I look at my parents, and the in-laws. They had roommates, lived in shacks on a hill (seriously-no joke there folks) and endured alot of crap before they got to where they are today. Which is good-they all live in the Bay Area which isn't exactly the cheapest place to live. Perhaps its their roots which allow me to prefer shopping for shoes at Target, or bargain hunting at Old Navy sales. Sure, I love my Coach purses, but only if they're on sale. At the outlet. Thank you, honey. Yes, coffee is the way to my heart, but a cute (and practical) purse doesn't hurt, either.
Sometimes I get a bit jealous of my friends who travel around the world on a moments notice. Or who can buy a house, even if it is in Florida. Do I want a roommate? Not particularly. Do I hate literally getting down the last dollar come day before payday? Sure. But I think R and I have sort of humbled ourselves and I hope created smarter habits that maybe we wouldn't have had we had all the money in the world, or happened upon the amazingly beautiful Sonoma Dream Home. (I know money can't buy happiness, but what if we're already happy then came upon the money?) I'm thrilled for this summer vacations. Not the Caribbean, not Europe, but two great camping trips planned. You can't beat Mother Nature's perfect hotel at $20/night!
I don't think I'll enter it again. Sonoma was just too perfect for us, and it would have worked out so smoothly. Or I guess not, since it wasn't meant to be. (Maybe next year it will be in Portland. Then I take it back-I'll enter 89876 times!) Until then, I'll just live the life that was meant to be...one in which I'm not really sure where it will take us.

But it had TWO wine fridges....

Foto Friday (sorry, little late here!)

Palm series, 2009

Centennial

Yes folks, its only taken me 1.5 years to come up with 100 posts. Lame blogger here. So, in honor of the 100th posts, I thought I'd bore, I mean, amaze you with 100 facts about your favorite slacker blogger.

1. Wow. Trying to come up with the first of 100 facts about me. A. I'm not that interesting. and B. I want something catchy, but my dog is whining incessantly because she's dying to go outside and dig up the whole backyard.


2. I don't like it when my dog digs up the backyard.
   
3. Not a fan of the whining either. Hmmm..tough call.
4. I'm an avid reader and usually have 2-3 books going on at any given time.
5. I went to private school K-12, and an all girls high school. Honestly, it wasn't that bad.


6. When I first met R, I could pretty much boil water for macaroni and cheese, and make a mean gardenburger.


7. Now, I consider myself to be a darn good cook.


8. I have about 20 recipes I want to share with you lovely folk online, but I'm secretly too lazy to upload the pics, and post them all.


9. I'm kinda lazy sometimes.


10. I ran in the Rock and Roll Marathon 2 years ago-I'm not too lazy.


11. I'm a closet reality show who-ore. I even DVR'd Livign Lohan and the Denise Richards one.


12. I have one older sister and one older brother.


13. My brother is not blood related. My parents became his foster parents when he was 9, and they were first married.


14. I can't imagine having a 9 year old at this point in my marriage. I can barely handle my (adorable) 1 year old dog. Props to my parents.


15. I also have several adorable nieces and nephews, who help me realize I'm not ready for my own puppies yet.


16. I grew up in Concord, Ca. Shout out to Party Time Paper and crafts, Skipolini's pizza (OK, that was in Clayton), and well...that's all I can think recall of my favorite places.
17. I am artsy. I won 3rd place in an art show in Martinez my senior year of high school.


18. I gave that fish painting away to one of my best friends at the time. I regret that now. I love her dearly, but wish I still had the picture.


19. I envy those people who have a craft room.


20. I also envy people with gas stoves, but not enough to leave my current home.


21. Although, I wish our roommate would leave our home. He eats all our food.
    
22. But we can't afford that. My husband is in school full time.


23. He's going to be a teacher, and a great one at that.
24. I'm very proud of the boy.


25. He's an Air Force veteran.


26. But this isn't about him, it's about me. Right?


27. I hate avocado.


28. I could survive on French Onion dip. And chocolate.


29. I also hate anything from the sea. Or river. But I'm trying to like fish. It's hard.


30. I went to Girl Scout camp here for 4 summers, and have always wanted to go back and be a counselor.


31. Seeing the countdown on the website totally takes me back-that was a huge highlight of my childhood.


32. While there, I went backpacking in the Sierras twice, once when 11, once when 13. I was pretty fearless. Now, I think I'd have a panic attack if I saw a bear.


33. R and I registered at REI for our wedding.


34. My dad was a stay-at-home dad. My mom worked. Alot.


35. R's family was the same way.


36. My BFF ever and I have been friends since 2nd grade.


37. We "broke up" in 6th grade when she told on me.


38. It was valid though-I "copied" a poem out of Teen magazine and called it my own. I guess I was just preparing myself for college?


39. Just kidding there-I actually became in love with writing, and was always an A English student. And never "copied" again.


40. But not so much an A students in other subjects.


41. My and my BFF became friends again in 8th grade. It was a happy ending.


42. Apparently, I was a horror of a child when I was 2. My mother tells that to everyone.


43. As a child, I also used to pick off the stuffing from my blankie, stuff it up my nose and blow it out. I can't believe I just told the whole Internet that. Wow. Therapy.
    
44. R and I talk seriously about doing 2 things once he graduates in 1.75 years.


45. The first of those is living in Yosemite for 6 months and doing their live/work program.


46. The second of these is living in Italy for 6 months teaching English.


47. Not sure if either will happen, but it's nice to dream, isn't it?


48. I played soccer and softball as my "sports" growing up. I sucked at soccer, but played softball competitively in a fastpitch league.


49. I also did gymnastics, and will live vicariously through my daughter as I force her into gymnastics as I was and am still in love with the sport.


50. I kick a$$ at cooking Italian food, though I am mostly German and Irish.


51. My grandmother was born in Austria and came over on the boat through Ellis Island.


52. I love my ancestry, and all ancestry. I can spend hours and hours looking through old pictures, and have several times at R's great grandmothers, and my own grandma's house.


53. I love photographs, and therefore I love photography.


54. But I'm not that good.


55. Ich kann Deutsch.


56. This was the first blog I ever read. I've been addicted to blogs ever since.


57. I've never broken a bone. (knock on wood)


58. I've also never smoked a cigarette. I prefer happy lungs.


59. But not a happy liver. I love me some vino, or a good Pils. But not so much hard liquor.


60. I've been to as many countries as I have states.


61. My goal is to travel to all 50 states, and ideally all National Parks before I croak.


62. I majored in Marketing at SDSU.


63. I minored in German. By default, not so much by choice.


64. I'm secretly dig the Duggars. They just seem so wholesome and happy and I want to live with them.


65. I have an astigmatism in my left eye. I wear glasses and could never imagine wearing contacts. They creep me out.


66. I wear a size 7 shoe.


67. On those size 7 feet, I have quite cute toes.


68. I love to be at the airport, but get scared flying.


69. I have been to just as many states as I have countries.


70. I am proud that I am still ridiculously flexible, after all these years.


71. My dad was a hippie. A pot smokin, pot growin hippie. A musician who ditched it all and ran off to San Francisco in the 60's.


72. I'm 5'2" and love being that short.
73. I wanted to be an astronomer when I grew up.
74. I'm sort grown up and definitely not an astronomer.
75. Deep down, I really believe I could win the HGTV dream home this year. I would just work out so perfectly.
76. I'll be secretly disappointed when I don't win.
77. I am a sleeper. I could sleep for days at a time. I'll be screwed when I have kids.
78. Maybe they'll be sleepers, too?
79. I don't think that will really happen.
80. I was/am a Harry Potter addict.
81. I still have yet to read Twilight, and honestly don't think I will. Teenage romance? Not so much. Wizards and magic? Sign me up.
82. I'm a dork at heart.
83. I could watch documentaries on the religious sites on the Middle East all day, and still be enthralled.
84. I was the dork in college who actually LIKED taking electives.
85. Probalby why it took me 5.5 years to graduate.
86. I look foward to family events and family reunions. I have a pretty kick arse family.
87. I cannot drive stick shift.
88. Yes, I've tried. Therefore, I will never drive stick shift.
89. I'm a righty married to a lefty.
90. When I was a freshman in college, I didn't have car so I took the bus everywhere. If you've lived in San Diego and took public transit anywhere, you'll realize that probalby isn't the safest for 18 year old naive girls.
91. I'm deathly afraid of sharks.
92. And snakes. Hence, why I don't want to live in San Diego forever. i want to hike without the fear of rattlesnakes. Bay area isn't much better though, is it?
93. I have a good sense of direction.
94. I cry easily. Like, at commercials kind of easy.
95. I was a cheerleader for a year in grade school.
96. My first time being grounded was in first grade. That kinda explains me growing up. Grounded.
97. I am a very tolerant person and very proud of my upbringing.
98. I mean, growing up near Berkely, you kind of have to be tolerant of everything!
99. I'm almost done!
100. I thank you for getting this far on my random stream of thoughts. Thank you.

Foto Friday (a bit delayed)

Mount San Jacinto, December

1!

Dear Cal-

Today you are no longer "0"-you’ve finally moved on to “1”. Hooray! I can’t believe I am no longer able to say “Oh, sorry ‘bout the biting-she’s just a puppy.” Or “Whoops-sorry about the jumping on you-she’s only 6 months. (nervous laugh)” Because our society seems to think it’s OK to get away with things when your under 1, but over 1-wow, that’s a whole new level. Welcome to it. (Though, you and I both know you’ll probably be a puppy until your 12)
Oh Callerina, where do I start? I know it’s really only been 10 months since we’ve had you and I should have known from the first night home with you that you’d contribute to my gray hairs, while at the same time melt my heart every night as we cuddle on the couch. I knew from the moment I met you you’d be my little (feisty) cuddle dog.

Congratulations on being my first puppy. Not for Papa-he’s pretty much an expert. But for me, I think we raised each other. I apologize for that, sometimes. You still love me, right? You’ve driven me to tears a time or two, or three, or four. I’ve driven you to bark more than enough. I remember being so frustrated in those first few weeks. I had no idea what I was doing, and spent hours researching “How to get your puppy to stop biting” and “How to prevent bad dog behaviors” and all sorts of an.al retentive research that your Mama does so very well. I spent hours researching food and nutrition, and still spend too much time looking and analyzing every single ingredient that goes down that throat-well, most of it anyways. I choose things like “No wheat, corn or soy. Named proteins, etc. Omega 3-s.” and you choose things like dryer sheets and mom’s undies and napkins. Oh, how you love compressed pulp in a sheet form. Almost nightly, we chase you around the living room to grab whosever napkin you just stole from our TV trays. At the end of the day though, we get along like PB & J. After a long, energy filled, back-talking on your behalf, squirt bottle threatening, and playing tug-of-war over and over and over kind of day.

You’ve truly amazed me this past year. You certainly have developed quite the interesting personality. Since day 1, you were braver than most human’s I know. Well, once we got past that whole learning to walk on a leash thing. For a while there, I thought you were going to set up camp on the strip of concrete in front of our house. We got past that and honestly, I don’t think there’s a single thing you’re afraid of. There is no toy too tough, no dog too intimidating, no bed to high to jump upon, no food you don’t like, no bee too stingy (and therefore no vet too expensive), no counter to tall to try and surf along and lick. You love it all.
You’re a firecracker-we’ve said that since we first met you. You talk back, you demand our attention when its time to play, you’re a drama queen when you’re sad or heartbroken you can’t get in the kitchen while Mama is cooking or you want to break free of the leash because there’s something your keen eyes have spotted. You have a thing with questioning authority, as seen our first week of dog training-you bit the trainer. Yah, that wasn’t a shining moment in your first year. However; by the end of week 6, you were doing “Leave It” and leaving everyone else behind, and rocked the agility course with ease. I think you’re even more stubborn than me or Papa, and that’s tough to beat. But you sure are a smart cookie-potty training was a breeze and I was proud you learned to sit in that first week, too! You’re also independent, and like can go do things on your own and try and be everyone’s friend at the doggie park. But you always like to know where your Mama and Papa are. You always look back to make sure they’re watching you. Once of my favorite memories is when you were just about 9 or 10 weeks old, and we took you over to the C household-home of the other famous Brittany’s. You did a Superman leap into their Koi pond, and from that moment on, we knew you’d have a career having to do with water. It took us weeks to get the swampy smell out of you. Bathtime is now a breeze-we even let you “dig” in the tub for a few minutes and you’re so very determined. You do embarrass me a bit though, when you think water bowls at the dog parks or doggie day care are small swimming pools. Why don’t people understand that water bowls + dog parks = not the best idea. You try and show off your Michael Phelps like free-style stroke, and we just get looks like “WTF?”. That’s why I now know only to take you to parks that have the drinking spouts, and you have your own water bowl (REI brand, of course. Thanks Pops.) That stellar swimming skill helped you develop quite a reputation at our day-care. Heck, they know you when they see you walking through the door! The report cards you normally come home with say things like “Callie MADE everyone play with her, once again!” or “Callie ruled the scene!”. Oh, that’s my girl. It doesn’t matter the breed or the size, Great Dane to Yorkie-you pick on them ALL. Oh, Cal. You make Mama and Papa proud, no matter how embarrassed we get.
Speaking of Papa, that sure one heart that you have melted, which in turn makes my heart melt as well. He’s probably the best Papa in the world. We should contact Guinness World Records. Seriously. Because of you, I actually admitted to Papa that I needed him. Since you know me so well, you’ll know that’s a big deal for me to say that. I, too, like to be independent and don’t want to “need” anyone. But honestly, I could not have raised you without him. He’s soothed my tears when I couldn’t imagine you’d ever stop biting to crap out of me. He’d tell me to snap out of it when you and I were chasing each other around the room because we were both just frustrated and still trying to understand one another. He lets you get away with (almost) everything, and I’ve learned to cave with things such as letting you on the bed, letting you rule the couch (but you’re so freaking cute!), spoiling you with collars and toys and rawhide and new beds. He teases you, and wrestles with you and lets you beat him up. You do a darn good job, too. He also lets you jump on him in the morning when its time to wake up. This is a habit I think is hilarious during the week, but not so funny on the weekends when you jump on me, too. (You are pretty darn cute, though.) Oh, but who doesn’t love a wet nose in their face or long nails digging into their back? A perfect way to wake up on a Saturday. But I’ve got it figured out. You wake us up around 8, and Papa gets up with you, while I snooze for another 2 hours. Works out perfectly. He’s going to be a great Papa to a human someday, too. He’s such a softie sometimes.
I think it was right around 4 months when I noticed you were walking kind of funny-you were limping a little on your hind leg. I got an immediate sinking feeling in my stomach, and when I told Pops what it might be, he dismissed it. “Oh, stop your Googling. She’s fine. She’s probably just sore.” But you didn’t stop. You were still limping, and we brought it up to the vet. When we got he x-rays back, my suspicions were confirmed. You have Hip Dysplacia. I cried, as I know what you’re in for in your very active life. I’ve read too much about it to know that it’s not just something you’ll deal with. It’s serious. It breaks my heart every.single.day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about it. I watch your running to see if you limp or “hop”. I cringe when you jump on our very high bed and dread the day where you just can’t make it up there any longer. I was worried sick when we visited our parents over Christmas, because both of them have slippery wood floors and you slipped and slid all over the place when chasing Maddie. Amazingly, you’ve looked even better since then. I don’t know how you pulled that off.
Through this all, you continue to have the same zest for life; it doesn’t stop you. You do let us know if you’re in pain (I tend to flip out during those moments), but it’s so very rare. You keep running as fast as you can at the empty ballpark or chasing other dogs at the park, and you would never guess you have something that’s going to slow you down pretty quickly. I worry-maybe I shouldn’t let you run so much, or play so hard. But that’s like telling a fish he can’t swim. We could have done a surgery before you were 9 months old, but Papa was right-you’re not in any pain right now, and to put you through that would have broken our hearts even further. We’re just going by your cues and holistically helping you where we can. You’re still a leggy, agile, graceful ball of fire.
Over this past year of your life you’ve become our exercise machine, our defender, our watchdog (Doorbell?), our entertainer. Our canine vacuum, our snuggler, our flower-hole digger (and flower stealer). Our very regal Brittany. I tell you every day you’re the most beautiful dog to ever exist on this earth, and I believe that wholeheartedly to be true. If there was a Miss Dog contest, you’d win hands down. You even have the “party tail” to top it off. What can we say-you were born to celebrate all life has to offer. Rawhides and all.

So, thank you Miss Callie McCallerston for coming into our lives. I don’t think either one of us can imagine life without you, or your fiery personality. We wouldn’t trade you in for anything. Your hips? Maybe. You? Never. My life now revolves around you. You’ve become a great excuse for me not to socialize “Oh, sorry, I can’t. I need to get home to the dog…” and every time I see your big hazel eyes look up when it’s time to get out of the crate, and onto the floor for a belly rub, it’s worth it. I sometimes question it when you decide to throw your daily tantrums, but we all know deep dow:. You’ve got a hold on me, Cal. Happy 1st Birthday and here’s to many happy and healthy more.
Love,

Your Mama

Shhhhhhhh....

It's been 6 months, and we haven't moved, nor are we in the process of moving, nor have we talked about moving (we'll in the short term anyways). This is huge for us. Well, we did mention moving this weekend, but only because we both agree that the next time we move, the place has to come with a gas stove (Yes, it's full size but for the love of God, no more burn bacon or pasta sauce, PUH-LEASE!). So, shhhh...please don't remind my dear sweet husband that it's been 6 months-time to move! Kidding-I actually think he agrees on this one. Even this weekend, when we found our friends of our are moving into a large place for a steal, and I joke "Can we move in?", R jumped in and said "NO! We're not moving again!" Who are you and what have you done with my husband?
We had to clean up the homestead to host said friends, and with the combination of that and the 7 cumulative hours we spent given the backyard a much needed weedin' overhaul (and also discovered possums were shacking up in our BBQ-burgers anyone?), the polished place just makes me happy. I actually stared at the backyard several times yesterday because it looks so purdy right now. I'm still in like with our house (I'd be in love if we could paint our walls!) and despite the oven, there isn't one thing wrong with it. (Except the roommate situation-we're both over it. I actually am now to the point where I hide leftovers, and R's beer from said roommate. Patty-you were right-I need to vent!) Yes, there is the "poop air" (it's downwind from a sewage plant. Mmmm.) Yes, there's the annoying "we're better than you and can tow your car because the curb is for guests only-even though I've never once seen the street full." HOA. But overall-I'm so happy being here that I'm wondering when it will come to an end, or we get a knock on our door telling us to get the F-out as the house is being foreclosed on. I don't think that will happen, as our landlord is great, but she works for the county and we all know what shape state/local government is in!
So, that's where we're at for the short-term. As for the long term, we've actually been discussing that lately. Our "plan", if all goes well, is to pick up and leave San Diego when R is finished with school, either before or after his credential depending on my job. But regardless, once he's done with school, we'll be pretty much done with SD.
If you've known us IRL at all, you get the impression that we're ready to take the first train to the Pacific Northwest any chance we'd get. I actually glance on Portland real estate websites periodically and swoon over homes like this, and that. We joke about "This is why we want to leave California" and complain that by the time we can actually afford to by a home, the market will be at its' peak again so that rules our CA, especially northern CA for us. We've tried to gently break the news to our parents, but reassured them that we'll have room for them on our ranch (oh, my farmer-minded husband) and we'll build them each a "manufactured" home on opposite ends of our property. While that is still partly the case , R knows that I have a bit more of a desire than him to move to northern CA-the place where I bolted from when I was 17, but now, 10 years later, I miss. Don't get me wrong-the Pacific Northwest is still on my list, and HIGH on my list. I picture amazing farmers markets, living down the street from the Little People family (R is obsessed), and not having to drive far to cut down our family Christmas tree or pick a pumpkin from the patch.
But back to the northern CA thing. Recently R and my mom we're discussing his schooling, career, and our "plan" for the longer term. It turned into an interesting discussion and sort of got our gears turning in a different direction than "Portland, Portland, Portland." The more we think about it-the more it makes to try out northern California on our trek up north. It seems like every month, we have more friends or family moving up to the bay area, and given that R and I both grew up there, we have plenty of friends and family up there as it is, hence the reason why I wouldn't mind living up there, or at least trying it out! Between both of our families, R has so many teaching contacts up there, and though I don't have an industry specific job referral up there, my background is diverse enough for me to adapt easily to the job market. So, given that, and the option to shack up with our parents while job hunting if need be, our ears are quite a bit more open to living further away from the 5, and closer to the 680. One of the biggest perks about Norcal that has loomed in the back of both our minds in the past years? The APLE Program for teachers in CA. My MIL said some of her best teachers came out of this program, and though one might normally think of low-income schools when thinking of this program, that certainly wasn't the case in MIL's teaching career. No, it's not a ton of money, but anything to help with school loans on top of an enormous (eyes rolling) teaching salary would be helpful. Personally, I'm actually shocked at how open R is to moving to Norcal. I know there's pressure from his parents, and obviously pressure from my parents as well. But he's a pretty stubborn guy, and one of the most determined people I know. Once his heart is set on something, there's no stopping him.
It's just crazy that we actually casually talked about moving to northern CA this weekend and what's even more crazy is that the moving timeline is probably less than 2 years. Part of me is nervous, only because my heart is still set the Pacific Northwest and I worry that once we're settled somewhere and start popping out the kiddo's, we're not going to want to move and my dreams of enormous farmers markets on every corner will be forgotten about. I supposed that it will all be meant to be. If we like it in Norcal, we'll stay. If we don't, we'll keep trekking north. On the other hand, it's exciting. I'm glad I'm married to someone who's so open to it all, who doesn't want to spend his entire life in the same town. Well, if it's somewhere like San Diego that is practically a whole state condensed to a city, that's a bit different. I'm talking small town, one high school po-dunkville. If you're married to that person who does want to live and die in po-dunkville, that's OK-it just doesn't jive with me, that's all! I'm also married to someone who kicks a$$ at moving. If you're not married to that person, and it's time to move, be jealous of my husband and his Tetris-like moving skill ways.