A Hiatus, Until Further Notice

Hey blog, I wanted to give proper notice that I'm putting Cheastypants on hiatus. I don't know for how long, but for right now, I kind of want to stop. So I'm stopping. If I decide to start 'er up again I'll make the rounds of comments and emails and facebooks and whatnot to let you I'm posting again. Thanks so much for reading - I'll still bop about my favorite blogs to say hello from time to time. Happy summering, y hasta luego!

The Amazing Adventures of a Deaf, Blind, Toothless, Anorexic Bird Dog

You are not going to believe what my dumb dog Birdie did the other day. In a fit of whimsy while hanging out in my sister's back yard, I let her off the leash to explore. Because really, how much trouble could she get in, right? Ha. Joke's on me. I keep thinking she's normal, you know? Like she isn't blind (did I tell you about the cataracts the vet just told me about?). Or deaf. Or toothless. And have I mentioned her strange eating disorder? It turns out 14-year-old stick figures aren't the only creatures that yearn to be runway models. Birdie is sittin' pretty at 30% underweight, and no matter how I entice her, will not snack up on anything other than chicken, which, it turns out, gives her hives. But every time I think to myself OH GOD WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO, I look at her cute little cute cute cute cute cute little face, and I completely forget to worry. Look. Here's a picture of her being cute. Please ignore the devil eyes. Cataracts, it turns out, are reflective.



Not only cute, but look at her tongue! CUUUUUUUUUTE!



A little more about that tongue later, but first I'd better get back to answering the cliff-hanger with which I began this post. Off your tenterhooks, bloggers, I'm about to tell you what on earth my dumb dog Birdie did the other day when I let her off the leash in my sister's yard. The cast of characters involve the following: a hole in the fence and a patch of briary burrs. In North Carolina we called them "hitchhikers," but people in Texas look at me like I'm speaking another language when I use that term. They are pea-sized burrs that stick to your pants as you walk by them, scratch you up when you try to pick them off, and most importantly, bury themselves deep in doggie fur. DEEP in doggie fur. Birdie essentially face planted right in a particularly prolific hitchhiker bush, and when I finally looked over the fence to see if she'd climbed through, she looked up at me and her black face was light brown. I mean, completely, entirely, 100% carpet-bombed with hitchhikers. You know in the movies when somebody gets a pie in the face and then they're left with a whipped cream face-mask? It was like that, except not whipped cream. Hitchhikers. They were also dug in deep in her legs, stuck in her paws, and covering her cute little underbelly. Birdie was a total mess. Umulu and I got some scissors and started cutting them out of her fur, but the task was overwhelming. I heeded one of my dear Aunt Mary's famously effective maxims --"this is one of those situations that will become enormously less stressful if I simply throw a little money at it." -- and a professional groomer took care of the rest.

I was worried about how close a shave they'd have to get her. Birdie's long silky hair is one of her finest features. Will she look silly without it? The answer, in case you were wondering, is NO. If anything, she's actually even cuter, which I hadn't thought possible. And the best side benefit? I had long suspected that she wasn't entirely gifted at keeping her tongue in her mouth, but the long hair obscured my view of what is one of the most hilarious things I've ever seen. Blog, let me introduce you to Birdie's tongue.

I think it's because she doesn't have any teeth to keep it in. Sometimes it pokes out the front:



And sometimes when she's feeling tired, it sort of slips out the side:



Can you see it? Here's a close-up:



I can't take too many pictures or it makes her self-conscious. Look at this face. You know what she's saying? Hey, Mom, quit it. Are you making fun of me?

Don't Let The Clerical Collar Fool You

My mother hates me. That's the only explanation.



It started so harmlessly. Picture it: a cool day in North Carolina, and I hadn't brought enough warm clothes with me when I came home, so I asked my mother to borrow a sweatshirt. Sure no problem, here you go, and then WHAM. The old sucker punch, the one-two hit to both eyes. 'Oh, honey, I love you so much. Hey, so-and-so, go get the camera. I want a picture with my favorite oldest daughter.' I was bamboozled, there is no other way to put it. No sooner had she gotten a camera aimed and her arms around me when the ungodly howling began.

"WAAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOU'RE WEARING A DUKE SWEATSHIRT AND I'M GOING TO GET PHOTOGRAPHIC PROOF! I'M GOING TO FRAME IT AND PUT IT ON THE WALLS OF OUR HOUSE!!! YOU WILL NEVER LIVE THIS DOOOOWWWWWNNN!!!"



I struggled and protested to no avail.



BLOG, I AM A CAROLINA GIRL. THIS COULD END ME.

I'd like to take this opportunity to also denounce my father, who did nothing to stop it, as well as my little sister's dog Theo (look in the bottom corner) who, rather than springing to my defense like a fanged avenger, quietly snuck away.



I've heard of some dastardly parental acts in my day, and while it's true that my mother never sank so low as to force me to watch The Watcher In The Woods, nonetheless, she clearly has no love in her heart.

In Which Our Heroine Gets To Know Kate

Hello my dear blog, I am sorry for having abandoned you for MORE THAN ONE WEEK. Gasp. How on earth did that happen? I feel like I ought to be ashamed, but honestly, I kind of don't. It was a crazy week with many wild things going on of an unbloggable nature, and they demanded my full attention. But here I am, nestled safely back in the bosom of my internet, and have I got some pictures and stories to share with you. First of all, you're never going to guess who I went to visit last week. No, don't read the headline, just guess. Give up? Okay, I'll tell you.

KATE!!



Can you believe it? This utterly lovely and charming blogger is a REAL LIVE PERSON! AND SO AM I! AND WE MET!! Doesn't it just blow your mind? Kate makes the third blogger I've met so far, and I have to say that as a group, I believe bloggers are generally pretty great. Matter of Fact Mommy (blog now six feet under, sadly) was hilarious and fun, Frank was clever and charming and handy, and Kate, well. Kate was nothing short of supercalafragalisticexpialidocious. Kate was up in Dallas visiting her parents WHO ARE AWESOME, BY THE WAY, and since I live in Austin and love road trips, and since I had an afternoon off, I popped Birdie in the car and off we hauled ourselves up to The Big D. I had a blast. I got to meet Isaac, the infant I've been in love with for the past year (pictured below with his doting grandmother, and who, as photographic evidence proved, looks EXACTLY like his mother in her baby pictures). His little blond curls are everything I had hoped they'd be, his smile would light up Times Square, and he does the cutest little speed-walkey thing I've ever seen. Sigh. (Repeat to self: do not reproduce yet, do not reproduce yet, do not reproduce yet...)



Kate's mother is a fire cracker, and we had a great time drinking wine, trading stories, and generally having fun. OH. And lest I forget, she gave me a GIFT BASKET for coming up to visit! Unreal, right? I love Kate's family. Except her Dad, who while I fully acknowledge that he is funny, handsome, smart, and a genial conversationalist, he shamelessly indulged in a torrid love affair with my dog right in front of my face, and for that I might never forgive him. Poor Birdie, she fell like a ton of bricks for this good looking fella, and has been heartsick for him ever since.



Ok, so clearly I'm kidding about the never forgiving him part; I really liked him tremendously, and it was completely cute how she followed him around and jumped up to cuddle in his lap. Who would've thought - my little Birdie having a thing for tall mustachioed gentlemen? I think if he'd jumped off the side of a tall building, Birdie would've gone right after him, howling the doggie version of "Aaaaaaaas yooouuuuu wiiiisssshhhh," as she fell.

And speaking of handsome gentlemen, though not yet tall and mustachioed, check out the awesome and amazing Aiden. I don't even know where to start in describing how much I liked this guy. First of all, wow is he well-mannered. When Kate introduced me he was playing a VIDEOGAME, which he promptly put down, stood up, smiled his charming smile, and told me how nice it was to meet me. Gawp. I heart this young man. OH! I almost forgot. Not only well mannered. Also sports a mohawk. HOW MUCH FREAKIN' COOLER CAN A LITTLE DUDE GET.



Of course, it being a hot day in the Texas summer, and there being a swimming pool in the back yard, we pretty quickly jumped into swimsuits and spend the rest of the afternoon splashing around.



Sorry I have no more pictures for you, but honestly when Kate gives you her OH NO YOU DON'T look:



Well. A girl's gotta know when to put away the camera and just have fun, so that's what we did. We went for a walk, plopped ourselves down in the swimming pool, and voilá! Just as Kate and I became internet buddies quickly and easily, so we fell into real live friendship, and it was no time at all before we were sitting in the pool like old girlfriends, talking about all the things girls sit around and talk about. You know, mid-term congressional elections, FDIC-insured bonds, the relative merits of 1991 Ferrari Testarossa versus the 1996 re-modeling... Oh, wait. No, that's wrong. I meant menstrual cycles, childbirth, and relationships. Yes, that was it. (Ba-domp-chaaaaa! Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week.)

All jokes aside, Kate really is a rock star. She's funny, smart, self-deprecating, wise, and easy to be around; visiting her and her family was one of the highlights of my summer. Oh, and for those of you who read her blog and are wondering if it is even remotely possible that her husband Andy is even half as wonderful as she claims... Yes. Yes it is true. But don't let her fool you with her modesty: Andy got just as lucky as Kate did the day she clapped eyes on him, marched home, and told her mama she'd met the man she was going to marry. Kate, thanks for a wonderful visit. Here's to many more years of internet stalking each other!

UPDATE A FEW HOURS LATER: oh my lord, I forgot completely to tell you about the presents Kate made me. That's right, I said "made me". She's such a crafty wonder. She made me a new makeup bag (HOW DID SHE KNOW I NEEDED ONE?) in the funnest prints you could possibly imagine WITH MY NAME EMBROIDERED ON THE HANDLE. And a change purse with my initials! Kate, you're a miracle. Thank you thank you thank you!!!