Second Child Syndrome

My sister is getting married in September and at her most recent bridal shower, we were joking about how she and her future husband, like most second children, do not have a baby book. My mom and dad, like almost every parent in the world, did everything by the book when I was born. As the oldest child my growth was documented at the K-mart photo gallery each month, my baby teeth and locks of hair were saved and the shoes that I took my first steps in were even bronzed (something that was fashionable in the late 70s). All of these mementos were collected, organized, labeled and carefully placed in a baby book to be used against me at some point during my life. My sister on the other hand has shoe boxes full of baby stuff to look through.

I guess Roxy and my sister have something in common. While I didn't forget her birthday, I failed to document it here. On June 20, the Rox-A-Roni turned four years old and we celebrated in the back yard with tasty turkey necks. Who needs cake and ice cream when you can have raw poultry cartilage that's good for your teeth too?

When I was preparing their meal I was a little shocked at the size of these turkey necks. I couldn't imagine the size of the Godzilla fowl these things came from. I think they might have been bigger than the dogs themselves at one time. I just kept thinking about these mammoth turkeys roaming free, waddling around and my dogs lying in wait in the bushes just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make their move; only to get within 10 yards of the giant gobblers to realize their super-size and turn and run the opposite direction with the turkeys chasing them. It's a bad greyhound cartoon that played in my head as they devoured these turkey necks. It was something to help me drown out the sound of crunching cartilage.

What they don't know is that this turkey neck meal is going to become a weekly ritual since I have such a hard time finding fresh marrow bones for them.

So, I guess it is just the second-child's cross to bare no matter if you walk on two legs or four. Happy late birthday Roxy. Tonight I'll give you the bigger of the two turkey necks to make up for it.

Sleeping Single in a Double Bed

I loved the short-lived, Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters show growing up. I wanted to be Louise. My sister and I would dance and sing to all of the choreographed music, executing perfect high kicks in our cowboy boots right along side the Mandrell sisters. I was convinced that I was the long lost fourth Mandrell sister separated at birth.

So when I came upstairs to bed the other night, I couldn't help but think of one of my favorite Barbara Mandrell songs, "Sleeping Single in a Double Bed," as I looked at the unusual dog pile my girls had formed on Roxy's usual sleeping spot. I guess, that night, Roxy would not be sleeping single. They slept like that, without any kind of fuss, for over an hour.

I couldn't resist taking a peek on YouTube to see what they offered in the way of some great video clips of the Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters show. I remember seeing this opening bit for the first time and thinking we were seeing a glimpse into what it was like to be one of the Mandrell sisters as they argue about silly, mindless things. Watching it now you can totally tell it was scripted. I still love that blue dress Louise is wearing.

Dogbook Birthday

I'm late to the whole social networking world. I really didn't think it was for me. I'm married. I'm not looking for a man. I'm not some college girl looking for a way to post drunk photos of myself on the Internet. So, what in the world do I need a social networking site like Facebook or MySpace for?

But my sister and a couple of other friends did some arm twisting and convinced me to give Facebook a try (MySpace really isn't for the 30 and over scene). No shock, it's only been a month and I'm somewhat addicted. Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with my best friend from middle school and we're gabbing like we did at our weekly sleepovers. Through Facebook I've found a way to stay connected regularly with my roommates from college. It's even helped me to take the time to say hi to my cousins who I don't see regularly, but think of often. So maybe there's something to this social networking stuff.

So what better way to celebrate Seka's fifth birthday than to create her own Facebook page? That's right - through the Dogbook application on Facebook, Seka can have her own page on Facebook with links to her own friends, a wall to receive comments, and a place to update her status. She has already been "friended" (social networking verb) by some of her greyhound friends that have their own Facebook pages as well. Who knows, maybe greyhounds will take over Facebook before you know it? Now I just need to get her typing lessons for her birthday!

Happy Birthday GreytBlackDog!

Our Dark Knight

I like superhero movies. Kev and I have financially contributed to all of the Spiderman box office records. We got hooked on the X-men series by accident and now I've seen each film maybe 10 times (thank you HBO). I LOVED the new movie Iron Man (best summer movie so far and I've seen Sex & the City already). And like most gen-Xers, I've watched various Hollywood leading men take their turn wearing the iconic rubber "bat suit" on the big screen as well as on Nick-at-Nite.

Maybe that's why when this little guy showed up on our back porch overhang last summer, it was obvious to me his name should be Bruce Wayne. What else would you name a bat? Bruce doesn't bother anyone. The only mess he makes is a few guano droppings on the deck that I wash off every other day. He's a loner, which seems to be unusual for a bat based on what I've found on the Internet, but Bruce Wayne has superhero work to do at night, so he doesn't need the baggage of other bats.

The cool thing is, Bruce went to roost for the winter in October of last year and this week, he suddenly showed back up. Ok, so I don't know if it is the exact same bat, but I'm pretty sure it is. It looks like Bruce. He's hanging in the same place. What other bat would know of the entrance to our back porch bat cave?



He leaves his roost around 8-ish in the evening and returns around 9 or 10a, crawling way back onto the post where you can only see his little bat bum until around 3p. Then he comes out for an afternoon sunbath. Well, it's still in the shade, but he hangs out for the world to see him. Maybe he's surveying for potential crime that needs fighting? His little fuzzy chest, tiny ears, little nose and small eyes are really adorable. We can get very close to him and he doesn't seem to care.

For the crazy animal lover in me, it is so tempting to reach up there and touch him. But I do have a profound fear of needles, so cooler heads prevail. Imagining myself having rabies treatments is enough to remind me to just appreciate my friend Bruce at a distance, who has chosen my back porch as his personal summer retreat. Does that make me Vicki Vale?