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?

Miss Manners

When I was in the 3rd grade my mother enrolled me in White Gloves and Manners class. It was a poor man's cotillion class, held in the dingy gray conference room in the back of our small town department store. Our instructor, Ms. Alice Dozier, always wore a dress circa 1959, had her nails perfectly manicured, pinned her hair in place away from her face, and could present herself in the most graceful of fashion as she demonstrated the proper way to lift your spoon to your mouth as you sipped - not slurped - soup.

There were 15 girls in our class and Ms. Dozier spent one night a week for six weeks teaching us everything a well-mannered young lady should know. From properly addressing elders and introducing yourself/others/guests in a social situation to how you should behave on a date with a young man and what silverware you use and when, Ms. Dozier dazzled her starry-eyed students with the fantasies of what their future social lives would be like when they got older. I'd go home after these classes with dreams of hosting formal dinner parties; setting tables full of china, stemware, and 20 pieces of flatware; thinking about all the letters I would address to important people; and considering if I would dance the waltz at my first social (it turned out to be an awkward slow dance to Careless Whisper by Wham! with a boy much shorter than me - go figure). No matter what reality really was like, Ms. Dozier had a way of making you think you were growing up a Kennedy or at least could become one.

I was thinking about all the table manners I learned while watching the girls monitor our little Memorial Day cookout on Monday. Kevin manned the turkey burgers and dogs on the grill while I set our outdoor table. There was no china involved. Only left over college Corelle-wear, makeshift Martha Stewart dishcloths turned into place mats, and stainless flatware, but it was set correctly. Roxy kept an eye on dad's progress, hoping he would mess up and knock a burger or dog off in her direction. She has no fear of the heat of the grill so we have to watch her like a hawk. I think we could get her to walk over hot coals for a turkey burger. I believe that's what you call food motivated.



Seka, on the other hand, prefers to watch from the sidelines, knowing that such behavior is rewarded in the long run. This time of the year the bees, hornets, wasps, beetles, and any kind of flying bugs like to torture her. They buzz around her ears and dive bomb her bum to bait her into this unfair cat and mouse game. She will chase these stinging, winged creatures around the yard, jumping into the air, snapping her needle nose as fast and violently as possible, only to miss, catch site of her tiny target again and then carry on this tiny lure coursing exercise throughout the backyard . She's only been stung once or twice, but that doesn't seem to stop her.

When we eat outside, I try to bribe both of the girls with rawhide bones (U.S. made only - I'm VERY picky). It keeps them occupied while we eat. Their table manners are pretty good inside, especially Seka who is too proud to beg for scraps, but outside - all bets are off. But my trick didn't work since we had been outside 70% of the day and they had chewed on their special bones until their little mouths were sore. So, Roxy decided the best way to get food from mom and dad was to rest her head on the table, where she couldn't be missed. She obviously did not attend Ms. Dozier's class. Mom was mean and fed her dill pickles to get her to go lay down.



Good Manners


Not-So-Good Manners

In the end, they both got a turkey dog and 1/2 of a bun as their meal and I don't think Seka chewed one bite of it. I think she thought the faster she got rid of her bite, the quicker she could get another.

I reminded Seka of what Ms. Dozier taught me more than 20 years ago, you must take time to enjoy your food - I think she also said you should finish your meal after the man does, leave 1/4 of your meal on your plate and always have an extra pair of short white gloves. Then again, not long after I graduated from White Gloves and Manners Class, I saw Ms. Dozier in the grocery store smoking a cigarette in a burgundy velour jogging suit buying beer.

Dog Pack

All of our friends have kids. All of them. We've been married for going on 8 years, which is longer than almost all of our friends, and everyone seems to be waiting on us to catch up with them. I hope they aren't holding their breath. When we listen to them talk about how their lives have changed when the baby showed up, one thing rings true for every couple - they can't believe how much stuff they have to pack to leave the house with the kid in tow.

I thought about this kernel of truth as I was packing up our Honda Accord two different times for our very full weekend of greyhound fun. While my babies might not be allowed in most restaurants or a grocery store, they certainly know how to fill up the trunk of a four-door car with supplies for a two-hour gathering.

Saturday night was the annual Southeastern Greyhound Club take your hound to the meeting - meeting (better known as the annual cookout). Held at Summerwind Farm in Newnan, GA, it's a two hour drive for us, but well worth it for the friends, food, and greyhound fun. Here's our packing list for this trip:

1. Ex-pen: to keep the girls contained while mom and dad eat
2. Outdoor rug: so the beds don't get all gross
3. Beds: bony butts cannot lay on hard ground
   
4. Folding Chairs (2): mom and dad need somewhere to sit
   
5. Tarps & Clamps: gotta have some way to keep the GBD out of the afternoon sun
6. Water Bucket: I brought the small 1 qt bucket for this short party
7. Treats: you can't leave home without them
8. Muzzles: another must have at any greyt gathering, even if you don't wear them

This year, the theme was a Hawaiian Luau, and many hounds and their owners came dressed in grass skirts and leis. I made a trip to the thrift store that morning and found a great Hawaiian shirt for Kev and a skort for myself that made great costumes for the evening. My mom made the girls new Hawaiian print scarves especially for the event, bringing our collection to about 10 different designs of matching scarves for the girls to sport about in.

The highlight of the night was greyhound limbo. Going into the game, Roxy looked to be one of the early favorites. But, she got a little performance shy, buckled under the pressure of the very low pole in the semi-final round and came in third. Venus (sporting her flowered tank top below) wowed everyone with her impressive "get low" skills, while Remi (shown in action below) came in second. Roxy charmed everyone with her winning smile though.



I was very excited to finally meet Denise, Limo and Less in person. And of course, Less did his fabulous tongue trick for me. What a handsome and lucky boy! It's not easy to find another greyhound/horse person without kids that is close to you in age, so we had a great time.



Sunday morning we got up and repacked the car for our annual trip to the Atlanta Braves' Bark in the Park event. For $23 you can bring yourself and your dog to a Braves Game at Turner Field and the proceeds from the event go to the Atlanta Humane Society. The first year we went they held the event at the end of July. Talk about the dog-days of summer - it must have be 99. They quickly changed the time of year the event was held and they now have two days - mid-May and early September. The weather on Sunday was as close to perfect as you get in Georgia - 75 and breezy - and we absolutely enjoyed ourselves. Our packing list for the day included:

1. Full-sized comforter & 2 Red Sox Throws: skinny butts had to lay down on something besides concrete
2. Water Bowl: obvious
3. Water: Turner Field is the only major league stadium where you can actually bring your own food and drinks into the stadium!
4. Kongs (2): Frozen with peanut butter, marshmallows and kibble
5. Snacks for mom & dad: ballpark food isn't always great on the hips

All of that, except the comforter, plus my M.I.L.K. (Money, I.D., Lipstick, Keys) fit into my backpack. We successfully climbed to the top of Turner Field so the girls could enjoy their own VIP luxury box and we could enjoy the shade and breeze (it helps with mom and dad are baseball nerds and know that stadium like the back of their hand). Being able to spread out was key to keeping Seka comfortable. Roxy couldn't take everything in fast enough. She was smiling at everyone she saw - neighboring dogs, little kids, the beer man. Word got around with the Bark in the Park volunteers who make the long trip up the stairs to refill the water bowls that there was a smiling greyhound in section 418, so we got quite a few visitors as the game went on.



Of course you can't go to the game without having some junk food, even if you bring your own 100-calorie packs with you. So, the girls shared my cotton candy, which they were confused by as the blue sugar melted away on their tongues. The peanuts, however; sent them into overdrive. After sharing just a couple, they decided to gang up on mom and take them from me, unshelled! Seka even helped herself to the picnic the neighbors were having to the right of us which included Krystal hamburgers. They were nice enough to share one with her. Pig.







We weren't the only greyhounds in attendance like we were the very first year they held Bark in the Park. There were several SEGC members enjoying the game as well, like our friend Lucy. In fact, Venus (the reining limbo champion from the night before) got a cameo on the jumbo-tron all decked out in her Braves hat.



As I was unpacking the car when we arrived home from Atlanta I was thinking back to all the dog/people watching I did while at the baseball game - I really didn't watch very much of the game at all. It was just too much fun to look at all the people and their dogs together. The one thing I did notice was that no one - well hardly anyone - had a kid with them. You either brought your dog or your kid to the game. I guess they didn't have enough arms to carry all the stuff you need to bring both.

Whip It Good

One of the first lessons in marketing is understanding the four Ps - Product, Price, Place and Promotion. According to one of my favorite marketing professors, the grocery store is the best place in the world to study successes and failures in marketing. I think we spent an entire semester discussing grocery store layouts, heights of shelves, width of aisles, colors of boxes, shapes of packaging, promotional end caps, and even grocery store music selection to pace your shopping experience! The psychology of grocery shopping is really fascinating. While you think you're just going to buy peanut butter, "big brother" has other plans for your shopping experience no matter how hard you fight it.

One of the most difficult things to locate in any grocery store are the marshmallows. I know this because they are a staple in my house. Marshmallows are the cue for the girls to go night-night. They are reward for those times when mom is on a conference call and they have been very patient. Marshmallows are sometimes, but not often, used as bribes when trimming toenails or taking pills. We love marshmallows, and mom even sneaks a bite or two of one every now and then - especially the strawberry ones.

But how each grocery store defines where the marshmallows should be located is a mystery to me. I personally believe that they should be with the baking goods. The marshmallow creme is there. Why not the real thing? Both our local Publix and Kroger do not agree. Maybe it should be stored with the hot chocolate since it complements it so well. Nope. Not there either at WalMart, Publix and Kroger. Ok, so maybe it's a sweetener. It's sweet, right? That was a stretch, but that's where WalMart hides them. I tell you all this because after an hour and a half shopping trip at Publix, I couldn't find marshmallows - even with help. I found marshmallow creme. But no marshmallows.

So the girls got the next best thing to hold them over - Reddi Whip (fat-free of course). I think Roxy was fed it at the track because she knows how to suck it right out of the can. Either that or she did whipits with the "bad crowd" at the kennel before she came here.



Seka on the other hand, prefers to lick it off of my finger. She thinks it is way more lady like. It's a lot of fun to feed it to them even if it is messy. So, while we have no marshmallows, we have sticky faces and happy tummies. But mom misses the strawberry marshmallows.