Big Butt? Or Bad Jeans?

A first grade teacher suffered a wardrobe malfunction of epic proportions in a second grade classroom earlier today in a North Carolina school. Mr. Haworth, the first grade teacher, split his britches.

A keen eyed second grade teacher, Mrs. Haworth, was victimized when she spotted the offending posterior approximately seven feet in the air at the back wall of her classroom. Apparently, Mr. Haworth had been tasked with the job of hanging several dozen pictures upon the wall.

As of this writing, Mrs. Haworth is recovering from the shock by resting comfortably in a cool, dark room. Though visibly shaken, she seems to have suffered no long term damage and is not responding to further questions.

Mr. Haworth, however, seems to be suffering from a mental breakdown of sorts from the denim failure fiasco.

"I don't know how long they've been like that," Mr. Haworth told Fuzzy, Black Dogs (FBD). "I thought Mrs. Haworth was getting frisky talking about my back side. Then she upped and just walked out of the room.

"Once I discovered the hole, I said to myself, 'it just doesn't get any worse than this'. It got worse... There was a SECOND hole nearly as big as the first! To make a bad situation worse, Mr. Sir Mix-A-Lot started singing in my head...

Note the royal blue spots
which are NOT part
of the jeans!

"Oh, my, God, Becky. Look at his butt.
It's just so out there. I mean, really.
It's fallen out of his pants! Gross!
I mean it's scary looking! Aaacckk!

"I don't like that butt and I cannot lie!
I think your butt's scarred my eyes...

"There was more. That was a bit too much for me."

Our research team at FBD was unable to determine the time the infraction occurred. Between the luncheon restaurant, the small bit of staff at the school, and those at the grocery, approximately 35-40 people have potentially been exposed to this moving visual violation.

"Everybody today has been really super nice to me," Mr. Haworth said. "Until I discovered the holes, I had a really good day."

Here at FBD, we've been told the offending jeans have been properly disposed and replaced, and things have returned to normal.

First Grade Gems of Wisdom

Yet another school year has come and gone. Another batch of first graders. Another year of surprises and life lessons. Here are a few new gems of wisdom I've gleamed from the past school year...

Anything can be licked. The usual suspects of fingers, hands, and arms apply, but we've added more this year. Add to that list desks, iPads, chairs, pencils, erasers, and windows. First graders, as a whole, clearly don't have discriminating taste.

I discovered that you can prevent pencil chewing by hand sanitizing the pencils. Trust me, I know.

First graders, as a whole, are very quick to pick up on... things, in general. 
FG: Mr. Haworth! Wanna see a spider I just found?
Me: I'm... busy. But feel free to kill it if you'd like.

First graders are also an observant bunch.

FG: You have a butthole, Mr. Haworth!

Me: Why, yes, Ethel Gray. I certainly do.

FG: I can see it, Mr. Haworth!

Me: Wait... What?!

Cubbies cause pow wows. I'm thinking that next year, I may get rid of the cubbies and just install wall hooks for backpacks and coats. But if I do, I won't be able to eavesdrop on some stellar first grade gossip.

If you give one kid a piece of gum, they all want gum. That's a given. However, this year, if you punish one student, other students want to be punished too.
FG: You sent DeeDee to her desk! Why didn't you send me to my desk?!

Me: What? Um... Sure, Edward. Go to your desk. Now.

There is a direct correlation between the Bermuda Triangle and first grade classroom cubbies.
Me: Where is your lunchbox? I asked you to get it.
FG: It was in my cubby, but I can't find it.
Me: Go look again. Anne! Where is your lunch card?
FG: I set it in my cubby, Mr. Haworth.
Me: So get it, please.
FG: Um... It's not there Mr. Haworth. It's missing. Really!

Looks like the cubbies are out of here! How do I sell this idea to my principal?

The Three Week Pile Diet

Summer is quickly approaching and I just finished trying on all my shorts. Sadly, some of them did not make the cut due to winter storage shrinkage.

I stacked all the offending shorts together, placed them in an obvious place where I'll see them, and, in the process, inspired myself to come up with a brand new diet, aptly named The Three Week Diet.

Winter storage shrinkage...
It's real!

The simplicity of the plan is astonishing! In fact, it's so simple, it's sure to work.

Not only have I stacked them in an obvious place, but I've taken a picture of the pile, too. That way, I can make duplicates and place them by the cupboard, refrigerator, and other key places where food is kept. But not the secret chocolate stash. It's currently empty.

The premise behind the diet is that each time I go to get food, I have to ask myself "Will this help me get into those amazing shrinking shorts in three weeks time?"

As I think the plan out, I realize that I may need the picture taped to the dashboard of my car as well. That should be a reminder to NOT purchase the cream horns at the grocery store. Maybe a mobile picture, too. It would be placed on the grocery cart handle. A full pack of four cream horns only has a little less than 1,300 calories.

The mobile picture (and dashboard picture) will help as I go through fast food drive-throughs, the Hawia'an Ice Stand, the gas station candy section, the checkout section at the tackle store, the doughnut store around the corner from me, my favorite milkshake location... Well, you get the idea.

An update will be posted in three weeks time. It will include my progress, any tips or addendums to the diet plan, and any helpful observations I have made along the way.

Project Christmas: Phase 1

In my household, the holiday season is fraught with memories. They run the gamut from magical to  disastrous, satisfying to downright frightening. We may touch on some of these different memories as I fill you in on the different phases of Christmas in my household.

Approximately 19 years ago, when my son was about five year old, we had a decidedly unhappy Christmas and I, for one, was ready to put it behind me. I started taking down the words "Happy Holidays" when my son put in his two cents worth.

"Why do we have to be happy just for the holidays," he asked. "Can't we be happy all year long? Please leave the happy up. I think we need it." As per my son's unrelenting logic, my wife and I decided that "Happy" would remain in place year long. "Holidays" comes out to join its counterpart only during the Christmas season.

As for the fluffing of the Christmas tree, this year I'm treating it like a job. I haven't told my wife, but I expect to be paid for my acquiescence, or rather lack of whining, complaining, and excuses I come up with as to why I can't, or shouldn't, haul the tree from the deep recesses of the basement to its spot in the house.

Right now, the "Happy" and "Holidays" have joined in holy matrimony. Through no small effort of my own, the tree is in place, fluffed and ready for the lights to be strung.

So far, my wife has given me no attention, no advice, no constructive criticism, no hard glares, no bribes, and no words of encouragement. This year may turn out to be one of the best Christmas seasons yet!

As of this writing, I'm moving on to Phase 2 - the Lighting of the Tree.

Slowing Pace Sparks Creativity

Roxy, my dog, and I have been downgraded. It seems the veterinarian, my real physician and my doctor/wife all concur that I need to cut back from running to walking.

What brought this about? I hurt my knee. As in, running was becoming extremely uncomfortable and painful. Some popping and grinding seem to be emanating from Roxy's hips and back legs. So, for now, we've slowed down.

One effect of this transition is that we are noticing a lot more around us. To date, we've seen chipmunks, bunnies (14 in one morning is our personal best), hawks, cats, a plethora of squirrels and birds, and a fox. We smelled a skunk once, but, sadly, did not see it.

Regardless, the slowing of our forward momentum has sparked some interesting creativity in me. Good or bad, I'm really not sure. I'll let you be the judge of that.

Here's part of my walk inspired song. For reference purpose, it's sung to the tune of George Thorogood's tune, "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One beer."

    One bunny, one chipmunk, one hawk.
    Ya know we ain't seen our animal friends since yesterday

    I wonder what they do when we go away

    But every morning when we take our walk

    We see one bunny, one chipmunk, one hawk!

    One bunny. One chipmunk. And one hawk...

I'll keep you posted of any further creative musings sparked by our morning walks!

Dessert Difficulties Simplified

 Around my house, we take food seriously.

We formulate menus for the week. We strategize and plan our grocery lists meticulously. I proofread both for any misspellings or other unwanted grammatical mistakes or food items. And our grocery trips? Carried out with the surgical precision of a US Navy S.E.A.L. team strike.

The one area we tend to falter over is dessert. Dessert is... Well, it's difficult, to put a word to it.

We have certain parameters that our desserts have to follow. I don't eat tree nuts, so that rules out anything with pecans, walnuts, pistachios and the like. My wife is gluten sensitive, so it also has to be gluten free. Her father can't eat it if it doesn't contain raisins. Not really. I just made that up.

Needless to say, I tend to make approximately 98.3 percent of the desserts we consume. The other 1.7 percent of the time, we are purchasing something that potentially all three of us can consume AND will like.

I love root beer and and root beer flavored stuff, like Oreo cookies, for example. My two home companions (the dog excluded), do not. The two humans I cohabitate with like fruits and things on and in their desserts.

The fact of the matter is that if it can be misconstrued as healthy, it ain't dessert!

So what do my wife and I do when faced with just such a dessert dilemma while grocery shopping?

Never fear! For all those with dessert woes, I have come up with a failproof system.

Now when faced with this previously dire situation, my wife and I channel our amazing S.E.A.L. team skills and fall back on what works:

When in doubt, chocolate out.

New Dog on the Blog

One hummingbird, one chipmunk, and one bunny was today's count. Always keeps a running tally of what we see. Don't know why. Just weird.

Except the squirrels. Never counts the squirrels. Perhaps he can't count that high. Whole lot of squirrels out there. They're evil. Evil squirrels. I bark at every one that I see. Every. Single. One. Hey, it's my job.

Roxy, the
Pomeranian

About five days ago, he counted 13 bunnies. Hey, he said, that's our PB as per our usual 2.5 mile jaunt. I wasn't sure if he was communicating or just stringing meaningless syllables together!

It's his job to walk me. I expect two walks every day -- a long morning and short evening walk. He fell down on the job yesterday. Refused the evening walk. Lazy bum said, it's raining. Whatever.

Talks nonstop to me during walks. When he's not counting bunnies, chipmunks, hawks, and hummingbirds. Talks about trucks. Talks about cars. Oh, hey, chipmunk number three! Talks about flowers. Talks about yards, distance, time, temperature.

Just don't get him started talking to neighbors! When he swipes or taps the thing on his arm, it's gonna be a long talk. Next time I have to wait like that, might give that exposed ankle a nip. No talk, just walk.

Tune most of it out. Listening for Good Job, Roxy, Good Girl, Roxy, and Proud of my Roxy Girl. He sometimes mentions treats. That usually gets my full attention.

Since he hasn't formally introduced me, I'm Roxy. The new fuzzy, blonde dog. The runner chick, he calls me. Ask me how much I hate that joke. Ask me.

Y'all might hear from me from time to time, when I can get a word in edgewise. 

Remember, always take time to smell the poo.