There's Just No Accounting for Taste

Remember that ugly white dog I had for a couple of weeks? WELL, you will not BELIEVE the drama associated with her adoption on Saturday. Apparently a couple of people filled out applications online to get that ugly little dog. When I showed up at Petsmart to stick her in her kennel, people were eagerly awaiting her arrival. Yes, her arrival. There were two people hoping to take the dog home. One was a teenage bride who had her heart set on it, the other was a middle-aged outdoorsy lady with strikingly white teeth. I guess Lost Paws has a policy that whenever there is some question about the applications the foster home gets to decide who gets the dog. While I reviewed the applications, the lady stared at me while the girl wept quietly by the kennels. It was a scene, man! (I loved it.) (And I'm not kidding about the crying.) There are many things to consider when placing a dog. I chose the lady with whiter teeth, but only after I suggested cutting the dog in half.

Keep in mind that to the Lost Paws organization I'm just this weird lady who fosters dogs and hangs out at Petsmart a lot. It's not my job. No one ever asked me to come. I just do. (Because I love it.) But suddenly last Saturday I became indispensable, which was gratifying. After my King Solomon episode I went over to Panda Express for some vittles where I received an urgent call on my cell phone regarding Cassie, the gray mini schnauzer I had fostered along with Pixie. She was very special, if you know what I mean. The woman on the other end of the phone pled with me, "Tell me, is she really smart?" I knew what she wanted to hear. It's what we all want to hear whenever we are about to do something or buy something: Do it! It's perfect! You look great in it! It's an awesome deal! You'll regret it if you pass it up! But, Cassie isn't really smart. "She's much more sweet than smart!" I offered. It was the truth, it was very easy to come up with, and the lady was pleased. (Why my children's teachers can't come up with anything like that at parent teacher conferences is beyond me.)

Long story short: My placement record is 100%. I place ugly dogs. I place stinky dogs. I place mini schnauzers with head tilts and questionable intelligence. It's starting to go to my head. I'm getting a god complex. Can you blame me? That's why I'm so, so grateful for my own dear children who keep me humble by refusing to scoot over unless I yell and eventually break down and cry. What would I do without the little darlings!

Stay tuned as I welcome my first pregnant (unwed) dog into my home tomorrow. The church is highly supportive of this kind of thing, you know. Bring on the bitch!

Frank Friday Photo: Ugly Clipboards

These are the clipboards I tried to make after seeing them in Martha Stewart. They are very ugly. Why do I even try, Martha? I'm sick of trying. I'm done with trying. For a while they just sat in a pile on the counter. Then I hung them up. Now I think about how ugly they are whenever I walk past them. "But," I consider, "no one will ever see them but me." Blogging is so great.

Friday Re-Cap

Boy, what a busy week. Tuesday I went to Ben's Parent-Teacher conference. He got a great report so we went to Baskin Robbins afterwards. I had a scoop of Tax Crunch. Thursday I took Sam to get his booster shots for Jr. High. It was rough, so we went to the gas station afterwards. I had a 44 oz Diet Coke and a Chocodile. Coincidentally, I had the same thing that morning at a gas station rendezvous with Christian. And today I took Maggie to her Parent-Teacher conference at 2:30. She got a great report so we drove through McDonalds afterwards. I had a McFlurry. Then Sam had his Parent-Teacher conference at 3:30. He got a great report so we drove through McDonalds for a twist cone. I had a large Diet Coke and some McNuggets. They didn't seem to notice that I had been through an hour earlier for a McFlurry. Coincidentally, the people at the gas station on Thursday didn't seem to notice my double order. I hope that brings you comfort. Also, I feel great! I hope that brings you comfort.

We Have a Winner!

Congratulations to A. Nonny Mouse! You are the winner of my luck Give Away because once you said I wasn't fat. In a few minutes, around 4pm, I will close my eyes very tightly and transfer my luck to A Nonny Mouse. The effects should last anywhere from a few days to a whole week (at the most). I suggest you put my good luck to use by entering contests, trying something dangerous, and taking risks. You must promise, however, to use my luck for good. Be careful as your luck starts to run out.

It was very, very hard to choose a winner as random drawings rely on the luck of the entrants. Considering that the Give Away was self-selecting for the luckless, I don't know how we all thought this would turn out. Good luck A Nonny Mouse. Enjoy.

Blog Give Away--The Luck of the Irish

Today is St. Patrick's Day and I am an Irishman so I would like to host a Give Away. Today (and only today) I am offering to give away some (not all) of my Irish luck to you. I don't sew aprons, make jewelry, decoupage boxes, or letter press anything. Every other day of the year I have nothing to offer. But today I feel lucky and I'm giving it away for free. Leave a comment to enter the Give Away. I don't know how many winners I will choose--it depends on the availability of my luck. Some days are luckier than others.

What Do You Think?

I have two foster dogs this week. What do you think of this one?

Do you think she is ugly or cute? If you think she's cute you should adopt her. This picture is actually very, VERY flattering. Betsy (also known as "Pixie"formerly known as "Gigi") will be waiting for you to come and get her at Petsmart in American Fork Saturday. She's smaller than a cat, if that's what you are into. Easy and trained--that's what you want. That's Betsy.

Do You Have a Minute (and 33 seconds) to Spare?

Here's Ellen, my last and final baby. And to think--I almost didn't have a fourth child! I really hope you enjoy my goofy and enthusiastic singing voice. Usually when Ellen does something cute I tell my other kids to try really hard to remember it since they broke my video camera and there will be no record of it. (Always look for the guilt angle, ladies!) Yesterday I realized I could at least get Ellen's best songs and phrases on my camera. Watch until the end, even though I inexplicably turn the camera sideways. Ignore Ina Garten's voice in the background (The Barefoot Contessa). She's really insecure, I think.

'ello, Ellen!

Like Mother Like Daughter

For my honest and untouched Friday photo, I give you Ellen. I don't know where she gets it.

Not About Dogs

I'm nervous that you are getting nervous that all I talk about now is dogs. Not true! Remember, I have another blog where I almost never talk about dogs. Don't forget to read it. It's more about the 80s, which I've been thinking about since the Vanilla Ice/MC Hammer concert.

Yours Truly,
Kacy

You Better Look Away--I'm Warning You

Here's how my dog fostering goes down: On Saturday I excitedly complete my chores so I am ready to head out to Petsmart around 12:45 to drop off my foster dog at the adoption event. At these events I am surrounded by other dog lovers--my peeps, as I have come to think of them. Are some of the men wearing tank tops tucked into light, high-waisted jeans? Yes. Do all of the women brush their hair? No. What's it to you? LEAVE US ALONE!

I usually look at all the dogs and imagine which one I will bring home later that day. I also loiter and hope people will ask questions about my foster dogs that only I know the answer to. Thirty minutes of this is the absolute maximum I allow myself. If I let myself stay all day, I don't feel good inside. I don't know--It's a little desperate, don't you think?

I go do errands, live my life (I do have one, in spite of how it might sound), and return at 4pm to check out the leftovers. Happily, each dog I have fostered so far has been adopted. I like to think it has something to do with how I care for them that week they spend at my house. But probably not. Someone drove down from San Bernadino to adopt my Border Collies. And my dear Mimi was snatched up by some loving Mexicans. So I brought home a 3 month old pure bred German Shepherd who I named Frances. I thought she had no name, but it occurs to me only now that "Baby Girl" might be her actual name and not just a description. (Stupid name.)

And it is really at this point that you must avert your eyes because if I didn't lose you at "adoption event" or "here's more about my stinking foster dogs" then you really won't be able to look at Frances without falling in love with her. I'm seriously warning you.


















This is the first dog I've fostered that feels like my dog. Christian disappeared with her the first night on a long walk. We love her. When I look at her I feel the way I must have felt when I met my son Ben in the pre-existence. I picture her as a full-grown German Shepherd with a backpack full of Diet Coke walking to and fro with me and doing my bidding. But still, as I type this she's howling in her crate. There's no way around it: puppies are a pain. So if someone wonderful adopts her I'll be happy. Or I'll run out of the store with her and shove her in my car and drive away.