Holiday Treats

Last week, I caved and decided to make some Christmas goodies. Here is the recipe for the Chocolate Cake Balls:

Here's what you need: A box of chocolate cake mix, (plus whatever ingredients are called for on the box), chocolate frosting, chocolate chips, and a container of your favorite sprinkles.

Bake the cake according to the directions on the box. Allow the cake to cool, and then crumble it into little bits using a fork.


Mix most of the container of frosting into the cake (you probably won't need it all, because it tends to get soggy and sticky).

Shape the mix into balls and place on a cookie sheet covered in wax or parchment paper. At this point, you should refrigerate them for several hours so that they do not fall apart when they are dipped in the hot chocolate.

Melt the chocolate chips in the microwave. Dip the balls in the chocolate until they are covered and then allow them to cool on the cookie sheet.
**I found that it was easier to drizzle them with chocolate than to dip them, but then they don't get covered all the way around.

Cover with your favorite sprinkles and pop them back into the refrigerator for a little while to harden. YUM!!!

Fa La La La La...

The Christmas season is in full-swing.  All of the kids I know are hopped up on sugar and talk incessantly about Santa, my shopping is about 60% done, the halls are decked, I'm contemplating making insane amounts of baked goods, I have written about 15 of my 60-ish Christmas cards, and this past weekend we went to the Texas State Capital for the Christmas tree lighting ceremony and sing-along.

First, we came up on the sing-along on the south steps of the Capital.  No pictures of the singing, but here's the building.  Pretty, right?

 

[Sorry.  I know the quality isn't the best, but that's night photography for ya, folks.]

Next, we walked downtown to visit all the open stores.  Along the way, we saw this:

 [Is that a giant snake/dragon/something that slinks along under the power of 6 or 8 people pedaling inside it, you ask?  Why yes, of course.]

[A butterfly.  Same philosophy, except this is powered by only one pedalist wearing the wings.]


And finally, the moment we've all been waiting for....

The Christmas-tree-lighting, which after all the pomp and circumstance, was not real exciting.  Go figure.


But wait!  It wouldn't be Austin without at least one bizarre sighting at the event.  Luckily, before we had the chance to leave, we saw these people:

[That's right.  They are literally WEARING their Christmas lights.  All in a days' work, folks.]


On the way home, we saw this:

which really has nothing to do with anything except that we drove by it on the way home and I made Dutch Boy pull over so I could take a picture because the UT Clock Tower is only orange twice a year to celebrate graduation.  Can you see the numbers written out in the windows?  I was impressed.

And that, my friends, was my Saturday night.

Cyber Monday Reflections on a Black Friday

I caved.  I did it.  I became one of the crazy shoppers Friday morning hunting for bargains.  (Although, I DID NOT camp out overnight.  Dutch Boy and I showed up at Best Buy around 11 in the morning.)  After scouring the ads for most of Thursday night, we finally settled on one TV worth the hassle:

[Drumroll, please...]

The Samsung 32" LCD HDTV!!!

I know, you're so excited you can hardly sit still.  This is pretty much the best thing that's happened since you consumed 7 pounds of Thanksgiving food last Thursday.  (Oh wait, that was me...).

But wait, THERE'S MORE!!!!

This TV story has 2 little anecdotes.

Numero Uno:  When Dutch Boy and I first walked into Best Buy, I was repeatedly slapped on the shoulder by some random man.  I turned around to make sure he wasn't trying to grab my purse or something, and that's when he saw his actual daughter.   Apparently, I closely resemble a 16 year-old with a varsity jacket.  He (and his daughter) apologized repeatedly, and then she (clearly humiliated) said something along the lines of  "Don't touch me" (to him), and "Don't judge me" (to me).  Dutch Boy declared that that incident alone made up for the fact that he was shopping with all of those people.

Dos:  Our plan all along for said TV was to make sure it fit in our large entertainment center before we decided to keep it.  Well, upon returning to the apartment, I did some quick measurements, followed by a groan.  The TV was 2 inches too big.  (THE HORROR!!)  Why not just buy a new entertainment center, you ask?  Well, when we first moved into the apartment, Dutch Boy and I had just gotten married and had very little furniture.  I was sick of our TV sitting on top of my little bookcase, and so I searched Craigslist for a new entertainment center.  It had to fit in the back of my car (a medium-sized SUV).  Unfortunately, while we were able to get it into the car with little incident, it took us 45 minutes to get that beast back out.  We ended up having to partially disassemble it.  Needless to say, Dutch Boy declared after that incident that we were keeping that entertainment center for the duration of our marriage. 

With all that being said, we still hadn't decided what to do about the TV.  So, after an HOUR (no joke, seriously, we debated all this for an hour), this is the solution we came up with:

That's right.  Our TV is now on top of the massive entertainment center, leaving a giant hole where the TV is supposed to go.  Any suggestions for what to do with this hillbilly-ish space?

Story of My Life

I feel like this: http://theforexmom.com/why-teachers-drink/?ref=nf just about every day.  Go figure.

Thank You

Today is Veteran's Day, and, while in years past I have not completely understood its deep significance, this year in particular, I am so thankful to all of those who have served our country.  On the way to work, I heard this poem read on the morning show I listen to every morning, and I teared up:


What is a veteran?

What is a Veteran?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.

Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg – or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul’s ally forged in the refinery of adversity.

Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.

You can’t tell a vet just by looking.

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn’t run out of fuel.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She – or he – is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another – or didn’t come back AT ALL.

He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat – but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other’s backs.

He is the parade – riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies
unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean’s sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket – palsied now and aggravatingly slow – who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being – a person who offered some of his life’s most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That’s all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, “THANK YOU”.

“It is the soldier, not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier, Who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protestor to burn the flag.”

-- Father Denis Edward O’Brien/USMC

As a history buff, I know so many details about all of the American wars, but I know so little about the people out there doing the fighting.  I know so little about the lives of those who are so willing to defend and die for the freedom I take for granted, and the least I can do is thank them.  



So why this year in particular?  This year, my baby brother, Tim, (or Timmy, but only if you're me, because I started calling him that when he was 3 days old and have earned that right for putting up with him after all these years) has just started his basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio to become a member of the Air Force's military police.  I'm getting ready to write him a letter (which is the only contact we can have with him right now), and am so proud of him.


Thank you, to Timmy, to countless uncles and grandparents and distant relatives and to all the veterans, many of whom I will never know, nor will I know all of the sacrifices they have made.  I truly am blessed to call myself an American.

Hunting Easter Eggs in the Graveyard

This afternoon I had the privilege of reading a set of "Night Writes" from a 4th grade class who has been busily preparing for their TAKS Writing Test in the spring.  Their assignment was to write about a time when they found something.  One of them, in particular, had me from the get-go:

"Me, my dad and my bro were on our way to the graveyard for the Easter egg hunt."

Now, I don't know about you, but when I used to go to our community Easter egg hunts as a young child, we tore through the grass behind the fire station where it was held.  While there happened to be a graveyard a little ways down the street, we never entered it.  Whose idea was it for this person to hold a cute little Easter egg hunt in a GRAVEYARD?  The piece goes on to describe his heroics in defending the honor of some little kid who was being made fun of by a group of older kids.  After the writer describes getting punched, he wrapped it up by telling us that, "It hurt so bad that I felt like a woman who just gave birth."

Kids say the darnedest things, I tell ya.

This essay got me thinking.  Did I have some holiday tradition that might appear weird to an outsider?  Something akin to hunting Easter eggs in a graveyard?  I can remember a plethora of holiday traditions from my childhood, but nothing anywhere near as strange as what he described.  How about you?

Dream On

I know I've written about dreams on here before, but they've been pretty strange and entertaining lately, so I figured I'd share.

Two nights ago, I dreamed that two of the teachers I worked with moved their office to the top of a steep mountain.  In order to reach this office, I had to run down another mountain in order to get my momentum going well enough to climb up the face.  I woke up exhausted on that one.  (I'm also pretty convinced that this is somehow symbolic of my life.  I do often feel like I'm climbing a mountain...)

Last night, I dreamed that someone was after me and had decided that the most effective way to kill me was to take me up in his helicopter and crash it.  I kept insisting though, that I couldn't find my cell phone, so the guy waited for me to find it.  This worked in my favor, apparently, because I stalled long enough...that when I woke up from said dream, I was convinced I had foiled his whole plan.  That's my story.  And I'm sticking to it.

Pumpkin Guts, Glory, and a Grave Demise

Last weekend we went pumpkin-picking.  By pumpkin-picking, I mean that we drove to a church nearby, walked around, and searched for the perfect (already-picked-off-the-vine) pumpkin.  Not exactly a trip to the farm.

Dutch Boy's idea of the perfect pumpkin is one that is tall and skinny and flawless.  I'm a little different.  While normally a bit OCD in many (most?) elements of my life, I find that I prefer pumpkins which have a little character.  This year that meant a squat gourd that was covered in warts.


I love pumpkin patches for two reasons:  the thrill of the hunt and the diversity of sizes, colors, varieties, and shapes.

 

Dutch Boy and I spent awhile online, poring over the pumpkin-carving stencils.  We finally decided on (surprise, surprise) a Labrador Retriever face.  While I enjoy many aspects of pumpkin-carving, the hubby tends to be more dedicated to the complete task, so he gutted and carved while I did the best part: baking the pumpkin seeds.

Yum!!

The finished product looked like this:

 

Lady really enjoyed that her face was immortalized on the face of an orange gourd...so much so that she felt the need to lick it.  Repeatedly.

Sadly, though, the life of this pumpkin was short-lived.  Apparently rain + 90 degree Texas days + bugs = a pumpkin that literally melts on your patio table.  Last night we had to toss it in the dumpster.  Sadness.  [Insert dramatic rendition of Taps played by a bugler here.]

Albino Squirrels and a Full Moon

1.  As I write this list, Lady is in a staring contest with the albino squirrel who frequents our balcony.  I've been watching her the whole time, and I don't think she's blinked once.  No joke.

2.  That little punk squirrel stole my tomatoes several months ago.  Now he's back for the dead remains of my dead plants.  And yes, I finally took those poor dead souls out to the dumpster on Sunday.  They had only been sitting around, brown and pathetic, for about 5 weeks.

3.  The squirrel just shimmied up the brick wall.  I'm pretty sure that Lady is jealous that such a puny creature can perform such a herculean feat.

4.  Lady finally decided to blink.  And promptly started snoring.

5.  I don't know what I should be for Halloween.  Has this stressed me out?  Not particularly.  It's not like I have anywhere to go, but still...

6.  When I was in 7th grade, I dressed as a Revolutionary War soldier.  Incredibly nerdy?  Yes.  Awesome?  Yes.  Did I have a fife, three-corner-hat, and haversack?  Yes.

7.  7th grade was the last time I went trick-or-treating.  Go figure.

8.  The other day I found small pellets on our comforter.  Naturally, I freaked out and decided that we must have a rodent infestation.  Upon closer inspection several days later, I realized that they were seed pods.  Carried on a dog's coat.  A dog who likes to sneak up on the bed for a deep sleep while we're gone.  When confronted, the dog refused to comment.  I plan to find her guilty as charged.

9.  Has a dog ever withstood a trial?  Considering that Lady is scared of anyone she doesn't know, it probably wouldn't be a super-successful endeavor.  She'd probably go run in a corner as soon as she saw or heard or suspected a stranger.  Oh well.

10.  I love reading and writing stream-of-consciousness posts.

11.  I also love Twizzlers.  I bought a bag of them for trick-or-treaters at Target yesterday, but I'm guessing they won't last that long.  Just sayin'.

12.  I bought oodles of snacks at Target yesterday.  I realized when I got to the checkout line that the healthiest thing I had in my basket was a bag of kettle chips.  Sad?  Yes.  Delicious?  Yes.  Guilt?  Nope.

13.  Since I started writing this, I got the hiccups.  I wish there were a cure.

14.  One time a student told me that the cure-all of the hiccups was to take a spoonful of peanut butter and eat it while standing on my head.  I have to wonder about the logistics of this plan.

15.  I'm about to crack open that bag of Twizzlers.  Could this be a cure for the hiccups?  And can I excerise any self-restraint?  Nope.

16.  Is there a full moon tonight?  Based on students' behaviors today, I'm guessing yes.





17.  Here's a picture of the last full moon outside our apartment.  Not bad for city light, right?






18.   I'm pretty excited to go pick out pumpkins this weekend.  I miss going to the pumpkin patches and apple orchards up north, but we'll make do.

19.  I think I'm going to make some hot apple cider, given that the temperature outside (and inside, for that matter) is approximately a blustery 77 degrees.

20.  I didn't plan on making this a Letterman-style top-twenty list, but my stream-of-consciousness has officially run its course.

21.  Wait.  It has almost run its course.  First I must show off this picture I took this weekend of Miss Lady at the creek.  Sometimes I wish I could be a dog.

22.  One more thing.  I caved.  I'm a weakling.  I have no willpower.  And I'm happily eating the Twizzlers.

Slacker

I've been a slacker lately. It's been weeks since I've posted on here, so this is a quickie-update on life lately.

School started August 24th. It has been wild, to say the least. Our school has gone through some interesting changes, to put it mildly, which means that every day I come home and flop down on the couch, only to get up a little while later realizing I am starving, that I will soon have a starving husband at home, and that dinner does not miraculously make itself. (Although, if it did, life would be sweet.) Then I pick up the phone and order a pizza. Or, to shake it up a little bit, I Google-chat Dutch Boy at work and have a discussion that goes a little like this:

Me: Are you coming home soon? I'm bored. And hungry.
DB: Maybe. We'll see.
Me: Well, what do you feel like for dinner?
DB: I don't care. Make what you want.
Me: But I don't know what I want. What do you want?
DB: Seriously, I don't care.
Me: But what should I make?
DB: Whatever you want.
Me: But....

I think you get the picture.

I really do love to cook. But so often, I feel uninspired by all the of the options that we've already tried. Plus, when I spend all day at work literally running around the school, cooking takes extra energy that I just don't have by that point in the day. So I sit. And continue to harass Dutch Boy at work.

And on a completely unrelated topic...

Right before school started, I went with my friend Brooke to a real-live, just-like-Lucy-and-Ethel grape stomp at a winery about an hour from here. It was a blast. And, in case you were wondering, grapes are incredibly cold when they are oozing between your feet. I mean, almost as cold as the time in high school when I decided to run around the house barefoot in the snow. Almost. (That was not my brightest moment, by the way, but kind of invigorating.)

Squish squish.

Finally, my job is often good for a laugh. Especially when a nine-year-old can put me in my place:

Quote of the Day while I was pretending to jump higher than a fourth grader on the trampoline.
Me: I'm gonna beat you! I'll win!!!
Fourth Grader: You know you're only embarrassing yourself, right?

Please note that I was jumping in a dress and heels. There is no way this could have been an even match.

That's all for now. I'll try to be better about posting several times a week, instead of going for a month in between. No promises though.

The Back-to-School List, Part 2

Yesterday afternoon I was determined to finish that closet.  Fifteen minutes in, I was hot and bored, so I sat down next to the dog on the bed, petting her.  The next thing I know, I'm waking up from an hour-long dream involving my swimming lessons at the YMCA.  This dream included a girl in my swimming class who was wearing high heels while trying to learn the breaststroke.  Obviously.  I even dropped my cell phone at the bottom of the pool.  Disastrous.  Who does that?  Or, more importantly, who dreams about swimming lessons at the YMCA when she hasn't taken swimming lessons since she was about ten years old?  PLEASE psychoanalyze me.

I FINALLY finished it, and here it is.  Believe it or not, while there is still way too much stuff in there, you can actually walk inside it!!

And now, presenting my next two projects...How did we accumulate so much?!?!?

Also, on a side-note, I just got a package from my mom and she sent me Funky Bands.  You know, those rubber bands that are in the shape of various animals and are made for ten-year-olds?  Why would my mom send me those?

The Back-to-School List

I have to go back to work next Monday after a nice, long, dull summer of respite and sloth.  That means that in the last week I remembered just how many goals I had when the summer began, and how few of those goals have actually gotten accomplished.

Today I started cleaning out our bedroom and closet.  We moved in last summer, and ever since then, I feel like neither of those spaces has ever been completely organized.  I started in on the closet this morning.  This is what it looked like when I started:

 Def-Com 5.  I know.

Sidebar:  Apparently I have issues.  Do you see all those clothes?

Unfortunately, no bulldozers were willing to come in and help me shovel things out, so I used only my brute strength and huge muscles to clean it out all by myself.

Sidebar:  Do you know anyone with a bulldozer?

I have an incredibly short attention-span and that closet gets really stuffy, really quick in the Texas summers, so in between my 15-minute stints of cleaning, I sat on the couch, stuffing my face with ice cream and watching Real Housewives reruns. 

Sidebar:  I swore that I would never watch an episode of Real Housewives.  That all changed last week when I realized I could get them on Hulu.  Stupid technology.  Real Housewives is detrimental to my health.  It is also highly addictive.

While actually cleaning, I found a box of winter clothes that I forgot I have. 

Sidebar:  In case you forgot, I live in Texas.  Having a box chock-full of wool sweaters and cashmere socks is superfluous.

Most of them are getting donated to Salvation Army, along with countless other random belongings of which, before this morning, we thought we could not live without--including, that's right...a fanny pack that my hubby got at some conference awhile back. 

Sidebar:  A fanny pack?!?  Really?! 




Meanwhile, this is the dog...

Sidebar:  Yes, she's still sleeping on the fireplace.






To be continued...

Getting Comfy

I don't know if you realize this, but Central Texas in August might as well be the surface of the sun.  I hear that it's only about 10 degrees cooler here.  It's 11:30 right now, and the thermometer already says 93.  Not promising.

Because of this, poor Miss Lady has been trying to find new ways to stay cool.  This is what she discovered about 20 minutes ago:

The bowl kept getting pushed over...

Until it fell on the floor and she had all the space to herself.








Oh, the life of a dog.

5 Things

1. My dog is a freak. This is how she spends 90% of her sleeping time (which is about 89% of her overall time).









2. On Friday I drove to the cute little downtown of Georgetown, Texas. I searched for some antiques. Here is what resulted...

My purchase. I love Delft.









3. While there, I also snapped some pictures...

Cute little alleyway in Georgetown.

The county courthouse.







4. Last night we made Bananas Foster for dessert (or Flaming Bananas, as my family always called them growing up...sometime I will have to write about the time(s) my dad lost an eyebrow in the process).

I was so excited to do this. I mean, who doesn't love fire and rum? I tied my hair back, made sure nothing was in burning distance, and stood back to light the mixture. The problem with last night's attempt was that they didn't have the flame part going on. Failure. I think the rum burned off too quickly. (Why is all the rum gone? Where has all the rum gone? Name that movie.) Here is what they looked like:

I call this my face my Evil, Try to Light the Booze on Fire-face.

But, alas, no fire. Who cares. The bananers were still delish.




5. On Thursday, I got together with our special ed. posse from school for a summer reunion at Chuy's. I love me some creamy jalapeno :-) Stephanie bought us all Big Girl (Disney) sippy cups. I represented Snow White of the bunch, which was very fitting, given my pasty-white complexion. (Although the pasty-whiteness is getting better, considering how much swimming in the pool/creek I've done this summer.)

That's all for now! Happy Monday :-)

Dreams

I have never been a deep sleeper. Typically, it takes me quite awhile to fall asleep, and then I wake up several times during the night, tossing and turning. This means that I spend a good portion of my sleep in Dreamland, dreaming of who-knows-what...usually my dreams are excessively strange.

For example, this one from several years ago stands out in my mind. I went to Toys R Us to buy a new purse. (In case you didn't know, the best purses come from Toys R Us...or something.) While there, I also purchased a large amount of vegetable oil. Don't ask. On the way out, it started raining, and these GIANT snapping turtles came up out of the puddles and started chasing me. These were not your typical turtles either. In a race between the tortoise(s) and the hare, my dream-turtles definitely would have won. Eventually, I managed to outrun them, but only after hopping over a large guardrail and having a nearby cop pull out his gun. Interpret that one...I DARE you.

This week I have really gotten into a book by Philippa Gregory, who writes historic fiction, based on the royal families of Europe from long ago. Right now, I'm reading The White Queen, about Queen Elizabeth of York. Apparently, I've been a little too into it, as last night my dream involved me hiding out with all my allies in the Tower of London. Trust me...if I ever had to hide out, a creepy place like the Tower of London is the last place I would go.



Also, later in the night, I dreamed that I went shopping at Kohl's, only to get suckered into helping with their day care program. Summer vacation, and apparently I still can't get away from kids. Sad.

Critters

I love my dog. I really do. There are actually a lot of animals I love...but some that I'm not so crazy about. As in, if I see anything that slithers, I usually run away/scream/cry/all of the above. No joke. There is a reason that Satan was a serpent in the Bible. So, with all that being said, this is the joke that my friends played on me last month when we were fishing at one of their cabins in Michigan.



Along this same subject line, since moving to Texas, Dutch Boy and I have experienced some other interesting critters. (By interesting, I mean, I'm not a fan.) There was the time several months ago when I turned the alarm clock off at 5:32 a.m., stumbled out of bed, and opened the shower curtain, only to hear something scurrying through the shower. I am also, it's decided, not a fan of cockroaches...especially those of the Texas variety. Everything IS bigger in Texas. Anyways, I woke up sleeping Dutch Boy and made him go kill it for me. Now that's love.

Our apartment has a fireplace. (Why? I have no idea. Rarely does it get below 40 degrees here, so fires are not typically a necessity.) Anyways, last winter we bought a load of firewood, and I had burned through all but the last several pieces. One day when it was actually cool enough to justify a fire, I started one when I got home from school. Several minutes later, I happened to look over on the hearth and noticed a swarm of ants. A colony of RED ANTS had decided to make its nest inside MY firewood. So, what was there to do? I grabbed the vacuum, pulled off the hose, and sat like a crazed woman for the next half hour, sucking up evil red ants and secretly relishing the chance to do so.

And lastly? We had potatoes go bad in the cupboard awhile back. I'm not going to disgust you with the details, because a)you might be eating, and, b)I don't want you to hate me forever. Just use your imagination and think of the worst thing that could possibly be discovered inhabiting my potatoes.

Anniversaries and Such

Have I mentioned that I have the greatest husband in the entire world? Well, I do...but don't tell Dutch Boy I said that. I need some leverage against him, and it might hurt my street cred. This weekend was our first wedding anniversary. (In unison, now: AWWWWW....) I got flowers, a special breakfast, dinner at a restaurant where you definitely don't want to have fins (a.k.a. a seafood place), and, best of all, I got to pick out a new, fancy-pants camera.

With this new and wonderful camera which I have almost no clue how to use (words like aperture and ISO make for a reason to learn an entire new vocab), I've been trying to take some artsy pictures. Needless to say, it's going to take some practice. Here are some of my first (of many) attempts:


This was my attempt to kill two birds with one stone: exercise the dog and take photos at the Botanical Gardens. Epic fail. She crashed through the bushes, went to the bathroom in one of the orchids, played in the water features, and then decided (as seen in this picture) that she needed to hop up and down several large boulders (which I'm sure was not the intention of whomever decided to put said rocks there). We left before we got kicked out.


Sleeping beauty. It's a dog's life.


"Please stop putting that camera in my face. What's a girl gotta do to get some rest around here?!?"


Anniversary tulips.


My life. In pictures.