For the Dogs

What a weird morning. By the time I got up and dogs were playing outside, I decided it was high time to get some work done. Maybe ten minutes went by with Bogey, specifically, barking nonstop. D and I tried to enjoy some nice hot coffee despite the barking, but when it became apparent that wasn't going to happen, he went to the door to let them in. Problem: Byz was off and running. She had somehow found her way out of the backyard and was free. D ran for his boots (did I mention we had snow last night? And it's still with us now, of course, just hanging out all over our street that never gets plowed) and I slipped on my house shoes and a long-sleeved-t-shirt. With two treats in my hand, I burst out the door and there she was: Byz running toward me from the street as I yelled out "treat!" Once she got to me, she waited at the gate while I unlatched it and forced it, frozen as it was, open. The question: How did she get out? Fi pulled on his warm coat to go outside and inspect the possibilities of her escape (an open door? broken slats? did she-please don't let it be this-jump???) and as he reached the door, we were greeted by a small tannish, short-haired dog with a collar on. "Buddy? Roberta's (neighbor) dog?" I held back our two crazy dogs while he escorted "Buddy" next door to Roberta's only to discover the dog was not, in fact hers. Right.

At this point the dog took off running through the neighborhood, again. I threw on some sneakers and a hoodie and charged out to help. A car pulled up two houses down and the driver got out and explained to us that he was the dog's owner and he was staying there in that house with his daughter for a while because his wife had just passed away. At that moment, the dog came whirring back down our street and we asked it's name which, strangely enough, was also Buddy.

"Two Buddys on one street!" I noted the irony, but neither D nor the lost-dog-owner thought it worth acknowledging.

Needless to say, we chased the dog, cornered the dog, ignored the dog, bribed the dog...did everything possible to help this man (did I mention the man is handicapped and has mechanized legs rather than real ones with which to chase this dog with?) coax Buddy back to his home, to no avail. My ears were frozen, the bottom of my pants were wet and I couldn't feel my hands by the time we decided to wait it out a bit and see if Buddy found his way home.

Just as we got settled back in the house and began to discuss our own dilemma of keeping Byz from jumping the fence again, our visiting neighbor returned to our stoop to thank us for our help and to let us know Buddy had returned home.

"Merry Christmas," D waved to the man as he headed back to his temporary house and shut the door behind him.

"His wife just died," I stated.

"She did? How do you know?"

"Cus he said it. That's why he's staying with his daughter. His wife just died."

"Oh."

Then his dog ran away and he already has no real legs and it's Christmas to boot. How merry could it be? I asked myself thinking of my mom and how hard Christmas is without her mother this year. He didn't even know us and he told us his wife died. I wondered if he just felt like he really needed to say it. Out loud to someone. Anyone. But, at the same time, he seemed ok.

I remember a time when I was so sad that if my dogs had run away, I'm not sure I would've had the strength or energy to go after them. I'm not sure I would've thought I provided a better life or family or home for them than the wilderness could. And I didn't even really have a reason to be so sad-no deaths, no loss of life or limb, no anything to explain it beyond chemical reactions. Yet, there he was, a recent widower running around as best he could through snowbanks after a spritely five-year-old dog he named Buddy. There he came, knocking on our door to thank us for our help and to let us know Buddy had come home. There he'd be, when his daughter comes home, waiting in front of the fire and tree with two dogs-safe and sound.

I hope D is right and that he has a Merry Christmas. I hope, even though the holidays are said to be the hardest time after the death of a loved one, that the man two doors down has a Merry Christmas and that my mom and our family find a way to have one, too.

Recently, I told my mom I loved Christmas and was excited about it and was celebrating it every day and, bitterly, she said-Well, that's nice for you, Neesha.

I knew she was thinking of my grandma, and I do, too, which is why, for the first time ever, I've been celebrating every day of the Christmas season and not just the 25th. I suppose I'm having an adverse reaction to the norm-while a large part of my family is mourning this holiday season, I can't help but celebrate and not because Grandma would've wanted it that way, but because she's with me more now than ever before and I know she does want it that way.

Or maybe I just don't know much about all of this...I'm just glad my family is healthy and happy and my dogs are safely at home.

Merry Christmas!

xoxo

N

Peek-a-Boo!

Dustin here. Did you miss me?

(I missed you!)

As Neesh said, we plan to be back in full force soon, picking up where we left off with the Christmas song countdown and making up for lost time to boot. Patience, grasshopper. Patience.

Tonight I wanted to drop something on here that's been slipping my mind for weeks. When I was home for Thanksgiving, my six-year-old niece kept singing a snippet of this commercial jingle, over and over and OVER again.

"Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo! You can have one, too!" Or something like that. I mainly remember the "Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo!" part. She must have sung it four hundred times. Four. Hundred.

Today after my conferences were done, I looked for that crap on the Google. And I found it.



Having watched this thing, I can see why it got in her head. It's diabolical. This commercial could only have been made by the military as a weapon. Somehow it got loose. Seriously, if this were the 80s and Panama, our troops would be blasting this commercial nonstop right at Manuel Noriega's house.

And now it's in my head.

Needless to say, I didn't buy my niece a Barbie Peek-a-Boo Petite. I'm going to tell her that crap will give her eating disorders (I'm THAT uncle) as I hand her her totally badass Justice League Unlimited action figure set.

I cannot wait to get them back as soon as she grows out of them.

Apology

I know we've been MIA and are completely behind on our list and updates and overall blogginess...but I assure you, we have not forgotten! We have only been intensely busy as it is the last week of school (now it's over) and the week before final exams (which means conferences and a lot of student freak-outs). Excuses, excuses, right?

I solemnly swear we will write a blog with plenty of fun-filled stories, photos and updates soon!

Our apologies to our loyal and wonderful readers.

The one thing we have learned from our brief absence: more people read our blog than we were aware of! Thanks for checking in on us, readers, to make sure all is well. It is; we're just stressed and will be blogging consistently again soon. We miss you, too!

N and D

Gossip Girl Update

Hello there Upper East Tate Hallers. Have I got a scoop for you.

Spotted: A Parker munching on salad with a side of chocolate cookies and banana pudding with Lil B, Fi and N at Golden Corral (ew!) on the Bronx side of town. Why so far from the Upper East Tate (UET), A? Looks like he's steering clear of the lit-aholics and academic elite UET. You can't hide forever, A. Didn't anyone ever tell you Golden Corral isn't meant for golden boys like you? The only corraling you should be doing is among the single femmes in the English department. We hope you find your way back to UET soon and stop hanging around with that sad, artsy, saccharine Dustineesha couple. Yawn. They're just so boring with all their talk of honeymoons and community theatre and Christmas songs. Don't you know fashion accessories like you belong on the arm of a yummy Taterhead? Come back to the UET, A! It's just not the same without you!

While the group had lunch, one of my sources tells me she overheard A mention a permanent departure from the UET! Say it ain't so, A! It just can't be true! First our resident hottie disappears and now that he's finally come back, it's only to announce his permanent impending departure? A girl can't find many single handsome boys these days (Hazel's practically throwing herself at the few that do exist) and it's unbecoming for a vixen such as yours truly to beg, but this girl can only say she hopes it's a nasty rumor. UET can't do with one less Parker. However will we survive?

Stay tuned for more A spottings and updates...

You know you love me.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

PS-Dustin and Neesha Save the World will resume their ownership of this blog now.

more songs!

Dustin's Pick: "What Child is This?"

His Reason: "First off, I'd like to take this opportunity to throw out mad props to my home boy Henry VIII, a stone cold 16th century playa who never let the haters get him down. Wikipedia says he didn't write "Greensleeves" after all, thus stripping my fav Tudor mack daddy of the credit for writing the thugginest romanesca track ever, but that's aight. I'll pour one out for da bettah beheadah wit da mad cheddah any ol wayz. Represent, H-dogg 8!

"What Child is This?" is just the remix, but it's still pretty dope. I got all hella callouses tryin' to play it from my Christmas guitar book last year until I was finally like, yo, I'm just gonna strum the merde outta this. Screw this finger picking bizness. And you know something? That merde STILL sounded smooth! That's how come you know it's good.

If I wuz Henry da 8ff, I'd be like, "Bitches, I wrote this song, and it's for the ladies." 

Neesha's Pick: Adam Sandler's "The Chanukah Song" Parts 1-3

Her Reason: Let's face it, greater Christian population, we are not the only ones gearing up for a fabulous seasonal celebration. This is the holiday season, not just the Christmas season so let's be open-minded and pause for a minute to recognize Adam Sandler's clever tribute to the hugely important Jewish holiday, Chanukah. While many holiday songs focus on the holy family, Santa Claus, some sort of jingle bells (whether they're rocking, jingling on a roof or on reindeer), usually snow/winter themed and definitely inclusive of gifts and decorating, the Chanukah Song, instead, praises all who may be Jewish, are Jewish and, if nothing else, are converted Jewish or married into Jewish-uh...-ness? Adam Sandler points out various possible and definite members of the Jewish population and sings their praises. For the most part, these songs are pretty hilarious. They're the type of holiday song I don't get tired of hearing. They haven't been around long enough to have been butchered by remakes (think techno version of "Jingle Bells" without vocals or elevator versions of "Winter Wonderland." Painful!). Best of all, Adam Sandler's trio of Chanukah songs is just good fun. It's not offensive or obsessed with gifts and snow, it talks about people and it does so in good spirits. He makes people smile and laugh, even at themselves, with this song. And, damnit, someone needed to write a song in praise of Chanukah or any other religious holiday, for that matter! Us Christians aren't the only religion in town! So bring it on, Adam Sandler, I'm anxiously awaiting part 4!

xoxo

N

PS-Andrew Parker, if you find your way here via our facebook-welcome back! And, take note, you've been mentioned in earlier blogs. We're glad you're here.

Oh What Fun...

It is to run in a Jingle Bell 5k.

A little known fact about yours truly-I make up lyrics to songs all the time using popular, well-known tunes and they always rhyme (my songs, not the tunes). My college roommates used to do this and I'm fairly sure that's where the habit began.

The run was awesome! We all finished at a running pace. Lance came in second in his age division. Emily broke her goal of finishing under 35 minutes. I shaved a few minutes off my own time and Dustin, Brenda and Ben all came in running like a true team. The bunch of us made up team "Lance's Beard." It was wonderful. Those of us who finished, ran back to join and encourage our teammates who hadn't quite completed the run yet and we ran the last leg of the race with them, only jumping off the path to let them head through the finish line alone, in true style. Way to go, Lance's Beard! A true testament of team and Christmas spirit!

Yesterday, I started to write a blog about how much I hate Chia Pets. It wasn't always like that, though. I'd been fascinated with them for a while because of their longevity. The advertising campaign hadn't changed. The same early eighties commercials were being used (this was the early 2000s and even now they still do, really) and people were clearly still buying the Chia Pets. They'd evolved, even, from just a porcupine-looking Chia to various cartoon characters and trolls, depending on the trend. Because they were and are still around, I started to think that maybe there was something more to the Chia Pets than I knew. I started thinking there had to be a reason why people were buying them, which they were, or there wouldn't be money to spend on the continuous advertising for them.

So I sort of obsessed over the damn things for a while. I was completely into the commercials and applauded their longevity, until, that is, an ex-boyfriend was struck with the brilliant idea of going one step further with my minor obsession by buying me one for Christmas. At first, it was ok. The head was in the shape of TweetyBird and I followed the directions, mixing together a sludge of seeds and water until it was a dark brownish-black, then smothering the goo onto the head of my Chia. I sat it in the window where there was sunlight and kept it watered just as the directions prescribed. I didn't mind the Chia when it didn't have anything to pet, but when little sprigs started to pop up (and not all at once) it made me think of a balding man's head in reverse. One strand would come, then another would sprout, then a patch here and there. Imagine a mostly bald Tweety bird with a few stringy strands of green sprouts (yeah, like the sprouts you find on sandwiches and salads sometimes). Eventually, the entire head filled up so there were no bald-blackish gross spots. Instead, the Chia hair went crazy. It was like an overgrown field of weeds. Something was wrong, I decided, when I realized the Chia Pet was so hairy I couldn't look at it without feeling a little sick to my stomach.

I pulled out the directions only to discover that the package of seeds was not meant to be used all at once, as I had done, but in separate plantings. This way the life of the Chia would be longer. I looked from the directions to the Chia across the room: it's big Tweety smile and overgrown sprouty hair stared back at me. The hair was beyond unruly; it was a life unto itself and Tweety seemed to really dig it. 

What happened next is harder to explain so I've never done so until now. I can't figure out whether it was the goofy Tweety smile or the unlikely and unattractive green stalks of hair with mini-sprouts (Tweety was YELLOW! and, let's face it, didn't have hair anything like the Chia Tweety version!) at the tips or whether I had just gotten tired of avoiding eye-contact with the corner of the room the Chia resided in (I avoided it like the plague), but I suddenly found myself standing over the sink, warm water running, disposal grinding away within the mouth of the stainless steel basin, Chia pet in one hand while I frantically pulled off the green hair with the other and threw it into the disposal. I kept pulling off the hair and throwing it down the sink until Tweety was bald. Then I rubbed at the head of the Chia, removing every remnant of growth that had once existed. I didn't want to take any chance that it might grow back. I was like a woman possessed. I couldn't rest until I was certain the Chia's ability to grow hair was over. Forever. Some strong hold had taken over me and I could no longer stand sharing a studio apartment in Pittsburgh with a Chia-haired, toothy-smiled TweetyBird.

When I was finished assaulting the Chia, I turned it to face the wall behind the sink and tried never to look at it again. The day I moved out of my apartment, I donated the bald Chia pet to GoodWill. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out, since it hadn't ever actually done anything to me and I saw no reason to trash the poor bald thing, but I certainly couldn't take it with me-not after what had passed between us. No one I knew wanted it; the boyfriend's time had run out (hence-the "ex") but I hope Tweety Chia found a good home somewhere in the greater Pittsburgh area. I'm sort of sorry I couldn't be a good home for the Chia, but it really had a bad influence on my otherwise calm, accepting personality. I just didn't like the person it made me become. I mean, I'm the kind of girl that insists all of our ornaments should be put on the Christmas tree no matter what because it's their sole purpose in life. It's their one and only time to shine all year long and how dare we forbid them their only joy in life. It just wouldn't be right.

I feel good about donating the Chia and putting all the ornaments on the tree. That's the kind of person I want to be in my life right now. I know I could probably look for the symbolism in the Chia pet incident and the ex...blah blah...but I think, at this point in time, I'm just happy knowing everyone gets a fair shake in this house and no one is forsaken out of selfishness.

Tweety Chia, I hope you're being loved somewhere. 

Everyone else, come by and check out the tree, but please-no more ornaments. D might kill me soon :)

xoxo

N

Pre-Jingle Bell Run

We apologize in advance for the abruptness of this blog, but we have to awaken early in the morning for our 5k Jingle Bell Run for Arthritis and tonight, after our carb-heavy dinner, we decided to rent Lilo and Stitch in order to research one of our possible honeymoon destinations: Hawaii! :) Needless to say, now it's late and we're tired.

So, next up-the continuation of our countdown!

I've chose a little known song, at least little known to me, that I think is adorable: "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas." I forget the lady's name who sings it, but I never heard it until this year and it caught my attention for that reason. The second reason I ended up liking it so much relies heavily on the fact that the woman's voice is sooo reminiscent of the old-school radio show singers. When I think of those giant radios people listened to programs through each night before television was invented, this woman has the precise voice I hear being projected from it. It also reminds me of the movie A Christmas Story when Ralphie is waiting to hear the secret message from Little Orphan Annie. Granted, it's a man doing the speaking on that radio show, but I imagine a woman singing "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" probably came on soon after, while Ralphie locked himself in the bathroom to decode the "Ovaltine" message (I know this movie too well, I'm just realizing).

My favorite part of the song is when she says she likes "hippopotamuseses" notice the over-pluralization. She says she does not, in fact, want a rhinoceros because only a hippopotamus would do. She would keep it in the garage and feed it and bathe it in there and she's quite certain hippopotamuseses like her, too. She talks about giving her hippo a massage and the contradiction of her mother saying the hippo would eat her, but her teacher saying hippos are vegetarians. WHAT? The conundrums of children's point of views! The song is adorable. Listen to it for a throwback to pre-television/pre-grandma getting run over by a reindeer and mommy kissing Santa Claus times (see how downhill Christmas songs went after hippos were no longer the fad? Suddenly it's all kissing Santa and running over Grandma!) It's worth a stroll down the long gone innocent part of memory lane.

D says: "I like Oh Tanenbaum," aka-Oh Christmas Tree. In fact, he likes the song so much he'll take the German version or the English version. I quote, "I think the Christmas tree does a lot of the heavy lifting come Christmas, but seldom is it praised."

That's it. Good reasoning. You should see our tree-it's awesome and even has presents beneath it already! But more on that tomorrow when we have a week-in-review (when there's time!).

What about you guys, favorite or most hated Christmas songs?

Otherwise, sweet dreams, all. If you want to meet us for pancakes after the race tomorrow morning think: IHOP at 9:15am.

Liz: Feel better. We'll miss you tomorrow, but you'll be there in spirit!