Merry Christmas Eve?

So here's what's happening and why I never have time to write my own blog -- only other people's blogs.

My dog has giardia. Google it. It's gross. It's a parasite. It affects her stomach. We are not getting any sleep here. But it all started as an unresolved case of swollen lymph nodes and we have no explanation for that yet. And that also makes me lose sleep.

Tonight we were attempting a "shoot" of an amateur music video with our son Will. Because who else would be more qualified to shoot a music video than my 51 year-old husband and I on our iPhones?

We will see how it turns out. At least it won't have dog noise in the background this time because I put the dog in the Tiguan while we filmed it. We call the Tiguan her apartment. She loves her apartment. 

I love my dog and I love my kid but I'm about as tired as I can get at this point. There's no more tired.  I'm so tired, I'm contemplating getting my AARP card finally. That's right. Bring it AARP. Bring it Depends and Metamucil and all the other indignities that await me. 

It's okay. I've been in this spot before when I was much younger. Like the time my mom and I had dynsentery at Abu Simbel. But that's another gross story for another day.

In the meantime, merry elfing Christmas all as my husband says. Here's the "music video." It looks like it was made in Yugoslavia.

Not Yet Men

Last night Will was coming home from the gym and ran into some kids he knows from baseball. One of them has a dog that apparently gets out of the house quite a bit. They live near a busy intersection.

The dog followed Will across the street and was hit and killed. The driver didn't stop. Will carried the dog home to the boy's house who was also a witness and obviously distraught. I don't know what to say to my son about this. He was washing blood off his shoes and I was washing blood out of his clothes. What do you say about that?

N.B. I was harassing Will about AP English homework last night and he said something about what I must think of him -- that he's a slacker. And I said I don't think of you like that. I think you're heroic. What I think I meant was he has great character. He may not have great grades, but he has great character. This is what I think about Will. 

Dogs Can't Play Poker

Daisy was on our bed again this morning where she is not supposed to be. She gave me this look like WHATEVER. Very blasé.

Then her tail started furiously wagging. Because Daisy is a very happy girl. And I thought to myself, dogs can't play poker. They have a tell that is their tail. 

Cats, on the other hand, could totally play poker.