You Know You Married a Cop When...

A conversation about shoes goes something like this...

Gumshoe: "Hey...did you notice where I put my shoes?"
Me: "No, why?"
Gumshoe: "I put them in the garage.  Don't bring them in the house, though...just leave them there."
Me: "OK.  Why?"
Gumshoe: "I need to bleach the bottoms of them."
Me: "Why?"
Gumshoe: "I'm pretty sure I stepped in some brain matter at that call-out last night."

Really?  Gross.  I mean...
REALLY GROSS!

The story behind it is even worse.  I'll spare you.

How about instead of bleaching the bottoms of them, we just go ahead and throw them away 'mkay?  They look a little old anyway and besides, you conveniently placed them right next to the trash can.  They might just find their way into it.  And then we can give YOU a bleach-bath because I'm sure there were brain matter particles floating around in the air or something.  That's very scientific.  I read it somewhere.

On that note...
HAPPY FRIDAY!!

Hope you have a brain-free weekend.  Well...brain-on-your-shoes-free weekend!

Busy Busy Busy

Ugh!  I've been a blogging failure lately.  Every spare (childless) moment, i.e. naptime and bedtime, has been spent prepping and sanding and painting.  The leak has been fixed, the drywall has been replaced, the trim has been sanded and prepped...we WILL get this laundry room done this weekend!  We are determined.  And then, I can move on to the entryway, the main living area, the kitchen, the upstairs, 2 more bathrooms...ARGH!  When we have had some spare time, this is what we've been doing...

Grrrrrr...

Lining up our cars...per usual

Trying to escape the confines of our highchair

Dressing the same as Gumshoe...total accident.  The footed jammies, however...that was Gumshoe's idea.  Just kidding!

Reading our library books.  Mine is In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan.  Gumshoe's is...

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.  Lovely cover art for the children to stumble upon.  This is a follow up to the last one he read...Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.  I'm serious.

Leaving an allergy booger trail everywhere we go.  Gross, I know.  Aren't you glad I posted this picture?

And finally...beating up on our googly-eyed patriotic chicken.

Work It, Guuurl!

I like to work out at home...

When I workout at home, I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself in public with these old Jazzercise shoes...(they're clean and they don't make marks on my carpet, mkay?)

 Or my husband's fashionably ill-fitting basketball shorts...(they're comfortable, mkay?)

Or blinding people with my super-chiseled Casper-esque ghost legs...(porcelain skin, mkay?)

But I share my workout space with LG's playroom and sometimes the peanut gallery that consists of my husband, child and dog likes to join me.  The move is the cobra, by the way.  It's super-advanced and I wouldn't even try it if I were you...

And they like to burst my intense-focus-bubble by making comments like

"Is Jillian Michaels really a woman because she looks like a man"

or
"Look at that girl in the back...she's doing it wrong...her feet aren't even together"

 or
"That move looks like you're doing a rain dance...for crazy people"

or the ever-subtle and completely appropriate
"We're gonna practice that move later..."

Oh really, Gumshoe?  Which move would that be?  The swift back-kick-to-the-groin move?  OK.  Let's practice that one later!  I kid, I kid.

It's about this time that I survey my surroundings and wish I had gone to the gym...

But then, I don't think anyone at the gym would want to sit right next to me when I am this sweaty and nasty...

Or try to pinch my sweaty cheeks...

Or love me even when I look this ridiculous...

And the gym doesn't have these highly nutritional post-workout oatmeal chocolate chip cookies...

OK...they're not highly nutritional or good for you post-workout.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I just sabotaged all the hard work I put into kicking and crunching with Jillian Michaels the He-She.  But they're really good and you should make them this weekend.

HAPPY FRIDAY!!
 

Waterboy

Slobber Cone

I'll share anything with my baby boy...except my ice cream cone.  That's what grandparents are for.

Can you blame me?

HAPPY FRIDAY!!

G-H-E-T-T-O

Anyone who knows the Gumshoes knows that we are...how do I say this delicately...CHEAP.  What I mean to say is that we're frugal.  Yeah.  That's the word.  And it doesn't matter that the temperature is in the 100s and our air conditioner only seems to cool our home to 20 degrees lower than the outside temp...we will not buy a new air conditioner unless it's an absolute necessity.  And no, it's not broken...it just sucks.  But we're determined to hang on to this air conditioner for one more year, and a cool 80 degrees inside our house would obviously not qualify as a necessity...

What?!  Right.  Truth be told, we had a plumber in the house that afternoon and he was in and out the front door quite a bit so that helped the temp to climb...but c'mon!

So instead of replacing our air conditioner this summer...we are choosing to live in a cave. That's right.  Vitamin D is overrated anyway.  It's time to force that last shred of daylight out of our home to save every molecule of that frigid 80 degree air.  It's that window up top...that one's the culprit.  Can't you just feel the heat radiating through it?

Gumshoe actually asked me if he should "try to make the blanket look decorative?"  That's a sweet thought, Gumshoe, but no.  I mean...it's a blanket.  Nailed to our living room wall.  No need to try and make it look nice. 

But we're not COMPLETELY tacky...there is already a shade in that window.  It's not like our neighbors see blanket window coverings.  We like to keep up appearances from the outside.  You know, by doing things like this...

And this...

And this...

So in case you wonder why most pictures involve my child in little to no clothes lately...that's why.  The heavy, hot winter shoes were his idea and try as I might, he did NOT want them taken off.  To complete this cool summer look, place a hand nonchalantly in a pocket,  make sure your hair is casually unkempt and look away from the camera...

Grandparent Disclaimer:::
If either sets of grandparents are reading and feel sorry for your grandson who lives in a sweat lodge...have no fear...his bedroom is the coolest place in the house.  Except for the freezer.

Must. Get. Closer.

This guy loves his dog!

In fact, he can't get close enough.  He's constantly chasing her around with her toys in his hands yelling "DOG!" "GA!" trying to get her attention.  She will occasionally throw a glance in his direction until we force her to play with him.

Dogshoe is very tolerant of him.  She lets him climb all over her, get in her face, pound pet her head, shove toys in her mouth...but in general, she's much more interested in what the adults are up to.  Trying to spare my child from the inevitable rejection by the dog, I find myself doing the sane and logical thing by trying to reason with her:

"Dogshoe...I know you want to sleep right now, but just humor LG for a few minutes and then you can ignore him for the rest of the day.  That's fair, right?  Are you even listening to me?  Bark if you understand."

Apparently, in my efforts to shield my child from early rejection, I have become a coo-coo.

Anyway...I've been working with LG on self-control by setting a limit as to how close he can get to the dog while she is eating her meals.  He usually listens, but in this instance with everything from the laundry room out on full display in the entryway, things were a little too tempting.  While I went to get the dog some fresh water, LG took that spot.  I'm sure he would have gotten into her food bowl if he could have!

Keep trying to get her attention, kid.  She'll come around eventually...like when you have food in your hands.