This week I've learned...

This week, after a few swears and a whole lot of middle fingers, I have learned...

1. I am not the soccer player I used to be... not even the same one I was last week. I seem to be getting progressively worse and even funnier to watch. I didn't realize that this would be my first shot at improv. "Thanks, guys, I'll be performing every Monday night plus a great matninee on your Sunday mornings! I bet you can't guess what animal I run like!" Now that's funny shizz.

2. Poopy diapers suck the big SUCK-a-DUCKA from DookieVille. I swear that Gracie's stanky-butt drops little nuggets in her diaper like it's a treasure box. No joke, every morning from the time she wakes up until after 4 o'clock, I discover a little gold with every wipe. It's true, folks! No KIDDERS! My behind the back diaper throw into the backyard is getting pretty good these days since those little treasures aren't going anywhere near the inside diaper pail. We just gotta nip that stank in the bud. Can we say dry heave? Honestly, she's been known to make me throw up a little in my mouth.

3. Lastly, I've learned this week that I should never, ever type a blog while under the influence of Ambien. Hopefully no one read the unedited version of this post before I got to it. For realsies, guys, I didn't even realize that I had posted a blog last night until I logged in this evening. It was really bad and mostly incoherent. Can we say embarrassing? At least I wasn't writing about rice bags falling from the sky or faces coming at me from the walls. I've been known to do and say strange things while on Ambien.


That's it for this installment of "What I've learned this week"! (the original post had a few more lessons, but after reviewing I cannot even explain where I was going with it).

...And then she was gone

Neesie and Phoenix (Halloween 2005)

We knew the day was fastly approaching, but Bernice's passing still left us shell-shocked. We have been struggling with making the decision as to whether or not we should put her down for quite some time, but last night she made the decision for us. I found her lying down in the kitchen as if she were peacefully sleeping... only she wasn't. I knew that she was gone. I cannot even begin to explain how much this dog meant to Dave and me. We adopted her at the ripe old age of eight. She was an old lady in bulldog years, but she needed us and we really needed her. She was my baby before I was able to have babies. She filled the void for me until I was able to get healthy again and now I feel like another void is present. I will miss my therapy dog. She had a good day, though, so at least we can rest easy knowing that she wasn't hurting when she went.

Who would have thought that such a grumpy little bully dog could bring so much happiness to our lives. We will miss the happy football feet when we walk in the door, the snotty sneezes in our face, the sweet sounds of our little snore-bert, and yes even the flatulants and skid marks on the wall. Ah, good times. You will be missed my sweet Neesie, Bernie, Bur-meece (as Phoenix calls her), Bern-Dawg, our squishy face! Thank you for the memories and God bless you baby girl!