Tally the votes

In honor of the recent hubba-baloo surrounding the national campaigning season, the managers at latimerfam.blogspot are holding a caucus. Forget red vs. blue and mudslinging candidates. Simply answer the questions below.

If you think that the picture below represents a perfectly wonderful place to spend part of January, raise your hand.

I agree. Lucky that we fly out tomorrow.

If you think our family should relocate to a beautiful red brick rambler with fantastically outdated orange countertops and an entirely pink and burgandy bathroom, raise your hands.

We agree. So we are. Hooray.

If you or someone you love wants to rent a wonderful condo in Taylorsville, don't bother raising your hand. Email me instead. Thanks.

Le Pooch

Husband and I adore our dog. We even love her when she rips up our ugly carpet. We still love her when she eats most of our DVD cases. We even keep loving her when she learns to hop the fence at Madre's house and then won't stop doing it even though she doesn't run away and instead just sits on the front porch waiting to be let back into the yard.

Unfortunately, many of all y'all haven't met le pooch. This is the Lu and her best friend Indy. I double dog dare the HOA to dislike that face, even if she is 3 times the weight limit for the complex.


Note: When I say I "double dog dare them", what I really mean is that I "live in constant fear and sneak her out to the Jeep to drive out of the complex for a walk after the sun has gone down." But hey. It's all semantics.

Lupe, in turn, adores us. And she adores the dog park.

The fact that I went along for the ride on this particular morning shows my true love. After all, I am wildly intolerant of even mildly chilly weather, and this particular morning was down right frigid. Lucky that Husband had that cool Pumas hat from Mexico for me to wear.

Lupe is also superbly funny to live with, especially when somehow she ends up dressed as a human.

Christmas and the pre-Aruba diet

I couldn't resist this picture of the ridiculously adorable Husband opening his first real set of tools from my Daddy-o. My dad's a little short on sons, so I get the sneaky suspicion that he might have spoiled Paddy just a little. I'm pretty sure Paddy's just itching for something to break 'round our place so he can get them, I don't know, greasy or something.


In other news, I'm finally going to get a stamp on that hideous passport I secured a few months ago. We're headed to Aruba with one half of the fam-damly, which will be wonderful. Swimming suit time, however, is decidedly less wonderful. With the announcement came the immediate decision in our family that a serious lifestyle change was in order. I'll spare you the horrific details and the even more atrocious 'before' pictures we took. I'm shuddering just thinking about it. Suffice it to say that Husband is having infinitely more success dropping the nasty poundage than I am. Rather than lose all of our friends by posting pictures of us scantily clad with our dismal facial expressions, I'll just show you that at least one part of me is Aruba-ready:In college, the roomies and I always strove for 'perfectly suckable toes'. I'd say these qualify (even if Dane insists my toes are forever tainted by that one admittedly nasty barefoot-at-Warp-Tour incident. Don't bother asking; I'm not sure I can even explain why I was at the concert in the first place, nevermind the lack of footwear. The whole thing is surprisingly hazy despite the fact that I was among a handful of people not intoxicated.)

Goings-on

A while back, Livia blog-tagged me (which sounds like it should be messier than it is), so I'm supposed to come up with seven interesting things about myself. I can only think of one not-at-all interesting thing. I'm a sucky blogger.

Since I can't manage to keep a journal or a cutesy scrapbook, neglecting el blog means that all of our fun adventures go completely undocumented. What with the new year and all, I'm feeling a little guilty about it, so I'll post a bunch all together right now.

One of the great things about being a homeowner is that if the previous tenants decided that this subtle and delicate color would look great

you can have a little fun with it on a Saturday night, thusly:

and in the end, come out with this (hopefully) less headache inducing shade:

As you can tell, Lupe is thrilled about the change in her room.

Despondent?

One more thing:

I'm including one more picture today, partially so all can see what a great job Melissa did turning me into a dark, sultry brunette. More importantly, though, I wanted Scott and Melinda to see the perfect visual representation of "forlorn" on my mom's face. I must be a riot to hang out with.

The canine maturation program.

There are a few things in life that you never imagine you'll get the opportunity to witness in your own home. For most of you, that list likely includes a 60 pound yellow lab in a diaper. Thus, by way of enlightenment, consider the following an educational gift from our family to yours. Merry Christmas.

Remember that Alanis Morisette song from Jr. High called Ironic? You know, the one where all the situations were not so much ironic as they were just unfortunate? Well, the unfortunate part of this story is that I had actually scheduled Lupe's spay appointment mere hours before this adventure began. Isn't ironic? Don't ya think?

As you can see, Lupe is just as thrilled about this latest development into adult dog-hood as her adolescent girl counterparts.

To satisfy all those inquiring minds out there, a diaper for a dog looks exactly like a diaper for a kid only with a tail hole. It must be a real hassle to cut out that hole, too, because they're even more expensive than the human variety. And it turns out you can't spay a dog while they're in heat. A little too ironic. Yeah, I really do think.

For those more interested in a pre-pubescent dog pictures, enjoy the following snapshots of the younger, more innocent Lu with our nephew Peyton, seen here in his first blog appearance:

I am my mother.

Mostly, I really like being like my mom. She's smart, she's thoughtful, she's organized, and she's funny. I'm rarely surprised these days when I find myself doing Shauna-esque things. After all, I caved long ago to the genetic pull toward detailed 'to do' lists-- even though I made fun of her heartily for the first 18 years of my life for her obsession. (Let's face it: I still make fun of her lists. We're alike, but she's still way more neurotic than I am. She's got lists telling her to make other lists.)

I'd like to think that we maintain enough differences to keep our relationship interesting. In general, I'm more free-spirited and laid back than she is. I like to freak her out from time to time by telling her that I dig the occasional democrat or that I haven't mopped my bathroom in over a week.

Today, I found myself sticking temporary Post It notes in my brand new Rolodex rather than writing on the actual cards. Want to know why?

I didn't have my favorite type of pen at work. So if I write on the cards now, they won't match the others after I get the pens.

Matching ink does not = easy going political moderate with relaxed housekeeping demands.

Matching ink = Shauna.

(Matching ink = pretty Rolodex.)