I *finally* got a text this morning. Rayce has been pardoned. He's safe.

Thank you all for all the kind thoughts, words, PM's, and prayers.

He may not be "my" dog anymore, but he'll always be "MY" dog. :/

I'm instantly sorry for these. I'd had high hopes, while we were at our lil local nature reserve. But hey....they follow da rules. So there's that

It's a fast flowing creek, I'm sure Meaniebutt blogged about it. Due to heavy rains, it was pretty high. And as always...COLD!
Pretty sure you can see the goosebumps on ma legs.... BRRRrrrr!

Instead, I took a page out of our two lil intruder's book. A couple o little ones and their grandma crashed out party. She was taking some awesome pics of the two of them in an overhanging tree. *Ding!* Inspiration!


Total bikini-tree-climbing-bad-ass!

And alright, I guess ya'll deserve a bit of a smile....


And there ya are. My firstest blog challenge in ages.


Check out everyone else: tight_wet_lips, bighoss2, guitartxn, MrMrsFX, WendySilvia, plumplover4life, masterstoy91, undisclosedid1, LuLusBakery, FinNude, nickey69, J_Detroit, KaioticEvil, JediMasterBater, aussiewanker, DubbleStubble, Jersey_Girl, Showy_Showy, d_licious_d, slinkysuzie, FinNude, TexAngel, kricket187, mfpandbc, steelrat60, shegotthejak, curious48, Shotguns&Tattoos

No news yet on Rayce, which....I dunno is worse. The not knowing and the waiting, or what the actual verdict will be.

In other news, I've been working what lil bit of an ass off that I DID have. :/ What makes it worse, is I open every day, meaning I wake up at 3am, and hopefully....in bed by 9 at the latest. Which means Meaniebutt, who has been closing every night, get's home around 11:30pm every night. The most I've seen him the past 3 days is when I get woken up from the couch to move to the bed (so about 15 minutes), a few times I've woken up to find him stroking my hair or kissing my face (about 2.5 minutes before I fall asleep again), or before I leave for work, and sneak into the room to kiss him good morning/see you soon.

So today, after a really rough past couple of days mentally, emotionally, and physically, and knowing I'll be coming home to an empty house as my Meaniebutt closes....

....And like magic....he knows. He left the house a good 4 hours before I came home. Yet He drew me a picture on our message board, usually reserved for shopping/to-do lists, but today hosting a flower hand drawn for me. Also, a letter. Full of love, encouragement, and general happy things. AND! He made me a gallon of the iced tea I love so much. To put a cap on all the bragworthy things....he made me dinner I just have to pop in the oven and heat it up.

I am still an emotional mess, but....damn, I am a happy and lucky one.

.

GodDamnSonofabitch if I didn't write out an entire blog, a fab one...on my piece of shit tablet....

Went to read it after posting it, and saw it changed fucker to Tucker...so went to edit. MOTHERFUCK if I didn't delete the entire fucker!! LMFAO!

So here goes again....round 2.

I am HOME. I'm so happy to be home at a decent hour! There (was) still daylight! My manager has been on vacation all this week, leaving me in charge of the shop. Which means 6 days this week, 12-14 hours a day...plus a 2 hour commute. *sighs* Such is life, eh?

My Meaniebutt was off today, so he got the dishes, the laundry, straightening up the joint AND the grocery shopping done. He ALSO decided to surprise me with a new blouse, aka. a work shirt. It's an awesome color, and I love it. He got me a sundress too, but for whatever reason, usually the size "small" is a bit roomy on me. THIS "small" was indeed just that. We'll take it back and get some pics for you to see. It really is amazingly cute.

Tomorrow is gonna be.....ugh. I'm grabbing my store manager, and me and my problem child of an associate will be having a sit down. My manager avoids conflict at all costs, literally, ALL costs. So much so that he let's sub-standard performances slide. Me? Guess what. Here's what *I* want, here's what *the company wants* (I assure you, they are in line). Don't do it? You're gonna get counseled. I'm done letting associates get away with murder. I'm totes cool with being the bad guy too. Do it right or don't waste my time...

Which is why I need to have my bosses boss with me for this talk tomorrow. LOL....I have no filter....

Annnnnnnnnnnd.....I think that's all the news you can use, folks. xoxoxoxox

Oh! Hey! How's you doi....oh wait. I'm sorry. You've got a lil crazy on your face... Right there...No, the other side...

No...It's still there. Seriously... RIGHT THERE. OOOoooooh! There ya go! It's gone now.

Anyway, I'm on my way to a hot shower and then bed after a fab meal. Good to see ya again!!!!

Me and Meaniebutt have the day off together. Most of the morning has gone by in a blur of sleep and snuggling.

Right now I'm making a red potato salad with bacon to take to my parents house later. My lil sister is down from college on spring break, so we're gonna BBQ.

It's a lil overcast, but its a beautiful day. Even better because Meanie is here with me.

Forget stardust—you are iron. Your blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When you bleed, you reek of rust. It is iron that fills your heart and sits in your veins. And what is iron, really, unless it’s forged?

You are iron.

And you are strong.

I have no fucking patience. Like....none. I'd ordered this beautiful ring for Meaniebutt. He'd said he'd like to get a cheap silver band for his ring finger, just because. Even if we're NOT married, he felt like he was. So I took it upon myself, and found something perfect. I'd planned on waiting, ya know. Maybe one sunset on the pier. Maybe during or after dinner with my (our) family.

Yeahhh... Not so much. *grins* I checked the mail, saw the package. Opened it in our room, then proceeded right out to where he was relaxing on the couch. Dropped to one knee, and proposed. Like I could keep that ring a secret... it's just too awesome.

So yeah. He said yes. We're not even planning anything. There's no rush. I'm just happy he's mine and I'm his. And the ring really IS pretty damn cool:


Gotta love Tungsten.

I've been in class all damn week. This sitting on my ass for 7-8 hours a day is killing me. So breaking it up with a heartfelt marriage proposal was just the thing

I'm not a parent. I will never be a parent....well. I'm going to be a step-parent, which is totally cool, because they're basically grown, and I get to skip all the diapers/prom dramas/snotty teen stages and get right to where they're actually cool people and then I get to be a grandma.

Anyway....I strayed off topic. I'm not a parent, so the only thing I have to go on is how *I* was raised. So these.....brats....these days..... And the good ones.. Oh MY, I have to bite my tongue so many times a day.

One of the lessons I would give these people... is one that I learned VERY early in life. If you, as a parent, threaten to do something, if the desired reaction is not achieved. YOU DO IT. To set the stage: At my bakery, we give kids a free cookie. No real requirements, just a free damn sugar, sugar sprinkle, or chocolate chip cookie as a way to bring the parents into the bakery. That being said, there's this....I can't call him anything other than a brat. Spoiled. Rude. ROTTEN. At times, we will run out of one type of cookie or another. Usually sugar sprinkles, as those are the most popular. This kid.....he's got to be 6 if not 7 years old. Will PITCH A FIT if there's no sugar sprinkle cookies. I'm serious ya'll. He will scream. He will cry. He will throw whatever is in reach (once, a jar of pesto, which broke, and made a huge fucking mess. And his parents DID NOTHING).

Today, I saw them coming, and thanked the fucking gods that I'd just baked some more sprinkle cookies, since we were out. They get up to the counter, and brat-future-pampered-jr.-ASSHOLE see's there's no sprinkles. I know him. I know his name. His mother is asking him which of the two he'd like, and he's mentally preparing for a nuclear sized hissy fit. I, like a damn psychic-warrior, ask him by name if he'd rather have one of the sprinkle cookies I'd just pulled out of the oven. His mom nodded happily. He is still stuck in pre-hissy mode. I hand him the cookie, which he immediately inspects for sprinkles, as his mother tells him to tell me Thank you. He starts nomming on the cookie. Here's the damn problem. Mom tells him, "If you don't tell her Thank You, I'm going to take the cookie and eat it myself."

.......I'm sure, by this rant, you can guess what happened. He was busy licking the sprinkles off the cookie, and hides his face the FOUR times his mother repeated this statement. Annnnnnd Mom gives me an apologetic look, says ty herself, and is on her merry way. SERIOUSLY. YOUR KID IS A FUCKING DICK. AND WILL ALWAYS BE.

On the flip side, I have seen parents tell their kids the same thing.....the kid refuses, or wants to cry because we don't have the cookie they want, and the parents walk away with the crotch fruit, happily munching the cookie, while the kid cries. GO THEM!

I was walking towards the bakery one day, and there was a kid pitching a fit about something or other. I could hear him from across the store. As I was walking towards them, Mom leaned down, caught kid's hands in hers to hold them together, and all but hissed, "You are going to STOP. NOW. Or I'm taking you to the bathroom and spanking you!" Kid shut up. I wanted to give the lady a fist-bump. She looked up and we made eye contact, and she had this...guilty apologetic look on her face. I just smiled and winked, and whispered, "Mom? Is that you?" to her as I walked by. She laughed. I smiled. It was epic.

There is a huge difference between discipline and abuse. True story. I got my ass reddened a time or two (or 30). I was stubborn as fuck. So the hand gave way to a wooden spoon (broke that bitch), which lead into a leather sandal (that fucker would NOT break),and ended with me NOT doing shit to get me paddled!

I'm just saying, the point of this blog, if you're gonna THREATEN to do something. FUCKING DO IT. Honestly, after the 3rd or 4th time, everyone knows you're not going to do it.

Oh. And "counting"??? FUCK THAT. Watching parents count down....many times in a row....with no repercussions... fucking useless.

*throws hands up and is thankful today she can't conceive*