07 April, 2011

Are you gonna eat that butter patty?

Thomas and I had something that was like a date yesterday. Of course, it was a married date so it was not anything that normal single people would recognize as an actual date. Once you are married you no longer try so hard, so things like “dates” and “giving compliments” pretty much go out the window. I mean, you may go out to dinner together, but it’s not what it was when you were desperately trying to impress your partner. The conversation is less sparkling and more pedestrian. You laugh less and eavesdrop more on the conversations taking place around you for entertainment. You no longer try to impress.

So, last night we went swimming at the Y and then went to Sonic for dinner. Originally the plan was to hit the IHOP for a short stack, but I didn’t bother to dry my hair, and I thought, “Ooh, Sonic, we can eat in the car.” And that is exactly what we did! We got the Brown Bag Special: 2 Sonic Burgers, one tot, one fry, one Coke, one Dr. Pepper. Followed up by one caramel sundae (me) and one hot fudge sundae (him). Our Sonic experience was fun, we sat facing scenic Liberty Road (you have to live here to appreciate that) and the flickering sign of the CHICKEN LAKE TROUT SOUL FOOD restaurant across the street gently illuminated our meal. The servers wore roller skates. Secretly I pretended it was 1955 and we were on a first date. Although if it was 1955 and a first date I hope I would have taken the time to dry my hair and put on some lipstick. Our conversation though, it was a leetle sparkly and we laughed a lot. He mentioned Mortal Kombat, and when I told him my usual “that’s four hours of my life I won’t get back,” he asked why I’d watched it twice in the first place. My answer, “because you were watching it and I wanted to be with you, you nitwit!” made him smile.  Also, although Mortal Kombat was a terrible movie, with only a weak whisper of a plot, the fight scenes were fun to watch, so I don’t want to watch it again, but I don’t really regret the those first two times. 

The dogs were “groomed” yesterday. Picture me holding my hands up in that annoying these are quote marks gesture. We asked the Catonsville Groomers to wash them and give them a puppy cut. 

What the Catonsville Groomers did was to give them the worst cuts I’ve ever seen and not wash them at all. We know Dru can be a butthead about people messing with him, but honestly, both cockers look like a blindfolded person with pinking shears did the haircuts. They did manage to trim their legs, and the top of their feet, but they left the rest of the feet alone. So both of them have skinny legs and fluffy, dust mop feet.
We will be getting out our own clippers today, muzzling Dru, and cutting hair off dog feet. I will try to get some pictures of the before and after so you can see what I am dealing with.

I don’t even care much that they got crummy haircuts, they are dogs and not terribly vain! I do care though that they weren’t bathed, because now we have to bathe them ourselves. They are stinky and dirty and need baths, so I guess we will be heading off to the dog wash place, which is much easier than bathing them in the bathroom at home, though not as convenient.

So much trouble for a dog haircut! Next time I should go for a short haired breed. If it weren’t for the fact that they give me the horrors, I’d try one of those Mexican Hairless. Greyhound anyone??

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