Twitching

We are back in Cleveland and at our new house. Poor Shea has been moved from place to place for the past year. After driving seven hours in a car he has never ridden in before, it all seemed to come crashing down for him. For a little while anyways.

Shea's day started out cramped into the back seat of my car. A place he has never been allowed before, hence the covering sheets for protection! He had a hard time getting comfortable, tossing and turning for the seven hours we were driving. 

When we finally arrived, he jumped out of the car and was ready to explore this new place. Running around the yard and the house, sniffing everything in sight. However, for some reason, Shea got really restless. He began trying to eat the garbage, he cried at the back door, when nobody responded, he went to the front and cried. A very sad sight.  I finally caved and took him for a walk. He peed on every tree we passed and then refused to come in the house. After bribing him inside with peanut butter, he found a way to sneak out the back door. Thank goodness Shea never gets sick of the peanut butter bribe, as we had to lure him back from our neighbors yard with a full jar.

We left Shea alone for a little while when we went out to dinner. I was a little nervous to see what we would come home to. Besides getting into the garbage, I am led to believe he simply laid in the bathtub crying while we were gone. The dirty paw prints all over the tub was a dead give away. 

Now, after an exhausting, confusing day for the Big Guy, he is sleeping and twitching on the floor. Hopefully tomorrow is better for him. When he hurts, I hurt. 

I Could Have Been A Billionaire

My grandmother, who turned 89 yesterday, is MIA. Being the caring and considerate granddaughter that I am, I telephoned her yesterday to wish her a happy birthday. In doing so, I let her know that I was in town and would come to visit her sometime today.

I was disappointed by her response, as I've always considered myself her favorite grandchild (sorry to break it to you Nick and Danny). She got all excited and said, "Is Jeff coming too?" I had to remind her that Jeff was not here. With this news, she completely changed her tune. "Oh, well, you don't have to come." Me, I said, screw that! I'm going to see her. My grandmother only turns 89 once!

So, as I headed down today to visit, I called her to make sure she was awake. She didn't answer so I proceeded to call 900 times figuring she would get so annoyed she would actually answer her phone. Didn't happen. When I arrived there, her car was gone. This woman, who hasn't driven a car in 3 months, decided today, the day I drove down to see her, that she would journey out into civilization? Just my luck. So, I headed over to her sisters' house, thinking she may be there.

My precious (great) Aunt Gina just returned home from the nursing home yesterday. She was dozing off when I arrived, but perked right up at the sight of me. A little while into our visit, an old friend, Deb, showed up: a 75 year old spitfire. Right away they got after each other. Yelling, screaming, arguing. I mean, really, what better thing for "friends" to do?

As Deb started preaching, Aunt Gina decided she wasn't going to have any of it. "Shut up!" she yelled. "Shut the f*#& up!" With my phone laying next to me, I decided that maybe I should record this. So I did. By the time I came to this decision, things started to die down a little bit. But I still got some excellent footage. And, while I should be happy about that, it only pissed me off.

Had I come up with the idea to video tape family gatherings and visits since I was, say six, I would be close to a billionaire at this point. The footage would be absolutely incredible entertainment for people of all ways, shapes, and forms. Even if I had decided this when I was a teenager, I'd be a multi-millionaire. Now, with the oldest generation ranging from 92-82 the better years of footage are behind me. They can't hear very well and that does not make for good conversation. I really dropped the ball on this one! Damn me!

The Big Egg

Being here in New York for a limited amount of time, I have a people to do and things to see. I mean, ehhh, you get the picture. So, I set out this morning with an agenda. As soon as I was able to cross one thing off, I was side-tracked in a major way.

You see, as I stopped by my old school, chatted with some people, I noticed a group of guys playing basketball. I am a sucker for basketball. As is normal with me, I started watching for a little bit, only to notice that I knew these guys. They were, in fact, some of the people that I played ball with on Thursday nights. I miss Thursday basketball. I miss Wednesday basketball too. Never one to turn down a game, I ran to get my sneakers out of the car, and joined in the game.

I don't know if it was because I hadn't played in a while, but I seemed to have a little extra bounce in my step today. I got right into the thick of things. So thick, that driving into the lane, I took an elbow right to the forehead. The force of the elbow knocked my body to the side as I shot the ball. The good part is, before I had to close my eye to absorb the hit, I saw the ball go through the hoop.

Being in playing mode, pain is significantly less than what it may normally be. I shook it off with no problem, fending off apologies, and kept right on playing. I was confident that the feeling of my face sticking out ten feet was all in my head. It usually is. That is until the elbow thrower got a horrible look on his face, and starting reaching for my forehead. Then, I could feel the egg. Overtime, the egg bruised over and from what was described to me, spread up into my hairline, and now looks like this:

It does not hurt as bad as it looks. In fact, it only hurts when I push on it. I have no reason to push on it except to test and see if it still hurts. I just tested it: it stills hurts when I push on it. I got to stop doing that!

Rearview Mirror

I drove for six and a half straight hours today. The end result was my blessed reunion with Shea. I have driven from New York to Cleveland faster, but I have never made the trip east in such good time. Since my last trip on these roads did not go without incident: My Last Trip, I was especially aware of my speed. This apparently did not factor into my record time.

While I was driving, being cautious of hiding cops, I began rerunning all of the times I've been pulled over in my life. I write that as thought it's happened numerous times. It hasn't. But it's happened enough. The time I was thinking of mostly today really had me cracking up.

I believe it was back in 2002. Spending the summer home from college, I was at my parents house and heading down to a party about a half hour away. While I was driving the windy, narrow roads, I peeked in the rearview mirror to check out my beautiful hair. Well, it was a good thing I looked, because there was a piece out of place. I would have none of that. Concentrating solely on taking care of that out of place hair, I took my eyes off of the road. This wouldn't have been a huge problem if the road were straight. But, the two seconds that it took me to get my hair in tip-top shape, the road took a sharp curve.

When I looked back at the road, I was driving on the left-hand side of the road. Unfortunately, I was not in Europe where that is acceptable. Even worse, a car was coming. We were set to crash head-on. Through my instantaneous panic, I was able to see that this was not just any car; it was a cop. Before I could even comprehend the ramifications of fixing my hair in the rearview mirror, I was able to jerk the wheel and bring my car back to the right side of the road.

I immediately knew that cop was doing a u-ey and coming to pull me over. I didn't even let him turn his lights on, I just surrendered, pulling over voluntarily. As he approached, he asked the basic questions: licence, registration, and the such. Then, he asked what in the heck I was doing. His best guess what that I was changing cd's. I laughed that ridiculous guess off and told him exactly what I was doing. "I was fixing my hair, " I explained, as that was a completely acceptable thing to be doing while driving on windy roads.

The officer laughed and told me that probably wasn't the best idea. He warned me that that is how accidents happen. I enthusiastically agreed with him. With that, he told me to please, for the sake of everyone's safety, to never fix my hair while driving again. Since I agreed to this, he allowed me to go free of charge. My hair must have been looking really good!

Face-Licking

I have to get up early tomorrow. I am already up much later than I wanted to be, and did not get everything done I'd like to have done. With hopes that I am more efficient tomorrow, I am going to bed. The faster I go to sleep, the more efficient I am tomorrow, and the faster I drive, the sooner I will see my Shea-Man! I can't wait to get my face licked!

Towelless

Now that we are home from Brazil, it is time to move. The plan is to fill my days, and the car, with moving things over to the new place bit by bit. I got off to a great start today.

Clothes, moved. Books, moved. Dishes, moved. Pots and pans, moved. Bath towels, moved. Problem, Jeff, as should be suspected, decided that he wanted to shower.

Being the nice wife that I am, I took Jeff's used towel and put it in with the dirty clothes. I was going to wash it for him soon. I planned on replacing with a nice, fresh towel. Putting that new towel right on the rack where his previous one laid. Unfortunately, due to my complete lack of an adult attention span, after throwing the used towel in the dirty clothes, I packed all of the clean towels and brought them over to the new house. 

This was completely unintentional. In fact, I did not think twice about it until I saw Jeff heading to the bathroom with the shower look on his face. "Oh sh*#," I responded in a slight panic. I envisioned him getting mad at my inability to think. As I shouted out, "oh sh*#" a second time, I was pleased to see the smile on Jeff's face. He was entertained by my idiocracy. I won't tell you the solution to the problem, but I am happy to report that Jeff is out of the shower and dried off. 

A Different Kind of Top Ten

We have returned from Brazil. The trip was amazing and I plan on telling you of all of it's wonderfulness, just like the boys did on the continuous facebook blog we kept while there. I think Reid's post today put an excellent cap on the trip. I agree with much of Reid's top ten, although some things change with perspective. I do, however, one-hundred percent agree with his #6.

Trip Top-Ten

And, while I think the top-ten list is a wonderful way to wrap up a once in a lifetime trip, I want to take a different angle. In hopes of not sounding like a spoiled, ungrateful brat, I have compiled a Top-Ten Lowlights list. 

1) As the team center, Eric, boarded the plane in Cleveland, we noticed how abnormally tall the man sitting in front of me was. With Eric at 6'10'', this man sitting down, was a full head taller than Eric. Whispering among ourselves, we decided he must be a professional athlete. I mean, nobody is that tall and not a professional athlete. That would just be absurd. So, collectively, it was decided that the man sitting in front of me was former Cavaliers player, Tree Rollins. I was convinced and did not want to let the opportunity to chat with an NBA player go to the cows, I decided to ask him if he was, indeed, Tree Rollins. I couldn't think of a cooler way to start the trip. Except for the fact that he was not Tree Rollins. When I asked him ever so politely, he responded ever so politely, "no ma'am, I'm not." With that, I told him that he was rather tall and let my face turn red. 

2) Blame it on the time change, the early morning wake-up times, other unmentionable factors, or whatever you will. Whichever you choose, the boys were late the first two days for our departure to various places. This did not sit over well with Coach. To show his unhappiness, he unleashed a spiel which included 47 f-bombs. Yes, I counted. With him sitting right behind me, when he returned to his seat, I was left with such an awkward feeling that I nearly burst out laughing. Luckily for me, I bit my tongue. 

3) Soon into our trip, we realized the paper products in Brazil are very different. I am perfectly content wiping my face with my Bounty napkins. The quilted quicker picker upper feels soft on my face and hands, and is super absorbent. All that you would want in a napkin. The napkins at the eateries here around Cleveland, and back in New York, are not Bounty, but they work. We had no reason to believe otherwise when we reached for a napkin in Brazil. Only, we were greeted with small, tissue paper-like squares. It reminded me of the crinkly paper that was on the beds in the pediatricians office. The paper that stuck to you every move you made and as you tried to slide down off of the table. Don't roll your eyes like that. I know you know exactly what I am talking about it. It wasn't comfortable to lay or sit on back then, and it is certainly not comfortable to wipe your hands and mouth with now. 

4) Sticking with the paper/toiletries theme, Brazil does something I never, in all of my life, would imagine acceptable anywhere in the entire world. No matter where you are or what you do, there is always a little waste basket sitting next to the toilet. The purpose: to throw you used toilet paper in. There is no toilet paper flushing in Brazil. It all goes into the waste basket and sits there for the remainder of the day. It is not because Brazilians are gross and dirty, it is due to the sewer systems they have, or essentially, don't have. Either way, it was not a comfortable thing, and I found myself continually flushing my toilet paper and praying for the toilet not to clog up. 

5) What a perfect segue to my next Lowlight. When we arrived in Rio De Janeiro, we went out to a fancy steakhouse. Not a typical steakhouse, but one where servers walk around carrying giant carving knifes, offering various types of meats. This wasn't the lowlight. I was okay with the fact that every fifteen second a different Brazilian man was holding machete just inches from my face. I felt very safe with that. It was quite entertaining actually. The lowlight came when we returned to our hotel to find the first five floors completely flooded. Being the lucky punta (Portuguese word for what I am) that I am, Jeff and I's room was way up on the 13th floor. With the elevators out of commission, we rolled our pants up and hiked the 13 stories a few times with the first five floors resembling Niagara Falls. 

6) In all the wonderful vacationing and excursions, there was some basketball. Trust me, I couldn't forget. The games were great, the atmosphere incomparable. The smell however, overwhelming. Not only were we locked up on a bus together after each game, but Jeff, took it upon himself to rinse the stank-a$$ uniforms off in our shower. Without laundry detergent, the smell doesn't go away as easily. I was reminded each time I walked in or past the bathroom. 

7) My favorite dessert, or food in general really, has to be ice cream. It's definitely a major vice of mine. While I am fairly good at controlling myself when home, for some reason, being on vacation feels like an open invitation for me to eat ice cream at least once a day. And Brazil was very accommodating to this. The thing that differed here was the way they do ice cream. You, the customer, are in charge of scooping, choosing your toppings, and essentially assembling your ice cream dish. This part is awesome. The downfall came when you are asked to put the dish onto a scale and pay per ounce. One night my ice cream dish cost $12. The next night, convinced I had assembled a dish of less than $12, my ice cream weighed in at $11.89. Besides being a rather expensive dish of ice cream, it made me feel like a real pig. 

8) The pig feeling held true for most of the trip. With each meal we had, we ate like the dickens. There was no such thing as a light meal on this Brazilian experience. Before this trip, I found a pair of shorts I really liked. The only had them two sizes too big. I like them so much, I bought them anyways. They were noticeably big, but wearable. Now, after my twelve days of gorging, those too large shorts fit just riiiight. 

9) On this trip, I was able to spend countless hours with my husband. No, that's not a lowlight. This lowlight actually came the one time we were in different places. He and the team had gone to run a clinic for some of the locals. Myself and Angie (Coach's wife) decided we would hang back at the resort and get massages. In the spirit of being in Brazil we decided on bamboo massages. I went first. Not speaking a word of English, the massuer tugged on my sweatshirt as a way of telling me to take it off. So, I did. Then, she tugged on my tank-top. I took that off. Next, she tugged on my bra strap. Seeing as I was in a different country, I said, "what the heck," and took that off too. Guess what she tugged on next? Yup, my shorts. Being a word that crosses language barriers, I said, "No!" I had good reasoning, that I continued to explain although she apparently did not understand. "No underwear." You see, I am not much of an underwear wearer. Haven't been for years now. They serve me no purpose, so I do not wear them. After repeatedly tugging on my shorts, I just took them off. She ran over, picked them up, and actually looked for my underwear. Again, I used the universal term, "No, don't have any." With a little giggle, she signaled for me to put them back on. After that fiasco, she rubbed me down with bamboo. I feel very close to her. 

10) On the same night, since the guys were all at the clinic, we were to meet them out for dinner. We had a ride arranged courtesy of the hotel. This hotel was definitely a top of the line type of place. We knew we were in good hands to get where we needed to be. Angie and I both got a little pep in our step when we were escorted outside and saw a shiny, black Mercedes sitting in front of us. Sweet ride. We hadn't seen many of these in Brazil and got quite excited to ride in one. But our drive walked right on by the Benz and across the gravel parking lot. To our dismay, we piled into a tiny white buggy from 1956 like three sardines in a can. The buggy had no gas, so we were relieved that the restaraunt was strictly downhill.

Lowlights and all, it was a trip of a lifetime. I feel blessed to have been a part of the trip and to get that extra time with Jeff that we haven't necessarily had in the past year or so. Now, we are looking forward to being reunited with our Shea-guy! 

Rio

Oye (hello in Portuguese)! I hope you have been following our website which is posted a few entries below. We are having an amazing experience. The internet has not been as easily accessible for us as our cellphones do not work, we have been on the road a lot, and we only have one international outlet with us. Oh, and not to mention, jam packed days, which leave little room for me to think twice about blogging, let alone actually sit down and write.

So, quickly I would like to let you all know that the blog I posted on our website has also been posted on d3hoops; one of my favorite websites! I didn't make d3hoops all that much as a player, so I am super excited to have my writing on there! Too bad I didn't accredit it to myself! But, check it out!

D3hoops Publicity

Currently we are in Rio De Jenero at the Copa Cabana. Lucky for me, with my beautiful singing voice, and remarkable style, I fit in quite nicely as music and fashion are always the passion here at the Copa Cabana! 

A Snag

A nine hour flight isn’t bad, right? No, not at all. The nice thing going into nine hours on an airplane, was that the flight was overnight. A time where we were supposed to be sleeping, we would be able to sleep on the plane. When we arrive in Brazil, we would have our night’s sleep and the day ahead of us. A pretty good plan, if it had worked out.

Upon our arrival in Washington D.C. to catch our connecting flight to Sao Paulo, we charged through the airport to make it to the gate in time. We were cutting it close making it to the gate for our 10:30 p.m. connecting flight. Up on the board the time remained 10:30. There was a slight difference nobody noticed as we thought we were racing against the clock. The little a.m. at the end of 10:30. This was no typo. Due to undisclosed reasons, our flight had been cancelled for the night. The 10:30 a.m. flight would get us to Brazil at 9:30 p.m. with a one-hour time change as we are traveling to the east. Day one of Brazil, down the drain.

Looking around, while the loss of the day was disappointing, everyone was still content. I mean, here we were, on our way to Brazil, anticipating the amazing experience that lays ahead. Everyone has taken the change of plans in stride. We were put up in a fairly luxurious hotel, given meals, and now, flying 3,000 feet above South America. And, apparently South America is much larger than I have ever realized, for we have six hours left to go until we arrive.

Oh well. That’s all part of the game. Plus, it is quite entertaining to see an entire group of guys, all well over 6 feet tall, squish into their plane seats, and today’s practice was slated! 

Brazil

With only hours to go until our departure for Brazil, I wanted add this link to my blog. While in Brazil, myself, Jeff, and the players on his basketball team will be posting pictures, videos, and blogging so that our friends and family back home can follow our journey. The site is through Facebook, but is accessible whether you have an account of not. I am not sure how much I will be able to blog on here, but the Facebook page should be updated quite frequently.

Here is the link: Follow our Brazil Trip!

Feel free to "like" the page and comment on things. We are all hoping that you enjoy the updates, and images. With that, I need to get ready to go!

I Am Special

Early this afternoon, out of the blue, I received an email from a fairly good friend I haven't spoken to or seen in a few months. I was quite intrigued on what it could be, but was a little shocked when I opened it.

It simply looked like this:

Here is a picture of my a$$ just for you:

Baffled. Confused. Shocked. Revolted by the hairiness. All of these don't even begin to describe the things that were running through my head as I tried dearly to hold down my lunch. This was either mistakenly sent to me, or a sick joke. Trying to keep my cool, I wrote back.

"What the f*#k is wrong with you? I just threw up in my mouth." 

Yes, that was keeping my cool. I'm not someone to be easily repulsed, and I wasn't necessarily sickened by this picture. I felt it would be kind of funny if I understood the reason behind it. But, I didn't. Until I received a return email. Hesitant to open it, I found out that it was simply a bent knee, hence the misshape. For some reason when looking at his bent knee that looked like a butt crack, my friend thought of me. Wow, I must be really special! 

Honesty

I know, I know, I haven't written in a few days. I've been busy with packing, driving, getting things ready for Brazil, and getting pulled over. That's right, getting pulled over.

Making my trip back from New York to Cleveland, I was comfortably going an acceptable amount over the speed limit. Then, this darned truck blows by me. He was just flying. Rather than shrug him off for wanted to be Jeff Gordon, I said to myself,"this is the perfect time to make up some time!" and with that,my foot pressed on the gas with a little more force and I followed Mr.Gordon's lead at an umdisclosed speed.

I was feeling good! Making up time always makes me feel good. Until, I looked in my rearview mirror to see a state trooper. I dropped my speed to a much lower, undisclosed number, but as he drove by with an unamused look, he pointed for me to pull over. I obeyed only for him to go off chasing after the truck. However I could tell by the anger in his point that he was not just asking me to get out of his way. He wanted at me.

So, while thoughts of escape ran through my mind, I feared he had my liscence plate number and I could get in big trouble trying tom get away. So, I sat there, pulled over by a trooper I couldn't even see, wondering if he was going to come back for me. This was really killing that time I was attempting to make up! After about ten minutes, my amazing deductive reasoning skills told me I should pull up to wherever he had pulled that truck over.

When I got there I explained my lightbulb moment and I think he actually giggled at me. He nownhad the truck pulled over and a car that looked eerily similar to mine. He sent them both on their way. The truck with a ticket and the other, an apology, for he thought they were me trying to escape (I knew the escape thing wouldn't work!).

Basically, our conversation entailed my knowing exactly what I was doing wrong, and him telling me not to follow idiots like the guy I'm the truck. He let me off with a warning, emphasizing that this was very generous, for I was going an undisclosed amount over the speed limit.

He left mif with this, "if anyone ever tells you that honesty doesn't pay, you have a good story to prove them otherwise!"

Toeness

Shea and I got into a rough game of chase. Mamma always said don't run in the house. Now, after 27 years, I know why.

Shea undoubtedly came out the winner in this game. I usually make sure that I win any game I play with Shea, as I need to maintain my control over him. Games have ended with me bleeding, but I come out on top. Today, I ended up on the bottom. Literally.

Bloody Games

As I was running down the hallway and Shea was chasing me, one of his giant paws got tangled in with my feet. I started going down, fast. Face first into the ground. So, with my amazing quickness, I tried to catch myself by heaving my leg in front of my body to catch my fall. Well, rather than catching my fall, my toe caught the corner of the molding on the wall. Slice. My big toe. It didn't hurt and I stood up right away. Then I looked down and saw a puddle of blood. I cleaned it up good, wrapped it up tightly, and didn't think much about it until it began throbbing.

I wasn't even sure if the front part of my toe was attached to the rest of it anymore. Like an idiot I tried to put sneakers on and go for a run. I thought my toe was going to burst through my shoe. I ended up taking them off within a minute.

Anyways, my toe is in one piece, and the throbbing is lessening. Shea won this one. I may have lost, but my toe was the biggest loser!

Child's Play

I brought Shea to the park. At this park there is an open soccer field, and there is a playground on the other side of the park. There are always kids on the playground, but it is never a problem to have Shea on the soccer field. He doesn't pay any attention to the kids and they admire him from afar.

Today, I noticed a little boy making his way over to the soccer field. There were no adults with him, and when he came close enough, Shea was interested to see who this boy was. Shea's initiation process basically involves him running up to whomever, tapping them with his wet nose, and then running away. And, that is exactly what he did.

Apparently the little boy liked it because he asked if he could throw the ball. Of course I let him. He was very excited and impressed by how fast Shea was. When Shea returned the ball, the boy enthusiastically asked if I would throw the ball. He wanted to see if he could beat Shea to it. He didn't. He walked back and took another try at it. Shea got to the ball first again. The little boy was winded. Between deep breaths he took the ball and said, "ok, your turn."

Since Shea is the fastest dog I know, he beat me to the ball. The only time I beat him to the ball was when Shea ran in the wrong direction. He may be faster, but I might be smarter. It was hard leaving the little boy. Him and Shea were so cute playing together, but we had very important things to be doing. So, we said goodbye.

I really enjoyed playing and watching the boy and Shea play. It made me realize all I missed out on when I was a dog-less child. I now resent my parents for that!

Feeding Time

After taking care of the business I had today, I grabbed Shea, threw him in the car, and headed for New York. Jeff and I leave for Brazil in a week. My parents are going to watch Shea for us so we don't have to board him. Isn't that sweet of them? I'd say so, considering they don't even like animals! So, sooner than later, Shea needed to get to New York.

I have always chosen fairly good times to travel between Cleveland and Albany. Times that I was not rushed and did not have a deadline to be one place or the other. This held true today as we left close to 2 p.m. However, once I am on the road, my goal is to get to my destination as fast as possible.

This is not good news for Shea. To begin with, laying in the car is not the most comfortable for him. He'd much rather be laying on the couch. On top of the bumpy ride is my God-awful singing. And you better believe that the radio is blaring and I am singing all out. I have to keep myself awake and entertained. Then, is the part about bathroom breaks. I'd rather not give any. But, I feel so bad when I look in my review mirror and see my big guy looking all sad and pathetic. So I end up stopping, running around a grass patch with him, and find him some good trees to mark. I don't know for sure, but I think he appreciates this.

The problem with today was we were driving into the evening. Prime dinner time. With my race against the clock, that need not place, I did not condone stopping to feed Shea. I had his food nicely packaged in a bag, so I had him come sit up near me, and I fed him out of my hand, about five to six pieces of kibble at a time. I thought it was an excellent lesson for Shea in eating nice and slowly. In rationing his food, since he does not necessarily do well with this. However, for me, as he slurped up the food out of my hand, being sure to lick it nice and clean each and every time, the lesson goes back to dish washing. I probably shouldn't let Shea lick the dishes clean for us ever again. They may not actually be all that clean, I know my hand wasn't!

Lucky for me, I had wipes in car! 

HGTV

Jeff started up a game with Shea today. A game I've been avoiding due to a unfortunate circumstance way back when. 2008 to be exact.

Jeff and Shea were playing fetch in the house. Mostly because Jeff did not want to leave his comfy seat on the couch, and Shea was getting antsy. My novel idea would have been to take him for a walk, but nobody is paying me to think. So, the game of fetch ensued. There is a nice long hallway with wood floors, so Shea would go scraping, slipping, and sliding down the hall, and then pounce on Jeff to return the ball.

It's quite cute really. Shea is so enthusiastic and nothing makes my husband giggle like a school girl, quite like Shea jumping on him, well almost nothing. Anyways, once Jeff was done, Shea brought the ball to me hoping to continue his play. I hesitated as I didn't want to open this can of worms. The one that caused such awful destruction back in dreaded 2008 incident. But, really, who can resist Shea's waggily tail? Not me!

You see, when Shea was just a little puppy, weighing in at significantly less that he 80 pounds he is now, we used to play fetch in the house all the time. We would literally sit at one end of the house and roll the ball all the way to the other. Puppy Shea would sprint through the living room, the family room, and the kitchen, scoop up the ball, and return full force, too excited to stop before barreling onto our laps. We knew we shouldn't do it, but we just couldn't resist. It was so cute. We loved the way he jumped on us. We told ourselves he would only be little for so long, we should savor it while we can. And ruefully, we did!

Then it happened. Jeff was on a road trip with his basketball team. Shea was at the stage where he was visabily bigger every day. Certainly too big to be jumping on my lap from a full sprint. Try telling him that! We were stupidly playing fetch in the house, and Shea was running at me full speed. I could tell this was going to hurt. He took off into the air, aiming to land on my ever so cushy lap. Problem is, I chickened out. I moved out of the way and Shea went right through the wall. Not through the wall into the other room, but yes, through the wall. Don't worry. He was fine. It didn't even phase him. He was ready for the next toss as I began to panic over how I was going to explain a dog sized hole in the wall!

I did what any smart, respectable wife would do; I got on the internet and googled how to fix a giant hole in the wall. I did not speak a word of it to Jeff, I just went to Home Depot to find the supplies I needed. I found each item except one. I asked the nice man at Home Depot where the so-and-so was, and he began to ask questions. What was I doing? How did it happen? How big was the hole? 

Well, that was the question that did me in. That is where I lost my HGTV confidence. The man laughed at me.

"No way you are going to fix a hole that size! You probably should sheet rock a whole new wall." Way to rain on my parade! At first, I laughed him off. What does he know, he works at Home Depot. It's not like he's Bob Villa. I bought the stuff anyways, and brought it home. I painted the big slat of wood that would take the place of the giant hole. I drew the lines on the wall where I was going to saw it off. Ha, yea. I did that.

Then, just like what had gotten me into this mess in the first place, I chickened out. I told Jeff the truth and he found it quite funny. He was able to fix the wall pretty good when he got home. And it was not at all the way that I had planned on going about doing it.

If you look beyond Shea's shoulder, you will see where it was. Not perfect, but better than a hole!