very few things make me cry. dogs being abused, lions reuntied with their handlers, kittens in baskets are among those that do. and death cab for cutie. most of you have heard of them by now since the release and mainstream radio play of Plans. but whilst lying in bed the other night a documentary came on telelvision named Drive Well, Sleep Carefully. that is all the description gave. because i was quite bored with the constant showing of girls gone wild: schenectady i decided to tune in. little did i know that this documentary featured death cab’s most recent tour of the US. i fell back in love with the band all over again. seeing ben gibbard sing “styrofoam plates” sent chills up my spine. maybe it was the fact that my week was pure shit, or maybe it was the cramps making my body ache, but i felt sadness. i felt that i had just lost someone or something that i would never get back and a small tear rolled down my cheek. even now and i write this i feel a bit reserved and tiny. such is this world. in all the times that i’m loud and boisterous and domineering, inside sits a small girl who is unsure of herself. there are so many things that skew what i used to enjoy. i used to love to watch thunderstorms come in, but now, because mollycate is terrified of loud noises, i am annoyed by them. my stomach knots when i hear that first roll of thunder for i know she will begin to bark incestantly and i will plead with her to lie down. i’ve become a creature of habit now and that is alright with me. songs from photo album used to depress me, and now they empower me. “wow, i remember how that felt” and “yes, that is the sound of settling, and it is all okay. settling isn’t as easy as it sounds”.
there are times i wish that i was what i thought i would be at nearly 29 but being who i am at 29 is not so scary. there are great things i am looking forward to. making this life was hard and arduous. i might not be as verbose as some of those around me, but i take solace that i am remaining true to myself.

it has become a ritual in the prettyhelmet household to clean the house every sunday. there is nothing like starting a fun filled, work strained, please lord don’t let me claw my eyes out, week with a clean house. with as many pets as we have it’s really only sanitary to do so. there comes a point (usually on wednesdays) that the animal fur begins to clot on the floors and threaten to strangle us in our sleep. also, brock, our fat ass cat, seems to have an affinity for kicking as much litter on the floor that he can. sometimes i think he’s making litter castles. so, you can imagine between the hair, litter, general debris that comes into the house, that it is a necessity to clean. usually the first thing to be cleaned are the bed linens. we change the sheets and wash the coverlette once a week. this is simply because during seven days every one of the six animals will find their way onto the bed. it is not unusual to be squeezed into a very uncomfortable position because a terrier is between our heads, three cats are scattered end to end, and a greyhound somehow is nestled in there. but i wouldn’t have it any other way. i have no idea what we’ll do if we actually have a kid. maybe it could sleep on a doggie bed.

here are some photos for you to enjoy:

d-rock and d-money bring on teh sex

iz in ur bazkets doin ur laundrees

cooper: 15 minutes after a bath. lord, i love this dog

sparkly deer at bottletree

chandelier in the women’s room at bottletree

i once read that the first rule of blogging is to not apologize for not blogging when away for an extended period of time. well, i don’t like rules. i live to break em’! yee fucking haw. i’ve been more or less uninspired to write out anything. i could tell you that i’m about a quarter of the way through the final harry potter book and when i sit down to read it i immediately get tired and want a nap. or i could tell you that lira has decided that our coffee table is an excellent source of nutrition. or maybe i could regale you in stories about how i desperately want to landscape my lawn but the heat here in the South is the equivalent of ten hells and two dammits. but, i shall not. instead i’ll bore you with the fact that in the first time in a long time i am happy. not giddy, jump out of bed in the mornings happy, just plain old content with life happy. my job, my marriage, my life is something that it hasn’t been in quite a while. i attribute a lot of this happiness to the recent reconnection with my aunt. she has become someone that i have been able to confide in. not because she is family but because she knows where i am coming from. she’s been down my road. hell, she constructed the traffic lights. you see, my family is nuts. full of alcoholics and piss and vinegar. we’re good people to have around in the event of a oktoberfest and or turf war. my aunt is no exception. she’s opinionated, funny, and very set in her ways. she is the kind of person that will tell you her opinion and you will pretty much agree with her. not because she is right, but because her conviction is so strong. when i was nine or ten she informed me that Johnson & Johnson tested their products on animals (or something to that effect. look, it was ten years ago. i can’t remember every little thing you memory nazis!) and i told my mom that i would no longer be party to using their products. i said to her “you can buy all the shampoo and soap from Johnson & Johnson that you want, but i’d rather bathe in boric acid”.

today, i’m a bit more mature and don’t take everything that someone tells me as the gospel, but when my aunt speaks i do tend to listen. no more than any of my other family, mind you, but she gets me. and that is more than i can say for a lot of people. she won’t sugar-coat. she’ll tell you straight up that you are being a complacent, douchebag and need to buck up because this is your life and it’s the only one you’re going to get. my aunt is aught-seven’s answer to julia sugarbaker.

so there it is. i’m a well adjusted person, living a fantastic life. i’m trying to stay positive and live in the here and now. tony robbins can eat my shit.

i know, i know, posting links to other websites is the wuss’ way out of blogging, but this is some choice shit.

plus, i love the song. about as much as i hate andy samberg.

this past weekend kev and i spent three glorious days in lookout mountain, georgia with the double D’s (d-money and d-rock), ash, john, jennybean and flip. we laid by the pool, swam, hiked the lower 40, played mad libs and laughed our asses off. i got a little sun, especially on my right leg. basically i spent a weekend with some of the coolest people on the planet. and no, i’m not going to show you the photos of me in a bikini.

our view from mama chris and david’s house. i wish i had taken pictures of the house because it is just wicked!

late afternoon cumulus clouds

jennybean and flip

sometimes all you need for a great vacation is an ipod and an activity book

dinner by candelight

d-rock stylin’ and profilin’ in granny sunglasses

Wilson takes a ride on his dad. gawd, i love that dog.

the boys: d-rock, flip, john and kev

the gurrls: jennybean, me, d-money and ash. we spent all day in the sun so we all look a little tired

chattanooga kelly and her son jonah joined us for a while. my lord, that kid is adorable.

*the title of this blog is courtesy of one of the mad libs we did. this is one of my new catch phrases. however, not as fun to say as “that’s wet”.