There, I said it. Coming back to work after 16 days off blows. As I’m sure this is news to no one, we’ll be moving right along.
We had a surprisingly uneventful road trip up to Michigan. I packed my baby sister and the dogs into the car and, leaving Hemo at home to be looked after by my neighbor/co-worker, started the 15 hour trek to the outer suburbs of Detroit.
Why, you may ask, did Hemo get to stay home, most likely licking her kitty vagina on my pillows and gorging herself on treats I bought in a fit of guilt? It is not because she is a poor road tripper – on the contrary, she is an excellent road tripper. On one trip from NC to MI she sat stoically in her (soft-sided, collapsible) car carrier while Ernie sat on her for who knows how long until I happened to glance in the backseat and shoo him off. No, Hemo is just a horrible, horrible house guest. Hissing at babies, scratching couches, peeing in inappropriate places — she has long since worn out her welcome at my mom’s house.
Our ride up was uneventful. After Dexter stopped mouth-breathing all over my sister and followed Ernie’s example by falling asleep in the backseat, it was clear sailing. We did have to listen to Jason DeRulo’s “Whatcha Say” about a million times, but the song kind of grew on me and it ended up being not so bad.
The week and a half I spent in Michigan with my mom and her family went by too, too fast. It was a blur of snow, food, sleeping in, Harry Potter yarn, hot chocolate, food, wine, and delicious food. Ernie and Dex had a grand time playing in the snow. It’s a shame the only picture I have of my time up there is the following, in which I tried to get a family portrait of my dogs along with my mom’s pit bull, Callie. Well, she’s not actually my mom’s dog, she’s my stepbrother’s, but after he bought her and had her ears clipped, his drug habit caught up with him and he spent several years in and out of shady rental homes with no-pets policies before finally ending up in jail (he’s out now). So Callie lives with my mom and stepdad, and protects my sister from chipmunks.
Callie (left) Poor Callie, she looks like she is losing a piece of her soul to the camera. Honestly, for all her 100+ pounds (my sister steadfastly claims that Callie is 90 pounds, but come on…she makes Dexter look slim), she is the sweetest, most insecure sensitive dog I have ever met. And she smells like Doritos.
Dexter (middle) looks like he just suffered a stroke. I love you Dex, but you are out of the running to become America’s Next Top Model.
Ernie (right) has not, to my knowledge at least, been taking any steroids, nor was his father a giraffe. This picture, however, argues otherwise.
I guess they come by it honest, as I have not taken a decent picture since approximately 1983.
Coming up, I have a lot of stuff to tell you, including how my car gave me the middle finger on the Ohio Turnpike and my adventures converting a monstrous butternut squash to monstrous mound of cubed butternut squash. Stay tuned!