Hard to be a Trophy Wife

Read this:
http://www.notalltogether.com/shes-here

R and I went through adoption training with this fun couple and I've been stalking them through their blog. R got to visit them last year and they make great local honey. This news makes my month!
Their website can also be accessed from my sidebar.


When I was in college my family had a dog named Dontarrious Thomas. Obviously we named him after an Auburn linebacker - whom my good friend JS "accidentally" gave a butt pat to during the Tiger Walk. Yes, I was super jealous. But I digress. Thomas soon became also known as 50 Cent. Because he kept wandering off and getting shot. After the third time he limped home with bullet wounds we couldn't help but call him 50 Cent. I don't think Dontarrious has ever been shot, although I'm not sure. Wikipedia didn't say. This brings me to what my story is really about, being a Trophy Wife and Shelby Ann.

When I see Shelby Ann comfortably lying on the new, and monogrammed, Christmas tree skirt like it's her new private bed, I can't help but think of Thomas aka 50 Cent. Shelby Ann came to us from a rescue and while I'm not exactly sure what happened to her before the rescue, I do know what's happened to her since. She once ate an entire Fry-Daddy full of fried pickle grease. While R and I were in Ireland she was hit by a car and then attacked by dogs - that was the actual diagnosis from the Veterinarian; poor dog had road rash and bite marks, and needed staples and stitches; we were lucky H found her in time. I've seen her throw a snake into the air and then try playing with it. And I'm not sure how she hasn't been hit by a car in our neighborhood since she likes for us to chase through the streets.

So. I know that as a homeowner, who likes nice things, I should be concerned about my dog, who digs holes and eats lizards, camping out on the new tree skirt. But she just seems to fit perfectly under the tree - a daily gift to us.

Which brings me to the end of my story. The Squirms has a cold and an ear infection. I haven't painted my nails in a week. Last night we cooked an apple pie at 10 pm. I've been using the term "bless her heart" a lot lately because of the three teeth coming in on her upper gums. She's been clingy and a bit fussy.

I'm having a hard time remembering when I was happier than I am now. The ear ache has made her more cuddly. She giggles when our foreheads touch. She's learning new noises and likes to pull the curls at the small of my neck that won't fit into a pony tail. She growls when she pulls up on the chair that I sit in and grins triumphantly at me when she stands. She gives kisses with her mouth wide open and waves her arms wildly if R walks out of the room, as if to say, come back, come back. And I promise this morning she tried reading aloud the cover of a book she picked up, before she ate it of course.

It's a difficult thing, being a trophy wife.