It may happen to you at some point in your life that, while slightly intoxicated from an impulsive shot or two of Rumplemintz, you realize half-way through a recipe that you have run out of the necessary red food coloring for the 4th of July chocolatey snack you are attempting to prepare for a family BBQ.

A warning:

Don’t waste your time and risk your safety by driving out to the grocery store at 11:45pm to buy said food dye before the stores close.  When you get home and attempt to use it, you will learn the hard way that the water-based food coloring sold in most grocery stores destroys melted chocolate, so you won’t be able to finish your tasty snack anyway.  Stay home, enjoy another shot, and finish the recipe tomorrow.



6 months ago, I promised to love this guy for the rest of my life:

I’m the luckiest girl in the world. 🙂

Miss Meggie Whitestripe, the family beagle, decided to shake things up this morning.  I wish she’d let me know these things ahead of time.

The day started as normal.  Matthew left for class early, leaving Meg and I to our leisurely Monday routine of sleeping until 9am, checking email, making coffee, and going outside for the morning walk.  I had an Arabic exam later in the afternoon, so I had planned to spend the morning studying.  With Meg outside and safely occupied, I got my coffee ready and gathered my study materials.  After about 15 minutes, I called her back inside before the cram session began.

Now, Meg is a beagle, so her stubborn nature is pretty standard, breed-wise.  She sometimes takes her sweet time getting back around to the porch, unconvinced that you really do mean it when you command her to come “Inside!”  This was such a morning.  Also pretty standard, the longer she takes to get in the house, the louder I yell, and I was getting particularly frustrated this morning as she was cutting into my Arabic time.  By the time she made it back, I had a pretty good volume going and made sure she knew how mad I was once she was inside.

Except this time, not standard at all, she simply cowered at my feet, holding her left paw in the air.  Baffled by this, I reached my hand out toward her…and then I saw it: one of her poor little toe nails had twisted backward and was pointing up at her.  It took a second or two to register what I was seeing.  I thought maybe she had just chipped it, that it wasn’t as serious as it looked.  Until I saw the blood pouring off her foot.

When I was little, my dad insisted that I go to medical school.  He figured that since I was a good student, I should be a doctor.  The fact that the sight of blood and gruesome wounds make me light headed and prone to fainting didn’t seem to be a factor for him.  I was destined for medicine.  That random memory was one of the many things flashing through my mind as I watched the drip, drip, drip coming from Meg’s toes.  It was all I could do not to pass out right next to her.  But looking at her big, brown eyes begging me to fix her toe, I realized it really was up to me to figure out what to do.  Ok.  Whooo.  Breathe.

She had to go to the hospital.  That fact was clear.  I called Matthew and told him to meet us there.  Meanwhile, I put Meg in her crate, got most of the blood cleaned up (no small feat, I might add, as it was everywhere), then I somehow managed to carry her safely into my car, despite the fact that she fought me. The. Entire. Way.   This is a dog who refuses to be carried.  Remember the stubborn thing?   She also happens to weigh about 30 pounds.   In an epic battle of wills, despite her constant wiggling, fighting and a few near crashes, I managed to get her into the car and on our way to the emergency care vet.

It took 30 long minutes to get her in to see the vet.  30 minutes of whining, barking, wiggling, yelping, bleeding, and all other manner of doggy drama.  When the vet arrived, I’m not sure who he was more concerned about, I was so clearly frazzled.  Thankfully, despite its gory appearance, Meg’s toe was fine but the nail bed was destroyed.  The vet took her immediately into surgery to remove the nail and fit her paw with a cast, complete with hot pink bandages and covered with purple hearts (for bravery – ha!).

All told, she’ll be given pain medication and anti-biotics for a little over a week to help her recover from surgery.  The nail will never grow back.  We’ve already started calling her “Stumpy.”  The best part of the fiasco was that I’m pretty sure doggy pain meds are at least as awesome as people meds.

As soon as she got home,  she limped straight to the couch, where she basically face planted into the back cushion and slid down until she collapsed.  She’s pretty much been there all day.  We were instructed to watch her closely as she came off the medication, so I never did make it to class today.  Technically speaking, that means I had a day off.

I think the Arabic exam would have been more restful.  Oy.

Upon arriving to campus this morning, while scouring the lot for a place to park, I realize I left my flash drive and school keys at home on the couch.  My flash drive contains all of my lecture notes, research, presentations, everything I need for class.  It’s a 30 minute drive home and class starts in 10 minutes.  There’s no way I can go back now.  First up on the day’s agenda is Mythology. We’re supposed to talk about Maori mythology for the first part of class, then we’ll begin a film.

—Except that now, I don’t have any of the notes I need for the first 30 minutes of class.  I’m screwed.

Ok, no worries. I’ll just start the film immediately rather than lecturing first. The movie’s too long to watch in a single class period anyway, so we’ll postpone the lecture and talk about the myths on Thursday after we finish the movie early. Cool. Disaster averted.

—Except that I have a Philosophy exam to give after that at 1:00pm and the exam is written on my flash drive. I don’t have time to drive home and get it and get back for class.  I can’t write a new exam in the 30 minute break between classes.  I’m so screwed.

I know! I’ll have The Man get on his computer, use my flash drive, and email me the exam file. That way he doesn’t have to drive all the way to campus, I get my exam, and everything’s fine. Awesome!  I am a problem solving machine!!

—Except that I now realize, I grabbed the wrong movie to show my 11am class. We’re talking about Maori mythology (Polynesian islands) and I grabbed The Secret of Kells, which IS a film we’ll watch in class but not for another 3 weeks.  And, since we are smack in the middle of our Far Eastern readings, I can’t exactly screen Kells early; it would make absolutely no sense.  I’m seriously screwed.

Ok, no worries.  We won’t watch the movie today. I’ll just talk about the Maori myths and set up the film for Thursday’s class.

—Except I don’t have my flash drive so I don’t have any of my lecture notes and I didn’t read through the myths before class since I planned on watching a movie and printing off my lecture notes. In fact, I haven’t read these myths since last summer, the last time I taught this class. I now have literally 2 minutes before class begins, so I don’t have time to call The Man and talk him through the process of finding the document that contains my lecture notes. I am SO SERIOUSLY screwed.

Ok, no worries?  I guess I’m making up a lecture about Maori mythology completely on the fly, with 30 seconds to figure out what the hell to do.  Here I go. 


I managed to string together some ideas about the myths for about an hour before I let my class go early.  Afterward, The Man helpfully emailed my Philosophy exam, which I have printed and ready for my next class.  Plus, I now have Starbucks and pumpkin bread in front of me.  Hopefully this means the rest of the day will go more smoothly.

I SO SERIOUSLY need spring break.

Explain to me this logic.

A utility is turned off due to lack of payment. Lack of payment occurred because tips have been slow and school gets in the way of work day availabilities.  Now, in order to turn the utility back on, you (utility company) want me to sit at home between 9am and 4pm to wait on a technician so he/she can turn on my utility.  Sitting home between 9am and 4pm means I am not working to make the money you need for me to pay you to turn the utility back on.  Further, if I do go to work to make the money you need for me to turn on my utility and I happen to miss the technician, you (utility company) will charge me a fee for missing my appointment due to my working to try and earn the money you need for me to pay you, thus increasing my need to work to pay you the now larger past due amount.


As busy as The Man and I are, it’s a rarity to find time to stop; even more rarely can we work it out to get time off together.  This past weekend we were lucky enough to sneak off to San Antonio for a couple of days.  The nearly constant rain and cold didn’t even bother us so much as we were just thrilled to be doing anything other than studying, working, choring, and/or stressing.

We didn’t have a set schedule.  We slept in.  We drank wine in bed and watched SNL.  We walked the river, ate a ridiculous amount of good food, visited the zoo (SO much fun!), window shopped (and actually shopped), and basically just enjoyed being kids for a moment – we enjoyed running away.

Day 1 back in OKC – walking in wind gusts up to 60 mph, cramming for an Arabic exam, piles of laundry to be done, responding to an inbox full of student emails, plowing through a never ending stack of grading, blah blah blah.  I know all that sounds like a whole bunch of First World Problem whining (and it is) but I can’t help it.  Taking a moment’s pause is so refreshing.  But dammit if the moments immediately after aren’t completely exhausting by comparison.

The Man managed to take this amazing shot of a rain droplet about to fall.

photo credit: viniciousknibb

I keep staring at it.  It feels like the entire photo is holding its breath, waiting for the action to resume but not really wanting it to because the image is too appealing the way it is.  It kind of perfectly sums up how I feel about this weekend.  And I want to go (back) to  there.

That’s right, I said it.  And in my title, too.

But before I lose the members of my audience for whom that biology doesn’t apply, don’t forget!  You owe a lot to that particular body part, so maybe show it a little respect and keep reading for a moment.

V-Day is a global movement to stop violence against women.   Now, assuming you’re not an abuser or a victim of abuse yourself, you might be tempted to think this has nothing to do with you.  Sadly, the odds are that this issue has directly effected someone very close to you.  According to the UN, in the United States alone, a woman is beaten every 18 minutes. Globally, one out of every three women will be abused at some point in their lifetime:

“V-Day was born of the belief that until these themes are addressed, these violations named and taken up by whole communities as an unacceptable desecration of human dignity, the violence will continue.”

What does that have to do with Valentine’s Day?

Since Valentine’s Day is considered a day of love, a time to honor the beloved women (and men) in your life by showering them with expressions of romantic devotion, this makes it a perfect time to reflect on how we would want them treated the rest of the year.  What started as a single day event in 1998 has grown to include annual events taking place over a span of three months, February, March, and April, where performances of “The Vagina Monologues” and “Until the Violence Stops” occur all over the world.


If you’re in the Oklahoma City area, the University of Central Oklahoma is hosting a performance of “The Vagina Monologues” on April 19, and a screening of the documentary “Until the Violence Stops” on April 18 (times TBA).

Funds raised at both events will benefit the YWCA of Oklahoma City.

So maybe while you’re making your last-minute Valentine’s plans, you could schedule time to take him/her/yourself to see one of the V-day performances.  The benefits will last longer than roses and no one has to worry about the effects of too much chocolate on their waistline.