Saturday was a beautiful day, one of the first beautiful days that has hit Boston so far this spring. But 65° F is not 85° F, and somehow I missed that memo.

Matt woke up with an urge to purge and headed downstairs to attack the basement storage space. I headed to the park to walk 5 miles with another 3-day walker. When I returned from my jaunt, a bit tired and awfully thirsty, Matt had filled my car to overflowing with miscellaneous items from his childhood, an old microwave, and a desk lamp that I love - all to take to Goodwill. I didn’t have the strength to argue over the lamp (regret #1), so I wearily hopped in the car with the promise of ice cream after dropping off the loot. It wasn’t warm enough for ice cream, but we got it anyway (regret #2).

A few hours later we returned home after a quick trip to IKEA, and tackled the back porch which was covered in rusty nails. We set up the new table and chairs, and Matt fired up the grill for the first lamb chops of the season. We even let Mojo out onto the porch (regret #3) where he has decided to stay until the second coming. By now the sun had tucked away behind the trees, the wind was whipping up, and Mojo, Berlin and I were too stubborn to leave the porch. I was NOT going to admit that it was really not warm enough to sit outside, so I bundled up in 2 afghans and curled up with National Geographic (regret #4). A solid hour later, with my body convulsing in chills, I dragged the pets indoors and the coughing began.

I have been chilled ever since then, and my ears are on fire the way they are after you’ve spent a day on a sailboat off Boston Harbor and your whole face is chapped and windblown. I have that deep guttural cough that says I’m a lifetime chain smoker, and all the tea in the world doesn’t seem to be helping.

But I’m really in the mood for burgers and lemonade tonight. 63°F is shorts weather, right?

Yes, it’s true. We’ve become addicted to Arrested Development. I realize that we’re what, three years behind everyone else? Blame it on my sister and brother-in-law. They’ve done it to us again.

Convenient timing though, when you really think about it, because these multiple trips to the vet to get Berlin shot, prodded, and spayed have wiped our checking account virtually dry, and we can afford to do nothing but sit at home in the evening eating mac ‘n cheese and watching borrowed Arrested Development DVDs.

Berlin appreciates the 30 minutes of peace during episodes as it’s the only time while we’re home that we leave her alone instead of cooing to her and trying to tempt her from her doggie bed with rancid smelling t-bone treats and corned beef (of all things!). She is still 100% in-her-shell and continues to look at me as though I’ve slaughtered her siblings with rusty razorblades every time I attempt to drag her outside for some fresh air. Somehow she missed the memo that I’m putting off my dinner by another hour to walk her around the park and encourage her to poop so I can pick up the steaming stool in a plastic bag and carry it home to the trash. Those who know me well understand that to put off my dinner for an extra hour is love that I save for only the nearest of relations, like possibly Matt… if he’s broken his leg… and is going into emergency surgery.

There have been some good moments in puppy motherhood. I believe that I have dropped an entire pants size in the past week from walking not only my sweet dog around the park, but also hiking down to the T station with my new commute. The benefit is less the weight loss, but more the freedom it allows my conscience when I decide to bake brownies at 11pm… AND EAT THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY.

Good thing LOST comes back next week. We need a taste of the old life.

She’s here. 24 hours of driving in two days, and she’s finally home. She was so terrified when we first brought her to the big city, but this Ohio girl is starting to settle into the TRUE “heart of it all.”

I wish pictures did her justice, but just LOOK AT THIS FACE!

Funny how doggie parenthood can make the smallest victories into a celebration…

Me: She BARKED!!! Her very first bark!!
Matt: NO WAY!
Me: YES!!! She was defending her puppy chow from Mojo!
Matt: What a good girl!
Me: I KNOW! And she peed when I took her out! A real genuine PEE!!!

As good as it might sound, the bowel movements party is likely the only thing keeping us together right now. Matt hates how I bring food and water to her as she’s lying on her doggie bed, because everybody knows that she’ll get spoiled and will learn to expect the breakfast-in-bed treatment all the time. And I am horrified that he doesn’t give her enough verbal reinforcement. Clearly we all know she’ll wind up with an eating disorder if her father doesn’t tell her she’s beautiful. WHATEVER.

How did I become the softie? I never imagined this role. BUT JUST LOOK AT HER!!!

My mom:
“i am so sorry you are sick as a dog.  we can’t say that anymore when p gets a dog.  it really implies that dogs are always sick, doesn’t it.”

????

Have a great weekend. I’m off to get myself a doggie!

So one of my sisters got Matt a climbing DVD for his birthday, and the other got him a gift certificate to an indoor climbing gym. By the end of this post, you will surely understand why the second sister IS MY FAVORITE.

The basic premise of this DVD is watching 20-something hipsters climb dramatic cliff faces in Thailand with background music falling somewhere around the genre of Sigur Ros. The videography is pretty sweet with beautiful shots panning mountains while the sun is setting, and the timing is very laid-back yet playful. A beautiful DVD that just about anyone somewhat adventurous might enjoy… if you can handle watching people climb 90 degree rock faces WITHOUT ROPES. And then FALLING NINETY FEET into the OCEAN.

Of course Matt is hooked on this video. He keeps it in the DVD player and any time that he has 15 minutes to rub together, he sits down to watch a portion. Last summer was his first season climbing and now that he has the majority of the gear he needs, and a little bit of experience, he’s aching to get out there with his climbing buddy and start his second season off with a bang. That bang you are hearing is the sound of the gun I have just put to my temple.

I’m not really a natural worrier. I only worry when my instinct tells me that something is really wrong. Last summer Matt was (thankfully) quite religious about texting me every three hours so that I knew he was OK. I tried not to imagine him hanging from a fraying rope 75 feet in the air and pulling out his cell phone with his one free hand. But it was a nice gesture to assure me that I had nothing to worry about.

He knows the deal. He can climb wherever he wants and do whatever dangerous stunts he feels the Spirit leading. But at the end of the day, when he falls to a dramatic death, I’m taking the first British Airways flight to Manchester, England and hunting down either A) David Gray, or B) Dominic Monaghan… whomever I can find first. I won’t think twice about getting remarried two days after the death of my first husband because this was the deal.

And you know what, Matt? Dom and I will move to New Zealand and start an animal adventure show on National Geographic Channel. Just think about all of the great climbing opportunities there are in New Zealand.

And a warm welcome to this year’s climbing season.

For the second night in a row, Matt and I find ourselves sitting next to each other and staring at completely different computer monitors. It’s been about an hour. Last night, it was about two hours. I guess this is what it’s become.

I’m sitting here peaceably checking my RSS feeds and listening to A Period of Transition for the third time today, when Matt makes yet ANOTHER remark about how I remind him of Rick Steves. Because I am entirely unaware of the aforementioned individual, and cannot even begin to grasp the meaning of his remark, Matt shared this video with me which I now share with you, blogosphere.