Yellow Dog/Bleeding Heart

Furry has mastered language and is talking non-stop these days. That's pretty normal for a three year old, but what is unique about him is his "Bringlish" accent. See, his mom was born and raised right here in the heartland of America. As such, she speaks with a sort of familiar southern twang. His dad, on the other hand, was born and raised across the pond in England and speaks with a delicious English accent. Therefore, Furry's dialect is a mix of colloquial English and British slang. The other day he told Bojo that what she was saying was "rubbish" and he was quite adamant about it. He also loves the big green "oh-guh" called Shrek and recently told me he was "gonna git a 'ti-guh'" It's a lot like living with new-Madonna - after she decided she was British and adopted the accent. Or maybe Brittney: post breakdown. You know, kind of like he's faking the whole British personae. What he is not faking is his pickiness when ...

You can skip the Kleenex and just give Hillary your ballot with a big ole X by her name. That's what she wants. That's why she cried ... or almost cried ... or fake cried ... or whatever spin you want to put on it. All I have to say is that this is real crying: And this is not: Vote for Furry! His tears are just as manipulative, but at least they are real!

Amazing because Muller knitted it! Even more amazing because it fit furry! Furry says it looks even better with a bucket on your head! Thank you Muller! These pictures are for you! Oh - and please don't forget to send me the most awesome socks when you finish them! I'll take pictures of those too!

First we cleaned out the attic! Then we chopped down all the trees in the world! Okay, so really we had a major freeze disaster that ruined most of the trees in the city and left us without power for a week! But the power came back on and we had The Most Patient cat in the World help us to get in the spirit. Then, just to make it even more festive it snowed!!! After that we were far too caught up in the excitement to take any pictures, so I will leave you with one final picture of Bojo, Little Dog and Furry dreaming of sugarplums....

He may wear the shirt, but he’s no Superman! Furry threw himself down the steps at his house and managed to obtain a gash in his forehead deep enough to require stitches. I figure this was part of his ongoing effort to assess our city’s emergency response services. He arrived at the ER with his panicked parents and was quickly triaged and given a temporary bandage. While they waited for the suture room, Furry blew kisses to an adoring crowd of fellow ER visitors. Once it was finally his turn, he bravely let them put three stitches in his tiny forehead without complaining. The only thing he did was ask repeatedly (about every 20 seconds) during the procedure, “All done now?” Once he was “all done” he was released with a follow up appointment to have the stitches removed the following week. He came to see me the next day, and when I asked if he had hurt his head he shrugged, as if to say “no biggie” and promptly proceeded to try and jump down the stairs. This kid may be small, but he kn...

Furry Furry, with the big blue eyes - Oh how I adore that child! He turned two this month and decided to put the T in Terrible, by locking his dad out of the house and seizing the opportunity to wreak havoc. We have been having terrible ice storms here, and as such, WS (Furry's dad) has been having more trouble than most with the walking-on-the-ice skill. Maybe it's because, having grown up in England, he doesn't have a lot of experience with the kind of ice we deal with every winter here in the Midwest U.S. Anyway, he was being particularly careful the other night when he took Furry home to wait for Bojo. He carefully carried him into the house and set him by inside the door before returning to he car for the bags. He had not made it down a single step when he heard, "Bye Bye daddy" and the distinct click of the lock. Now, I have been the first to condemn WS for some of his past actions, but for this one, he has my complete sympathy. I know I would certainly not ...

I like Elvis as much as the next guy - maybe even more. I think he was handsome, had a beautiful voice and some rockin ' moves. I agree that he was a legend. People, let me tell you, there are some die hard Elvis fans out there . Enough of them to create a multi billion dollar industry of kitsch - the Mecca of which lies at 3765 Elvis Presley Boulevard in Memphis, Tennessee. It all begins at the ticket office, which is located in a huge plaza across from Graceland Mansion, which is just down the street from The Heartbreak Hotel , which is just around the corner from the Graceland RV Park , which is behind the Graceland Outle t Store , which is down the street from the Lisa Marie... You get the picture. At first glance, after hopping off the Sun Studios shuttle, the line didn't seem that long. And it wasn't, except for the fact that the line we were looking at was the line to get into the building to get to the line for the ticket counter. After 30 minutes in line t...

There had always been a part of me that felt like something was missing. I mean, I was 42 years old and I had NEVER been to Graceland . That is practically un -American! So, with that in mind, Furry's mom, Bojo , and I decided to take the kids to Memphis. ROADTRIIIIIP !!!!! 2 hip mammas trekkin ' to the Rockabilly holy land with their boys... SQUEEE ! My adrenaline was flowing just thinking about it. We would spend the entire fourth of July weekend (4 days) in the city that birthed rock-n-roll. I planned the itinerary and Bojo was in charge of the hotel and car. On the morning we were to leave she pulled up in a rented minivan. Uh... If you know me at all you know I am not a minivan kind of gal. I knew a convertible was out of the question and I had immediately nixed the idea of an SUV ( Grrrr ....) I even took her seriously when she suggested an RV (Graceland RV park? Helloooo !) But no, she got a minivan. I was going to make my rock-n-roll pilgrimage in a minivan?! Cou...

These days Furry walks into a room and announces, "Hi!" for all to hear. His eyes are wide and his smile is big, so of course we can't help but acknowledge his greeting with a resounding, "Hi!" back to him. Therein lies the problem. See, he doesn't get that he can just let it go at that point. He answers your "Hi" with yet another, " Hiiiiiiiiiiiii ," though this time in a more breathy and excited voice. The cycle repeats until you distract him with the cat or a cookie. But imagine what a big word those two letters must be to him. It's a word filled with expectation. It can mean, "Hi! I'm here now. Adore me!" Or, it can mean "Hi! What do you wanna do now?" How about, "Hi! Wow I can't believea minute ago you weren't here and now you are!" And even, "Hi! Right now you are my most favourite person in the world!" The word gets everyone's attention. It puts smiles on people's fa...

Furry’s parents are getting divorced. Yes, midway through a relatively calm week, right after dinner and before deciding which tivo -ed program to watch, his dad very matter-of- factly mentioned that he “ didn ’t really love” his mom anymore. He also mentioned (and I do mean mention , as these statements were made like mere asides as he watched tv ) that he would be moving out the following Sunday. Yeah, Furry’s mom had all the same questions you might be asking. Things like, “We were having problems? Wha ?!” and “Why didn ’t you ever tell me you were unhappy?” As reality sunk in the questions quickly became louder and more aggressive. “What the hell are you thinking?!” and, “Is this a fucking joke?!” It does not really matter what else was said during the following period of shrieking and tears. The bottom line was that the marriage had ended without any warning. Not with a bang, but with a very annoying heavily accented British whine. See, he claimed he did no t “feel passionate” ...

Furry and his mom came over the other night. I was also sitting for a neighbor's 7 year old. Bob stopped by. My sister called. It was one of those perfect spring evenings where my house seemed like the hub where all points met. There was a roast in the oven, laughter around the table, wine in the fridge and music in the air. It's nights like this that I cherish because I've learned what a luxury it is. So, with this in mind I witnessed a moment. The older boys were playing Trouble in the living room floor. Furry toddled over to watch, quietly planting his diapered butt between them. He watched the two boys take turns hitting the pop-o-matic and moving their pieces. Back and forth he turned his toddler head - eyes fixed on the player in action. He figured it out pretty quick and then he made his move. He stuck his arm in and touched the plastic dome; smiled and then pulled his arm back. He continued to do this for the next 30 minutes – never grabbing the board or mussing the...

So, Furry might be sick. Very sick. Cystic Fibrosis . I’ ve read med MD. I know the general prognosis. I also know that life is not always fair and I believe that everything happens for a reason. Regardless, it is a bit overwhelming to think that this child, whom we love so very much, may be ill. That we have taken his health and his future for granted. I’ ve asked a lot of people to pray. I’ ve reminded myself to pray. I’ ve promised that even if Furry is really really sick, I will still be annoyed by his brattiness . I will still tease him mercilessly and indoctrinate him into the ways of my family where we laugh at everything - even the bad stuff. Especially the bad stuff.

So, Saturday night my nephew, "Furry", came over to hang out with Little Dog and me. Well, "hang out" as much as an 8 month old can. Much preparation went into planning for this little get together. I even bought baby friendly junk food (something Gerber makes called Strawberry Banana puffs.) Everything was fine for the playing portion and eating portion of our evening. In fact, Furry brought some electronic toys that were kind of cool. Baby toys do much more now than they did when Little Dog was a pup! The toys he had were brightly coloured, but just kind of laid there waiting to be picked up or stacked or shoved into his mouth. Furry's toys, however, have blinking lights and make noises when you touch them. Some of them even come with claims that they will help him achieve Einstein-like genius! One toy, in particular, was a stuffed ball with globe illustrations. When you touch a particular country it plays a little 4 line song about that country. Take En...