10 Reasons I Love Grooming Dogs

    I groomed a Pom today.  That would be a Pomeranian.  I wish I would've taken a picture to share with you all.  He came in a hot mess and left a total stud.  I looooooooved grooming him.  I had a big, goofy smile on my face the entire time.  I'm glad nobody saw me.  They may have thought I had a few screws loose.  Most people do NOT like handling dirty dogs.  Or blow drying their own dogs.  Or shaving their own dogs.  I, however, enjoy taking care of other people's dirty, shaggy dogs.  I love grooming dogs!  Why?  I'll tell you.

1.  I LOVE DOGS!  In case you hadn't figured that out yet.

2.  I love combining my two passions.  Dogs & Creativity

3.  I love instant gratification, and I consider grooming a dog from start to finish in an hour or two somewhat instant.

4.  I love watching hair disappear into my clipper vac.  It never gets old.

5.  I love the sound the scissors make.  Shink....Shink...Shink....  Music to my ears.

6.  I love blow drying dogs.  I have no idea why.

7.  I love the smell of dog shampoo and cologne.

8.  I love hearing owners squeal and "ooooo" and "ahhhh" over their freshly groomed family members.  It means they appreciate my work.

9.  I love that I can do it from my own home, thanks to my husband who dislikes dogs but loves me more. 

10.  I love holding a happy, clean dog up to my cheek and giving it a hug.  Then again, doesn't everyone have the desire to rub their face on other people's dogs?

    There were people who questioned my choice to become a dog groomer.  I had planned on going to college on a scholarship.  It seemed like the logical thing to do after high school, although my heart was never truly in it.  About six weeks before I was supposed to start school, I came across a memo saying the corporation I worked for was looking for people interested in learning to groom.  They would be holding a four week class in the next couple of months.  Grooming was something I had thought about doing for years but had no idea how to get started in it.  Here was my chance.  I discussed it with Brian and decided to put off college for one semester.  The rest is history.  I did take one college class in the Summer of 2009, but that just solidified my choice to be a dog groomer.  I guess it's pointless to try and do something other than what you were born to do, and for me that's grooming dogs!


Sincerely,
The Groomer

He Gets It

    This post is neither witty nor thrifty, but I wanted to share.

    A few nights ago I decided to start decorating for Christmas.  I've never decorated this early, but because we are in a new house this year I couldn't wait to see it all "holidayified."  Ian was super excited.  Like any other normal kid, he loves Christmas!  He helped me put away my Fall decor and then we started pulling out the Christmas stuff.  We both agreed to do the nativity scene first.  I pulled each figure out of its box and handed it to Ian.  He would grab each one and ask who it was.  I'd tell him who they were and what role they served in the nativity story.  When I handed him baby Jesus he stopped and didn't say a word.  He just stared at him.  After a few moments of silence I asked Ian if he knew who that was.  He replied, "Yes.  It's Jesus when he was a baby."  I smiled and told him that was correct.  He kept holding him.  Looking at him sweetly.  Then he said, "I love Jesus," and placed him gently in the manger.  Tears came to my eyes.  To hear your child say he loves Jesus is a moment you always hope for.  A moment you will never forget.  I hope that love continues to grow and that one day he'll accept Jesus as his Savior.  It's a choice that he will have to make for himself, but I'm thankful that a seed has been planted, and it's starting to grow. 

    I spent the next few minutes reminding him why we celebrate Christmas.  He listened carefully.  I could tell just from looking at his face, his precious eyes, that he gets it.  Do you?

Giveaway?

    I'm seriously contemplating the idea of doing a giveaway on my blog.  I've entered many giveaways on other blogs, but I've never won.  Since I can't experience the joy of winning for myself, I thought maybe I would enjoy the experience of being the giver!
    So here's the deal.....  I have a magic number in my head.  If that many people leave a comment on this post, then I will do a giveaway.  Anyone would be eligible for the prize.  The winner would be randomly chosen.  It's not gonna be some big expensive prize, the bloggers who give those have sponsors, but I'll make sure it's something anyone could use.  I'll decide on the prize later and let you know in another post.  So leave your comment, and feel free to share this with anyone. 

Sincerely,
Rachel

P.S.  The more feedback I get the more generous I'm inclined to be!

****I would like at least 25 people to comment before I decide to do a giveaway.  Feel free to share this post with anyone who you think may be interested.  It's a FREE giveaway!  My holiday gift to one lucky reader.****

The Right Way to Eat a Candy Bar

    Today I am going to share with you the correct way to eat a candy bar.  And yes.  There is a correct way.  All the other ways are just plain weird. 

Step 1:  Go to the egg compartment thingy in your refrigerator door.

Step 2:  Remove the eggs and select one of the candy bars you have hidden behind them.

(Yeah, uh huh.  I bet you thought I was crazy when you heard the egg part.  This is a perfect place to hide candy bars.  Especially if you like them refrigerator cold like I do.  No one will ever find them.  My husband doesn't even know these are back there.)

(Well........he didn't until now.)

Step 3:  Unwrap this precious, life giving, sanity sustaining morsel and thank God for giving it to you. 

(By the way, 3 Musketeers are the perfect candy bar for refrigeration.  No hard caramel or nuts to deal with.)

(Kit Kat's work well, too.)

Step 4:  Eat the chocolate off of the ends.

Step 5:  Now the sides.

Step 6:  Now the top.

 (I realized when I looked at this picture that I probably could have pulled the chocolate off with my fingers instead of using my teeth.  Then maybe you wouldn't have to see the drool I left behind.  But it was sooooooo good.)


Step 7:  Then the bottom.

Step 8:  Lastly, pop the soft little nougat in your mouth and let it melt!

And THAT my friends is how you eat a candy bar!

Good day!


P.S.   I absolutely LOVE that little zig zag pattern on the bottom of candy bars.

If it came in wallpaper I'd line my closet with it. 


  

"A Bathroom Tale (Sigh....)" Revisited

    A few days ago I visited our local Marshall's.  For some reason I was thinking I had never been in there since we'd moved here.  I love their housewares department and I was in no hurry to get home, so in I went with "The Bug".  As is customary any time we walk into a store or restaurant, Wesley started yelling that he needed to go tee-tee.  Why he feels the need to yell at the top of his lungs I will never know.  I slapped my hand over his mouth and whisked him away to the back of the store.  Upon entering the bathroom I immediately remembered I had been in this store before!  How could I forget?  I had a story unfold in this bathroom that would remain  forever in my memory.  When it happened I shared the story on Facebook (pre blog days), so some of you have already heard it, but for those of you who haven't I felt it was worth sharing again. 

"  A funny thing happened to me today.  I mean, it's funny now.  I giggled on the way home thinking about how crazy, embarassing and ridiculous it was.  It was necessary though.  My motherly instinct took over as I had no choice but to do what was necessary to save my child.  Okay, well that's a little overdramatic, but I did push myself to do something I would have never done 5 years ago.  The years before children.  Anyways, here's what happened.....
      As the boys and I walked into Marshall's this afternoon, Ian announced to the store that he needed to go to the bathroom.  To which Wesley loudly replied, "Ian poo-poo?"  (Sigh...)  I looked at the floor to avoid all the people looking for the children with no manners, and I booked it to the back of the store.  When we got in the restroom I made the split second decision that it was time for Ian to start going in the stall by himself.  He's a big boy now.  He knows what to do.  And those stalls are cramped when you put a momma and two little boys inside.  So in he went without hesitation.  "That was easy," I thought.  I stood holding the door shut.  I prefered he not try to latch and unlatch the door, for fear he might not get it open.  He did his business, pulled his pants up, and flushed.  "That was easy," I thought.  As he went to open the door his curious, mischevious little mind decided to turn the door's latch.  (Sigh...)  "Ian, unlock the door." I commanded.  Click, click, click.....  "It's stuck!" he said.  "No, it's not.  Just turn it all the way."  Click, click......  "Mommy, it's really stuck!"  He was panicing now.  He doesn't do well in these situations.  I tried to talk him through it.  He started crying.  A woman walked out of the next stall.  She smiled and said, "That's happened with my children before.  Here, I'll just crawl under the stall and get him out."  She began to get down on her knees.  "No, no!  I can do that.  I was just trying to avoid it, but I guess I don't have a choice."  (Sigh.....)  So down I went.  Of course the stall was only about a foot maybe a foot and a half off the floor, so I couldn't crawl under......I had to slide under......on my stomach.......with my face way too close to the floor.  I do, however, recall that the floor smelled very nice.  Was it fresh smelling from blue potty water that had recently over flowed....maybe.  But I'm going to go with the possiblity that they had just cleaned the floor with a powerful, pleasant smelling cleaner right before Ian went in.  Yeah, I'm gonna go with that.  So, I'm over half way under the door when I realize that in order to get up, I'm going to have to flip over.  Yay.  First my entire front side had to slide across the floor, now my back side will have to as well.  (Sigh.....)  Finally I started to stand, only to realize that Wesley had easily crawled under behind me.  I am an idiot.  Why didn't I just get Ian to crawl under?  Then I wouldn't smell like a public restroom floor.  I reasoned that if I hadn't done it, then the poor employee on the bottom of the totem pole would be forced to do it, and it wasn't even her fault.  Of course, she gets paid to keep that place running, not me.  (Sigh...)  I jiggled the handle.  Sure enough it was stuck.  "Dear God," I prayed, "I do not want to slide across that nasty floor again.  Please.  Please!  Open this door for us."  And what do you know.....it opened.  "Thank you Jesus!"  On the other side of the door was our stall neighbor.  She smiled and cheerfully said, with her fists triumphantly raised in the air, "You made it!"  I guess she hung around in case she needed to come under and rescue all of us.  That would have been cramped.  And awkward.  So, freed from the stall we all ran to the sink and washed our hands for ten minutes.  If there would have been a shower I would have used it. 
     So I learned my lesson.  Ian is not ready to use the stall by himself.  And I will never think "that was easy" ever again, until the deed is completely done.  Also, I want to thank the person from Marshall's who had gone in just before us and thoroughly cleaned the floor.  That is why it smelled so nice.......right?   "

Ahhhhh.......precious memories!

Rachel

Candy & Chaos

    Halloween has come and gone.  I got to celebrate with Darth Vader and Spiderman.

    Once again I had set myself up for disappointment.  Okay that's a bit harsh.  Let's just say.....my boys kept it real.  They fought over who was gonna ring the doorbell.  By fought I mean knock down drag outs in the doorway of several homes.  Thankfully I was able to pull them apart just before the homeowner opened the door.  We would all smile and say "trick or treat" as if nothing had just happened.  The lovely homeowner would gush over how adorable my Darth Vader and Spiderman were.  They would give each of the boys a few pieces of candy, and then.......(sigh)......Wesley would dive in and try to grab a fist full of candy and shove it into his bucket before I could stop him.  The young homeowners laughed and gave him more, commenting on how cute he was or how Spiderman must love candy.  The older homeowners gasped and looked at me like I was a terrible parent who must not teach her children to have manners.  I wanted to scream, "He's TWO!  Give me a break!  You have no idea what this kid is capable of, and I have to deal with it on a daily basis!"  Instead I forced a smile and secretly wished Wesley would sneak one more handful from the crabby old goats.
    We were nearing the end of our one hour trek and things were steadily going downhill.  Darth Vader was having wardrobe malfunctions.  We kept accidentally stepping on his cape and pulling it off.  He decided he didn't want it anymore only to change his mind seconds before the homeowners opened the door which caused me to make a mad dash to solve this "crisis"  he felt he was enduring.  Then he didn't want his mask.  Then he did.  Then he was having cramps in his feet.  Then he was tired and he wanted to go home.  Then he wanted to stop at one more house, where he burst into tears the moment the man opened the door.  The poor homeowner who was dressed as himself said, "I'm sorry.  I didn't think I was that scary."  Oh Ian....  Meanwhile Spiderman was  constantly trying to sneak candy out of his bucket between houses.  I had to keep wrestling it away from him.  He was screeching and screaming, "No, it my canny!  I eat it!"  What a sight we were.  A sobbing half dressed leader of the dark side, and an insect mutant super hero wrestling candy from a pedestrian.  Ahhh...my life.
    Something told us we'd be coming home early, so we made sure we were prepared.  We'd bought two large bags of candy (the good kind) to pass out once we got home.  I think we had maybe five trick or treaters total.  We gave each one handfuls of the stuff, but we were still left with half of it.  Between the leftovers from what we'd bought and the boys take home loot, we are left with two ginormous bowls of sugary goodness.

 My hips are growing just while looking at this picture.  How will I ever be able to fight the urge to grab a piece (or two) (or three) when passing by?  Jesus, give me strength!  And the desire to start exercising! 

May the force be with you,
Darth Vader's Mom