3 Reasons I love my niece, Eleanor

My fabulous fiance AND my niece share a birthday. I remember when my sister called me during the series finale of Sopranos to tell me her water broke.  The next day, April 9, 2007, my niece Eleanor was born!  She is the first grandchild in both families, so she gets a little bit of attention - but honestly she's not spoiled in the slightest.
She's pretty darn cute, too.  But I'm not biased. ;)
Because Mike and Eleanor share a birthday, I try to do for one what I do for the other.

As little E is turning big 3, here are three reasons why I love my niece:

3.  she's creative, expressive, and curious
2.  her mom is my sister and we LOVE talking about her, so her birth brought us closer (as if that was possible!)
1.  she dances, constantly, in a flow-ballerina-swirly-twirly-graceful-way without a care in a world (it's the cutest thing....I'm requesting it for her Flower Girl debut)

Happy Birthday, Eleanor - for these reasons and so many more, I love you to your toes!
Love,
"Aunt-Vicki-Cool-Dude" (story for another time)

27 Reasons I Love Mike

In honor of my man turning the big 2-7, here are 27 things I love about him (in no particular order):

27.  his love of sports and devotion to the Mets (although I never can compete with that)
26.  the way he values meat, especially red meat (I'm a veggie)
25.  his kindness, admiration, and love for his mom
24.  his middle name: William
23.  the way he loves his religion and G-d
22.  his love of animals, especially our dog
21.  his recent dedication to running
20.  the way he keeps his head held high, despite some uncertainties in life
19.  he's ticklish!
18.  his respect for the environment and the Earth
17.  the way he interacts with kids,
16.  the way kids interact with him and are drawn to his hair
15.  his hair, especially the Jew-fro
14.  his patience with my moods
13.  he loves to read
12.  he always buys The Times before we board an airplane
11.  he's reliable and dependable, as long as it doesn't involve cleaning products
10.  he can't stand clutter (I make a mean pile)
9.    his smile :)
8.   his sense of humor
7.   he's smart and understands politics
6.   the way he doesn't let things get to him (well, most anything!)
5.   the way he takes care of me when I'm sick or broken
4.   he doesn't ride the pity train
3.   his desire to further himself in life
2.   he will eat anything I cook (or ruin)
1.   the way he loves me!

Happy Birthday, Mike - for these reasons, and so many more, I love you!

Procrastination, my middle name

I left work promptly at 4 today (as a teacher, my workday ends at 3:30 -stop hating me, because I bring home too much work, too often).  The road construction traffic I hit 5 minutes after leaving did not bother me in the slightest.  Once home, I took the dog on a nice long walk and then checked Facebook for another good 30 minutes.  Now here I am.
You see, I'm supposed to be doing my taxes that are due in a week.  I always trust them to a service because they are so daunting and I fear the IRS will show up one day and take my couch away, or something, if I mess up.  This year I decided to man up and try doing it myself.  I watch the tax guy do it every year, in 30 minutes time.  Why can't I try that?  I mean, he didn't go to school to do taxes, right?  um, right?!
I can teach kids how to add and stuff, so I think I can do my own taxes.
If I ever get around to it.

I'm really, really, good at putting things off.  When my insurance was busting my @$$ for $500 worth of bills that Workers Comp should have paid?  Yeah, I let that go for months because I didn't want to deal with it.  The time I needed to mail my friend's birthday present?  It got there the day of, maybe the day or even week after.  Let's not forget my report card comments that seem to write themselves the night before I hand them over.  [Let the record stand I finished my first 6 today, with 13 to go by Monday.  I will turn them in when I leave work Monday, not in the morning when I arrive!]

Ugh, Taxes.  I know there will be no lovely return check for me this year.  As a partner in my dad's company, the money I "earn" goes back into the company in my name.  So I make too much money as a teacher.  Ha! That's hilarious right there - a teacher making too much money.  Maybe there's some secret deduction that TaxAct will find and *poof* the gov will be paying me the big bucks!

I'll at least start by filling out my name and social.
Maybe tomorrow I"ll punch in some numbers.
Thank you blog, for letting me waste some more time talking about wasting time.
Oh, maybe I should join Twitter?!
Victoria Procrastination W....blahblahblah

Melonball, the forgotten cat

Smelly Melly is the last of my current pets to mention.  This is intentional and I have no problem owning up to the fact that Melonball drives me crazy.
Melonball's sweet story of existence begs forgiveness for his antics.  In college a stray momma-cat, who shall be known as Pryn for obvious reasons, bore 4 itty-bitty kittens near a trashcan.  After watching her struggle to care for them for what seemed like weeks, one morning I found one of the poor babies dead.  At that moment the kittens became my cause.  A neighbor adopted one and my ex and I mercilessly stole away the other 2, whom he named the male MelonballER and I named the female Zoe.  The two little ones were so sick, stinky, and in need of more care than we could provide - so we took them to a local vet.  We surrendered them, but then two days later my ex decided he HAD to HAVE Mellonballer.
Fast forward to me inheriting Mel from said ex who thought he could own the cat, but whose roommate was allergic.  Mel's extended vacation with me became his permanent home. Thus his name stuck and I never renamed him Sergent Pepper, like he should be named.
This little $hit of a kitten chewed threw wires, phone chargers, and cables and still survived.  He hides in the strangest places (lunges at the chance to get in the closet) and was even found in the fridge sitting next to the Brita pitcher one day (a funny story for another time).  Mel loves boxes, obsessively more than most cats, and refuses to consume anything beyond dry cat food with the occasional tuna binge.  He tried nursing off of Penny Lane (other MALE cat) for months before realizing it was futile, and adores the dog.  Mel's urinary tract has cost me a trip to the emergency vet and an accumulation of over $1,000 in bills, yet he still begs forgiveness with his big kitty eyes.  And we can't forget his loud mews as he races the kitty-500 in the middle of the night.

Mel, you drive me crazy, but you're one funny cat.

Spring happenings in my 'hood

Now that the [enter any curse word here] snow is finally gone it seems as if Spring might really be here.  However, I write this knowing mother earth could really play a nasty trick on us and fool us yet again.
March is so tricky in DC.  Just last week the rainy-cold returned with temperatures in the 40's.  A friend warns me today's 80-degree weather will surely go away and one more day of bitter-cold will return.  DC weather drives me crazy, but one thing's for sure: SPRING!  Spring is here, thank G-d!  Even if one more day of long-sleeve temperatures return, I will survive, for there are flowers now - at least the gross snow is gone!

Enjoy the photos from my walk with the dog today.  The tulips everywhere fully bloom and smile at the sun.
Love it!

I love these drippy, pink flowers.  I have no clue what they are - but love them!

And we can't forget the featured DC spring flower/tree:  The Cherry Blossoms!

Penny Lane, the cat (not the song)

Oh Pen-Pen, how I love you more than I should ever admit in a blog, or aloud in general.  You're my favorite cat, and I know Melonball is jealous.  But I say it anyways - you are my favsie kitteh.  I probably sound so crazy, but I care not.  You are the cat for me.
I found Mr. Penny-Lane in a Pet Supermarket sponsored Humane Society cage in Tallahassee, Fl.  Even though I owned no pets, I still found my way into pet stores in college.  When I passed "Super-cat's" cage he pawed at me through the metal barrier, so I opened the door and out he jumped into my arms.  It was love at first meow.  (Again, I know I sound crazy).  I begged my friend to let me use her address to adopt the cat, then talked to my then-roommates about hiding him our deluxe-private-townhouse-dorm.  When all was set, the cat came home!  Naming him was a ridiculous feat that I look back still to this day and wonder what in my college-crazy-brain possessed me to name the male cat Penny Lane.  I regrettably wonder why Jeeves wasn't good enough for him?  His tuxedo fur and demeanor resemble that of a butler perfectly.  Alas, my male cat is plagued with a girly-name, which ended up suiting him in the long run due to his prissy personality.
Penny loves a good bag of Baked Lays, crispy french-fries, and really any human food he can get.  The dog persistently chases this fatty away from her kibble, too.  Never leave food out to cool, because you will surely find it on the carpet with kitty-claw marks that unmistakably belong to the Pen.

He sports a dark side, modeling a Hitler-look when you don't feed the fatty.

Eleanor Rigby, the dog (not the song)

You might see Nora and think she's a dingo, but really she's more of a big baby than a fierce wild dog.  However, more than one person has asked us, "What's IN that dog?!"  I faithfully call her an "Orange Shepherd" while Mike refers to her as a "Hungarian Shepherd."  Truth-be-told we have no clue.  The Humane Society labeled her a Golden mix, which is a load of crap.  While her rust colored fur does resemble the darkest of retrievers, Nora lacks the instinct to bring back anything, enticing or not. There's not a retrieving bone in her body, also demonstrated in the way she "swims" which more so resembles a hop-skip-and-a-splash (with gusto) like an excited four-year-old trying to run in water.
Her red fur, pink piggy nose, pink pads, and iris covered eyes (no white in site) lead us to think she's part Vizsla.   The pointy-satellite ears, dense winter undercoat that sheds 2x a year like clockwork, thick medium-short fur, a tail that dips and fluffs at the end, and hind legs that form a 45-degree angle while standing just shout German Shepherd.  When people at the dog park ask what we think she's made of, that's exactly what we say: Vizsla & Germ Shepherd.  Everyone takes a good look and nods in agreement.  Yup, she's GOT to be the perfect combo of those two breeds!
I'll take the picky Vizsla-like fickleness and the Shepherd patrolling any day.  My sweet dog leans into you for pets, knows her commands when she wants to please, and only chases the cats when we forget to exercise her.  She's the perfect big-dog for a small space, and we're happy to give her a home.

She hides in the shower during thunder-storms.

And sleeps in a funny way.

We love our Nora-Noodle!