So, if anyone has a Ph.D. or certificate in dream interpretation, I would LOVE to hear from you.
I emailed Clayton at work and told him about my dream. His response?
Clay: I have a strong dislike for hoofed animals, but I don't believe that I would ever harm one recreationally.
Me: So that means you dislike horses? If you don't like horses, by default that means you don't like unicorns either and what hateful, miserable human being doesn't like unicorns!?
Clay: No, that's not what I meant ...
Me: Too late. When you die, your gravestone is going to say "Hated Hoofed Things (Especially Unicorns)".
Clay: Your gravestone is going to say, "Overdid It On The Champagne".
Me: I have work to do. Leave me alone.
I don't know why I decided to do Things I Love Thursday because whenever Thursday rolls around, I never feel like actually doing it. For some reason Thursday always end up being a super duper busy day for me and I end up looking like a jerk for not posting. But, if I switched it up and had Things I Wuv Wednesday, Wednesdays would inevitably explode with things to do and I would inevitably still look like a jerk for not posting. I've considered pulling the plug on the whole shebang, but I totally hate giving up on anything.
The county fair was in town last week and I drug Clayton over to the fairgrounds on opening night because when it comes to the fair, I have a one track mind: cotton candy cotton candy cotton candy. As soon as the weather starts to get warm in April, my first thought is, "It's almost summer. That means that fair is almost here. That means I can get cotton candy." And that plays on a continuous loop right up until the last week in July when I can finally run a muck amongst half-hazardly put together fair rides, peer into the 4-H barns, and stuff my face with a giant bag of my favorite treat.
Yes, I know you can go buy bags of cotton candy at the store, but it's just not the same. There's just something about eating a bag of overpriced cotton candy at the fair while I people watch ... it's like my rednecky version of heaven. Plus, the county fair is only place on the planet where you can buy a "yard' of county candy.
And when I first saw Katy Perry's "California Girls"video that featured her naked on a pink cloud of cotton candy, I thought to myself, "I have a new life goal."
And, in case you're wondering (which I'm sure you're not), The blue cotton candy is my favorite. All the colors pretty much taste the same (even though they claim they're different flavors), but the blue fluff is definitely the best.
The Satisfaction of Buying Something With Your Own Money
Sure, everyone wants to be rich (myself included). Life would just be easier all around if you had a limitless amount of income or a completely loaded sugar daddy. However, for most of us, that is far from the reality of our lives.
My mom instilled the idea of financial independence in my sister and I at a pretty early age. After my parents divorced, we could no longer afford a lot of the luxuries we were accustomed to. I started working when I was 14 and both my sister and I held part-time jobs while we were in high school. We both paid for our own cars and anything we wanted outside the realm of our basic needs, we bought ourselves. I bought my own computer and I've had my own cell phone bill since I was 18. My mom did the best she could with our college education (and trust me, she did a lot), but both my sister and I still have hefty student loans to pay back.
Sometimes I used to be bothered by the fact that I had to pay for everything myself. Sometimes I didn't think it was fair, especially when I saw a lot of my friends who seemed to have it so easy because their parents could afford to buy them those things. But, then I got over it because ... I didn't have a choice. I couldn't change my circumstances. All lives are different. And one's not better than the other, they're just different. And it took me a long time to accept that.
Even though I'm an adult now, sometimes I still feel selfish twinges of jealousy, but I think that's normal. It happens. I just don't let it consume me. I may of had to worry about bills and expenses at an early age, but it gave me something I'm really proud of: a great credit score and many lessons in financial responsibility. I also have a deep appreciation and gratitude for what I have. When Clayton and I bought that treadmill a few weeks, it was a great feeling because it came after a long time of saving our pennies and sacrificing other things.
And come on, I have a treadmill in my LIVING ROOM!
Clayton and I are both in agreement that Sleepy Joey is the best kind of Joey there is. I never understood other dog owners' complaints about their pets waking them up early in the morning to be let outside. Joey doesn't stand by our bed and whine. He doesn't jump up onto the bed and lick our faces until we wake up. Nope. Joey loves to sleep in. If Clayton and I are sleeping until noon, Joey does the same.
In the morning Joey comes to the side of the bed when he hears me start to stir. I sit up, stretch my arms over my head and let out a big yawn. Joey follows suit; only Joey stretches by sticking his beagle butt up in the air and stretching out his front toes. Then we go into the kitchen and look for breakfast.
Sometimes Joey likes to sleep in later than us, especially if he played with his doggies friends or was running around my in-laws big backyard the night before. That's my favorite kind of Joey. I love peeking my head over the side of the bed to find him still curled up on his pillow snoozing. He's too cute to resist, so I always wake him up by jumping to the floor and burying my face in his belly. First thing in the morning, Joey feels softer than ever and I swear, it's also one of the best smells in the world. I've seriously inhaled gobs of dog hair trying to smell him. I can't describe it, but surely other doggie parents know what I'm talking about.
When I was in college, there was a general consensus between my roommate and I that puppy feet smell awesome. Not puppy feet that have just been out walking in the grass, but first-thing-in-the-morning puppy feet. I wish they made a scented candle for it. I should write Yankee Candle a letter.
And, if that little tidbit of information didn't make you think I am a total freak, I don't know what will.
This is the first picture I ever took with Joey.
He was only 6 months old and, as you can see, the cutest puppy on the planet.