the only thing I miss about long hair

We were watching hockey and Rich was running his fingers through my hair. Me: "Ooh! You know what would be great right now?"

Rich: "I think whatever you're gonna say rhymes with flair thrushing."

Now if only I can get the Flyers to score while Rich is brushing my hair and I'll get a solid 90 minutes of petting just to keep from jinxing anything.

I am grumpy and my hair brusher has gone to play hockey himself so I'm going to go beat back the laundry beast in the bedroom floor.

Two dogs, two cats, two ... ducks?

For the last two nights I've had incredibly realistic dreams about not being able to find a bathroom in a large public place (mall, convention hall, casino, etc.). It involved finding lots of tiled rooms with no toilets and screaming at the management. Something tells me I should be drinking less water before bed. Life with Mollie puppy continues to go reasonably well. She goes to "school" on Monday through Friday and I'm taking her on 2 mile bike rides once or twice a day on the weekends. That seems to take the edge off of her but she's still plenty playful and still very much a puppy. I'm happy to have the crate to keep her out of trouble, particularly since the house looks like a bomb went off in it and there are tempting chewy things seemingly everywhere. This evening she got to the styrofoam tombstones from Halloween but those weren't a huge investment, just a lot of styrofoam crumbs all over the living room.

A week or two ago, I bought her a stuffed duck/goose shaped thing that squeaks which Rich started calling Mr. Quackers. Mollie loves Mr. Quackers and carries it around the house like a little doll. Last night while puttering on the computers we heard a cry of help from the hallway.

"Aflac. Aflac! AFLAC!!!!"

Mollie had found a small stuffed Aflac duck I had brought home and was carrying it around until she prompted his distress calls by squeezing him too tightly. She dropped him and ran out of the room only to return with Mr. Quackers (as backup I presume). Eventually, she reconciled herself to the strange noises Mr. Quackers' Mini Me was making and found a new friend. But it's still disturbing to hear him yelling AFLAC! from the other room.

Hey Baby, need a ride?

The first half of the day I've spent un-showered and slovenly and the second half I'm dressed in heels for a wedding celebration. It's always extremes with me. Bill Cosby suggests that you should dress like a poor person when you go car shopping, but I think I ended up looking more homeless than poor today in my dirty sweatshirt, workout capris over unshaved legs and wool tuque with tassel. Our car salesman was a shorter version of Samuel L. Jackson and, unphased by my wardrobe, even let us drive cars around on public roads.

We've been discussing a new "ride" for the Puddin'. He's been doing some traveling for work and taking my car on longer trips, which leaves me with the little green pickup. The little green pickup has served us well over the last five years and the price has certainly been right. But driving it around has been a thorn in my side.

The suicide door on the driver's side no longer opens since the plastic handle snapped off in my hand in the airport parking garage. The side mirrors are set to 6'5" person settings and can't be changed without pushing on them manually, which always scares me I'm going to break them. (Don't drive in my blind spots if you see me in the truck.) The bucket seats don't work so well for dobermans on a morning commute and I'm convinced I'm going to slam on the brakes and break the dog's jaw on the dashboard. It has manual windows, manual door locks (that don't work half the time requiring you to lock the door from the outside with the key) and a 4 cylinder stick shift. Oh and the radio is constantly set to AM sports radio at volume 11 but I think that's a user issue and not the truck's fault.

I feel bad even complaining about the truck because it's been very serviceable to us and relatively low maintenance. And in my life I've driven cars that are far worse than this one with many more "quirks." The best ones were the Dodge K car wagon with a bad alternator that had to be plugged into a trickle charger each night to drive the next day (I was ahead of my time with hybrid car technology) and the VW Vanagon that leaked oil on the starter so you had to have someone bang on it while someone else turned the key to start it (you made a lot of new friends in parking lots if driving alone).

I just want us to both have reliable, comfortable cars so that we're not using my car for everything and only driving the pickup if absolutely necessary. And really, Rich deserves something better than the Little Truck That Could to get around town. We're still shopping around for all our options but we seem to be mostly on the same page, which helps immensely.

What was/is the crappiest car you've ever had and what's your dream car?