I don’t really need help analyzing this dream.

Hay for hay fever - get it?

Last night, I dreamed about getting an allergy shot. With my group of girlfriends from high school. Except the doctor’s office was closing, because it was after 5:00. So I was out of luck. My friend, Angie, got her shots, though.

Totally random, right? Not quite.

Angie’s birthday was this week, and even though I haven’t seen her in years, it’s one of those things I haven’t forgotten.

And oh yeah, it’s allergy season. What’s that? Oh yes, some of you call this green season “Spring.” I call it Allergy Season #1. (Fall being Allergy Season #2, of course.)

So I blame the budding trees and flowering plants for my heavy lids and constant sneezing. (And by “constant,” I mean that it happens so often my co-workers don’t even bother to say “Bless you” anymore. Because, really, they have work to do.)

Of course, my condition could have something to do with the fact that my cat prefers to show her love by sleeping on my pillow. Her love…or her need for comfort. A cat’s got needs, you know.

I've tried and tried to teach her to sit like a lady.

Did I mention that the nurse in my dream doctor’s office was Susan Boyle?

Do you have allergies? What’s your favorite season? Is this the most random post I’ve ever written? (Wait, don’t answer that one.)

What a basket case!

Look at this face. So sweet. So innocent. So...yeah, keep reading.

A few years ago, I got caught in a vicious Longaberger basket cycle. It started so innocently: I was invited to a party, so I went.

I know, I know. But I was so young. I didn't know how these things work.

So I went to the party, even though I was pretty sure all the products would be lovely, but too expensive for me.

Sure enough, I was right. So I did the logical thing - I bought the cheapest thing in the catalog and then scheduled a party of my own, to help the host get more basket points.

Of course, I didn't realize that I'd have to order a basket at my own party. Or that one of my guests would schedule a party to help me get more basket points. And then invite me to said party. At which I'd have to order another basket.

And that's the fascinating story of how I ended up with several lovely, warm brown woven storage containers. And while they aren't necessarily being used to beautifully decorate my home, they have been helpful for holding stuff.

One of my pricey baskets, however, is no longer doing its job. My napkin basket (also known as a large recipe basket) was just the perfect size. It held my napkins so nicely and was actually being used in a semi-domestic sort of way in my kitchen.

But Mark had to throw away my napkin basket. Because my cat peed on it.

Does anybody want a cat?

Looking for love in all the wrong places

UPDATE: My friend Teresa adopted the white puppy, and one of my co-workers is adopting the brown puppy. I'm so relieved that both dogs are going to good homes (and we didn't have to take that dreaded trip to the shelter)!

Someone dumped these sweet babies in my yard on Saturday.

Chelley and Triple were down for the weekend, and of course the first thing we did when they got here was go to Walmart.

(What? Isn't that what you do when your friends from out of town come to visit? Compare Walmarts?)

When we got back home, Triple noticed we had a couple of puppies in our shrubs out front and said, "Did you forget to tell us that you got two dogs?"

Yeah right. As both Triple and Chelley know well, I am not, as they say, a dog person. (They know this well because - long story short - Mark brought one home when they were visiting a couple years ago and pert near ruined his 30th birthday.)

But how could I resist those adorable little baby pups?

I can, don't you worry, but it is hard! I am upset, though. Who dumps two baby puppies when there are these things called shelters that exist solely for the purpose of taking in unwanted animals?!

At first it didn't even dawn on me that they'd been dumped. They had leashes on, so I assumed they'd escaped their home and some loving owner was franically searching for them. But Triple pointed out that they don't have tags, and the likely explanation is that someone just decided they didn't want them.

And apparently, our house looked like as good a place as any to leave them.

Actually, it is a pretty good spot. All of our neighbors already have dogs - we're a real doggy neighborhood. Dogs bark so often around here that I almost don't even hear them anymore.

Almost.

Tomorrow morning, Mark will take the puppies to the shelter. They're super cute, friendly and young enough that I'm sure they'll be adopted into good homes (or maybe even one home - they really love each other, these babies) quickly.

But still, even though I am not a dog person and I do not want a dog and we absolutely canNOT keep these puppies or get a dog of our own anytime soon...it just breaks my heart a little bit. How could someone look into those faces and just push them out of the car? I hope they at least slowed down. Jerks.
What about you? Are you a dog person? What kind of pets do you have?

A Rude Awakening

While we were in Wisconsin this week, we stayed at my brother-in-law’s house. He and his wife breed Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs, and they currently have eight dogs (and two cats and a lizard, if you’re counting) living on their farm. I met two of their dogs a couple years ago, so I knew how truly massive “Swissies,” as they call them, are. They’re beautiful animals, but when I say “massive,” I mean over two feet tall and an average of 125 lbs.

As we went to bed the first night, my husband mentioned that one of the big dogs was sleeping in the house. It didn’t really matter to me at that moment, but I was so glad he mentioned it later that night. Around 3:00 am, I woke up and needed to use the bathroom. So I walked downstairs, bleary-eyed even though I’d managed to grab my glasses. I opened the door to the main level, squinted at my niece who’d fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV, and turned into the kitchen. And abruptly stopped.

Sully, the prize-winning (read: largest) Swissie of all, was standing in the middle of the kitchen. Now, I’m not afraid of dogs. I may be a cat person, and I may not want a dog of my own. But I’m not scared of them.

And besides, I know that this particular breed of dog is called “the friendly giant” because of their reputation for being so, well, friendly. But I won’t deny that as I walked calmly by Sully into the bathroom, I may have shut that door a little faster than normal! Especially after the good guard dog started growling and howling quietly but urgently.

I don’t blame him – Sully was just doing what he should. After all, I was a stranger waltzing into his owner’s bathroom in the middle of the night! As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, he may be telling his friends this very same story. But instead of talking about a brave woman persevering (yes, persevering to the bathroom) despite being startled by a ginormous dog, his story features a kind but brave dog protecting his territory from a strange human lady with crazy hair.

Of course, the ending of the story is the same. We both went back to sleep after my sister-in-law hollered, “Hush, Sully!”

* Photo from Dog Breed Info Center.