24 years ago (and 5 days).

I don't know how old you all are, but 24 YEARS is a long time--no matter how you count 'em (especially when you're wearing cute flip flops--stay with me here...see yesterday's blog...28 years old).

Let me take you back to April 19, 1984. 

 I have no idea what I was wearing--although I was sporting a multi colored, shorter on one side hair do (think Rocco Altobelli hair model), but I do remember what the Big Guy was wearing.  White polo shirt (yes Ralphy, yes collar turned up), Levi's jean jacket, kelly green shorts (I know) and blue Docksiders (remember those)!  

And then...he was driving a huge yellow station wagon. He was actually driving it the night we met, but I was so in awe of...something, that I didn't notice the car (that something must have been really big--think personality, charm, those green eyes). Well, we hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks (and back then we didn't have camera phones or the internet--OMG, I sound like Grandpa Anderson) and we didn't exactly remember what each other looked like (I didn't even know his last name).

So he rings the bell (I am so nervous I hide in the kitchen) and my sister being the "nice girl" that she is (aka Miss Busy Body) answered the door.  He thought she was me and she was so stunned by his beauty (ok really by his height and preppiness) that she stood there with her mouth hanging open--the only time I have ever seen her speechless.

After introducing the Big Guy to my parents and flying to the door to get out of there, I see from the corner of my eye my dad wrap his hand over my sisters mouth to quiet the laughter (she obviously regained her vocal abilities) and drag her to the kitchen.

I found out his last name when he introduced himself to my parents and quickly memorized his phone number when he wrote a check (remember those paper things) at the movie store. I don't know exactly what the attraction was on that night (I didn't stop shaking for several days), but when I got home after my date I sat on the kitchen counter in my mom's kitchen--yes it was my parent's house, but if you know my dad you know it was not his kitchen--and told my mom that was the man (yes I actually called him a man back then--hee hee) I was going to marry.

 

Psychic or love at first sight??

I am what I wear.

I don't know about you, but I can change my mood (and my personality) with a new pair of shoes. Yesterday I was a care free (and kinda cool) 28 year old in my flip flops and jeans (evidently I can change my age too)!

Give me a pair of running shoes and I am 10 pounds skinnier (well at least in the bubble above my head). Today I put on a pair of shiny brown pumps--with a little buckle by the toes--you know "power" shoes. I do my best negotiating when I am 5'8" (ok, ok they only get me up to 5'5", but I felt like 5'8" and that my friends is the important part). The real estate agent didn't see what hit her! (Perhaps because she was looking right over the top of my head).

For the special Friday night "outings" I don a pair of patent spikes and I can dance better than Madonna--at least that is my perception after two Grouchy Dog specials (Skyy orange and diet pepsi-hold the caffein please). And with a pair of these funky things and I can keep up with any of you younger kids--or do you just lag behind because you are embarrassed??

Word of advise--make sure your pedi is up to date and the color matches the mood (nothing wrecks the image more quickly than gnarly toes or chipped polish).  All this from a girl with a freaky foot phobia.

Remember a great pair of shoes can distract from dark roots, a couple of extra pounds or even a goofy boyfriend!

Are we all on the same page??

OK let's just verify--it is April 22nd, right? And that is technically spring--even in Minnesota, right? And the temperature today was in the 70's, right? And it was forecasted that way ahead of time, right (well close anyway)?

On my trek around the city today (I think I hit at least 8 cities...towns...whatever), I saw people under dressed, over dressed and me myself (somewhat of a weather hound)--I was perfectly dressed (funny how that works that way on my blog). I get people who wear shorts when it hits 55--hey we endure a lot over the winter and 55 feels dang good--their legs may be purple, but they are lovin' the sunshine. I even get the people who are still dressing like it's 55--you know pants, light jackets, something in a spring color.  

What I can't accept is the people out today dressed like it is 20 below (that's 20 degrees below zero for those of you who have never wondered north of 35 degrees latitude). One woman was lurking in the footwear department (trying on sandals no less) wearing a Norwegian sweater!  I wanted to tackle her and rip her sweater off...send it to someone in Antarctica that could benefit from a nice warm wrap. Another woman was wearing a ski jacket and gloves--now really...that was pushing it. 

The only explanation is that they are not true Minnesotans.  If they were, their ski stuff would have been washed and stored in the basement for next October (labeled and in plastic bins--am I right Lena?). If you see one of these crazy people out there don't take them down--don't rip their clothes off (you'll look as crazy as they do), just walk by in your jeans and flip flops and hold your face up to the sun. Don't you even think twice about what what people may be thinking of you! 

G.D...we're open for business.

The Grouchy Dog is officially open for the 2008 season.  I will let the pictures do the "talking" today--well mostly...as I can't help but make a few comments.  

Please feel free to stop by any time--if we are not home you know where the key is.  The futon is warmed up and ready for a snuggle, the fire pit is smokin' and yearning for some marshmallows to toast. The beer is on ice and the vodka is steeping in oranges.  What the hell else could you want?  Really?  You know you will find me VDP in hand, butt perched on my stool waiting to see your smiling face round the corner. What are you waiting for--the invitation is on the table, the rest is up to you.

Feel free to leave a photo of your adventures. I promise not to post anything too embarrassing--and I'll be the judge of that! You know the party hasn't started until we see/show a little bare skin--see photo at left (hee, hee).  I promise not to name names...unless someone asks.

Stay tuned for future festivities: "Hats and Halter Tops", "Wild Ride", "Moon Fest", "Super Heros"...

Who needs a boyfriend...all I need is a wife!

I think men and women really want the same thing..)(@&(&^(_ OH sorry, I was choking on my own laughter. But really...it kind of comes full circle if you think about it.  The beginning of the circle (well--the whole circle for men) is all about sex.  Men want it, women have it-yes we all have it, women are just more stingy in sharing it.

Men want it when ever, where ever and how ever (don't even try to deny it).  Women are more fickle.  They want it when they can peel off all their layers--you know...jobs, house work, kids, husbands, life. That is where the men can join the rest of the circle.  What is hotter than a man who puts the kids to bed and then stands in front of the sink in a pair of faded jeans, sleeves pushed up, steam in his hair, suds dripping from his hands...I mean...a man doing dishes? Or how 'bout a man who turns up the music and bumps and grinds through the living room--vacuum in hand?

See this is where the circle part comes in.  Sex---man---chores (throw in a little sex appeal)-woman watching (relaxing, smiling)--sex (on the kitchen floor). Everyone is happy--if you do it right--hey guys I can only do so much! So women...when you are fantasizing about finding a boyfriend (none of mine do...I mean...did dishes) hand your hubby a sponge or a duster and sit back--be prepared to duck if they have not read this...and men...when you want to get lucky roll up your sleeves, dab a little palmalive behind your ears and prep the kitchen floor.