Fire Drill

The fire alarm in our building goes off frequently.  The first time was on New Year's Eve while Chris and I were playing the newly wed game with Chris's family.  We were all awake and had nowhere to go the next day, so a false fire alarm was really no bother.  

The next time the fire alarm went off, Chris and I were fast asleep.  We abruptly awoke in the middle of the night to flashing lights and a loud, high pitched noise.   In a groggy state, we filed outside with our neighbors until the fire department arrived and cleared the building. 

The false fire alarms have become increasingly annoying.  One night I awoke to the usual flashing lights and loud sirens.  Confused, I attributed the noise to our dog, Doug, and repeatedly asked Chris to make the dog "shut-up."

On Thursday morning I woke up late and asked Chris to walk Doug for me.  Chris reluctantly agreed.  As Chris was getting ready for his morning jog with Doug, the smoke detector began beeping, indicating the battery was low.  The smoke detector kept beeping, and beeping, and beeping; the beeping wouldn't stop.  Annoyed with the noise, Chris decided to push the reset button on the smoke detector.  The smoke detector beeped one long final beep, followed by the all too familiar flashing lights and loud, high pitched sirens.  Chris and I now knew why we had so many false fire alarms in our building.

Upon realizing that he was the direct cause of a false fire alarm at six in the morning, Chris was suddenly very eager to walk Doug.  He quickly grabbed the dog and ran out the door. I finished curling my hair, and then walked outside to join my disgruntled neighbors.  I was in no rush because I was certain that this fire alarm was a false alarm.  

As expected, the fire department arrived and turned off the alarm.  Before leaving the building, the fireman visited my apartment.  Apparently, the fire alarm system in our building is high tech and records where all alarms originate, although it is not high tech enough to differentiate between an actual fire and low batteries in a smoke detector.  I played dumb with the firemen, making vague references to a strange beeping noise earlier that morning.  The firemen were not amused and looked at me like I was the most annoying person they had ever met.  I couldn't say anything and only thought,  "Chris should be standing here, suffering this scorn and mockery."  But he wasn't there.  He was at the park, playing ball with Doug, where he remained until I called him and told him the scene was clear.    

Chocolate Monster

Doug was a bad dog yesterday.  He ate five individually wrapped Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  He did not eat five of the small Reese's Peanut Butter cups that come in a gold, foil wrapper.  He ate five of the large, flat peanut butter cups that come in the brown, paper lining.  Not only did he eat five peanut butter cups, but he also ate the five paper linings and one plastic wrapper.  By the time Chris and I arrived home, our living room rug was littered with orange pieces of trash, chocolate crumbs, and three peanut butter cups that Doug had not yet eaten.  Judging Doug's reaction to our presence, he knew that he was in trouble before we even walked through the door.

After thoroughly scolding Doug and waving the plastic trash in his face as evidence of his wrongdoing, I began to worry that he had consumed a toxic amount of chocolate.  I googled "chocolate poisoning in dogs" and read that one sign of chocolate poisoning is hyperactivity.  I looked at Doug and noted an abnormally high level of hyperactivity, even for a Jack Russell Terrier.  I also noted, however, that I would also be very hyperactive if I weighed only 20 pounds and consumed the amount of sugar contained in two and a half candy bars.  

I continued to read and discovered that Doug must eat five to six candy bars in order to consume a toxic amount of chocolate.  Phew.  There was no need to proceed to step two, which is stomach pumping and  would most certainly be an expensive measure.

I continued to read.  According to one website citing to veterinary experts, "eating a speck of chocolate leads a dog to crave more.  It can mean that your dog will jump at the opportunity to get any type of chocolate."  I blame the irresponsible person who owned Doug prior to me for feeding him chocolate, thereby sparking in him the insatiable craving for more chocolate, causing him to jump on my kitchen table and ravage the chocolate sitting there.  

Chummin' the Water

I went deep sea fishing this summer. We all woke up earlier than I thought humanly possible and were on the boat in time for the sunrise. See how peaceful the sunrise and everyone on the boat looked?

The water outside the marina was anything but peaceful. The waves were big - real big! And our boat was pretty little. At first, this combination made for a fun theme-par-like ride. At times, the boat launched over waves, hung in the air for a split second, and then crashed down onto the water's surface. There is a reason, however, that theme park rides last only 30 seconds, as opposed to two hours.

The first deep sea fisherman tossed his cookies thirty minutes into the ride. Over the next hour and half almost everyone else on boat followed suit. Despite my efforts to keep my stomach calm, I too found myself leaning over the side of the boat chummin' the water. On the upside (as if there is one), you really get to know a group of people when you are all lined up and down the side of a rocking boat, leaning and moaning, paying no attention to the never ending assault of salt water drenching your limp body, and wiping bodily fluids from your face and arms as the winds blows it in unexpected directions. Yes, we threw our dignity to the wind, along with everything in our stomachs.

After two hours of nausea, the boat stops and you spend the next three or four hours standing in the sun during the heat of the day with very fishy smelling bait, which doesn't do much for your very fragile stomach. It is exciting when you finally catch a fish, although this excitement is followed by (1) lots of pulling and tugging as you reel in your catch and (2) a bit of guilt as you watch your fish lay on the deck next to you and flop around as he slowly dies. If you are like me, the deck hands will laugh at you when you apologize to the suffering fish, whose stomach is bulging out of his mouth due to surfacing from deep water too quickly.

After about five hours, all the throwing up, standing in the sun, reeling and tugging, and dying fish leaves you with zero energy. That is when you say to yourself, "Wow, I caught three wonderful fish and I do not even know how to cook them. I think that is enough for me. Now I will go sleep in the air conditioned cabin." And the minute you sit down in the cabin, you know that you just made the best decision of your life.

Here's Chris and I with our catch, safely back on solid ground. Cheers!

New Adventures

Chris and I are leading out a pathfinder group this year. At our first meeting last week, Chris said a bad word and I told one of the kids that she asked a "bad question." I guess we can only improve this week. Here's to hoping!