Every story starts somewhere

 I stepped over three piles of laundry, two dog bones, a humpy baby (that's what we call the toy that gets brutalized nightly by my alpha-female Pomeranian), two boxes of Christmas gifts that I have yet to find a home for, and an iphone chord just to get into my bed last night. I couldn't find the tv remote (our room was too messy) so I laid in the dark. As I laid there staring at the ceiling I began to feel short of breath. I started to get hot and the walls began to feel like they were closing in on me. I had enough of that mess. At 11:42 pm, I was going to clean that shit up. I turned on the light and began picking items up off the floor. A couple of shirts here, a sweater there.. and low and behold I picked up a soaking wet Christmas bag. "What the..." I thought to myself. I gave it a sniff.. but I didn't need to. I knew what happened and I knew who the culprit was. But just to be safe I gave one inhale to the soiled santa gift bag. Pee. Urine of the naughty, spoiled rotten, needs to be neutered, territory marking three year old cocker spaniel variety. "OSKI!!!!!!!!", I screamed from the hallway. As I rounded the hallway corner and kitchen entryway to get a good look at the perpetrataor, I found him staring up at me in between the legs of a ginormous man child on the couch. The two of them did not move a muscle as I screamed from behind the couch about how ridiculous the situation is. They didn't so much as flinch. When my rant was over, the man child lifted one arm with the remote in hand and changed the channel on the tv, gave the little dog a pat on the head and asked him in a calm, almost disbelieving tone ''did you potty in this house?''. I waited to see what he would say and do next. Spank him? Put him outside for the night? The dog laid in the man child's lap and didn't stir. The manchild patted his head once more and mumbled ''didn't think so''... Seriously? Thats your intuitive and profound doggy discipline?????? Awesome.

This is my life. I am 29 and recently married to 'the smartest, funniest, best singing person I have ever known' (his words not mine). I live in Sacramento, California. I have two dogs, one sassy little six pound Pomeranian, and a clumsy, playful, mischievous three year old cocker spaniel (who I want to strangle and hug, all at the same time, daily). (for the record, that is also how I feel about my husband. I love him more than life but occassionally have dark thoughts in his direction. We can address those dark thoughts later) In my spare time I teach kindergarten, surf-and-stock on Instagram and Facebook, watch mindless reality shows and immature, ''feel good'' teeny bopper mellow dramas. But that's just what I do in my down time. My formal title, where I do the main stretch of my life's work, the name I find brings me the most pride is ''House Servant and Caretaker of Two Naughty Spoiled Rotten Dogs and a Manchild. After all, isn't that what every woman lives for??

I've never blogged before and I don't consider myself any sort of phenomenal writer. In fact, I wouldn't even attempt to indicate that I've got any sort of writing talent. But what I do have are stories. And the situations and conversations that take place in my house are sometimes just too funny not to keep track of in some way. Maybe someone out there will find our lives mildly entertaining. Maybe not. But at least this gives me an opportunity to document this first year of 'marital bliss' (again, other people's words, not mine) More to come. :)