Opie, The Wiener Dog

We dog-sat this week for my sister.  This is Opie, the Wiener dog.  Apparently he came to the rescue shelter with the name of Oscar--how original--but the shelter workers decided they didn't need one more wiener dog names Oscar, so they changed his name to Opie since he is a red head and has freckles.

 Opie is pretty selective about this food.  But this fact should not be confused with the idea that he really LIKES his food.  Because he does.

 Sometimes Opie looks like he has something to say to you.  But he is a dog, so he can't really say it.

 Other times he squints at you to make you think that you should know what he is thinking, but can't say out loud.  But I'd bet it has something to do with his food.

 Did I mention, he likes his food? 

 Don't let those sort legs fool you.  He is a pretty powerful little dog.  Especially if he smells something while you are taking him for a walk.  He has stopped me in my tracks before.

 His ears are really soft though.

 He is a pretty smiley dog.

 Especially if you seem to know what he is thinking.

But he still does have dog breath.  That is a fact.

 

But this was the look he gave me most of the time he was with us...looking in from the back porch step...willing me, with his eyes, to let him into the air conditioning.

I'm the meanest dog sitter ever.

The Local FEMA: Friend's Emergency Management Agency

Littlest Brother, who got to stay with me this morning while Dear Friend Micheale was at school.

Today my Dear Friend Micheale had school and her hubby was working and her mother and mother in law were also at work--a perfect storm of childcare disaster if there ever was one. So I took all the kids to the elementary school this morning for classes and held on to her 2 1/2 year old for the morning, then we picked up his Preschool Brother and played until mom got back from school just after lunch time.

Whew! I am tired! They are great little guys, but I am not in preschool shape anymore.

I don't mind this kind of service as opposed to the "service" that I give grudgingly to people I don't know but who call because I am not a work-for-a-paycheck mom and I happen to live in their ward or because the RS president give them my number and tells them "Oh, she's home in the daytime. Give her a call". When actual friends call, I am grateful to be able to do something to help them. In this case, I knew that Micheale would have exhausted all her other avenues before she called, so she must really need me.

Genius Golfer trying to move the shed over the weekend with the floor jacks!

So I let the entertainment begin. Littlest Brother was here while a giant crane truck came today and got our shed moved about 1.5 feet from the property line, per a city ordinance we were written up for in May. (However lame I think the ordinance is, we still felt like we needed to move the stupid shed and get in compliance.) So we hired the crane guys to come do it for us--in about 10 minutes. Sure beats the hours Genius Golfer spent with four floor jacks over the weekend trying to move it himself. Come to find out, the dumb thing weighs 6,000 pounds! No wonder we could not do it ourselves. The whole adventure made for fun distraction for the little boy, who otherwise was stuck with me and my really lame and very old toys.

The Crane Guys are ready to hoist that bab boy of a shed into the RIGHT place!

So the Crane Guys saved my muscles, GG's sanity, Littlest Brother's interest, and my grief with the city. Meanwhile, I was "saving" Micheale's peace of mind so she can go to class, take the test, and be a good example to all of us about life long learning. Save a little there, save a little here.

I suppose both or either of these systems is sensationally better the FEMA plan after Hurricane Katrina 3 years ago. Maybe if we just stick together and do the saving locally, we can avoid most disasters we would need the actual FEMA for after all. That sounds better to me. Plus the crane project was pretty cool to watch! Even if I a little older than 2 1/2 years old.

She's a Jolly Good Fellow

You have heard me talk a lot lately about The Boy, as he has been the center of many stories here of late. So today's entry will tell one story of The Girl.

Our neighbors down the street have 7 children, and a couple of dogs. (Not that the dogs matter to this post, but it does add to the chaos at the neighbor's place at times.) Their two oldest boys have played baseball this season and both boys' teams made it to the state tournaments. The tournament games were essentially all day today, in Payson.

Yesterday evening, Mrs. Neighbor asked if we'd be around in the afternoon between about 4 and 7, because her oldest daughter had to go to work and they were planning on leaving the youngest 4 neighborlings home due to the length and boredom for young children that baseball really is. Big sister would have been watching the 4 youngest most of the day already.

The Girl was totally fine with the idea of watching 4 small neighborlings for the hours the parents and oldest sister would be gone, FOR NO MONEY. She is really happy to help and seems to like babysitting generally. Even as I sit and write this I can see her across the street playing with the 4 neighborlings on our street's local playground (AKA some body's swing set where they welcome everyone to use it). She is pushing Baby Neighbor in the swing and Little Miss Neighbor is playing in the sand with other neighbor kids and her two brothers.

This is the kind of thing that The Girl does. She is sensitive this way. I don't remember liking babysitting that much, so for me, I tried to avoid it. Even now, it is not my favorite thing--too old and out of practice, I suppose.

The Girl makes me very proud of her. She is the topic of many good reports from parents who have hired her to babysit, now that she is 12+, and I love to hear from them after the fact that their "Kids loved having The Girl over" and "What a good sitter she is" and "My, even the dishwasher was loaded!" She is great. I wish I knew where she gets that from...maybe her grandmas.