Binge watching Netflix and Hulu with the kiddos. | Pajamas | Slippers
The puppies are only four months old. We’ve been in the house for a month and a half. Even Tess has only been with us for four and a half months. It’s all still pretty new.
Everyday is a new day with new challenges because the puppies are growing like crazy. Four months old, and they’re all almost or over thirty pounds. They’re about as big as their mama; she doesn’t tower over them anymore. They’re huge puppies and not super well trained because they’re puppies and there are four of them. So we’re constantly puppy proofing and trying to teach them how to behave. While also keeping them from teething on everything and peeing inside. Their big toofers are coming in, and they look like they have people dentures stuck in their mouth. (Although, I’m not sure there’s any other kind of dentures, so I probably didn’t have to specy “people dentures” on that one.) It’s funny, but they don’t stay still long enough to get a picture of this phenomenon.
We definitely have our work cut out for us. But there is a routine, and they’re doing so well. They know how to sit and – kind of – stay. They sit, stay, and wait for their food… almost. They go into their kennels on command. They’ve learned not to bite/nibble/chew on people and furniture. Shoes are another story. We have only had one accident inside in the last three weeks. They know not to play on the couch; that’s for sitting and sleeping and cuddling. They are super smart, which is good and bad. They learn quickly, but they’re smart enough to figure things out that I’d rather them not. Sometimes I call them my terrorist infestation, but all of the time I love them with my whole heart. There’s nothing better than coming home and seeing all six fur-kids in the window.
Tess is an angel. She has truly come into herself over the last four months. She is less neurotic than Beau. I have no idea how I got so lucky with such a smart, good girl. Training has been such a breeze with her. We haven’t done too much, but she knows sit and come, which are the most important anyways. She also knows when she’s getting a treat; that one she learned very quickly. She doesn’t like giving kisses, but she loves snuggles, playtime, and just being with me. I can pick her up and carry her around like the puppies. She is wonderful.
Tess is heartworm positive. Now that she has weaned the puppies, gained some weight, gotten comfortable, and as healthy as possible, we have started the de-heartworming process. She’s a month and a half in. Next month, she will have her first shot, and hopefully it goes well. She just had all her vaccinations, and she’s getting spayed and microchipped next month. She’s on her way to being healthy. I cannot wait for her to be able to run and play unhindered. I didn’t know if she would be a runner or player when she first came home. Being as heavily pregnant and sick as she was, she was happy to just sleep. Not anymore, she is rambunctious. It’s going to be great seeing her live her best, healthy life in a few months.
Beau has finally accepted the puppies are here to stay. She loves Tess, but the puppies took some getting used to. They are absolutely infatuated with her, but that’s probably because Beau is completely ambivalent towards them. Beau has made it known that I’m her mom first and their mom second. I think she’ll love them someday when they’re less tiny and stupid.
I am the kind of person that likes to have everything unpacked and organized right away. That did not happen. I’m new mom, new house tired.
We moved in with most of the puppies, who were the main priority. Now that we have it whittled down to the ones we’re keeping, life is working into a new rhythm. I finally have time to unpack and start painting… Except I’m still exhausted. I have been sleeping more and doing as little as possible because raising the puppies was exhausting and draining. I have needed to take some time to recuperate. The puppies are the main priority. Sleeping has been the second. Work has been the third. House has come very last. So only the essentials are unpacked. I’m starting to get back to my old self, so hopefully things will start shaping up around the house.
For now, I’m gonna go back to binge watching Peaky Blinders or stand-up comedy with my children.
She’s smiling even though she was dying inside from the boredom that is carousels. My birthday, 2014.
She’ll take pictures like this with me! Christmas, 2019
The infamous Wox of Bine night, 2013.
11… Reasons I Have the Best Person Ever
This post is sponsored… kidding. This post was inspired by my best friend when I asked her what I should write about today, and she told me “11 reasons I have the best friend ever,” so here we are. I changed it to “person” instead of friend because she’s more than my friend. She’s my sister, my partner, my soulmate, my other half, my forever and always, my constant. She is my person.
For those of you who don’t know her. Kelsey Roberts is a 25 year old bad-ass. We met seven years ago in college working at the library. She was a freshman; I was a senior. She just graduated from her Master’s program in Art History from George Mason University.
Kelsey has supported and loved me through some of the darkest times in my life. I really will never be able to thank her for everything she has been through with me, but it is a testament to our friendship and her heart that she is still around.
She’s fucking funny. We riff off of each other so well. We’re always in stitches when we’re around each other. I have so many screenshots of our conversations and an entire Google.doc of funny things we’ve said and come up with.
She didn’t run away after the first time we hung out. Seriously though. There were a lot of red flags telling her torun, but she didn’t. She was like, “Yup! This crazy matches my crazy, and it’s scary but it’ll be fun.” It’s definitely been scary, but it’s been a hell of a lot of fun.
She’s just the right amount of stupid. Actually, she’s not stupid at all, but she is a hypochondriac. When her hypochondria gets-a-going, she’ll believe a lot of things. Like the fact she’s allergic to the color yellow so she can no longer eat bananas. That’s not a real thing, but she totally believed me until I posted the screenshots of that text exchange on Facebook.
She puts up with me embarrassing her on social media. See #4 or writing about her on my blog or posting really embarrassing pictures from her drunken nights in college. (Which totally never happened. Kidding they absolutely did, and I was sober to capture her in all her glory.) Wox of Bine anyone? That’s Kelsey for “Box of Wine,” which she put on a short dude’s head so she could drink straight from the Wox of Bine’s spot.
We’re exactly the same height. Literally. Exactly. Except her mane gives her a quarter of an inch to a full inch depending on the day. We’re the same height, and it’s amazing. No awkward tall-short friend pictures for us. It’s a blessing.
She lived in DC for a few years. This was amazing for visiting purposes. I got to visit her and explore a really cool city!!!
Her love for animals is as deep as mine. We’re crazy animal people. She leans more towards cats but has a never ending love for dogs too. She fully supported me when I told her I picked up Tess and was probably going to keep her and help her through the puppy-situation. Kelsey was the first person I called with Tess news. Kelsey knew before Dylan.
She gave me a family. Her parents are now my parents. Her siblings are now my siblings. I love them with all my heart. I lived with them for almost three years. I go home as much as I can, and they love me unconditionally.
She has a heart of gold. Truly, she would take away the world’s pain if she could.
She is my other half. We always tell people: If you love Kelsey, you’ll definitely love me. If you love me, you might love Kelsey. Kelsey is pricklier and harder to get to know on the surface. In reality, she’s more optimistic, positive, and open than I am. She seems more difficult to get to know, but she’s protecting her soft, puppy-loving, do-gooder heart from being hurt by shitty people because she has been through so much in her life. We are two sides of the same coin. We balance each other and make one another whole. She is the person I turn to and vice versa. We met and instantly became attached physically and emotionally. It got harder when I graduated, but we talk every day, all the time. And we talk about EVERYTHING. From poop to sex to fashion to dogs to health issues to politics to family to my existential crises/feelings of impending doom to her hypochondria and everything in between. Nothing is off limits. We have no secrets, and whatever hasn’t been shared is solely because we forgot or ran out of time or we’re waiting until the next time we see one another in person, which should be sooner rather than later. Since meeting her, I have never once been scared about being alone. I found my person at 22. My person is not a romantic love, but it is the best love in my life. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her, and I miss her every moment we’re not together. Someday, I plan on kidnapping her and retiring to a lighthouse on the coast of Scotland where we will live together in peace raising dogs, cats, and White Park Cattle, while reading and writing about all the things we’re passionate about.
The one thing I don’t love: She hasn’t come to visit me in over three years. She needs to meet all her new fur nieces and nephews, see my new house, and sit on the couch and binge Netflix with me!!!
Celebrating PRIDE and the first few weeks in our house.Honestly, it’s amazing we made it through this year.
WE BOUGHT A HOUSE FOR OUR DOGS
I’m not even kidding.
We took possession and moved into our new home on May 29. I wish I could tell you that buying this house was a fairytale of magical bliss that brought us closer together. I would be lying.
IT WAS HELL!!!!!
If I never ever ever buy another house again ever, it will be too soon.
Dylan has been itching to buy a house since before we even met. I have been on the opposite side of the spectrum: I like apartment living. After three and a half years in an apartment, I finally gave in. He and I talked and talked and talked about it for about ten months. Should we? Were we ready? How would it work financially? Did we even like each other enough to buy a house together (the jury is still out on that one some days)? Also where would we buy a house? What did we want in a house? What did we NOT want in a house? In my mind, I’m nowhere near old enough to own a house. The bank disagreed with me, and gave us money to buy one eventually – more on that later.
This is a long and hellish story. Living it was something I hope to never experience again in my life. Granted, a lot of unique situations were at play.
In January, we found our realtor through my best friend. Michelle Miller is an angel. Honestly. She was sent to us by the great beyond to help us through this horrible experience, fight for us, assure us, keep us from killing each other, and be an absolute boss-babe Goddess. If you’re in Houston and wanting to buy a house, let me know, I will give you her information. She is AMAZING. I could write an entire love letter to her because I think she is just about the best human on this planet. We would not have made it through this without her.
I would not suggest EVER getting a mortgage through NAVY FEDERAL. Don’t do it. DO NOT DO IT. It was a miserable, horrible, terrible, anxiety-inducing, anger-filled experience. I cannot dissuade you enough.
It took us two months to get pre-approved for a mortgage. It should have taken a few days, tops. We kept getting denied. Which was very confusing because we were asking for less money than we knew we should get approved for. After changing loan officers, we found out the reason we weren’t getting approved is because the first one fucked up the paperwork SO bad. We were denied because he had tripled our debt and quartered our income. Well, obviously we didn’t get the loan under those circumstances because we wouldn’t have been able to afford oxygen. We eventually found out, the paperwork was saying the house wouldn’t be our primary residence… again, why would we buy our first house to not live in it? He was the WORST. Our second loan officer seemed better. We’ll circle back to her.
After two months of Michelle checking in to see how we were coming and two months of us being frustrated out of our minds because people suck, we were pre-approved!
It is now the end of February. On the day we received our pre-approval, I found a very pregnant Tess on the side of the road. We decided to keep her and take on the puppies because we knew we would be in a house within two months… (I’m rolling my eyes and face palming and sighing at my own naïveté on that one). We SHOULD have been in our house a month and a half lalter, but life had other things in store for us.
As happy and blessed as I am to have Tess and all thirteen puppies in my life, they made buying a house so much more stressful. I wouldn’t change anything because my life has so much more love in it, but it was hard and stressful. There was only so long we would be able to hide the existence of these puppies from our apartment complex before we needed to move into a house. The clock was ticking. Our lease on our apartment was also up at the beginning of April.
Dylan and I spent two days looking at the properties that fit our criteria. Which for me was: a space for a home office, a fenced in backyard for Beau and Tess (and eventually the puppies we were not planning on keeping but kept anyways!), and a Houston address. Dylan’s list included: two car garage, four bedrooms, a big house, updated, super awesome master bathroom, not a fixer upper, a place for him to game, room for his race car, room for his motorcycle, space in the garage to work, solar panels if possible, a big driveway, and more. He did actually get everything he wanted except solar panels. I got what I wanted too, which was easier because my list was short. We picked three houses to look at that would be perfect for us for the next few years. We were not looking for a forever home; we were looking for a fur-now-because-we-are-desperate house. We talked to Michelle, scheduled a day to look at houses and told her time was of the essence.
We’re in the first week of March. COVID was in the news. It was starting to be in the world, but it wasn’t a huge deal yet.
We looked at three houses. House number three was a four bedroom, relatively new house, with a decent backyard, recently renovated cookie cutter house in a newer subdivision. We didn’t really want a cookie cutter, new subdivision house. We like quirk. We like funk. We like trees. But, we needed a house. It was decently priced, and it had been on the market for just long enough, we hoped they would be happy to sell especially with the COVID shadow starting to loom. We put in an offer that day. They countered the next morning. We countered. We didn’t hear anything. We waited for four days… I had a feeling of foreboding the entire time, which has always been the precursor to bad news. The owners decided to go with another offer and never told us.
Michelle felt HORRIBLE. It wasn’t her fault. The sellers and their realtors were crapwads. Those four days were precious because the puppies were now outside their mama, and the clock was ticking. We weren’t heartbroken about that house because we weren’t in love with it, but we were in love with not being homeless. We needed a place to live, and our lease was up soon. Michelle told us to pick a gazillion houses and we would look at all of them the next day. So we did. We had wanted to be picky and keep the list small, but we were running out of time. I talked to the apartment and extended our lease three months. Thank God.
The next day, we looked at twelve houses. None of them were right. The next day, we looked at seven. I had almost made the executive decision to not go see the very first house on the second day, but Dylan said he wanted to. We walked through it, Dylan had the warm fuzzy feeling. I was being overwhelmed by anxiety and taken over by foreboding. Nothing felt right or good. Something was wrong or going to go wrong, I just didn’t know what that was. Dylan made a solid argument for the first house from the second day. I said “fine.” I didn’t care as long as we were going to have a place to live.
Our house had been on the market for 123 days when we put an offer in. The family that owned it were also military, so I played up Dylan’s 100% disabled veteran card a whole lot in our letter. I am not above using the truth to our advantage. Thank God I did. They liked us. They wanted to sell to us. After a little back and forth and Michelle being a badass, she got us an amazing deal in a super timely fashion. They accepted our offer. We had 45 days until we would take possession. That meant the puppies would be ten weeks old when we moved into the house. I would have to figure out somewhere for us to live for three-ish weeks once they turned six weeks old and were too big to be hidden.
We had the inspection done and all that jazz. Awesome. Things were moving along.
Pretty much as soon as they accepted our offer, COVID started being a really serious issue. Things were closing. People were staying at home. Quarantine was put in place. Masks were being mandated. Things were changing very quickly. Luckily for us, all the physical, in-person things were taken care of. We were assured nothing would keep us from moving in on May 4, our closing date. We had done everything we needed to do. It was the bank’s turn to get their ducks in a row.
The puppies and I and Tess and Beau and Dylan lived in our apartment until they were five weeks old and too old and big to hide and cover up the noise. There was a two pet rule in our apartment; we were thirteen over. Woops. I’m a rule breaker when I have to be. When it became too much for our apartment, we moved in with my best friend, Amanda the Saint, for three and a half weeks until we closed on the house and moved in on May 4! Yay…
Kidding.
COVID had turned the world upside down. We were lucky in a lot of ways, but it fucked some things up for us. Dylan did end up losing his job. The bigger problem was NAVY FEDERAL AND OUR LOAN OFFICER NOT DOING HER FUCKING JOB. Two days before we were supposed to close, we found out through a very round-about way that we weren’t going to close on time. We had to track down our loan officer’s boss – because our loan officer had a very bad habit of never picking up her phone and taking DAYS to call us back – to find out what was happening and why we weren’t closing on time. Also… I’m going to be fucking homeless with fifteen dogs in two days. Turns out, our loan officer didn’t do the paperwork she was supposed to do so we could close, which meant the potentiality of being homeless, living under an underpass with FIFTEEN dogs.
Michelle worked her magic and found a way to convince the sellers that we would move Heaven and Earth to figure this shit out and buy the house from them. They agreed to give us a three week extension. All they wanted was to sell their house and get their money. All we wanted was to buy their house and give them our money. But the bank didn’t want to do their goddamn job, so that they could take our money.
My dad flew down on Sunday to help me drive to Iowa with the thirteen puppies and Tess. Holy fuck, that was a horrible drive to Iowa. It was gross and disgusting. I should really write that story because yuck. I was going to Iowa for at least three weeks. If things didn’t get figured out with the house in that period of time, I would be in Iowa until we could figure something else out or find a new house. So you know… I would be living with my parents.
I was homeless with fourteen dogs. Beau stayed with Dylan, whose job was to pack up everything in the apartment. He got the luxury end of that deal.
After a really long and frustrating and fucked up process, we finally got the go-ahead to close on the house on Friday, May 29. I had been in Iowa for a month. My dad and I left Friday morning super early. We weren’t sure we were going to get the keys to the house that day, though. So we were driving to Houston on a hope and a prayer. Dylan got the keys at 5:00 pm. Dad and I were driving straight to the house and would get in at 10:30. Dylan would meet us at the house with Beau where he would have the air mattress set up for my dad, blankets for us, shower stuff so we could shower and go to sleep after a long day in the car. The movers would move everything the next day. We would hand over our keys to the apartment in the nick of time. Things would be golden.
Hahahahahahaha…
Dylan fucked that up.
After fourteen hours of being on the road, I called Dylan to see how things were at 9:30. He didn’t pick up. I kept calling. My dad kept calling. I just knew in my gut, he fucked up. I pulled into the house. The car was nowhere to be found. The lights were off. There was nothing in the house. I drove to the apartment. Keep in mind. We had been on the road for fifteen and a half hours with nine puppies and Tess. They were hungry and bored and ready to stretch their legs. So was I. I banged and banged and banged on the apartment door. He finally woke up. Turns out, he had laid down for a nap after getting the keys without setting an alarm. To say I was pissed is an understatement. I had spent the last three months NOT sleeping, taking care of puppies, and generally not having any kind of life. And on the ONE day I needed him to do ONE thing, he took a nap. When he finally opened the door of the apartment, I walked in to find NOTHING packed. I was ANGRY. Beyond angry. Like I said, I had spent the last three months taking care of the puppies by myself, going without sleep, giving up my life, moving out of town, being homeless, and a whole lot of other things. His ONE job was to pack the apartment. Our lease was up the next day. How the fuck was he going to get it done? He had planned on having the movers do everything, and I was never supposed to know because I was going to be busy at the house with the puppies.
Honestly, it’s a little bit of a miracle that we are still together. I was livid. I was fucking pissed. And tired. Really, really, really tired.
I took the key, the puppies, Beau, Tess, and my dad to the house. We let them run around the backyard and put some food in their bellies. Dylan finally showed up with the air mattress and towels and shower stuff. I looked at Beau. She’s white, but her skin has black spots. It looked like her spots were moving…. The backyard was INFESTED with fleas. I have terrible PTSD that is triggered by bugs. We were laying on the floor in our bedroom, so our bedroom was now infested with fleas. It was pretty much my worst nightmare. It was the exact opposite of the thing I needed that night. I didn’t get to sleep until 3:00 am. The puppies woke me up at 6:00. It was a hellish day.
Dylan and I ended up having a very long conversation, and he apologized for his stupidity. We’re fine now, but I was very upset. He was dealing with his anxiety and depression. He’s not just a lazy, good-for-nothing fuck noodle; he’s got his issues. Between COVID and all that went wrong with the house, we were both basket cases. It was a hard three months for everyone. But it was not the happy closing day where we left all the bad shit behind us that I had hoped for.
We have spent the first month living in our house dealing with life. COVID has made things difficult. I am the kind of person who likes to be unpacked immediately. That didn’t happen here. We’ve had basic life things to deal with like vet check ups, health issues, buying necessary owning-your-first-home items, catching up on sleep because I went without for three months, getting the dogs and puppies acclimated to their new life, and more. A week after moving into the house, four puppies went to their furever homes. The next week, two more went to their furever homes. Two weeks after moving in, we found out one of our A/C units and the furnace needs to be replaced. Three weeks after moving in, the water heater went out. We didn’t have a washer or dryer for the first three and a half weeks, which was terrible because I have a gazillion puppies that make a lot of laundry. We spent three weeks deinfesting the backyard and house of fleas, which we are now flea free. The plumbing had some issues, which cost more money. We need new windows because well yikes. Nothing has been painted, and it desperately needs paint because it’s this horrible purply-gray-taupe color with terrible stenciling. It has been a VERY expensive month. There are still boxes everywhere. The bed isn’t on it’s bed frame. The house is a mess. But we’re not homeless! We love our house and what it will be. The neighborhood is great. Life is starting to get into a new rhythm of normal.
Our family consists of Dylan, Beau, Tess, Makeda, Knight, Bear, Duke, and I. We were only going to keep three puppies, but no one wanted Duke. Which makes me so sad because he is the sweetest little cartoon of a puppy. He has a serious overbite that will take some money and work to make him better and let him live a full and happy life. We love him very, very much.
We took family pictures in front of our house a few weeks ago. All the puppies (except Duke because we didn’t know he was ours at that point), Beau, Tess, Dylan, and I in our rainbow PRIDE outfits, flying our rainbow flag and our Marine flag. We are a military family. We also believe in inclusivity and living your truth. We are a family full of disabilities. Our home is welcoming to all. We accept everyone as they are. Rescues, strays, pregnant mothers, and everything in between. Humans are welcome too. Our home will always be open and loving. It has been a journey getting here. It was hard and stressful. There were a lot of tears and fights, but we made it. Five months ago, we had one dog and lived in an apartment.
Today, we have a house with a big yard that we bought for our SIX dogs.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Making our own Pride Parade.Getting these pictures was a feat.We were full of Pride. | Dress | Tutus | Bow Ties | Shoes | Belt
Happy Pride Month!
It hasn’t felt like Pride because of everything else going on in the world. BLM, protests, COVID, and more have been dominating the conversation, which is not a bad thing. I’m thrilled BLM is starting to pick up some serious steam and gaining mainstream attention. Black Lives DO Matter.
The beautiful thing about Pride: it was founded in protest. It is a community of protest. The Pride community has not been up in arms about the lack of visibility this month. We’re fighting for lives. It is a fight the LGBTQIA+ community is all too familiar with. They have and continue to fight for their own lives. Trans lives continue to be questioned, negated, and criminalized. LGBTQIA+ children are still ostracized and renounced by their families. They are at higher risks of suicide, self harm, and violence. To be LGBTQIA+ is still seen as being “other” instead of “human.” The Pride community fights for visibility, legitimacy, rights, and more the same way BLM is. Being LGBTQIA+ does not discriminate based on gender or race or religion or socio-economic status. It is a rainbow community made up of everyone.
Pride matters to me for the same reason Black lives matter to me and Trans lives matter to me and every other life matters to me. Human rights matter to me. I identify as a feminist, but in reality, I am a humanist. I practice intersectional feminism because the work will not be done until everyone has the same rights and recognition as everyone else. People are different. We’re not the same. Our stories and experiences are as varied as our identities. That’s what is beautiful about the world we live in: no one is me, and no one is you.
I haven’t considered myself straight in years; I would call myself pansexual. I have always dated men, but if I were ever single again, I would date people based on who they are not their gender identity. My sexuality is nondiscriminating; I am more interested in the person than the parts they have. This is not my coming out. I’ve never felt the need to do it. Since my early twenties, I’ve been pretty aware and open about my sexual identity. When people call me straight, I disagree. I’m not straight even though that’s what I look like. I’m not hiding, but I’m not going to pretend I’m anywhere near Kinsey-Zero-Straight. Why I’ve never dated a woman: That’s a longer story.
My life and any area I reside – whether it be my physical existence or my virtual one – will accept everyone no matter gender, sexual orientation, race, ethnicity, socio-economic background, religion, and anything else I’ve forgotten. I will even accept differences of opinions, political backgrounds, and more. I do not accept hate, intolerance, ignorance, and lack of compassion or willingness to listen.
COVID has affected so much. It has definitely put a damper on Pride. In Houston, the Pride Parade was canceled, as I’m sure it was elsewhere too. I was really excited to go this year because I was going to load all my puppies up in a wagon with their Pride gear on. We’ll all be out there next year in our rainbow extravaganza. We need to work on leash training before that happens; luckily, I have a year.
I believe in love. I believe in people. I will fight for everyone’s rights whether I belong to the group or not. I am an intersectional feminst, and every single person deserves to be seen, accepted, and affirmed for who they are. We must stand beside one another and fight for equality together, or nothing will change. Whether it be the BLM protests or a Pride parade or the Women’s March or really any other group fighting for their lives and their right to exist in peace, support in any way you can. Educate yourself. Stand up for others. March. Protest. Write. Sing. Talk. Volunteer. Vote. Show up. Open yourself up to new friendships and connections. Whatever works for you.
Do not be complacent. Do not stay silent. Silence kills.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Right now is a shitty, shitty time. Between COVID-19 and people fucking finally waking up to systemic racism. Alright, life is always shitty, and nothing about systemic racism is new, but COVID is making the world a worse place. I haven’t been writing about social justice lately because I’ve been writing about it heavily for years, and I’m happy BIPOC voices are getting the attention they deserve. I will start writing about it again, and I will definitely toss my two cents out there soon. But right now, I’m gonna focus on eleven things that bring me joy.
My dogs. I love my dogs more than anything else in the whole world. Now that the puppies are to an age where they can snuggle on the couch with me, Tess, and Beau makes me very happy.
Carousels. On my 23rd birthday, I went to six flags with my bestest friend. She doesn’t love carousels. I get it: they’re slow, boring, and made for children. I LOVE THEM. They make me so happy. I can’t wait til COVID becomes less of a threat, so I can ride one again.
Tea. It brings me so much joy. I drink it all the time. If I’m at home, there’s an 87% chance I have a cup of tea in my hand. The other 13% of the time, I’m waiting for the water to boil.
Traveling. I haven’t traveled in four months, which is the longest I have been in one place in years. I can’t wait to hop on the road or board a plane again. I’m not sure when it will happen, but I’m looking forward to it.
High heels. I love a pretty pair of heels. I don’t wear them as much anymore because I work from home and rarely put on pants. I wear them as often as I can, which is not often, but I love them.
Ice cream cones. I love a good soft serve ice cream cone. It’s so good. It makes me so happy. Honestly, I could go for one right now. They make the bad days good and the good days better.
Not wearing pants. Going home and taking my pants off is the best feeling. If I don’t leave the house, I don’t put on pants.
Lazy days. I hate not being productive, but sometimes, laying on the couch doing absolutely nothing is just the best. It really calms the soul and gives me extra time to love on my dogs.
Pastries and fresh bread. These go hand-in-hand because pastry shops almost always have fresh bread. Living in France, I had fresh bread and pastries every day. It’s amazing I didn’t gain a gazillion pounds.
Rainy days. Houston is in a drought right now, so I miss reading and working hearing the rain. It is such a calming thing for me. I thrive in rainy weather. (The dogs do not share the same affinity for rainy days. If I had to poop in the rain, I doubt I would either.)
Music. I love music. It’s been a huge part of my life forever. I love creating, well making, music – I’m a crap composer – and listening to it. Music is an integral part of my life. It is always on.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Enjoying downtown Houston last summer when I had significantly less dogs and far more time and no COVID in my life. | Dress | Watch | Earrings |
The last three and a half months have been crazy chaotic for everyone around the world. You’ve probably noticed the hoard of puppies in my Instagram stories or the pictures or the posts I’ve managed to produce. COVID and quarantine have definitely had a serious impact on my life, but the puppies have had a far bigger impact. Working from home, my quotidien life didn’t change drastically because of quarantine, but it did change because of the swarm, which is what we came to call the thirteen puppies. I love them, but I have missed out on a whole lot of things because of them. 1000% worth it, though.
Sleep. I have missed sleep. What is it? I don’t even know anymore. They are sleeping through the night, so I’m getting more than two non-consecutive hours now. I am playing catch up.
Beau. Because I was living at my best friend’s house and then in Iowa, I went two months without seeing Beau. It hurt my heart, and I know it hurt her feelings because I disappeared with a gazillion dogs for EVER. Luckily, I’ve been back in Houston for two weeks, and Beau and I have been snuggling like crazy trying to catch up.
Going Out. Even if COVID hadn’t shut down the world, I wouldn’t have been able to go out and enjoy the world. I feel like I’ve been so detached from everything because the puppies have kept me occupied and preoccupied.
Showers. I haven’t had tons and tons of time for showers, and even if I did, I’m not completely sure how useful they would be. The moment I get out of the shower, I tend to find poop or pee or throw up or most usually a combination of all three. It’s hard to convince myself to shower when I’m just going to be gross ten minutes later. Might as well stay gross.
Reading. I have not had time to read because my time is spoken for. I’m about a gazillion books behind schedule. Woops.
Looking Like A Human. I’m certain I look like an exhausted, chubby alien version of myself. Eating well went right out the window because I haven’t had the time to cook, let alone grocery shop. I’ve definitely put on some softer edges and some wrinkles.
Water. Honestly. I’m so dehydrated. I keep forgetting to drink water because… Well, I’m not good at it to begin with, so when I’m uber busy, hydration just doesn’t happen.
Knowing What’s Going On. Whether it be what’s going on in the world or what’s going on with my best friend, I honestly have no fucking idea. I’m not even on social media right now. This is the first blog post in a month! I found out about George Floyd because my best friend texted me (I did take time out to protest because that is FUCKING IMPORTANT, and social justice is a huge part of …on the B.L., so I can’t not march.) I love my friends, but seriously, I hardly talk to them.
Money. I’ve been spending it like it grows on trees because these puppies have been ridiculously expensive because the number of them and they’ve also had some super fun rare medical problems, but they’re healthy now. Also I’ve not had much money coming in because COVID has slowed everything down. I so poor.
…on the B.L. Hello. I haven’t written or posted anything in weeks and weeks. It’s hard to motivate myself to do anything with the very little free time I have when I’m exhausted. So here I am, finally posting something. Woo!
Houston. I’ve missed Houston. I was gone for a month, but even when I’ve been here I can’t even enjoy the outdoorsy things this great city has to offer because I’ve been momming it up. Oh well. Maybe soon.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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