happy halloween!

Don't let the pumpkin fool you. We'll again be hiding out in the basement on Halloween. I have a hard time sharing candy with others.
p.s. Vegas says, "Boof!"

gweny gwen gwen

I knew Gwen Stefani was amazing, but she has now surpassed even herself. The woman has managed to work the puppet show song from The Sound of Music into "Wind it Up" ("High on the hill with a lonely goat..."). And she yodels. And she has a new line of Gwen dolls coming out. And those abs. All hail Queen Gwen.

breakfast in bed

It really was more like an early dinner, but, nevertheless, Vegas got the royal treatment last night. After her customary post-walk nap yesterday morning, she starting limping and looking morose. Last night, she was trying to walk on three legs like her dog pal down the street. It was really sad. So, after kicking her off the couch (Matt would have killed her) and lifting her into bed, I gave her treats and fed her out of my hand. And that, my friend, is how you know your dog has you in her pocket. While your dinner is burning in the kitchen, you give her your pillow and unload the treats.

the first snow

what time is it?

Well, it's no longer Flava Flav's time. Yes, sad to say, but The Flavor of Love 2 is officially over. Just when I thought my life was kind of dysfunctional and lame, I turned to my Tivo for a little dose of psycho New York, bumpy Delicious, and Mr. Flav himself. I couldn't help myself. And when New York got dumped and went on an f-bomb, thong baring spree, I had to laugh. Nothing like a little reality TV to boost the old self esteem.

welcome home tivo

Thanks to Mom and Dad Breitzmann and some well-deserved credit card reward points, I was able to finally attain every busy TV watcher’s dream: a shiny new Tivo. My friend, Andrea, has flaunted hers for a while, and Miranda on Sex and the City practically had a serious relationship with hers, so I figured it was high time I join their crowd. Now I hold the power to fast forward through Rachel Ray’s repeated blabberings of “yummo” and pause for Vegas’s bathroom breaks. And did I mention that the little Tivo guy is just so cute? He hops around and you just want to…man. I must be lonely. I’m making friends with an icon. Sad.

what goes bump in the night

Now, I'd like to preface with stating that I am not mean to Vegas. I treat her better than I treat myself. You saw the birthday picture. I got up really early to make that PB toast, and I sang "Happy Birthday" to her about ten times that day. So, it's like 3 this morning. We're dead asleep. All of a sudden, I hear this loud thud. I sit up, expecting to find Vegas on alert as well. Except she's not there. I peer over the side of the bed, and she's lying there, staring up at me looking completely confused. She had fallen off the bed. Now that's funny. She was not hurt, but it did take a good half-hour before she'd get back up on the bed again.

the art of poaching (eggs)

The other day I found myself bored. Yes, even with digital cable, there is often nothing on. Unable to peel myself out of my chair, I resorted to watching Martha poach eggs. Now I have never poached an egg before, so I actually found it interesting. She made two perfectly poached eggs, trimmed them up, and set them on the heel of the bread to dry off. How cute and seemingly easy, I thought! Wrong. I tried last night. The first egg instantly separated into a white cloud (picture egg drop soup). I was obviously too rough. I tried again more gently. This time I did achieve a somewhat solid shape with much fewer egg wisps floating around. I took it out and eagerly tried a bit. Ugh. It tasted like fish. Maybe it's because they're the eggs with extra omega in them. Maybe it's just the poaching thing. Either way, I think I'll stick to letting someone else cook my eggs.

happy birthday to veg

we was robbed

Suzanne did not realize she was being prophetic when she commented on our clean, relatively empty garage on Saturday. As of last night, our garage is even less cluttered. We're not sure if we left the garage door open or if someone broke in, but when I went out to the garage at 5, the door was wide open. The good thing is that we're fine, our cars are fine, blah blah blah. The bad thing? Now I have to rake! The thug stole our brand new, still-in-the-box blower/mulcher/vac. Dang! They also took Matt's prize ratchet set that I spent an entire Hardware Hank paycheck on back in high school. :(

heidi klum stole my saturday

Prior to Saturday, I had no opinion of super-über (she's super super) model Heidi Klum. I now love her. And hate her. She has stolen my free time with her horribly addicting show Project Runway. I watched it for the first time on Saturday...and sat through four-six (I lost count) hours of it. Do I really care whether Kayne is over the top or Michael has great presentation skills or Uli makes great use of prints? I obviously do since I couldn't get up to do a thing.

all about matt

Matt is now quite the roofing pro. The roof might not look quite as pretty as it once did, but it is officially patched.

He also had a softball breakthrough. He safely slid twice on Sunday. And the guys were proud of him for finally getting his new pants dirty.

He was obsessed with getting recliners but never ever sits in them. He occasionally sleeps in one of them, but whenever I'm awake, I steal the one with the "optimal TV view" as Matt says.

the lovely forecast

So, of course, we have a roof to fix, and this is what we have to work with.

da roof...da roof...da roof is, well, crap

What, you ask, is Matt doing on our roof? Yesterday our neighbor pointed out to us that a bunch of our shingles were falling off. Grrrrreat. Just what I wanted to hear. When we bought the house a year ago, one of the selling points was the "New tear-off roof in 1999". It sounded good at the time. Roofs are generally meant to last more than seven years after all. Evidently, not ours. Once Matt got up on our roof and held on for dear life, he discovered that entire rows of shingles just slid out from under him. Yes! Just what I was hoping. I love spending half the day at Menards and the other half throwing stuff up to Matt on the roof. He managed to not break any bones and get the job half done before leaving for softball. I can't wait until tomorrow night.

vegas's secret admirer

It was only a matter of time before Vegas snagged herself a boy/girlfriend. Today, Matt found a plastic bag hanging on our fence. Instead of the trash he expected to find inside, he discovered a fresh canister of tennis balls and a teething dog bone for Vegas. How sweet. It appears that our little girl has wooed some neighbor into buying her treats. Her sugar daddy remains annonymous. Maybe we'll catch them in the act next time.

thank you nfl

You might be aware of a little NFL schedule change this year that landed Monday Night Football on ESPN. Since we don't have cable, that leaves us SOL. I'm one of the cable holdouts that refuses to pay $50-60 per month for that which I consider an inalienable right.

Matt forced me to change my mind. When learning of the many lonely Monday nights he would spend without football, he demanded cable. "Damn it. I am a salaried professional. I can afford cable TV."

So, we dished out the cash for cable. Not regular old cable, however. I'm talking digital cable with the fancy remote (I want to mention here that the remote is used, like a hotel remote, and you know what you can find on those...I promptly Mr. Cleaned it) and receiver. I have never had so many channels, so many options to sit on my butt and load on the cellulite. Tonight, I watched the end of The Breakfast Club; saw Alton Brown cook up scallops three different ways; witnessed a light fixture being made out of contact paper; and am currently watching a tied Twins' game. I know I will regret this decision sometime soon, but for now, I'm going to focus on figuring out just what the hell is the appeal of Laguna Beach.

birthday cake ban

Damn birthday cake. It got me again. I devoured this one in five days flat. Pretty impressive, huh? Cake might as well be crack to me because I seriously can't stop. I don't even cut a piece and put it on a plate. I open the box and slowly cut off sliver after sliver, eating right off the knife, until an entire row is gone. It's quite pathetic. Because I lack all self-control, I have decided to ban my favorite food from the house altogether. Cupcakes are still allowed however. How can something so little be bad for me?

Don't answer that.

wifely advice

Never buy your husband a recliner...he will soon forget how to get out of it.

massive head cold maureen

Do any of you remember that sketch on SNL, Massive Head Wound Harry? Dana Carvey played this guy who went over to his friends’ house with this huge gash in his head. His friends are like, “Hey, Harry. How are ya?” Harry’s like, “Well, fine, other than the, you know, massive head wound I have.” And then, as if Harry’s life just could not get worse, his friends’ dog starts chewing on his wound. It doesn’t just nibble either--it really goes for it. It’s a super gross sketch, but since I saw it 15-ish years ago, I have never forgotten it. How does it relate to my cold you ask? It doesn’t. But doesn’t “Massive Head Cold Maureen” sound funny? I thought so too.

it's matt's 26th birthday..."and that's sexual"

Oh, Mr. Breitzmann has turned the corner to 30. To avoid sounding old, he repeated continuously, "I'm still mid twenties." To avoid feeling old, he went up to Soup for a little golf and liquor.

the fam

matt hitting his amazingly long drive on 4

sarah getting her crane machine fix

amy & scott

after a few vodka red bull's, matt does a mean "buffalo soldier"