No Longer A Puppy

It's said about Bernese Mountain Dogs: 3 years a puppy, 3 years a good dog, 3 years an old dog.

Today, Toby is leaving his puppy years and entering his good dog years. Although, I won't necessarily believe this until I see it. I assume good dogs don't bark at walls or eat my lunch off of the counter, so I'm hoping the above statement holds true.

Time to take a look back on Tobias Guy Head's third year:

He again spent his summer on the air conditioning vents.



And found time to help us brew beer in the fall.



He endured 3 surgeries to repair his ACL.



And always had his brudder there to watch over his recovery.



He enjoyed many walks once he was better.



And cheered me on in my runs.



He worked on his impulse control.



And enjoyed playing with his cousin Jackson.



He ate his weight in snow when winter came.



But also enjoyed eating treats with his brudder.



He also enjoyed my foray into homemade dog biscuits.



He celebrated his birthday with a new toy.



Then experienced his first professional grooming and posed with his brudder.



Something tells me he'll be keeping his puppy attitude for many years to come.

Sorry, He's Taken

Last night, I went up to bed at my normal bedtime of 9 pm. Because cool kids go to bed when the sun is still shining.

I turned on the TV and couldn't find anything on our 6 channels worth watching, but somehow ended up on the Bachelorette and watched boys get out of limos and try to make a good first impression on the lady.

It took everything I had not to vomit from the cheese and cornball antics.

When Andy came into the room, I explained what I had seen.

A: Really? No. They didn't do that.

J: Yes! Seriously, if I were that girl and half of those guys did that, I wouldn't be able to fake my interest. I'd just tell them to go home immediately.

A: If I were one of the guys, I'd get out of the car, shotgun a beer, throw the can at your feet, slap my ass and say "You know who I am."

Good thing I snatched him up before he could make his reality show debut.

Sweeter Than Ever

Uno.

Dos.

And today makes Tres.








"Because I really love you
You know that I'm thankful that you love me too
Can't you see that I've built my world around you
And I'm truly glad I found you
Because loving you
Has made my life sweeter than ever"

Running Doesn't Make Sense

I set out to run the 5/3 Riverbank Run 25K on Saturday morning. We've done the event in the past and I've enjoyed myself and things went great for the first 3 months of training. Then in the last week, I pulled my quad at tennis, fought off an awful headcold and was unable to run the entire week before the event due to the injured quadricep.

I felt good on Saturday morning, so I decided to go for it.

Bad decision, me.

It was painful. Well, the first 8 miles or so were super duper but the last 3 were the most pain I've ever experienced during an athletic endeavor.

So, naturally, I had the following conversation with Andy on the drive home from the race.

"I don't think I've ever had good luck for a long distance race. I should just not do them any more. I don't even really like running more than 10 miles. I think I'm just going to do 10K's and 5K's from now on."

Literally, 20 seconds of silence passed.

"I think I'm going to see if there's a half marathon or something I can run in the next couple of weeks so all of that training doesn't go to waste."

One half of me (the legs half probably) hates distance running. The other half of me loves it.

3 days after the event, I'm still walking like an 80 year-old and it takes me about 3 minutes of grimacing to get from a seated position to a standing position.

And this morning I signed up for a half-marathon.

Running doesn't make sense.

Like Christmas Morning

As a kid, on Christmas morning, my brother and I weren't allowed to go downstairs until a certain time.

So, we would wake up and sit at the top of the stairs, waiting for Mom and Dad to give us the okay to come down.

I am reminded of this every day due to da brudders.

When I get home, they know I hang up my coat and put my shoes in the closet and then go upstairs to change into my play clothes.

Since the brudders know what's coming, they go up the stairs and wait.











So basically I will conclude that every day is like Christmas in this house for da brudders.

Nawlins Ramblin's

A few weeks ago we were drinking with friends and decided we needed to go to New Orleans.

Drinking always leads to the best ideas.

So Easter weekend we left chilly Michigan for sunny and humid Louisiana.

I'd like to tell you that we visited historical sites and learned interesting facts and classy sh*t like that.

But, uh, no.

We ate.

And we drank.

And we had a flippin' awesome time.

Check out the magic trick we did with this crawfish, shrimp and andouille sausage boil.

Now you see it:



Now you don't!



It magically GOT IN MAHH BELLY!

We visited the Abita brewery. Which WAS magical in that the FREE tour included all of the FREE beer you suckle out of the open taps.



The Turbodog and the Andygator were my top picks from Abita. I want to buy Andy a T-shirt with a gator ripping out of it so he can be an Andygator too.



Poh-boys from Mother's which we polished off with some Bananas Foster from The Palace Cafe. This served as carbo-loading for the Crescent City Classic 10K run.

Yes, we actually did something healthy like running. Except, since this was a New Orleans race they served you beer along the race course (Andy drank one) and at the finish line festival we once again had all of the FREE Abita beer you could drink. This beer is actually good, so I'm not sure why they keep giving it away, but I'll keep taking it. There was also all you can eat jambalaya and red beans and rice at the finish line party and I took some of that as well.



Clearly we still had to keep refueling (you burn 85,000 calories during a 10K right?)so we stopped at Cafe du Monde for cafe au lait and beignets. Beignets are really just the fancy person's Elephant Ear, but fried dough is fried dough and it was delicious.

We went on a ghost tour in the evening which seemed to be less about ghosts and more about a lot of crazy murdering people that lived in that town.



The next morning we stopped by Peirre Maspero's where Bloody Mary's were enjoyed with . . .



Mufalettas. Which I think is French for "Holy S that's a lot of meat." (that's what she said)

Then an Easter parade happened.









Before the parade started, we were all sad and our necks were bare.



The parade helped remedy that situation.



Even doggies got beads.



Then we decided to do historical the fun way.





Riding in a mule-pulled carriage while some sweet old man told us about NO history. Enjoyed with beers purchased from the liquor store. Did you need further proof that New Orleans is awesome? They give you plastic cups when you buy beer at the liquor store so you can walk freely in and out of bars. You should pretty much feel naked in this city if you're walking around without a drink in your hand.

Then a Gay Easter Parade came by:



During the parade, I think I got maybe 4 beads. Andy got about 40. Those gay men obviously have really good taste in men.

Then we went to Pat O'Briens, a piano bar known for their Hurricanes.



We ended the night with some Oysters at Landry's. Andy and I got up early the next morning to stroll down the Riverwalk, take some pictures, and stuff some more beneigts down our throats.







We sadly returned back to the cold of Michigan with a few souvenirs from our trip. A pint glass and a T-shirt from Abita. Some Mardi Gras beads. A Christmas ornament of a black Santa Claus riding an alligator. And about 10 pounds of additional fat distributed about our bodies.

Now I just need to go out drinking again with friends so that we can plan our next fattening amazing getaway.