In or Out?

We aren't just talking about belly buttons.  If you have children, I'm sure you say this all day, every day, multiple times per 20 minute increments.  Except I don't have children.  Well, I kinda do.  My dogs....and they understand the concept of "In or out?"  better than most children.  They know exactly what it means act accordingly, most of the time.

I have this exact discussion with my dogs every. single. day.  "In or out?"  It generally only pertains to being in the bedroom or the bathroom.  Every day when I go to take my shower, they both stand at the door and paw at it when it's shut.  I normally keep it open but since we have had company, it's not really appropriate for me to shower with said door open.  I open it and say the magic words "In or out?  Your choice but you can only make one."

Henry normally looks at me with a sense of understanding and without saying a word he gets his message across.  "I don't want to be in there but I'll be on the other side of the door.  I really just don't like being in there with Hannah, she bites my face, tugs on my ears and I really just don't like being pestered by her.  I'll just lay by the door with my paws underneath so you can see I'm still looking out for you just in case you fall or get attacked by something."  So he lays down waiting for me to shut the door so he can put one paw under.  It's sweet and loving.

Hannah does just the opposite.  "In, out, in, out, in out.  OH MY GOD MOM, WHAT SHOULD I DO?  I CAN'T HANDLE THE STRESS OF NOT BEING IN THERE BUT YOU NEVER LET ME ACTUALLY GET IN THE SHOWER WITH YOU SO THERE REALLY ISN'T A POINT!  WHY MUST YOU PUT ME ON THE SPOT LIKE THIS? MAAAAAAAAAAMMM"

Lately it's been "Wait, I know this.  I know the answer finally.  Mom, I got this.  I know things now because I'm older and wiser and stuff like that.  In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out BATHTUB!  Right?!  Bathtub is a choice?  It was on the list.  I'll just sit here.  It's okay.  Bathtub it is.  BATHTUB!  Final answer."

Today she found the "other dog I hide in the mirror" while she was exiting the bathtub.  She ran around barking and acting a fool with her hackles up, from room to room, howling.  Things finally settled and I was able to shower...but I forgot to shut the door so I had some shower guests...knocking ever item on the side of the tub down.  It gives new meaning to "Don't drop the soap,"  because picking up said soaps leads to a cold nose somewhere and it's just an awkward situation for all of us.

This is my life. This crazy chaos is mine and I love it.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

The Trials & Tribulations of Being a Natural Blonde

"But Rachele, your hair is so dark!"

Yes, yes it is.  And I have taken great lengths to keep it that way.  I was born with white hair...well, that's not true, I was born bald, black and blue...an ugly baby of sorts and now that I have two other siblings to compare to, I definitely win The Ugliest Baby contest.  Anyways, as my age progressed, my color darkened to some awkward blondish-brownish-you-wouldn't-wash-your-dishes-in-it blonde.    I haven't seen my natural hair color since I was 12.  *Gasp!*  I still see it when my hair grows out and I even had a doctor who had just looked from my lady bits, look up from down below and say "Oh wow, I really like how your hair is super light and blondish up top and then medium brownish and really dark at the bottom. Black almost.  I just noticed it."  Yep, that really happened. 

For the past two days, I have been trying to call my husband.  "Call him what?"  Well, you're hilarious but I have been trying to reach him on his cell phone.  Every time I dialed him, I would get the same message... "We're sorry, the subscriber you are trying to reach does not accept incoming calls."  Today I was in dire need of getting a hold of him, I texted, I called..."We're sorry, the subscriber you are trying to reach does not accept incoming calls."  

Seriously?  So I alternated calling the home phone and his cell phone about 10 times.

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring....hang up.

"We're sorry...."

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring...hang up.

"We're sorry..."

"Oh yeah you're sorry?  You're gonna be sorry when I find out what's going on you little asshole of a recording, them is fighting words biatch.  You're gonna be in pieces, I'm going to rip your SD card out so hard you're not going to know what day of the week it is biatch..."  

So I text my girlfriend to call Zach to see if I'm the ONLY one with this problem....which I am. 

Ring ring ring...."Hello?"

"Goddamnit Zachary Tri-Rob Riley if you don't get your phone fixed or unblock me, I'm going to lose my shit.  I've been trying to get a hold of you all ghatdamn day and it keeps saying that stupid mother loving saying about how sorry they are that you don't accept incoming calls ghatdamnnit.  I'm getting very angry."

"Baby, I can see that. Well, I have had two phone calls since I have been on the phone with you, they've both gone through...you're the only one who can't seem to get a hold of me."

So naturally, I tell him he needs to delve deeper into the situation and take it to be fixed.  

You should probably sing this part ->"Do do do do dooo doing some work yeah, like working and making people drunk, yeah because it's my favorite yeaaaaah." (You know, to get the whole effect of me being at work)

Then Zach texts me and asks me to call his phone.  I call it..."We're sorry..."   ASL:JDFGJKWGEL:JSFWER#@$^$#%!!!! - Hang up and noticed something peculiar about the last four digits of his number.

That's when I realized....I've been dialing his number from the states.  Somehow the numbers got switched around (probably being in my purse because Lord knows I have purse dialed many a person).

Call Zach.  "Hooray, babe!  I'm at the phone place right now, did we fix it?"

"More like I'm an idiot...I may or may not have been dialing a number that is no longer in service since we got here that is of the Texas nature...may or may not....maaaaayyyyy or may not."

"Seriously?  I'm standing here at the phone place asking them to fix it because you can't control your own phone?"

"It's not my fault." - Which is basically my favorite thing to say when I know it's my fault because it makes me sound good.

Sometimes I wonder why he married me.  And then I remember it's because of moments like this, I try to keep things interesting around here and I think I do a pretty damn good job of it.

Xoxo

Riley Writes

Welp, here goes nothin!

I go in for my fancy pants sleep study tonight!  Woohoo!

...not really.  I'm not excited about anything except for sleeping in a Tempurpedic bed which is completely understandable because I get to be hooked up to a bunch of crap and have to ask for permission to pee and I get to be on camera all night long being watched while I sleep.  It's like 50 Shades Of Gray and Twilight  without all the good stuff.  I mean...ahem...cough cough, I did not read any of all of those books.  Oh my!

Anyways, hopefully the husband can get some sleep tonight. He's been such a trooper in talking me down when I'm being all sleep crazy.  For instance, this morning, I woke up on his side of the bed.  I never sleep on his side of the bed, that's why it's his.  When I inquired about it, he said "I dunno, you woke me up and orchestrated this whole big move where you rolled over me and I rolled underneath you because you wanted to sleep on my side of the bed.   You never do that, in fact, you haven't slept on my side since we left Pensacola."

Then I was all  "What was my reasoning?" and "Whew, well at least I wasn't sleepwalking/talking."

"Nope, you pretty much did that too.  You didn't have any reasoning, just insisting to sleep on my side.  Then you got out of bed and was looking around the nightstand for the light and the door saying that 'We are stuck.'  I kept telling you the light is on the fan where it always is."

That's when I came to and crawled back into bed I think.  I really am curious what goes on in my brain at night.  Hopefully this will give me some answers maybe?  At any rate, at least that rockstar husband of mine can sleep without being assaulted in his slumbers.  He really is a trooper and I should be more understanding when he snores once every two weeks.  I'm crazy all of the time and he still puts up with it.

If you're even the least bit curious about this whole thing, you can check back tomorrow and I'll have pictures and junk.

Xoxo
Riley Writes.

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News

I gotta bad caaaase of loooovvvvin yoooouuu!

Okay, maybe I don't have a bad case of loving you because my love for you is like summer rain during a drought.  Too much?

So for those of you who don't know me (which I'm sure you do because basically the only people that read this blog as of right now are family, friends and Facebook friends)...anyways, for those of you who don't know me, I recently started working about three months ago in this amazing little bar with a breathtaking view.  The people I work for are extremely nice and very accommodating, the food is awesome, my coworkers are fun loving.  It's everything I could ever ask for in a job.

Except for one thing.  It's in a shipping container.

"Oh, that's really brilliant!"  "How does that work?"  "That sounds really neat, Rach!"

Yes, yes it does and it's brilliant because it just is.  Unless you've been claustrophobic your whole life.  *Slowly and sheepishly raises hand*   Hello, I'm Rachele.  I'm claustrophobic and my job gives me nightmares/night terrors.

Awesome right?  A few nights a week, I have terrible nightmares that almost always involve hanging out in a shipping container with Zach, then somehow Zach manages to escape while the doors are being shut and and I'm left in this small shipping container screaming while no one can hear me.  I frantically bang on the door, clawing, hoping for someone to see my finger.  This is where it gets fun because generally, by this point in my dream, Zach is trying wake me up while I'm flailing around and sometimes yelling.

This isn't new news.  I've always done this sort of thing however, I haven't always been doing it once or twice a week.  This is new and it's weird.  Sometimes I get up and try to escape from my bedroom, sometimes I talk to Zach and other times, I'm just yelling, asking to be let go or let out.  It's a little terrifying at times.

I mentioned this to my endocrinologist and she wants to get me into a sleep study and my primary care provider (Regular Doctor) wants to send me to a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist (Doctor who I can't pronounce her name).  Oh, big words, you don't know what that means?  Me either.

Basically, he (regular doctor) said this therapy will help me get over my severe fears of being enclosed in a small confined space among the other things I fear (maybe snakes).  I have no clue what this entails.  I'm kinda hoping for some hypnotherapy and things of that nature because A.  I have never done it before and B.  Maybe I can use it for material for the book I'd like to write.  Which is completely narcissistic because to write, you have to assume that other people want to read your crap....(I can't decide if I should tell you fine people about the grey hair I found or save it for a book entry, I have a feeling it will be comical, but maybe not appropriate.  But what is appropriate anyways?)...I digress!

I hope this will also help with my elevator issues.  Not too many people know, if any at all that I have small panic attacks while I'm in an elevator.  I grip the hand rail until my knuckles are white and I have to focus on my breathing or else I end up imagining the elevator cables snapping and free falling until my femurs are up into my brain.  Think about THAT the next time you're in an elevator, ehh...ehhh?  That's how I feel about every time I get in one.

Anyways so this week will be filled with lots of new and exciting adventures in slumberland which I am hoping to share with you all.  I have my very first sleep study tomorrow night to see what exactly I do in my sleep (I.E Have terrible dreams and smack my husband around while yelling at nothing or sleep talk and carry on conversations of no literal importance).  On top of that, I will have my first appointment with the Doctor who's name I can't pronounce who works odd hours (She literally works from 6 pm to 9 pm Mon-Fri) to help me get over my ridiculous fears and maybe make it so I don't accidentally smother my husband in my sleep (Which would be bad from what I have heard).

I plan on blogging my experiences, tentatively.  So keep your eyes peeled and out of elevators!

Xoxo
Riley Writes

That's funny...those new shoes look exactly like your dogs.

Henry and Hannah seem to be a staple in my various postings and rants.  For a good reason too, they are trouble makers.   Lately, they have been giving me ample reason to write about them.

For example:

Every time we go to leave the dog park, Henry has to eat the long grass on the way out.  I don't mind that he eats it because it's good for his belly however, he decides to eat it as we are walking to the car, prolonging our stay.  It's not even regular grass, it's growing up and through the mesh so he awkwardly tries to tilt his head which WILL NOT fit so he can eat that blade of grass that looks identical to the ones that are easier to get to.

Hannah has been acting like an asshole, picking fights with Henry and a blind/deaf dog at the dog park who just wanted to play with her because she thought he was going after her tennis ball.  She's obsessive about fetch and "Ohhh gurl don't nobody tryin a get wit my tennis ball or frisbee, okay?" Who does that?  She literally will play fetch until she can't run anymore.  Then she doesn't run, she walks.  And then she walks until she cries when she's panting because she's so tired yet she really wants you to throw that ball again.  It makes it look like puppy abuse.


My Christmas gift from my husband, a memory foam mattress topper.  Duration:  One week to the day.  Yes, they pulled the sheets up and kicked all the blankets back to the bed.  And yes, they both ran into their kennels as soon as I walked in the room.  I would too had I been them because this is when I wanted to turn them into shoes.  But instead I hung my head, and cleaned up the mess.

"Oh hey mom, remember how you went to the movies for one night without us?  How bout these apples? Sleep well tonight motha truckahs."

Obviously they can't be left attended with the bedroom door open.



Henry has a pillow he loves to chew on.  He will sniff it, then chew on it no matter how many times he gets yelled at.  Then he pretends he did nothing wrong as the feathers are coming out of his mouth.  Sometimes he will lay on the couch and nudge it around before he starts chewing, other times he'll just walk by and try to bite at it...all acting like no one notices.



They also are completely NOT supposed to be on the couch.  However, I know when to wave the white flag.

That's the pillow.  In fact, as I'm writing this, he just got yelled at for chewing on said pillow.

"What couch, Mom?"

"It's not what it looks like....we weren't on the couch we were just uhhh....But Dad said we could!"

"Are you going to eat that? Because that really looks delicious, Mom.  Sorry about the drool on your leg but seriously, are you going to finish that?  Puhleeeease can we have some?  You may not know this but we haven't eaten in weeks!"  You know what I'm talking about.  The face smooshed wherever it can "fit", staring at you, begging for food.


They also have been burping A LOT lately.  I have never met dogs that actually burp but now it's a common occurrence in our household.  There you are all snuggling some puppy faces, getting puppy kisses and you hear that God awful sound and while you're still sitting there, pondering what it was, they open their mouth and breathe it right into your face.  Do your dogs do that or am I just that lucky?

Chewing, chewing and more chewing.  My headphones....the day after the memory foam mattress debacle.  Wrapping paper still on the tubes.  New dog beds?  Yup, already started the holes.  Walls, you betcha. Nope, not teething, just obnoxious.


Basically this whole entry was me venting about NOT turning my dogs into shoes because I think that may be illegal in some states.  I could probably sell them for Chinese food here instead but I choose to love them forever, chase them with the vacuum cleaner, buy them expensive toys and watch them chose to chew on cardboard instead and listen to Hannah throw her food bowl around the kitchen until I deem it's time to eat dinner (when I get sick of listening to the clanging of all four metal bowls on the floor).

I suppose it's a dog's life.
Xoxo
Riley Writes

Get your behind off the couch!

What an amazing way to start off the new year with a fabulous WOD!  I found the original on Pinterest and have been pining to do it since I saw it (about a week ago.)  Of course, because sometimes I like to overachieve, I added in another small workout to it.  Luckily for me, my awesome best buds and favorite (and only) husband were totally on board.

Get some son!

Puke WOD - Revised.
21-15-9
Lunges (Both legs is one lunge.)
Situps
Burpees
*My revision - Russian Twists

I can see why it was called the Puke WOD.  After 21 burpees, I wanted to vomit.   So, you should not let this scare you, get up off the couch and do work!  You'll feel better, more badass and definitely superior to that Zumba class who was shaking their behinds while you were busting out your burpees all looking hardcore.  Yep, you totally look hardcore while you're doing it.

Xoxo
Riley Writes

P.S  If you enjoyed this little entry, I may be more inclined to start posting more.  It really all depends on YOU, you know, the one who's reading this right now :)