This is content?

So yes, hello. It has been a rather uneventful week over at Chez Crazy, with perhaps the exception of two things:

1) my dog is being sterilized :(

2) a scale has been brought into the home 

My dog, Patch, is about three years old and I've definitely resisted sterilizing her due to a bad experience with our other female dog, Maya. When Maya was sterilized, something went dreadfully wrong: there was a reaction to the wire used to stitch her up inside (when the idiot doctor used wire, I knew something was wrong) and she had two gaping open wounds on her hips that were always oozing pus. The poor dog was in pain for close to two years because we took her back to the vet and he said that the only option was just ripping her open again and leaving it all exposed. What. The. Shit? To say that I wanted to beat the idiot vet within an inch of his life is the understatement of the year. Nay, decade. 

After two years, the infection finally ceased and now Maya is a happy (well, she can be grumpy) ball of fuzzy love. But to say that I am terrified of this happening to Patch, well. Is supremely on the mark. 

(Patch is currently hiding under the beds. She senses the impending doom. That, and it's hot and she seeks the cool.)

The second part of the post is the arrival of a scale into our lovely home. We haven't had a scale in our house, oh. Ever. Actually, in our old house we did. But that was...approximately 19 years ago. This is a big thing because if we ever wanted to know our weight, we'd have to go to the doctor or go to one of those machines at stores that give you your weight and your lucky number. (They now give Christian messages though...sheesh.)

I think this could be both negative and positive. Negative because it may just turn into some sort of...Lord of the Flies thing, with everybody going "I'M FAAAAAAAAAT!" and then throwing out all the carbs in the kitchen. And then I'd go into berserker mode because they threw away my bread. And nobody, I repeat, NOBODY, separates me from my bread.

This would probably conclude with the house burning down and mom running away with her candy stash. And dad running after her saying, "UNHEALTHY CALORIES!"

Anyway. The positive would be that we would all be aware of our weight and do something about it. Mom weighed in at 132, dad at 240, and me at 137. Pounds, but of course. This cheered me up because I figured I was heavier. But I am aware that most of that weight is fat. No muscle. So if I where 137 pounds of muscle, I'd be fine. But as I am now, no.

Dad worries me though. 240. That's kind of...much, no? He's only six feet one inch so...

Hopefully, this will trigger some sort of positive healthy change in the family diet. I mean, we are relatively healthy with the exception of the obsession with candy. Woo. Do we ever have a sweet tooth. 

Now I have to get ready to take the poor dog to the vet (another vet, mind you; not the evil asshole vet). I think she migrated to the sofa to contemplate her last day of ovulation. 

:(

Up next? Probably a San Juan review and a photo post. Stay tuned!