I have amazed myself. I really didn’t think that was possible — not because I’m amazing — because I am a black and white thinker muddling about in a gray world.

I have never been a dog person, in fact, I’ve written numerous posts about not liking dogs.

I’ve slammed the woman who walks her dog, who I’ve named Nigel, without a leash and I wrote an open letter to the dog behind us who barked non-stop.

Then there was the person who picked up his (or her) dog’s crap and then dumped it — just the loose crap — in my garbage can located on the side of my house behind a chain link fence.

After I wrote quite a few posts I realized it’s the dog crap that I despise and not so much the dog. And I’ve really missed having a cat in the house but since all three of my kids are allergic to cats I can’t have one until they all move away.

I can’t wait that long so in desperation I went to Petco for a teddy bear hamster. Thankfully they were out of rodents at the time but a woman who worked at the store told me there are a few breeds of dogs that are hypoallergenic.

That sliver of hope sent me straight to the Humane Society where they only had very big dogs that freaked me out. However, I did learned that there was a small dog kickin’ it at the Animal Welfare Society one city over. We met, he was cool, he was small and he did not bark.

I told the chick at that place to hold that dog because I wanted my kids to play with him for an hour or so to see if they were allergic to him.

Two hours later the clouds parted and the angels sang for we had acquired our very first dog — Senor Paco. He does bark now, but only when something moves, like a squirrel or a leaf, so that’s not too bad, right? He also likes to Zen out (as evidenced in the photo to the left) and he performs yoga daily preferring both downward dog and upward facing dog.

It’s awesome and he’s fabulous. Viva la canine! And, I guess, never say never.

I have not been in my dashboard for such a long time that WordPress is actually holding a grudge against me. Even though I click the box that says, “Remember me,” it won’t.

I’ve also implored Chrome and Firefox to remember my password but it looks like they’re being passive-aggressive as well. Perhaps it’s time to suck up to my own blog as it has been hitting below the belt: It’s been fighting me on inserting my beloved Converse at the top of each post and that is totally unacceptable. I brought you into this world, blog, and I can take you right out of it, pal.

Forgive me blog, for I have sinned. It’s been too many months since I have given you the attention you deserve. I know my presence has been sketchy and I know I am still reluctant to commit to regular posting, but I am a work in progress.

Please accept my sincerest apology and meet me in the middle. Amen.

So I noticed an impressive statistic in my dashboard today. Akisment has caught 884,440 spam comments and now I want to reach one million. I have no idea what my spam-to-real-comment ratio is but if I’m going to reach my goal I’m going to have to commit to blogging, aren’t I?

I will not stack the deck, since I’m not sure how to do that, but I may throw the word spam around in the future just to see if it pushes me over 900,000. And if any of you want to help me reach my goal I would look the other way if you felt the need to throw two or more links into your comments.

Good day and good spamming.

I have to say, hopping back into the blogging world is not like riding a bike. I can’t think of another analogy right now so I’m going with that one. I can’t get my balance, my knees are skinned and bloodied (ugh, more blood to wash out of my pants) and I just barely avoided a closed-head injury trying to get this post up and running but I’m putting my feet on the pedals, gingah.

Okay, I love Investigation Discovery (ID); true crime is my thing, man. Occasionally I worry that the FBI is going to run across the list of library books I’ve checked out over the years and descend upon my house like hot lava spewing from Mount Vesuvius. But now I have cable and I can get my fix away from prying eyes. And I have learned boatloads, baby.

I’ve always known it’s a bad idea to wear shoes with a distinctive tread pattern. (See Exhibit 1.)

Exhibit 1

The center of the sole lists the brand name and the size, for crying out loud. If I’m doing the crime I’m going to make the CSI team work for it. I want an hour or two of lead time while they decide what size they’re looking for. So this one is Evidence Tampering 101.

However, recently I stumbled upon an advanced course — Evidence Tampering 437 — on ID. There was a guy who killed his wife by hiding out in the snow to ambush her. Since he knew he was going to leave footprints he bought two pairs of shoes — moccasins for comfort and shit kicker boots for obscurity.

Then he used his handy jig saw to cut the sole of the boots off so he could glue them onto the sole of the mocs. Genius! But he went wrong in his execution.

He used four types of industrial glue (I don’t know why he chose four, perhaps he’s anal retentive and wanted to make sure it stuck) which left tell-tale residue on the sole of the moccasins. He did remove the boot soles — and cut each one into four pieces — but he kept the moccasins! Mistake number one.

The cops did not find glue in the house, however, they did find pieces of the boot soles scattered throughout the house. Mistake number two.

When all of the pieces were found, the CSI guy went humpty dumpty (successfully) to create two boot soles which matched the footprints.

Come on, dude. Excellent idea merging two different soles and then cutting them off. But you should have thrown those suckers away in a dumpster located out of the state you live in.

Lastly, get rid of the mocs. I don’t care how comfy they are, ditch ‘em. Go buy a new pair if they’re that awesome but buy them with cash.

I don’t remember if that was all they had on him or not, but I was impressed with his ingenuity until he hid the soles in the house. You know they’re going to get a search warrant.

So today’s true crime lesson is: learn from someone else’s mistake.

TO: My Cargo Pants
FROM: Cardiogirl
RE: Your faulty zipper

Hey Cargo,

How are you on this blustery Friday morning? I hope all is well. Let me start by saying I really enjoy the olive green/khaki color which allows me to pair you with a variety of shirts and sweaters. I admire versatility in a pair of pants.

I also like the amount of pockets peppered along the back and the side of each leg, really top notch. However, there is one area that has given me pause for the last couple of years.

Yes, we both know I am referring to your zipper.

Why do you consistently fall off track? There’s a stopper at the bottom. That’s your cue to stop, pal. If you stopped there every time, both sides of the zipper would remain on track. You’d easily zip up and down, the fly would remain a functional way to ensure modesty and things would be groovy.

It is true that you’ve been cooped up in the dresser drawer for months on end but I have to have consistent coverage; that’s a deal breaker. Please be advised that I have been forced to go Pinterest on your ass.

This probably won’t hurt too much, but you should be aware that the fix includes a pair of pliers.

I know we can be good friends again. Let’s both keep our eyes on the prize, shall we?

Q: If a bloody murder occurs in my house, who should I call to clean it up? Merry Maids will not accept that type of job.

A: If you live in New York City, Mr. Ron Gospodarski, President of Bio-Recovery Corp., is your man.

Roughly a year ago, I saw a few episodes of Crime Scene Cleanup on Investigation Discovery and I was enthralled.

Give Bio-Recovery Corp. a jingle and they will show up in haz mat suits ready to clean everything in sight. I’m sure it costs a crazy amount but I’m guessing it would be worth it. I have to hand it to Mr. Gospodarski, that is an excellent example of finding a problem that requires a business solution.

Q: Why won’t hydrogen peroxide remove blood?

A: This, my friend, is a trick question. Hydrogen peroxide will ONLY REMOVE FRESH BLOOD.

That’s awesome when you’re right there the moment the blood touches fabric. However, my kid has nosebleeds at night during the winter months. That sucks and we’re trying to use saline spray, a humidifier and cream to moisten her nose but at the moment we have not been able to get to the source.

That means she has a bloody nose around 1:08 am, sleeps through it only to wake up six hours later with blood on her face you big disgrace, wavin’ your banner all over the place and pillowcase.

I challenge you to remove six-hour old blood stains with nothing but hydrogen peroxide. It does not work.

It will work, however, if your kid gets up immediately and tells you what happened in the last 45 seconds.

Hey kids. I’ve learned a lot about writing since I’ve been working on Minnesota Nice so I thought I’d share my wisdom with you.

Here’s the latest installment of writing truths. Enjoy.

Hey kids. I’ve learned a lot about writing since I’ve been working on Minnesota Nice so I thought I’d share my wisdom with you. And while you’re here, why not click Like on Minnesota Nice’s Fan Page.

I call these writing truths. Enjoy.

So I’ve earned another parenting badge and it’s called all three of my kids can ride a two-wheeler now. If you’re a non-breeder that may not sound very impressive, but until you teach your pug how to ride a unicycle I’m going to claim that as an accomplishment.

Now I don’t know much about pugs and unicycles but I do know about kids and bikes. And I’ve learned a few things over the years.

You need to get the buy in

You would never go to a business retreat and force someone to walk barefoot across hot coals; it’s the same thing with a kid. The kid has to want to walk over the hot coals otherwise she’s just gonna cry and yell for band-aids.

If you think it’s time for your three-year-old to ditch the training wheels but she’s not onboard, you need to drop the wrench and take three large steps back.

Forcing her to learn before she’s ready is like trying to shove toothpaste back in the tube. It’s messy and it really doesn’t work.

Stock up on Ibuprofen

It’s for you, not your kid. You’re going to be holding the bike underneath the seat and trotting along next to her. If you’re taller than 49 inches your back is going to scream in agony after 20 minutes or so. Alternating between ice and heat is also helpful.

Choose your words wisely

When your kid falls and starts to cry, don’t say, “Shake it off!” They tend to get mad when you say that.

Sometimes bribery can fast track the process

I did tell one of my kids that she could help me search for a new bike once she learned how to ride a two-wheeler around the block without stopping.

A picture of a bike with a bell and pink and white streamers hanging from the handlebars really is worth a thousand words. Who knew?

It’s a good sign when your kid violently slams the bike to the ground

This seems to be the last stage before success. It happens when she’s able to get the bike rolling and pedal roughly three to four times. She has just enough time to lift her head and start to say, “Look! I’m doing it,” before she crashes.

Steam will shoot out of her ears and she will lift the bike up and violently push it back to the ground. She may or may not scream before she stomps away.

This is cause for celebration; she’s almost there! Victory will be hers because she is now on a mission to show the bike who’s boss.

Heyyyy. Remember me?

I have a knock-knock joke for you.

I’m the chick with the ponytail who wears bitchin’ Converse.

And?

Forgive me my peeps, for I have sinned. It’s been over four months since I last set foot over here. But I have exciting news.

I’m writing a book, gingha (for real this time)

I’m writing a memoir with another writer! It’s her story and I have to say it’s a solid read, jack. We have 250 pages/65,000 words written and are finishing the last chapters.

So that’s what I’ve been doing for the last four months or so. Plus it’s summer vacation and it feels like I have kids crawling out of the woodwork.

Anyway, I wanted to jump back on the scene with the cover of the book and a link to Amazon where you can buy your own copy, but we’re not quite there yet.

In the meantime, I’ll give you a small Wordle excerpt of chapter three.

The Tax Man cometh, that’s for sure, but when do you have to answer the door? I’m talking specifically about freelance writers/bloggers.

My cursory research says if you make $600 or more in a year you’ll need to file a 1099, but this infographic will give some quick facts at a glance.

p.s. It looks like Nicolas Cage is not above the tax laws.

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