I'm Thankful Not To Be A Slave In Egypt; Passover 2015

Freedom has successfully been honored in my house. I cooked for 12 and nobody reported diarrhea or seizures the following day. Ruth Bader Catsburg ran off with a lamb shank bone, but we were able to chase it down and recover it in time for dinner. It was important to me to make the holiday special for my family, which is why I had to buy this animated Haggadah (the guide to the seder meal that tells the story of Passover) told by Hobo Jew:

Oyyyy children!

Just look at those shoes. Look at them.

While I was prepping food, shopping and planning for the meal, my husband was cleaning the house from top to bottom. He vacuumed and dusted, mopped floors twice, scrubbed the bathroom, washed round after round of dishes - it was so hot. Is it just me, or is a man cleaning the house the sexiest thing ever?
It's just so . . . exotic and rare. . .

He's been spending his week working on that dreamboat status: he took Truffles to the vet for her annual check-up yesterday to give me a break, which was just full of bad news.

We're not sure how it happened, but she seems to have gained a little too much weight.

The appointment was a nightmare. Truffles broke out of the exam room and ran around the office like a wild maniac escaping from prison. She was eventually caught, but then she had to be muzzled to get her shots because she was crying so much for no reason. She's only been to the vet a handful of times, mostly for check-ups, and she used to be good. I'm not sure what shifted, but we've been fully shamed by our dog.

While a vet tech was holding her, she bucked and cried so much that she slammed her head up into the tech's chin, splitting the tech's lip. There was blood everywhere and other staffers thought she might need stitches.

I feel so terrible. Remember to appreciate the people who handle your pets - it's a risky job because some pets are dicks. She's not always a sweet, calm, loving little slug, like we thought.

So she is going to be forced into additional exercise, and won't be receiving anymore table scraps. We're also going to have to take her to the vet periodically just to get weighed and say hello, to try to improve that behavior. I guess I should also give her a beating, or something. I sent flowers to the tech. hehehehehe

It's a-dog-able. . .

Get it? GET IT? IT'S A FUCKING DOG MADE OF FLOWERS!

My husband was against sending this, preferring some regular bouqueted flowers instead, but obviously he doesn't know what he's talking about, so I sent these anyway. The internet is a force for good, why waste it?