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?

5 Things You Need To Know Right Now About Your Week. . .HURRY!

I don't really have any good list, I'm just always a sucker for a breakdown of important facts that promise to be succinct and small in number and hoped that you were, too.

I haven't been able to blog too much lately because I started a new job writing and editing for New Haven Magazine and it keeps me busy, like, too busy for the internet. Feel free to subscribe to read any additional opinions I may not have time to duplicate here. Hurry!

Also, my horoscope got me all paranoid and looking over my shoulder with a series of creepy daily prophesies that made me want to hide out. Who wouldn't be suspicious after a horoscope like this?

WHO COULD IT BE? WHO WANTS TO CUT MY SKIN OFF AND WEAR IT LIKE AN OVERCOAT?

I started looking for clues when it became very clear that I had enemies. Check this out:

The poo is crusted clear around the entire flap, if you can't tell. This is the product of aiming, for sure.

Then, my husband and I celebrated his birthday last week amid a growing rift in our marriage. 

Our toothbrushes have to sleep in separate beds. I gave him the ultimatum to either take care of that sticky blob of paste and spit, or move out. Occasionally, it jostled in the cup and would lean or tip into either the toothpaste or my toothbrush and leave a sticky spot behind. He chose to move his toothbrush out. We don't love each other any less, but every relationship has its ups and downs and I swear to god if that mush touches my junk one more. . . well, we've made it through the latest crisis and everything is fine, except he is sad about feeling old. I'm older so I don't have any sympathy at all, or anything comforting to say. Well, the comforting things I say are to comfort me, not him, like that he has more eye wrinkles than me and more gray hair. On the plus side, we have better health insurance and lower co-pays so we can seek medical advice for all of our old people back aches and suspicious "beauty" marks. 

Friday begins the annual Jewish celebration of freedom. My husband and I are hosting our second ever Passover seder this weekend so we've been doing lots of (a tiny bit, we're really behind) prepping and shopping and cleaning (I will have to remember to clean because I have an uncle with a cat allergy). The first time we hosted a Passover seder together, he proposed after. How will he top that?  

I've done more reading about Passover recently than in any prior years and a certain theme is sticking with me: what enslaves you and what frees you? When you think of the things that you feel a slave to, that bind you, constrict your life or temper your joy - a job you hate, a bad relationship, debt, obligations, a repressive government (shut up, tea party), addiction, or negative emotions like fear, anger, resentment, regret - can you envision being free of them and what that would look like? I floated the idea to my husband about doing a guided family meditation during our seder about this notion of being enslaved and envisioning our freedom and he implied it was a bad idea, and he implied it by laughing in my face. FREEEEDOOOOMMMMMM!!!