Husky Hair Everywhere

     School has been in session for a few weeks now, and, so far so good! Thank goodness!


     George's teacher, who also is a friend of mine, apparently mentioned "Sculpture Park" during school recently. We haven't been in a few years, but, George insisted, as, his teacher made it sound like the best thing ever. So, Saturday morning, while Bearded Man was at work, and Joe was at a weekend Scout Campout, we went. Mostly because George was up before dawn, waking me up to ask to go. As soon as possible. He even woke the girls up, so they could hurry and get ready to go.
     Turbo the husky was excited, too! He apparently thought, that, since I obviously wasn't going to work, I clearly had nothing better to do, so, we should go for a walk. All day. Let's go now.
     Turbo has become sort of an issue lately. If he is kenneled for any length of time, he howls and screams bloody murder. The neighbors do not appreciate it. He had matured to the level of letting him stay out of his crate while we aren't home for short periods of time. This has apparently recently changed, however, because he has taken to getting into things, and destroying whatever object aggravates  him at the time. Which, to date, has included several of my fall decorations, a Barbie, all the TV remotes, and the kitchen garbage.
     Looking at the excited dog, as he danced around while I put my sneakers on - a sure sign that I am going to walk him, as, I was not wearing scrubs - Kaila looked at me and begged. "We should bring Turbo, Mom! We can walk him there!"


     "But. My van."


     "But. He wants to go!"


     "My. Van."


     "Please?"


     "My van?"


     "He is just going to destroy stuff again. And he really really wants to go!"


After debate, against my better judgment, I allowed it.


     We need to quick talk about the van. Which has been renamed "Phillipe" as in, the horse in Beauty and the Beast, because, we have had more crazy adventures and off roading in that van, than we ever did in my SUV. I mutter on a regular basis the line from the movie: "Where have you taken us, Phillipe?!"


     Anyhow. Phillipe is kept in pristine condition. There is a very strict "carry in carry out" law for my vehicle. It has a black cloth interior (The leather interior with heated seats was turned down, because, if you recall, I was NOT buying a Mini van.), and is vacuumed and Armor All'd several times monthly. My van is babied and better cared for than any vehicle I have ever owned. I drive it to a garage down the street from work regularly, for all  maintenance. Also, Bearded Man rarely drives it without me getting aggravated about HOW he is driving it. I don't know what the obsession of perfection is about this van, but, it's a thing.
     Fast forward to the husky and his pending arrival to the van, and, I could barely watch as the kids dragged him in. For those of you who don't know much about huskies - They shed. They shed approximately 14 large dogs worth of hair every single day. There is husky hair in every single place possible in my house, and some that really aren't possible, but gets achieved anyhow. Including the refrigerator. If the house is not daily swept, it looks like it hasn't been swept in 2 years. And, now my gray and white husky was getting coaxed into the black interior of my vehicle completely against both his will and mine. But, he eventually got in, and we left.
     It took about 2 minutes to realize that, a very large dog, who is not thrilled about riding in what has suddenly become a very small vehicle, will do everything in his power to alert the passengers of this. So, he began to pace. And to jump on every single seat. And rub against everything. Before we knew it, there was husky hair flying all over the van, made worse by the windows that were slightly open. Husky hair covered my entire dashboard. It covered the touch screen radio consol. It covered the black seats, and, the black carpet now looked white. It flew up noses and mouths, and got into eyes, covered everyone's clothes, and flew about like a snow storm. It was traumatic.


     "Mom. I am SO. SORRY. I promise, I will help clean it up." promised Kaila. Frequently. Every two minutes, as we struggled to keep the dog away from my lap, and the hair out of my line of vision. "It's. Fine." I responded through gritted teeth.


     Eventually we arrived at the Sculpture Park. George could hardly contain himself. "There are potties here! Does anyone need to go potty before we start?" asked my responsible six year old. Both girls shook their heads and denied need of the facilities, so, George went, "Just to be sure."
     In no time, we were hiking the trails of the Sculpture Park. I always forget, though, just how many very very large and very very naked statues of women there are at the Sculpture Park. But, there are. And they are in every position conceivable.
     "Wow, Mom. Whoever made these statues really likes naked women, doesn't he?" mused George


      "George, please stop patting it's butt!" was my response.  


     Actually though, George was great for the entire hike. He stopped frequently to build his own sculptures out of stones, and was thrilled with the entire park.
     My girls; not so much. Approximately 1/3 of the way in, after hiking up hill, they announced they needed to use the bathroom, and were mostly miserable for the rest of the hike. Ah well. Win some, lose some.


     The trip home with the husky was actually worse. By the time we arrived home, my entire van was completely covered in husky hair. It took more that an hour of vacuuming to get what I could out of it. Husky hair is magical, though. Because I found that it had interwoven itself into the floor mats, and was now part of the mats, and completely impossible to remove. Kaila, by the way, conveniently slept through the entire overhaul of poor Phillipe.


     The next morning, it should be noted that it was cold enough that the furnace turned itself on. I stood in resignation, as I watched husky hair blow out of every single floor heat vent that we have. Great tufts of hair, blowing through the air, like a blizzard inside the  house. Dancing and blowing and then taking off to float happily around like Disney Fairies. It Covered every surface and possible nook and cranny.
     I could brush that dog all day, and he would still shed like crazy. It's a good thing I love the little beast.


     Joe has announced that he likes solitude. (Which I can totally appreciate...) So, I have allowed him to lock himself and whatever book he is currently reading, in my bedroom when he needs a break from siblings and the constant stream of kids that are in and out of my house. He was so thrilled with this mini vacation, that he immediately named it his "Solitary Confinement." He could barely wait to go to school and tell everyone about his Solitary Confinement, locked in his parent's bedroom. Thank goodness I caught that ahead of time, and he was persuaded to name it something else.


     Sunday School has also started again. This year, I have an entirely new class, as, my last classes have moved up. (I normally have kids for 7th and 8th grades. This year, they moved them all up, to make a larger Confirmation class in a few years.) I have four kids in my class now, with Lexi being one of them.
     This weekend, we talked about "consequences" as part of the lesson. Somehow, the subject of being part of "the bad group" of kids came up. I don't even remember what round about way we reached it. But, we talked about it. One kid looked completely disgusted. "I AM part of the bad group of kids." he snorted.


     "Yeah. You look really thuggish" I tossed back, continuing on. A few minutes later, he interrupts the conversation with "Ha! 'Good kids'! We had one of those in our group. We kicked him out though, because he was always telling on us when we did bad stuff at school."


     "Wait. WHAT? You mean, you really ARE part of a group of bad kids???!!!! Have you learned NOTHING at Sunday School?"


     "I told you I was. Besides. The good kid got a girl friend. We don't allow those in our group."


     "He Man Woman Haters, are you?"


     "Huh?"


     "Never mind."


Anyhow. It looks as if I have found the next kid guaranteed to send me strait to hell. Twenty more classes to go! Well. Nineteen. I get to get out of one of the October classes, because I am signed up to hike 9 miles of forest with my sister in law. Bearded Man can deal with the class thug. Which will mean he will need to forgo his weekly Sunday School nap...




     Till next time!