Catch-up - Smatchup.

Yeah, so I wasn't any better at blogging the other blog than I am this one. Where does one find the time to blog, blog, blog?

I'm just going to go with it, I guess. I had grandeur thoughts of opening yet another blog, one for the birds, one for the kids, one for the marriage, one for the bar...but screw it. Green Apples is the best one out of all of em, and well...I'm ok with that. I like this blog, and I love the people who visit it. So, I guess I'm gonna stick with this one afterall.

I'm going to take you through a little photo-montage of all that's been happenin' with me lately.

First, Jas and I are doing really good. We ended up going to a marriage counselor, and screwing her WHOLE world up. For those of you who had access to the other blog (which is now deceased), you know why her world got tilted. It was actually pretty comical, looking at it. The conversation went something like this:

Dr. X: So, welcome to marriage counseling. First we're going to outline your problems, then we'll talk a little about them, and then we'll work on those problems. So...in your opinion, what is your largest fault in your marriage?

Me: Well, Doctor...we've been seeing other people for the last year and a half.

Dr. X: Huh. Really? I mean...Huh. Ok. (furrow in the brow, staring out of the window for a moment, looking back at us, looking at the wall, then drops head and furiously starts scribbling on her notepad.)

Dr. X: (after recovering from the shock that is my marriage, lifts head, starts to smile like she's got it together) Well, I'm thinking that you two are going to need a little more than a few sessions to take care of your issues. Mrs. DK...how does it make you feel to know that your husband is dating other women?

Me: Well, I'm at the point where it's going to be all or nothing. Either we make it work with the two of us, or we cut up the license that says we're married and move on with our lives.

Dr. X: And Mr. Dk, how does it make you feel knowing your wife is dating other people?

Jas: What she said. (pointing at me.)

Dr. X. Ok. Well...I think that by coming here today, and accepting that you have a problem, addressing that issue, and agreeing to act like married folks, well...I think we can agree that you should see some significant improvements in your marriage just by making those choices.

And...she was right. We have agreed to work on us, forsaking all others, and we're giving it the old college try. When I wrote last, I'm so not kidding that I had full intentions of checking out of this marriage. Things are much better now.

Rio comes home Friday. Marshall will be home in about a month. We still haven't been able to afford to just pay his little feathered ass off and get him home, but we're working on it. Christmas put a huge dent in the money I had hoped to use for him...you know how it goes. But...Rio is coming home day after tomorrow. Hallelluja, I can hear the angels singing just thinkin' about it.

I've got pictures of Marshall...I'll share. See captions for explanations...

This is Alex and Marshall. Marshall got his name because Marshall is my hometown. It seemed fitting for him. He's quiet, quite dignified, and a little snotty. Yeah, that pretty much sums up Marshall, Michigan.

Marshall's trick...Put em' up!

Then we say "Bang!", and this is the result. He falls over backward like he's dead. After he's home, I'll take video of it and upload that. It's hillarious.

One of Marshall's draws is how damn sweet he is. You can do just about anything to him and know that he isn't going to rip your face off. He's a big lover-lover. Except when we play....

Little Green Football. He REALLY hates that game.

It turns him into "Little Green Ball-O-Hate"

Bar-Life is going a-ok. Here's a funny story that just happened Sunday night...

So, two guys come in. One is dressed very nicely. The other, looks like a blue collar worker with slobby tendencies. White Collar guy goes and plays pool with Deanna, a very cute 30-something patron. Blue Collar guy sits at the bar and proceeds to get shitfaced. After about oh...3 or so hours of him slugging back cans of Miller Lite and shots of Quervo, he gets up, walks over to John, another patron and frisks him. By frisk, I mean he started with Dude's legs, working over his ass, up his back and chest to his underarms.

John, half in shock, half enraged says "Uh...Shan...do something about this guy. Will you?"

Me: Just what in the sam hell do you think you're doing?

Blue Collar Guy: My job.

Me: And, pray tell, how might you think it's your job to frisk my customers?

Blue Collar Guy: I'm his body guard. (pointing to white collar guy.)

Me: Are you law enforcement or acting as a party for law enforcement?

Blue Collar Guy: No. He's a cattle rancher from Montana up here to buy cattle. It's my job to protect him while he's here.

Me: Riiiiiiiiiight. Well, if you can't produce a badge or identification that specifically tells me that you have a right to put your hands on my customers, I'd knock it off or I'll ask you to leave, and then we'll bring REAL law enforcement into it. Mmmkay?

Blue Collar Guy: (Grumbles something incoherently.)

So, a few minutes later, White Collar Guy comes over, and I see them quite obviously talking shit about me. I walk over and explain why I'm pissed.

Me: Did your friend explain to you why I'm upset with him?

White Collar Guy: You're a very beautiful woman.

Me: Thanks. Apparently, I'm a bit of a pain in the ass too. Your friend here told me that he's your body guard, which gave him the right to put his hands on my customers. That would have flown, except where I'm from, body guards that are on duty aren't allowed to sit at the bar and get hammered.

White Collar Guy: Good call by you.

Me: So...if your buddy doesn't want to keep his hands to himself and play well with others, I'll ask you to leave. Deal?

White Collar Guy: Deal.

A few minutes later, they are gathering their stuff to leave, when Blue Collar Guy comes over and starts in with his shit again.

Blue Collar Guy: Who manages this bar?

Me: I do.

Blue Collar Guy: You do?

Me: Yep.

Blue Collar Guy: Well, I just wanted you to know that I am pulling your liquor license tomorrow morning?

Me: On what grounds, Dick?

Blue Collar Guy: My name is Jim.

Me: Huh. You look like a Dick to me.

Blue Collar Guy: (Slams beer and leaves the bar.)

***When I go to clean up where he was sitting, I find that JIM, (or Dick, whichever you prefer) has left me a 12 dollar tip. Teehehehehehehe

****And...a side note...we still have our liquor license.

This is me and Chris...my closest friend in Jackson. She and I are pretty much inseperable. She is Brian's girlfriend. My other best friend. For those who had access to the other blog, you'll remember that I was having some confusing thoughts about Brian. I'm over it. Thank God, so is he. So...I set him and Chris up. Nothing ever happened between Brian and I, and I'm thankful for that. You'll see a pic to your left of Brian and Chris. They're still in the honeymoon phase which can be a little nauseating, but all in all, I'm ecstatic for them.

So...that's the scoop for now. I'll definitely photo-journal Rio's homecoming. I'm so freakin' excited that I can't even begin to explain it. The plan right now is to be there at 9am on Friday (which also is payday) and bring home his cage, food, toys etc, and to put him in a cage where he can see what's going on and bring him home. I plan to let him hang out in his cage for pretty much the majority of the day with only short periods out to "investigate" the house. I think he's going to be pretty freaked out about the whole situation, but hopefully he'll understand it's a good thing. He won't be confined to his cage 99.9% of the time anymore.

Next part of the saga...teaching Murphy that she's NOT a bird dog, contrary to her instinct and beliefs...

Oh...one last thing...I took this little test, and te-hehehehe...apparently, I'm psycho, I mean psychic...