Last week, I wrote about our new puppy, Nugget. At that time, Nugget had been in our home for less than 24 hours. When I wrote that post, I was young and silly and naïve. Way back then, I was worried about holding the dog wrong and getting him to drink and training him to go to the bathroom outside. If Nov. 11 Dustin could step back in time and give Nov. 4 Dustin some advice, he’d tell him to settle down. You’ll figure out how to hold him, Nov. 11 Dustin would say. The dog will drink eventually. And potty training…

…Well, maybe worry about potty training a little.

Don’t get me wrong, potty training is actually going pretty well. I just didn’t realize when we started that potty training is like a game of chess. As long as you can outsmart an 8-week-old animal, you win. The thing is, I’m really bad at chess. Continue reading →

A few weeks ago, you may recall reading about an epic battle that my parents’ dog waged against me and Deserae. Well that was such a great experience, that we decided to do it full-time! On Monday, we brought home a puppy.

The puppy is a cavapoo named Nugget. What is a cavapoo, you may be wondering. Actually, I know you are wondering, because every time I’ve told someone (including the vet) that our dog is a cavapoo, they scrunch up their nose and say “WHAT IS A CAVAPOO?!” A cavapoo, according to the dictionary, is a small, poofy ball of adorable.

Since coming into our house, Nugget has focused all his energy on being as adorable as possible. He constantly carries things far too big for his head. He somehow manages to stay within two inches of your foot at all times without getting crushed. Just now while I’m writing this, he’s begun squeaking in his sleep. How adorable is that?

Unfortunately, I have not been able to fully enjoy these acts of adorableness since I’ve focused all of my energy on not accidentally killing the dog. Continue reading →

Deserae’s parents are wonderful people. They are energetic and happy and generous and loving.

They are not good passengers.

This is something that I’ve discovered over the past two months while driving with them to volleyball games. Since Deserae coaches and her sister plays, I’ve recently spent a lot of time driving all over Ohio with the Neros.

Each trip would start with the same question.

“So what’ll it be? Your car or ours?”

Yikes. Tough choice.

My Car

I don’t know what your goal in life is. Maybe you want to make a million dollars or become CEO or change the world. I want to break even on every car purchase I make.

When it’s time to get a new car, I generally work very hard to find the best deal on the cheapest vehicle money can buy. The idea is to drive the car for a few years, sell it for around the same price I paid for it, then buy another vehicle for that same price. The upside to this strategy is I’ve never made a monthly car payment. The downside is I’ve never driven a car that wasn’t garbage.

The Neros are not the biggest fans of my garbage cars.

A few weeks ago, I pulled into the Neros’ driveway to pick up my in-laws. Deserae’s mom came out of the house holding 50 pounds of junk.

“OK, I think we’re ready,” she said as she dumped it all in the back seat. “I brought duct tape and a flashlight. Al, do you want me to grab you a coat in case you have to help Dustin change a flat tire?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? It’s supposed to rain later.”

“I think Dustin can handle a flat tire just fine.”

“Also,” I interjected, “I think my car will be fine for an hour.”

Silence. I looked in the rearview to catch Deserae’s mom giving the “we’ll see” look. At the first intersection, I turned left onto Webster.

“Oh,” I heard from the backseat.

“What?”

“You’re not going to get on the highway from 82?”

“No.”

“Because if you went that way, you wouldn’t have to double back.”

“Yeah, but Sprague is a lot faster.”

Silence. The “we’ll see” look again.

“Wow!” Deserae’s dad piped up. “You sure do feel every crack in the pavement in this car! You feel that Jackie?”

“What?”

“I said, ‘How’s the suspension back there?’”

“YOU’LL HAVE TO SPEAK UP!”

My muffler has a small hole that makes things pretty loud for people in the back seat.

“I ASKED HOW…”

“WHAT?!!!”

“Never mind.”

Their Car

The next game, I rode with the Neros. Deserae’s dad was shaking his head as soon as I got in the car. “Hope you guys don’t plan on getting there any time soon,” he said.

“Why?”

“Why? Why?! Hohoooo, it’s smack dab in the middle of rush hour, that’s why!”

Deserae’s dad is a police officer who won’t get intimidated by anyone. At work, he will chase down guys twice his size and half his age by foot, no problem. But ask him to venture onto the freeway during rush hour? Big problem. Hopefully, our first child is not born any time between the hours of 7 a.m. and 7 p.m., or he will not be meeting his grandfather for quite a while.

Twenty minutes later we hit a slow down.

“What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!”

Five minutes later, traffic was back to normal.

“Well that’s surprising.”

Then, a crisis.

“I CAN’T FIND MY MAPQUEST!” Deserae’s mom yelled while driving.

“It’s OK, we can just use my phone,” I said.

“I NEED THE MAPQUEST!!”

Jackie Nero is the last person on earth keeping Mapquest in business. She not only prints directions for every trip, but she also prints the maps that go with the directions and occasionally tapes them together if the map is too big for one page. She doesn’t trust GPS.

“In one mile,” Siri said, “stay in the left-hand lane to merge onto…”

“I DON’T LIKE THIS!”

Fortunately, Siri knew where to go. After some trouble with a turning lane (“Hey Al, I just stay in this lane, right?” “No, this is the turning lane.” “I think I need to…” “The sign is right there!” “Okay, okay…” “LOOK WHEN YOU’RE SWITCHING LANES!!”), we arrived at our destination. Lake Erie.

“Why are we at the lake?” Deserae’s dad asked.

“It’s a tradition! I always stop to look at the lake before games at Mentor.”

“Well you can get out, I’m not.”

“Oh stop, I brought your coat.”

We all piled out of the car, walked across the park and looked at the lake. The gray lake blended perfectly with the gray sky.

“I don’t see any boats,” Deserae’s mom said.

“Maybe because it’s 40 degrees, windy and almost night.”

A moment of silence.

“Does anyone want to go down the stairs to get a little closer?”

“NO!!”

—

“So what’ll it be? Your car or ours?”

Maybe I’ll take a boat.

LIFE LESSON #91

Getting there is only sometimes half the fun. 

This fall, Deserae has spent every non-sleeping, non-working moment coaching her sister’s high school volleyball team. Even though she falls face-first onto the couch every night from exhaustion, she has enjoyed it very much because it combines two of her favorite things in the whole world – volleyball and winning.

Unfortunately, there are times when volleyball also brings her least favorite thing in the whole world. Deserae’s least favorite thing is not scary movies or lima beans or a small puddle of gasoline spilled in her car (although one would be forgiven for thinking that during a few tense hours this past Saturday) or even losing. It is injustice.

Deserae is very into justice. If you are a customer service representative who has said one of the following phrases to Deserae – “We ended that promotion early” or “It’s only a 50-cent difference” or, heaven forbid, “I’m sorry, but the computer says you’re wrong” – you already know how much justice means to Deserae. If you’re not, just understand that there is nothing on God’s green earth that makes Deserae angrier than a person who won’t admit he’s wrong.

That’s why Deserae has a hard time with line judges.

Volleyball line judges work with the referees to call balls in or out. I’m sure professional line judges are handpicked for their excellent eyesight and undergo weeks of training to make impossible split-second decisions, but line judges for small high school games are a bit different. The sole qualification for high school line judges is “must possess at least one eye.” Continue reading →

Deserae works as an operating room nurse in the Cleveland Clinic urology department, a department that was recently ranked #1 in the country. She takes a lot of pride in working on cases that no other hospital will touch; unfortunately, this means that she always wants to share intimate details about the world’s most disgusting medical cases. During dinner.

“So today, this guy had the biggest _________ on his _____________ that I’ve ever seen.”*

*I am taking out the disgusting parts. I would say, “use your imagination,” but it really is worse than you could imagine.

“The __________ was __________, _________ and really, really _________. So the doctor had to go in and retract the ____________ and ___________ the ______________ while _____________ and I said, ‘Can I touch it?!’ and he let me and it was…”

“OKAY!!!!!!!”

Another unfortunate side effect of Deserae seeing all the worst things in the world is that she always believes she has them.

“Dustin, can you see if this is red?”

“It looks like a mosquito bite.”

“It’s been itching too long to be a mosquito bite. I think it’s [unintelligible, 5-syllable disease].”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a disease that starts to ______________ your _____________.”

Stunned silence.

“That’s an image I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life now.” Continue reading →

I have the best job in the world right now working for myself from home. But even the best job in the world has its drawbacks. The one big drawback of buying cheap junk and selling it for more on Amazon is you have to shop at places that sell cheap junk. And no place in America is better at selling cheap junk than Wal-Mart.

Because of this, I spend five hours at four different Wal-Marts every Wednesday. This is about four hours and 55 minutes longer than anyone should ever have to spend in Wal-Mart. Every week, I see, hear and smell things that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Before I quit my full-time job, I’d make Wal-Mart runs with Deserae all the time. I enjoyed having someone who could point and laugh at all the crazy with me. Now that it’s just me, I have to keep my comments to myself when a lunatic wearing a cape cuts in front of me.

Last week, the thought occurred to me that maybe I could make things a little more bearable by recording the crazy at Wal-Mart and sharing it here with you. So I present to you the first edition of Things I Saw at Wal-Mart. Don’t worry, there will be plenty more. When you spend the day at a dump, you see a lot of garbage. Continue reading →

Deserae and I recently had a houseguest stay for 10 nights. We love having people stay at our house because we’ve got plenty of room, but this guest was a little unusual. Instead of spending his time hanging out and catching up with us, this particular guest decided to devote all of his energy to a bitter, week-long war with my wife.

I am, of course, talking about my parents’ beagle Buzzy.

Because I work at home now, Deserae and I told my parents we could watch their dog while they went away on vacation. Deserae was excited to have a pet in the home, but she had only one rule.

“No jumping on the bed,” she told Buzzy when he arrived at our house.

“Blah blah blah BED,” Buzzy heard.

From that moment forward, Buzzy wanted one thing and only one – to sleep on our bed. Here’s what happened.

Continue reading →

 

Hurricanes are not as much fun as I thought they would be.

That is a real thought I had the day after a hurricane hit campus my freshman year of college. I had this thought while lying on my bed in 100 degrees and 100 percent humidity with no AC, no fans and the windows sealed shut. I lay motionless, not so much because there wasn’t anything to do (there wasn’t), but because my skin was stuck to the vinyl mattress. I had no sheets because they’d touched things no sheets should have to touch during the hurricane, I had no shirt because, again, it was 100 degrees, and I had no way to get rid of the sweat because the showers didn’t work.

My door opened. It was my cousin Tim. He looked just as gross as I felt.

“Do you want to go to Aunt Mamie…?”

“YES,” I said, already grabbing my laundry.

Our Aunt Mamie Lee lives six hours away from Pensacola in Marietta, Georgia. We packed everything into Tim’s car and took off. This was the first time I’d been off campus since the hurricane, so I didn’t realize how bad the damage was outside of my little bubble until that moment. Trees lay across roofs. Streets were still flooded. National Guard trucks going one way passed National Guard trucks going the other way. Gas stations were boarded up.

This last part turned out to be kind of a big deal. Tim’s car was at a quarter tank when we took off (He probably would have filled it up the day before the hurricane, but did you see the lines at the gas stations? No thank you.) Continue reading →

You may recall that I started this blog last year with a story about my first day of college when I threw up in front of a table full of girls. Now, let me share a story from my second week of college when an 800-pound air conditioner almost fell on my head.

The week I arrived at college in Pensacola, Florida, there was scuttlebutt about a hurricane in the Caribbean. And by “scuttlebutt,” I mean my mom calling me every day.

“You’ve heard about the hurricane?”

“Yes. Yesterday. From you.”

“Grandma says it’s supposed to be bad.”

“I think it’ll be fine.”

“She said you could go to Aunt Mamie Lee’s.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“At least buy batteries!”

“I don’t even think I have anything that uses batteries.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Buy the batteries.”

Throughout the week, people got more and more panicky about the potential hurricane. “Maybe we should buy batteries!” they started saying. The school, in turn, got more and more panicky about too many people getting panicky.

“Everything’s fine!” they would say. “This happens all the time! Look, this weather map doesn’t show the hurricane landing anywhere near here. Knowing hurricanes, it’ll probably go into the Atlantic and hit Canada instead! Hahaha! It’s a good thing you go to school in Florida and not Canada! Hahaha!” Continue reading →