I Created a Belly Monster

In my temporary living quarters, I share a house with a funny little canine named Prince. He’s different than most dogs I know in that he doesn’t crave attention like normal dogs. At first I thought he might really be a cat trapped inside a dog’s body because most of the time he acts more like a cat than a dog.

However, I discovered his aloofness is really due to fear of intimacy and I’ve made it my personal goal to help Prince overcome his problem. I’m constantly invading his personal space and forcing him to sit near me while I pet him. Now I’m proud to say that Prince has become a much friendlier and social dog and actually enjoys being around people.

Unfortunately somewhere along the way, I’ve managed to create a Pavlovian Belly Monster. Every time I look at Prince and walk in his direction, he flops down on his side, rolls over on his back, and stares at me hoping for a belly rub. It’s quite hilarious actually, but I really don’t understand why his little brain hasn’t figured out that he doesn’t have to flop over like a dead fish to get attention. Fortunately he doesn’t do this with anyone but me. I wonder what the Dog Whisperer would have to say about my predicament?

Confusion About Dust

I once read somewhere that over 70 percent of household dust is comprised of dead skin cells. That’s pretty disgusting if you really think about it. But it got me to thinking...if a person is highly allergic to dust, does that mean they’re allergic to themselves?

Go Fish n Chips

What happens when you give a 4-3/4 year old a poker set? You end up having a lot of fun and the opportunity to play a card game that doesn’t have anything to do with poker. At least that was my experience when my friend’s little girl asked if I’d play a game with her.

“You know how to play poker?” I asked her.

“No, we’re playing a different game and I’ll tell the rules to you,” answered my little playmate.


“Okay, but I have one rule of my own. If you cheat or cry because you’re not winning, then I’m done playing. Are you okay with that rule?” I asked.

She nodded in agreement and began to unpack the cards and poker chips. She divied up the cards and chips and announced that we were playing “Go Fish.”

“But there aren’t any fish on these cards,” I remarked.

“That’s because just pretend,” was her response.

“What are the chips for?” I wanted to know.

“Because I like them. Just play and I’ll show you, okay?”

I took the first turn and made her hand me over one of her three’s. I was surprised that I also received 2 blue poker chips. Then it was her turn to fish and she had to draw from the pile since I didn’t have any J’s. I’m not sure why, but I had to give her a white poker chip. We continued to take turns and give up our cards and chips to one another until the game was over. I never quite understood the chip rule. It wasn’t clear to me which person had to give up the chips and what color and how many were to be given to the other player.

But, I must admit that was the most fun game of “Go Fish” I’ve played in a long time. It’s nice to end up with a stash of chips even if you don’t win the game.

I love that kids are so adaptable and able to improvise and create with such ease. They don’t need fancy, expensive toys to play with. Just an object and someone willing to participate and it’s instant fun. Sometimes rules just don’t matter and it’s way more fun to make them up as you go.

In fact my little playmate announced a new rule after our first game. “Okay, but this time I win!”

It's All in a Name

Last week as I was at CVS searching for a poison ivy remedy I came across a product that left me completely baffled. When I first caught a glimpse of the bright yellow can of “Anti Monkey Butt” I thought I was imagining things. After a quick double take I realized that my imagination had not gotten a hold of me and that I really was staring at a can of “Anti Monkey Butt”. I thought, “what the…” Then came hysterical laughter. Naturally, curiosity got the best of me and I picked up the can after making sure that no one was watching. After all, I didn’t want anyone to think I had monkey butt, whatever that was.

I really only had enough time to glance the goofy little monkey on the label before someone walked down the aisle and I had to quickly put away the can for fear of embarrassment. Of course when I got home, I googled anti monkey butt just to answer the question “What exactly is monkey butt?” Apparently it’s a term used in certain areas of the country to describe soreness and irritation caused by long hours of riding and sweating. Phew, I was imagining it to be something much worse.