• I ate too many mint brownies. (Mmmm.)

• My son and his friends made a list of things they wanted to do together before J left on his mission. The list included ordering 50 chicken nuggets for $9.99, eating hot fudge sundaes, going golfing, and playing basketball and football.

It made me wonder, what’s on my list? What are some of the things I want to do before I leave this life for the next one?

I do have some short-term plans. For instance, I’m going to:

• Vacuum up all the dog hair in the house.

• Lose at least 25 pounds by yesterday so that I wouldn’t have had to put my actual weight on my renewed driver’s license.

• Find a good recipe for mint brownies. With zero calories. Where the zero-calorie brownies won’t taste like cardboard.

I also have a list of things I’d like to NEVER EVER spend another minute doing, but might do again anyway:

• Clean the house
• Work in the yard
• Update my Facebook status

But long-term plans? Well, I’d like to…

• Travel. My first choice: England. I’d love to visit the lands from whence came the likes of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Douglas Adams, my great, great grandparents, and Dr. Who. (Technically, Dr. Who was born in Gallifrey. But he has a British accent, so he qualifies.) And while I’m on that side of the world, I might as well go to Scotland and Ireland because, you know, I’d already be there.

• Write my life story. If I have to suffer through my life, it should all be written down on paper so that my posterity will be forced to read it. And write a book report on it. My story will be poignantly beautiful but tragic, with brief moments of hilarity, and then a happy ending. And it will all be true, except for the parts that are not.

• Win a million dollars on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. I can’t do this myself because I strategically answer “c” to every question, but my husband will win it. He always gets the high score in the home version.

• With the money we win, start a foundation to end world hunger. This will in no way involve feeding people broccoli smoothies or zero-calorie mint brownies that taste like cardboard.

• Buy a lakeside cabin in the woods where I will become an eccentric but good-natured recluse. But I won’t be alone. I will be surrounded by my family, my dogs, and lots of good books. And, of course, I’ll have cable tv and high-speed internet access (because I’m just going to be eccentric–not crazy).

So, what’s on your bucket list? What are some of your short or long-term plans for the future? And do you know how to make zero-calorie mint brownies that don’t taste like cardboard? Please share.

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This one:

It’s my dog, Hershey.

If you don’t believe me about Hershey’s popularity, go to google images and type in “half Lab half Irish Setter” and see for yourself. I’ll wait here.

While you were gone, I just googled it again. This picture of Hershey has dropped to the second page. Guess what picture is first now?

This one:

Still Hershey.

These two dog pictures provide lots of google traffic to my blog. I get hits every day for searches like “Lab Irish Setter mix” or “black dog” or “broccoli smoothie.”

(Okay, the broccoli smoothie hits aren’t coming from any of the dog pictures, but from this post. Which makes me wonder, why are people looking for a broccoli smoothie recipe? Is it to power their bio-fuel car? Because, seriously, they shouldn’t be drinking that stuff.)

I’m not sure for the reason behind Hershey’s googlecular popularity. Maybe it’s because I write so much about my dogs that google views me as a dog expert.

Maybe it’s because I post lots of dog pictures.

Or, maybe it’s because people keep clicking on that first picture of Hershey to find out what the red thing is.

(It’s just a kong, people. A dog chew toy.)

And because the pictures rank so high, I’m sure there are children around the world pasting those pictures of Hershey into their school reports or onto their Facebook pages or even emailing them to their parents with the notation “I wish I had a dog like this.”

And I’m sure there are people all over the world who are printing out Hershey’s pictures and hanging them up on their walls, or, better yet, writing funny captions on her photos and submitting them to Loldogs.

Thanks to the power of google, Hershey is famous. And slightly immortal.

Which makes me happy. Because the other day, I realized that Hershey is not going to live forever.

At least, that’s what I inferred when I was in the vet’s office and the vet said, “Hershey is not going to live forever.”

He didn’t say it quite like that. But Hershey, a dog who has always understood that there are some things one doesn’t do in the house, started leaving gifts of the yucky kind in my bedroom and in the family room.

I figured something must be physically wrong with her.

I took Hershey to the vet and found out that a pinched nerve in Hershey’s back is causing the “fecal incontinence.” The vet prescribed steroids for her. There is a 50/50 chance that the steroids will reduce the swelling and she will once again regain control.

If not, we either let her live with the incontinence, or she has surgery, or we put her to that great big sleep, which isn’t really sleep at all.

Making her live with the incontinence seems cruel. Surgery on a 14 year old dog–equally heartless and probably futile. And putting her to sleep for a pinched nerve when she is still otherwise quite healthy? Unconscionable.

All options are bad. I might have choked up a little bit in the vets office. Or, I might have choked up a lot in the vets office.

I am hoping the steroids work.

But whatever happens, I realize this is the beginning of the end. Hershey won’t be around much longer to guard our sandbox from the evil cats who threaten to turn it into a litter box.

And she soon will completely relinquish her title as personal trainer to the backyard birds, whom she used to lead daily in an aerobic workout by chasing them to the highest parts of the trees.

After Hershey is gone, those sandals left outside by the trampoline aren’t going to dig their own holes in the garden and bury themselves.

But the good news is that someday Heshey will regain her agility, perfect vision, and superhuman hearing. Then, all those birds and cats and sandals in heaven had better run for their eternal lives.

As for me and my family? Well, we’ll always have google.

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Okay, that was someone else’s birthday. A human person’s birthday.

(I confess that I have been invited to a dog birthday party next week. And I am probably going. But I will not wear a party hat.)

Also, I do not treat my dogs like my children.

I treat them better than my children.

Oh, I jest. I love my kids and my dogs equally.

Just joking, kids. You know I love you more than the dogs.

But I am a dog person. I love dogs. And, now that I have kids, I love dogs even more.

This time I’m not kidding. I really do love dogs more now than before I had kids.

And it’s not because dogs are obedient and go to bed when they are told, it’s because having dogs makes my kids better.

By better, I don’t mean that now they are more responsible, do their homework on time, treat their siblings kindly, and keep their rooms neat and tidy. No, I mean that they are better now because when they are sad or lonely they have a dog who makes them feel better.

There have been many times when one or another of my kids have come home depressed or upset about something that has happened at school or at a friend’s house. But add a hearty serving of wet, sloppy, germ-laden dog kisses, and some excited tail wagging, and voila–a recipe for instant mood improvement. Suddenly, life isn’t quite so icky. Although, the kid’s face now is.

With a dog, a child always has a friend who loves unconditionally. A friend who doesn’t care whether she is short, tall, wears designer clothes, or has a cell phone. A friend who never blabs her secrets or gossips about her behind her back. A friend who doesn’t intentionally neglect to invite her to his birthday party.

If he were going to have a birthday party. Which he is not. Because he is a dog.

It doesn’t matter if the kids are 8 or 18 years old, dogs have the ability to make them feel better. I love them for that.

The dogs. I love the dogs for that. I already loved the kids.

So, go ahead and celebrate the dogs in your life. But, please, wear only one party hat at a time.

Otherwise, you’d look a little silly. (Good thing that dog loves us, no matter what.)

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My son plans on taking his smoothie recipe on the road and making lots of money from it. It’s going to be a big seller, because who wouldn’t want to buy a drink chock full of vitamins, minerals, and little green floaties?

Okay. Nobody. Because broccoli smoothies are disgusting. At least that’s how my kids described them. I didn’t think mine tasted terrible, but it left a bitter aftertaste that I quickly had to wash down with chocolate covered almonds.

Immediately after realizing that broccoli doesn’t work well in drink form, my son made another batch of smoothies. Without broccoli. The new batch was one of the best smoothies he’d ever made.

So, here’s some of the lessons we learned from the broccoli smoothie:

• It’s okay to try new things. It might not work, but you will learn something from it.

• Nothing can mask the taste of broccoli–not even good stuff like berries and yogurt.

• No matter what you do to broccoli, kids will still not like it.

• Broccoli smoothies will never be big sellers.

• Sometimes mistakes lead to brilliant successes, like delicious smoothies.

• Chocolate tastes better than broccoli.

But why? People should like broccoli, because broccoli is good for you. People who eat broccoli should live longer to have more children who also like broccoli who should also live longer to have more children who also eat broccoli.

And yet, people prefer chocolate.

But drinking the broccoli smoothie also reminded me of a few other important lessons:

• While we sit in our warm kitchen sipping smoothies, we should be grateful for everything we have, because there are people in Haiti with no food and no warm kitchen.

• Those starving people would give anything for a smoothie, with or without the broccoli.

• We should always keep the people of Haiti in our hearts and in our prayers, and do what we can to help.

So, please, keep the people of Haiti in your hearts and in your prayers, and do what you can to help.

Here’s one good place to find out how:

Trust me, it will be much better for your health than drinking a broccoli smoothie, and with no bitter aftertaste.

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Want to have fun, meet other blog-obsessed people, AND learn some techy blog stuff? Then, you need to go to the Casual Blogger Conference! Hosted by Mormon Mommy Blogs and Lea Lou Blogs, the CBC will be held on May 28 in Sandy, Utah. (Click on the above button for more details.)

Despite what that button says, I may or may not be going. It all depends on whether or not the planets align, I find matching socks, and if I can buy an invisibility cloak to wear. After all, I don’t want people to discover that I don’t actually look like the sky, with or without make-up.

Or, I’d go if I won a free ticket. I’d sort socks and reveal my secret identity for that.

But I had to choose between a button that said, “I’m Going” or one that said “I’m Speaking.”

And I am not speaking at the Casual Bloggers Conference.

Which is a crying shame, because I am an expert on blogging. An EXPERT, I tell you.

If I were invited to speak, these are some of the topics I would discuss:

• How to create the least popular blog in the blogosphere.

• How to gain a negative amount of subscribers.

• How to encourage people to not comment on your posts.

• How to change the look of your blog without improving it.

• How to write a blog post that even your mother will ignore.

I think these topics would pack in the crowds! PACK THEM IN! Because, after all, if there is anything bloggers crave more than not being popular, it’s to publish their best writing and have no one read it. And I could show them how!

So, Powers That Be at the CBC, you should so choose me to speak at the Casual Bloggers Conference. Then when registration sales decrease and people beg for refunds for previously purchased tickets, you’ll know you did the thing that could have been right, but probably wasn’t.

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We miss Sugar already. Because Sugar is sweet. And Sugar is wonderful.

We love Sugar.

I’ve got the shakes just thinking about it. Is there a rehab center for Sugar addicts? A way to overcome the withdrawals?

We will mourn the loss of Sugar.

Although, on the bright side, we are all sleeping much better since Sugar no longer keeps waking us up at night.

Meet Sugar:

She’s a nine week old Golden Retriever being raised for Guide Dogs for the Blind. We were puppy sitting her this past week.

As sweet as the substance she’s named after, Sugar’s easy-going disposition and gentle temperament are only matched by her beauty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pretty puppy. I have no doubt she is going to make an excellent Guide Dog. There is a person somewhere out there whose life she will one day change for the better.

And speaking of something sweet that improves lives, it’s Girl Scout Cookie Time.

To convince you to order Girl Scout cookies, I could write a post discussing how selling cookies teaches girls valuable skills like marketing, leadership, salesmanship, and how to manage money.

Or, I could tell you that the money a troop makes during annual cookie sales will usually cover the cost of patches and awards, and fund the troop’s activities, for the entire year.

Or, I could tell you that girls in our council receive ten dollars worth of cookie credits for every 50 boxes of cookies they sell, which they then can use to purchase uniforms, spend on camp, or pay to attend any other Girl Scout activity.

Instead, I’ll just remind you that some Girl Scout cookies have chocolate and coconut.

Some have chocolate and mint.

Some have chocolate and peanut butter.

All are yummy.

It requires oodles of courage for a girl to go door to door selling cookies. Oodles. But it doesn’t require much courage for you to buy one box of cookies. Or ten.

Like Sugar, you will be making the world a better place, one person at a time.

One girl at a time. One box at a time.

Doing something good for someone else is sweet. And wonderful. And can be an addiction of it’s own. One we never need to have withdrawals from.

No wonder Girl Scout cookies taste so good.

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I think I just saw a tumbleweed blow by.

So, I haven’t written a post for about a month. In my defense, your honor, I have been doing lots of behind the blog stuff.

For instance,

• I changed my blog’s background. Now it takes hours for the page to load. (But it looks pretty.) Has it finished loading, yet? I am so sorry. (Did I mention that it looks pretty?)

• I updated the About page. Read it, if you dare. One might say it’s slightly not boring, and goes well with cheese.

• I turned on the snow. The other reason you are still waiting for the page to load. (But it looks pretty.) And I feel like a superhero because I can CONTROL THE WEATHER. (Update: The snow has been turned off now. Sad.)

• I joined the Facebook group “I was going to write a post, but ended up rearranging my sidebar.” Okay. Not a real FB group. But it should be. Because I do this ALL the time.

I also have been doing lots of unrelated to blogging stuff like,

• not decorating the Christmas tree.

My daughter and her friends assembled the tree, put the lights on the tree, and decorated it–without my help!!! Yay! I might start enjoying Christmas again.

• burning down the house.

Actually, it was just another science fair project. My daughter was setting fire to nuts to boil water. The house was never in any danger, but I sure hope the nuts had a good life insurance policy.

• sewing up a storm. Because, did I mention, I can CONTROL THE WEATHER. By sewing. But I’ll tell you all about it in another post.

Which will hopefully be sooner than a month from now.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to rustle up some spammers and chase them out of town.

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Yes, yes we did.

But it’s not what you’re thinking.

Unless you’re thinking that we got a third dog. Then it’s exactly what you’re thinking.

“I promise, mom, I’ll clean my room and do my homework and scrub the bathrooms and eat all my vegetables and eat all your vegetables–if you’ll just let me keep him.”

Okay, nobody said that–since no amount of begging, pleading, or eating of vegetables would have convinced me to keep the dog.

Mostly because he wasn’t ours to keep. We were just puppy sitting Moseley (a seven month old yellow lab) for the weekend.

We were puppy sitting Moseley because he is a special dog. Not special because he has a sweet spirit (although he does), but special because he is important. When his raisers go out of town, he has to be watched by special people (who have sweet spirits) rather than left in the backyard or kennel.

Moseley is a future Guide Dog for the Blind (GDB).

And my daughter is hoping to raise a GDB puppy of her own. One of the requirements for getting your own GDB puppy to raise is to puppy sit other GDB puppies. So, while Moseley’s raisers were out of town, we were puppy sitting him.

Which, in case you haven’t been doing the math, meant we had three dogs, one cat, five kids, two adults and a whole lot of chaos.

But everywhere we took Moseley (the grocery store, the mall, three hours of church), he was well-behaved and accident free. Good thing, too, since he drew a lot of attention wherever we went.

Overall, I’m putting the experience in the win column. My daughter learned first-hand the responsibility of taking care of a Guide Dog puppy. (You can read more about that here.) I learned that three dogs might sound like only one more than two, but, when you figure in the chaos and the square footage of our house, it’s more like 30.

The jury is still out on whether or not we will get a GDB puppy of our own. For now, we’ll just keep puppy sitting.

So bring on the chaos, I say. Calm is overrated, anyway.

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Scary. Doesn’t it give you chills? But wait. There’s more.

Okay. These are not Halloween decorations. These are plants I haven’t watered since early September. My bad.

Usually, though, by this time of the year, I’ve replaced the dead plants with pumpkins and Halloween decorations. My 9 year old keeps asking when we are going to put out all that stuff. I figure if I hold her off one more week, I won’t have to decorate at all. It’s a good plan.

As an added bonus, I hear that kids don’t trick or treat at houses lacking Halloween paraphernalia. I’d like to test out that rumor. Kind of like my own personal version of MythBusters.

I’ll let you know how that goes.

I’ve also told my daughter that I plan on sending her out trick or treating early in the afternoon on Halloween, and then filling our candy dish with the candy she brings back. So not decorating means less kids trick or treating at our house, which means more candy for her. She should thank me for my lack of Halloween spirit.

Even though I haven’t decorated for Halloween, I have just about finished sewing all my kids’ costumes.

Mostly because my 13 year old is wearing the same poodle skirt I made for a 50’s dance number she did in Elementary school two years ago.

And my 9 year old’s magician costume only required that I sew a cape (which took about an hour), because we already had the hat, wand, and rabbit.

Two costumes down, one more to go: I still have to sew a zigzag stripe on a yellow t-shirt for a Charlie Brown costume. Never let it be said that I don’t go the extra mile for Halloween.

I also have to sew my daughter’s skirt for her band concert next week. She needs a black, plain, longish skirt. We looked at stores all over but couldn’t find a skirt that met all the criteria.

Finally, I told her we could sew one for her.

“Skirts are easy to make,” I said.

Yes. That’s exactly what I said.

When I was in high school and college, I sewed tons of skirts. Well, maybe not tons, but probably three. Or maybe five.  So, I knew what I was talking about.

But the pattern my daughter chose has a zipper. When I said, “skirts are easy” I meant “skirts are easy, unless they have a zipper.”

Because sewing zippers are hard.

Not that I don’t know how to sew a zipper. I am perfectly capable of sewing zippers. My zippering abilities are excellent. It’s just zippers are time consuming and the exact opposite of easy.

But we’ll probably get the skirt cut out tonight. Or, we might just stare at this instead:

It’s my son’s abstract art exhibit for the art fair.

I’m kidding. It’s the clay my son brought home to re-make his abstract art exhibit for the art fair. He broke the original.

Personally, I’m just glad that I don’t have to make anything out of it.

Especially with a zipper.

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You could see the performance for yourself, since my daughter filmed it, but I’m not sure how to load the video onto the blog. And anyway, rather than filming the entire band, my daughter focused in on my son. There’s about 10 minutes of him moving left, then right, then to the front, then to the back, then right again, then left….I find it riveting because my son is just that adorable, but it might be a little much for some people.

You’ll have to be satisfied with this picture:

It’s my son’s hat.

Now imagine a really cute kid wearing that hat (and the rest of his uniform), marching in formation, and playing cool music. That’s exactly like my son’s performance!

His high school took first place in their division.

You know who else took first place in their division? The American Fork High School Marching Band. They were awesome as well.  They swept all awards. The only awards they didn’t win were 2nd and 3rd place, but only because you can’t win 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place all at the same time (although the teams that took 2nd and 3rd place were really good, too).

The music AF performed was a tribute to veterans, and it also included a tribute to Heather Christensen, the teacher who died in the bus crash over the weekend. I’m not sure there was a dry eye in the stadium. It was well worth waiting in the rain to watch.

I would show you AF’s performance, because of course I’ve got footage, but remember, I don’t know how to load the video. Once again, you’ll just have to use your imagination. I just wish I had another picture of a hat.

I do have a picture of a pan:

It’s not for wearing on the head. I’m showing you this picture because I want you to notice how clean the pan is. Back when I was cooking all that apple stuff, I burned a batch of apples. The bottom of the pan was covered with caked on, burnt gunk. It would not come clean. I soaked it and scrubbed it, but the black remained.

I thought that the only thing the pan was good for now was to turn it upside down and make it into a drum to be used the next time the marching band performed.

My husband had a better idea. He recommended cleaning the pan with a certain soft drink that starts with a “c” and rhymes with joke. I tried it. It worked. We did have to scrub, but all the black came off.

Makes me wonder what the soft drink that starts with a “c” and rhymes with joke does to the lining of the stomach.

I will never drink that stuff again.

Of course, I don’t drink it now.

One bad habit kicked, 35,000 more to go.

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