I should probably be a little embarassed.

But I'm not.

You see, a few days ago, the MIL called to ask us a very serious question regarding a very important matter: would Bobby and I be willing to combine our Christmas gift this year and receive... wait for it...

a KITCHENAID MIXER?!

A little background: Once upon a time, I worked at Linens 'n Things. It was actually a really fun job, because I worked in the kitchen/housewares section, and I spent most of my shift walking up and down the aisles, planning out which gadgets I would have someday, and imagined beautiful place settings with shiny food processors. I don't really consider myself very girly, but I do get excited about kitchen stuff. Up, high on a shelf, were the KitchenAid mixers. I would gaze at them longingly, knowing full well that it would be a long, long time before I could have one.

Well, that long time ends NOW (or this December, at least). Come this Christmas, Bobby and I will be proud owners of a beautiful KitchenAid mixer in green apple. I am SO excited!

You know, I would say "it's the little things in life," but to me, this is a really, really big thing. I didn't really get all that excited about graduating college, but acquiring this beautiful piece of machinery makes me feel like I've arrived.

This is when you thank me for taking two giant steps back for feminism. I apologize.

So today marked the second of 6 days of my Mental Health and Psychopathology class. My brain feels extremely mushy. Fortunately, I enjoy reading the DSM-IV-TR (as exhausting as it may be), so the homework isn't so bad. I was a little concerned about my social welfare (no pun intended) after a not so great impression of my first day, but it's improved dramatically. I've had more social work experience than a lot of people my age, so I have to be careful to not come off as a know-it-all (because I certainly don't know it all).

In pet news (because I KNOW you care), Garmin has really put on weight since we increased his food, and on a negative note, I'm kind of mad at the shelter he was in. We've only increased his food over the past two weeks, and he's already looking fantastic (not fat-- but he actually has muscle and you can't see his ribs), so they were feeding him way too little. I really thought he was sick for a while, but he looks amazing now, and he has so much energy. Thank goodness, because I love the little bugger.

Peli has had to adjust as a result. She used to be able to push Garmin around, but now he's got a good ten pounds on her, so she gets beat up a lot. She's used to being the alpha dog, so she's compensating with being extremely affectionate with us.

Chuck is Chuck. He hasn't jumped out of any windows lately, so we're pleased.

I'll be so glad when allergy season is over. It'll be nice having a husband again, rather than a congested heap of unconscious on the floor.

Ode to Pearl Izumi

Dearest Pearl Izumi,

Not so long ago, I was a foolish lass who didn't know any better. In those days, when I felt the urge to go running, I would put on an old pair of soccer shorts and a cotton t-shirt. When time came to train for a triathlon, my husband cut up a t-shirt to make a tank top (later declared a "skank top") to wear when training. Cotton was the only fabric I knew, and for such reason, it fulfilled my every need.

With the upcoming triathlon, we purchased a triathlon top and shorts from you, and I was extremely grateful for how light the clothing felt. I hardly noticed it on my body, and after working hard, I noticed there were no sleeves to weigh my arms down, and sweat could quickly leave my overheating body. I caught a glimpse of my silhouette on the pavement, and was pleased to look like a legitimate runner.


A while later, I purchased my first real pair of running shoes, picked out with the assistance of a running shop employee who assisted me in finding a pair that would fit my paddle feet properly and correct my form. After a few jogs in the new footwear, I was able to purchase a couple running tops. Sadly, they did not have the built in bra like the tri top, but I was so grateful to have something to wear every other day for my run, rather than progressively disgusting each day with the sweat accumulation in the tri top. How wonderful to feel so graceful and cool.

Then, sadly, we left our Pearl Izumi running top AND shorts at my mother in law's house after a round of laundry. Unable to make the drive back for another week, I felt lost without my running companions. That's okay, I thought, I lived so long running in a cut up t-shirt and soccer shorts, I can do it again.

Oh, Pearl Izumi, I strayed from the goodness of your clothing, and I swear to never do it again! Running in the Kansas humidity in shorts without a liner was a mistake deemed cruel and unusual! The cotton clinging to my sweaty flesh made the heat deplorable, unbearable, and my training was considerably hindered. Forgive me, Pearl Izumi, for I attempted the miles of running without your help, and I have been humbled. Never again will I lace up my shoes without the cooling assurance of your slick fabric against my skin. I run so I can be healthy-- I wear you so I can run.

Thank you for being so awesome.

Your devoted wearer,

Katie Brigman

Holy crazy town.

It's been a while.

Not a horribly long while, but I am constantly reminding myself what day it is and how much time has passed. SO MUCH has happened in a short amount of time that it feels like it should be June. Oh, well-- I have a dog sleeping at my feet and another sleeping on a huge pile of blankets, so all is well in the world.

Garmin has adjusted nicely to his new family. We've learned that he's a people dog, meaning he whines incessantly when he can hear us outside the apartment door getting ready to come in. He's house trained, though he's had a couple of accidents (he gets scared and piddles). He wants nothing more than to be friends with Chuck, and Chuck is starting to be okay with that.

After acquiring internet today, I feel so connected with the real world. I was able to adjust my fall enrollment so that all of my classes fall on Thursday, making it so I only have to commute to Topeka three days a week as opposed to the original four (or three with one EXTREMELY long day). For this I am grateful. I am also extremely grateful for an apartment that allows two dogs and a cat, and that it's in one of the complexes on Lawrence's Cheapest Places To Live list. Granted, we don't have much storage, but there's plenty of open space for the dogs to wrestle and for Chuck to get extremely anxious.

I had concerns about being in Kansas, what with it not having Utah's outdoor-oriented atmosphere, but in the short week we've been here, Bobby and I have been hiking, biking, running, and going to parks almost every day (usually a couple of those a day). Amid all the activity, Bobby was able to find a job at Urban Outfitters, which is pretty rockin, as it means eventually I may be able to afford the clothing there (after some money gets saved up again, of course). We're starting to recognize some of the poor student panic, which is always exciting. We've made it through before, and we'll make it again.

Speaking of jobs, I was able to get on as a research assistant for one of the doctoral candidates in KU's social work program. I'm really excited about it because he's working on stuff that I'm really interested in. It's a temporary position now, but it could possibly become regular (unlikely, but possible) so I'm just keeping my fingers crossed. It's a pretty sweet gig-- I can work whenever I want, so class schedule won't interfere. It also means I'm going to try to find another job, at least for the time being, so if any of the Kansas folk hear of anything, I'm wide open to ideas. Hopefully I'll get a call from at least one of the places I've submitted an application to, which would be grand.

The humidity is driving me a little crazy, but I'll readjust. It makes me feel sort of lame for joking about how easy training is going to be once we returned to Kansas, what with the lower elevation and all. You don't really notice how easy it is to breathe when the sweat refuses to evaporate off your flesh. Thank goodness my hair is so short now that it won't curl.

Peli's trying to eat the trash. I'm assuming that's her signal for me to give her dinner.

Garmin's first day.

Yesterday, we awoke to a very rainy Saturday morning. I was pleased, because it meant we would spend the entire day inside packing (Bobby is easily distracted by outdoor adventures). I prompted Bobby to make the trailer reservation, and shortly thereafter we had the call telling us to pick our trailer up in Pleasant Grove. On our way out, Bobby asked, "Want to stop by the animal shelter while we're out here?" Of course, he wasn't really asking for permission. He was asking just so I would get excited.

At the trailer rental place, the poor guy working was left stranded by the U-Haul folks who are usually there, and he was left to figure out how to process our reservation after having only been shown how to do it once before. Three tries later, we had a trailer, and we went to the animal shelter at around 11:00 (the time is important for later in the story, I promise).

Immediately after walking in, we saw an adorable pair of kittens that couldn't have been older than three weeks old. They looked like bobble heads with teeny, tiny paws. We went into the first dog room, and were only mildly impressed with the selection (apparently it was Rat Terrier day at the shelter). The stray section was locked, so we walked out and asked the lady at the front desk if we could see the strays. She said it would be five to ten minutes. At this point, it was about 11:25.

So into the cat room we went. They didn't have any kittens in there, which was surprising to me (it's kitten season), but there was this weird Siamese with inside out ears (apparently it's a genetic trait some cats have). It was also a little cross eyed, and I fell in love.

Bobby hates cats, though, so I didn't push it.

A lady came out and said she could take us in to see the strays. She said the dogs in pens 1-16 were up for adoption. I took that to mean there would be 16 dogs to see, but it actually ended up being about 7. Many of the cages were empty, which is a good thing (more space means fewer euthanasia). I wasn't particularly interested in any of the dogs, because there weren't any females (I have an irrational fear of dog penis). However, there was one dog that didn't bark once. Upon closer inspection, we could tell he was a pit bull/heeler mix, just like our little Peli. He was very interested in receiving affection through the chain link door, so we asked to play with him. The lady came over and said, "Oh, I LOVE this dog!" and took him out. She tried to get the leash on him as he ran out of the gate, but he was too fast. Bobby got down on the ground and said, "Hey, come here!" and the dog ran into his lap.

Moments later, we were in the "Get Acquainted" room with an extremely excited dog. He was jumping into our laps, desperate for some much needed attention. Of course, there was the dog penis, so I wasn't warming up to him as quickly as Bobby. The little boy fell in love with Bobby very soon, though, and would not leave his lap. Bobby then started saying things that I would never have expected.

"You know, we were planning on getting a second dog anyway..."
"Look at how sweet he is!"
And then finally...
"Why don't we adopt him?"

Usually I'm the one making impulsive adoption requests. This time, I was the one being paranoid/rational.

"We're moving on Tuesday. He still has balls."
"Your mom will KILL us if we have a second dog."
"He HAS A PENIS."

However, his likeness to Peli did soften my heart, as did his sweet temperament and his lack of barking. He's larger than Peli, and brindle, making the pit bull show more and thus make me feel safer running by myself if I had him with me. He wasn't shy with strangers AT ALL (a very nice change to Peli's typical reaction to new people), which meant he could eventually be a therapy dog.

I looked at Bobby, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay. Go tell them we're adopting him."

Bobby ran out like a giddy child on Christmas day to tell the people at the front desk the good news. We're adopting a dog! We're going to save a canine life from the perils of shelter living! No longer would he be an option for euthanasia-- he's going to a home where he'll sleep in a bed with people and get training and have a big sister to play with all the time. We're pretty ideal pet parents, if I do say so myself.

Bobby returned to the "Get Acquainted" room looking absolutely crestfallen. "They don't do adoptions after 11:30." A quick look at the clock said it was 11:45.

I was about to get all up on my soap box. These people work at an animal shelter, which should mean they want animals to get adopted. They want their lives to be saved, and here they have a fantastic couple that wants to adopt an adult stray, and they're turning us away? Really?

"Go explain the situation." Bobby returned to tell them we'd be moving out of state in a couple days, and we really cannot come back on Monday to get him, simply because that does not give our other dog enough time to get used to him before spending two days in a car. The gal behind the desk said she'd make a call, but she didn't think she could do anything about the policy.

Thankfully, the gal who originally took us to the stray room appeared from a back office and, after hearing our situation, said, "Let's do it!"

While filling out the paperwork, we learned that he was only technically a stray. His previous owners had him as an indoor and outdoor dog, and his pen outside did not have a lock on it. He got out constantly (the owners said the neighbors kept letting him out, but they refused to put a lock on his pen), and was picked up by the animal control officer five times previously. The last time, they contacted the owners, and they relinquished him to the shelter. Two months later, we showed up and took him home.

Come Monday, he'll be de-balled (yay!). Since arriving in the Brigman abode, he and Peli have had a non-stop play date, which is amazing (Peli has been skittish around dogs since she was attacked at the dog park a couple months ago). Chuck hasn't quite adjusted yet, but Garmin hasn't reacted aggressively when he's seen the cat, which is also great. He's a huge snuggle bum and is getting used to being allowed on the furniture (we're assuming he wasn't allowed before, because he really hesitated before jumping up on the couch, and opted to sleep on the floor next to the bed). He's so stinking adorable, and I'm even getting used to the dog penis.

He's not a black lab, he's not a girl, and his name isn't Pini ("Garmin" is the name of our favorite cycling team), but he's a big lover, he adores Peli, AND he's house trained (BONUS!). Really, the most important thing to me was rescuing a dog from the shelter, and we were able to do just that.


Plus, he's the same mix as Peli. In case you were wondering, the heeler/pit bull mix is superior to any of the designer breeds out there.

The Final Stretch

My intent is to document our experience last night for memory's sake, as I so desperately want to cling to the laughter and comfort that embodied the bbq our friends threw, but it must wait for a moment, because there is something else that so desperately needs our attention:

Oakley sunglasses.

Not just any Oakley sunglasses, though. We're talking about the Women's Radar Path.

I've had these for a couple weeks now, but haven't had time to get out on my bike. I wore them running, and loved them, but couldn't fully appreciate them without the 17 mph breeze created when cycling. This weekend was my chance, however, with the beautiful 65 degree weather and virtually no responsiblities (well, Bobby had finals this week, but that would only count if he actually studied). I put them on and was feeling pretty good about myself, because these actually fit my face, and they're bright pink.

There was a slight problem, however, when I got on the bike and started going. In spite of the protection, I found myself squinting. A lot. After a couple miles of this contortion, my face was tired. Why the heck was I squinting? So I consciously forced myself to open my eyes, and I almost cried from happiness. My glasses were so light that I didn't notice any weight difference between wearing glasses and not wearing glasses. They fit my face so perfectly that they did not shift or fall, allowing me to focus completely on the road and my surroundings rather than worrying about a frame falling in my line of sight or having to push them up the bridge of my nose.

Not only did I look hot, but these glasses were actually doing everything they were supposed to. If they could reproduce, I would have their babies.

Speaking of looking hot, I already have a well established cycling tan. I was sporting a capped sleeve top yesterday, and a client said, "Nice farmer's tan." I think it was meant to be snarky, but I took it as a compliment.

So on to last night. First, Bobby left me to go on a bike ride and said he would meet me there, and I ended up very lost in Springville, having never gone to Rob's on my own before. My GPS was of no service to me, as Rob's address doesn't exist in the world of Garmin (blast!). After finally making it there, we chatted, laughed, made awkward jokes, and just had a really good time. Rob and Kelli made some veggie kabobs for me, which made a fabulous addition to my homemade black bean burgers (which, Rob said, actually tasted like real hamburgers). Peli enjoyed a hotdog and a half, the half being a gift from Elise (Rob's daughter) where Elise almost lost all of her fingers. Kelli told some funny stories about waiting for Rob while he served in Guatamala, and I talked with Sarah about her wedding plans. Kelli let me try on her new running tops to see if they fit. Thank you, Pearl Izumi, for making me a small! We're ordering Kelli some replacement XS tops. The whole night was just a comforting setting, and ended with Sarah and Marty giving me a ride home while Bobby went running with Rob and Chris. It was bittersweet-- such a fun evening, but I know we're leaving in a couple weeks. Why did I have to really start liking Utah when it was so close to time to leave? It's so much easier to deal with the crazies when you have your group of friends that you can turn to. I'm really kicking myself for not seeing all the good Utah had to offer sooner. It's really a lesson Heavenly Father has taught me, and I am going to look for the good in every situation, circumstance, and environment. It's not worth spending any time feeling sad about something when there's an abundance of good surrounding it.

So on that note, I'm still excited about Kansas. I'm excited to do some triathlons and bike races this summer, and perhaps even a half marathon (I'm really starting to enjoy running again). I'm looking forward to having a garage and counter space and time to spend with my husband. I'm really excited about my brother's wedding and being so close to family.

The beautiful thing about being an adult means that we don't have to be away from any place for long.

And something to think about.

Garage sales are your friend.

We had a garage sale today with the intent of having another on the 2nd, but this one was so successful that we don't have to have another. Rock! Of course, our landlords ended up buying most of our stuff to put back into our apartment for the next tenants, but that's certainly okay by me.

Peli has a weird growth on her foot that she didn't seem to notice until we took her to the vet. Because her doctor had to poke and prod to try to figure out what it was, she also figured out it was there, and has since taken to trying to chew it off. She's part pit bull, and thus has a very high pain tolerance (one of the reasons they are the preferred breed for fighting), so it's okay by her that she chews it right off and has a gaping wound in her foot. We've wrapped it in gauze and prewrap and tape, but she just chews that off as well. Sadly for her, we had to get a cone to make her leave it alone, and when it's on, she refuses to move. It'd be comical if I didn't love her so much and I hate to see her uncomfortable.

Work yesterday was an absolute nightmare. I woke up Friday morning thinking, "Man, I only have two weeks left. That's so sad!" and before the morning was over, as I cried in my office, I thought, "I still have two weeks left of this?!?" It was the craptastic day from Hades, and while the events would make a very excellent blog entry, I've fulfilled my need for processing (thanks to amazing coworkers, froyo, and a dance party in Kim's office) and confidentiality means I share nothing. I can say yesterday showed me why many social workers opt to get their concealed carry permit. It wasn't actually that bad, it just felt that bad for a little while yesterday, and I almost had Bobby come sit in my office with me just to feel safe. Here's to the next two weeks going more smoothly.

My application for a research position was sent in a few days ago for a social work professor at KU, and I received an email today to schedule an interview. As wonderful as it would be to have a few days off between the move and school starting, I'd feel kind of lame not working. It's nice having a purpose and doing something with my time, and it will certainly help out with the old debt problem. Dave Ramsey would not be pleased with our recent bike purchases, but it isn't certain that Bobby will be working at a bike shop in Lawrence (we're hoping!), so we have to stock up on a few things. Some people have food storage-- we have bike storage. That's almost as important, right?

I mentioned before that Chuck was being extra affectionate. Whatever the reason was, somehow its magnified itself, and Chuck cannot get enough attention. No complaints or anything-- I am loving it! I just hope it lasts after he's in a car for a couple days, which is pretty much his worst nightmare. Ah, well. I'll savor the next two weeks (TWO WEEKS!) just in case.

From CAWS, an animal rescue.

Declawing! What You Need To Know

Declawing is akin to cutting off half the cat's toes. When the end digit, including the claw is removed, the sensory and motor nerves are cut, damaged and destroyed. They do not repair themselves or grow back for many months. Following the surgery there is a wooden lack of feeling, then a tingling sensation during the long convalescence while the cat must walk on the stub end of the second digit. Remember that during all this time the cat may not "rest" his feet as we would after a similar operation but must continue to scratch in his litter box, walk and attempt to jump as usual regardless of his pain. Most veterinarians in other countries refuse to do the operation.

Besides the physical mutilation, consider what declawing may do to the cat's emotions, the personality changes that may occur. Knowing he has not the means to defend himself, some cats follow the precept of the best defense is a good offense, and will bite at the least provocation (and it may truly be the least provocation.) Often times cats become "biters" when they can no longer rely on their security of their claws. Others become depressed and lose the loving personality that made you choose him to start with. Many cats also experience litter box problems.
If you really love your cat, you will want him to lead a long, happy life, giving and receiving love and affection. If you really love him, and care about him, don't declaw him. There are many alternatives such as nail trimming, training and soft paws claw covers. If you feel you must have a cat that is declawed due to outstanding circumstances please adopt a cat who has already been through this procedure rather than subjecting another one to it. CAWS has several cats who are already declawed. Please visit http://www.caws.org.