I had two heart attacks yesterday.

I'm surprised I'm still around to write about them.

First one. I was driving down our street and CheyAnn was walking our dog, if it wasn't for her the poor dog would never get walked. I was ready to kill Chuck though because the dog is a muddy mess and CheyAnn is wearing her best school clothes and shoes walking the dog through puddles. Normally I don't have a problem with dirty clothes or muddy dogs (I'm definitely not Kate Gosslien), but when the child only has two pair of jeans for school as it is and she's covered in mud, then I get a little uptight. But wait this isn't where the heart attack came in. As I pull in the driveway CheyAnn and Bear are walking toward me and our cat darts out from behind a bush right into Bear's path. The dog finally got the cat and he wasn't going to let go. CheyAnn still holding onto the leash screams loud enough and panicked enough that Chuck came running out of the house. I yelled for her to drop the leash and back away at the same time dropping my purse and bag on the ground going for the dog. He was really laying into the cat and wasn't going to let go. I've never been afraid of our dog until that moment. Chuck literally had to punch the dog in the mouth to get him to drop the cat. At that point the cat ran and got on the window ledge of the kitchen window so the dog couldn't reach him. The dog had blood around his mouth, I still don't know if the cat scratched him or if he hurt the cat. All this time (probably about a minute and a half) CheyAnn is still standing in the same spot pale as a ghost and shaking. Then my butt head husband actually had the nerve to yell at her for letting the dog get the cat. Like it was a 6 year olds fault that the cat came out of the bushes and went for the dog. I'm just thankful that CheyAnn didn't try to free the cat and get bitten. I think the cat laid on the window sill for about an hour shaking. Maybe he learned his lesson to stay away from the dog. The cat was fine this morning though.

Now for my second heart attack of the night. I was getting ready for bed and decided my legs needed lotion. So I took my rings off and laid them on the comforter and lathered up my legs. Then I proceeded to cover up and turned the TV on. About 5 minutes later I realized I forgot to put my rings on. Reached on the nightstand to get them and they weren't there. That's when I remembered that I put them on the bed. Well they weren't there either. When I pulled the covers up it must have made them fly to the floor or something. CheyAnn and I looked for about 20 minutes, I even took the blankets off the bed, twice, and still couldn't find them. I got a flashlight and looked under the bed, and dressers, no luck. I knew they had to be there somewhere, where else could they be. Chuck came in and helped look, the whole time laughing at me, because I was getting upset that I couldn't find them. I looked over toward the window where I had a Rubbermaid tote with clothes to get rid of and something caught my eye. One of my rings was in that box. Chuck dug down through it and found the other two. I don't know how they got from the bed to that box, it seems impossible. Maybe I'm just losing my mind and I put them on the pile of clothes and not on the bed like I thought I did. It sucks getting old and losing your memory.

S :)