Dear Immune System…

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Dear My Immune System:

It’s December, so it’s time for me to make my annual reminder: There is no getting sick in December. There is altogether too much to do!

(Sidebar: People of Earth! Can we please move Christmas to July for real? I get that you want to decorate your house, your car, your kids, buy presents, take a week off, enjoy the snow, do the Elf on the Shelf thing and sing along to Debbie Gibson’s immortal version of Sleigh Ride but year end is on the way so this is seriously inconvenient).

Anyway. So no getting sick in December. I’m out of sick days anyway.

And none in January because that’s Year End.

February is absolutely a no go on illness because I need that month to catch up on the stuff that I didn’t get done in December and January.

March? Only if absolutely necessary. I have a week off scheduled but I really do not want to spend it sick.

Maybe April. Okay, immune system, you can wreak some havoc in April but only if my boss is in town and my robot coworker is around too.

And noooo, immune system, I will not do anything to make this easier. I got a flu shot what more do you want? I will not stay hydrated, I will not take vitamins, I will not get 8 hours of sleep. I will wash my hands frequently but that’s it.

Fight the good fight, immune system.


Thankful ’13

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Okay, this is my second swing at this. The first was getting too maudlin and vaguebloggy and blah.

Anyway, I love all of you and I am thankful for all of you and your influence on my life. It’s been a year of laughter and tears and I am freaking glad it’s nearly over!

I am well (well stuffed with Thanksgiving food!), hope you are well (stuffed) too!


Breed All About It

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First things first: Gene has informed me that our next dog should be named Patrice, after the much maligned character on How I Met Your Mother. Considering that three dogs puts us above capacity, I assume that he will have forgotten this whim by the time we’re in the market for a new dog. (I also expect THAT to not happen for many years as Betty and Scooby are merely middle aged and have a lot of life in them).

Secondly, a month or so ago, the website Woot had a deal of the day for the Wisdom Panel Dog DNA kit. The exact item had been on my Amazon wish list for about a year but Woot’s price was about 40% cheaper than Amazon. Since we had to buy three I was eager to get it as cheaply as possible.

(And now that we know the results, I feel a little foolish about paying even the discount price. Not that swabbing your dog’s mouth doesn’t make you look like a jackass anyway, but I digress).

(#FirstWorldProblems)

Back in the day, when my Grandma M and I would talk about the dogs she would always say “And you have beagle hounds, right Elaine?” and I’d say Yes.

Anyway. The votes are in and we are zero for three in terms of “I wonder what breed the dogs are?”.

Scooby – Scooby was listed on Petfinder as a beagle mix and to look at him, I completely believed it. I was 1000% sure that the test results would say “Beagle and shepherd. Have you even looked at your dog before?”. So imagine my surprise when the results stated he’s a “Chihuahua, German Wirehaired Pointer, Pekingese, Shetland Sheepdog, Tibetan Spaniel Mix”. The best parts were the chihuahua and pekingese, which are purse dog breeds and Scooby is absolutely a 100-lb German Shepherd in the body of a 25-lb dog. He loves to tangle with big dogs.

Betty – Betty was also listed as a beagle mix, I think. To be honest, when I saw her on Petfinder I knew she was our dog and the description could have said she was a Pit bull mixed with killer bee and I still would have oohed and aahed and ponied up the $80 to bring her home. After 10-ish years of ownership, Gene and I have assumed beagle and corgi and Luis Guzman’s forehead. So again…imagine my surprise when the results say she’s a “Chow chow, Pomeranian, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Samoyed, Vizsla Mix”. In retrospect, the pomeranian and Chow Chow parts don’t surprise me as they look like exceptionally sheddy dogs but Rhodesian Ridgebacks and Vizslas are long legged and short haired. Betty is…umm, furry and longer haired and has the shortest legs and most adorable paws ever.

Sadie Pot Pie: Sadie has always been our big question mark. Even the pet rescuer we adopted her from politely dodged our breed questions with “Umm, there’s  lot of things in her!”. (The question was, “We think she looks a lot like our other girl dog, who we think is Beagle and Corgi”). We’ve posited a ton of theories about Sadie’s lineage but have mostly given up (“Sure, Corgi, golden retriever. Why not?”). So once again, imagine my surprise when the results came back to reveal: Beagle and Labrador Retriever. (And a lot of other things. At least half of her lineage is still listed as “Mixed Breed”, a/k/a who knows?).

So all in all, we thought we had a bepherd, a corgle and a whatever and it turns out we have a 25 lb purse dog, a 35 lb large breed dog and a 55 lb beagle. We have the melting pot of doggies and I maintain that all three of them can out badass anything at Westminster. Genetics are amazing things.


Pyle

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So, a week or so ago I had a dream that my mom gave us a dog. It was a dachshund/yorkie mix (a dorkie). I was upset because I didn’t really want a fourth dog and if we got one I wanted a corgi (which is true, I want a corgi so bad!). And as I woke up, I was trying to decide what to name this Dorkie Dog and came up with Pyle, in honor of Ernie Pyle.

 


So, what else is going on?

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Hmm, apparently I started this post at least a week ago. Except, I thought I’d finished it and posted it. In reality, I only wrote the post title.

Whoops!

Anyway, things here at home are pretty good. Ups and downs but nothing that makes me want to load up the car and flee.

Today I replaced our clothes dryer. The old model wasn’t entirely broken or anything but it was definitely fading fast and I wanted to replace it to take advantage of a pretty good sale at Home Depot.

A week or two ago we replaced the HVAC in the house. Apparently 13 years is a pretty good lifespan for it.

Mentally trying to prepare for the party known as Year End. So far all I can think is “OMG why does year end keep happening??” My coworker pointed out that this year we didn’t really have the lull one expects after year end. That plus a very stressful summer leads me to feel that there’s just no respite. I have enough time in my time off bank to take a week off, but my other coworker is a robot and never takes time off so I don’t want to look bad in comparison. (It doesn’t help that kicks way more ass at work than I do).



Summer 2013

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So, I didn’t mean to disappear. I didn’t really disappear at all, I was always here in the odd phone call, a random text, Facebook status update, or sometimes by showing up on your doorstep late on a Sunday with two bags of dirty clothes and no toothbrush.

I’d started to live by the edict of “If you can’t say something nice, say nothing” except my version was “If you can’t say something that won’t worry your mother, say nothing”. And I had nothing to say that wouldn’t worry my mother, so I said nothing.

And, well, there was a lot of pressure here at home, a lot of stress. We weren’t communicating as we should. I injured my back, felt uncomforted, he felt deep stress and anxiety and felt uncomforted. Some yelling. Some leaving. I literally took a bag of clean clothes, a bag of dirty clothes and my laptop and took off for my parents’ house. The dogs were so wigged out they literally wouldn’t leave the back yard.

At mom and dad’s, things were good. Low drama. Low stress. Just being near (most of) the people who love me best, talking, watching cable TV. But I couldn’t stay forever so I left a few days later and came back home to Cheesecake City. And we talked. Not tons, but we talked. And things were so much better. We’re so much happier. We hold hands. We laugh. We take care of each other.

True Story.

 




Just write, just wrong

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“So what are you good at?” she asked me.

Almost without hesitation, I replied “I’m an excellent writer.”

A few minutes later, she asked me, “How would you feel if you’d been able to have a child?”

With hesitation, I told her that I thought I’d be a good Mom, but had reservations and have come to embrace childlessness. Mostly.

She said, “When you talk about writing, you light up, no shame, no sadness. Your homework this week is to write.”

It was an exhausting hour of therapy.