Perhaps not.

I keep thinking I'll be able to get rid of this box.

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Notes

Dear coworker,

When I asked you what you thought of the Van Gogh exhibit you had clearly just been to see at the local art museum, the answer should not have been:

"Oh, I already saw it in Amsterdam."

Wow, really, how irrelevant. Interesting that you felt the need to show off rather than answer the question. Next time, try not to assume you are the only person who has been outside of Reno or this country, and stop trying to impress. Just because you have seen art doesn't mean you can talk about it... clearly.

Dear Leroy's owner,

You are a disgrace. Walk your goddamn dog- he is desperate to go outside. And while you're at it, cut the mats out of his hair and brush him once in a while. And for god's sake, neuter him.

Dear neighbor,

I am sorry to hear about all the trouble you're having with your wife's Alzheimer's. It sounds like you live on eggshells, and you seem very frustrated and lonely. How hard it must be already, and then to know it will only get worse. I hope it did help to talk, and I wish you a better day tomorrow than you had today.

Dear checkout guy,

Don't question me. I'm on a budget- I did the math.

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A (long) moment of reflection

I'm not as forthcoming with the gratitude as I should be, so I'm going to document the moment.

Walking my dog is like walking. I thread the leash through my belt loop, hook it to her collar, and just walk. Sometimes I see people looking in awe because I'm not holding the leash or she's not even on one, but heeling anyway. Then I remind myself that it is an accomplishment- that it's not that common. It is not an exhausting, frustrating chore to walk my dog, which is probably why I'm such an advocate. Or maybe we have just practiced enough because I'm such an advocate. It is very important to me to be a good dog owner, and I am out with Riley every single day, practicing commands, giving her exercise and time to smell things, taking her on car rides to fun, interesting places, being extra careful in the heat or the cold. I put a lot of time in, and I often tell Riley how lucky she is, especially when I see or hear about a dog that's abused or ignored. I hug her and cry in her coat because she's so lucky.

But I am also lucky. In addition to being smart, loving, communicative, protective but also friendly, silly, well-behaved, and happy, she is also a dream to walk. I don't understand people that don't walk their dogs, but today I can understand their reluctance if they don't have a dog like mine. (That's all the tolerance you get. Now go walk your dogs.)

On to Part 2: children. You know I never wanted kids, but I put my whole heart into raising Ant. When I got pregnant, I was suddenly in love. I would have been a great parent to the kid who wasn't mine as well as the kid who was never to be, but neither of those was for the long term, and I don't get to know why. I'm hoping that I'll get another chance someday, because I think I'd be pretty good at it.

But for right now (as you pointed out to me, 10), I have the space, the freedom, and the quiet time to watch movies. I watch exactly what I feel like watching. I can stop it when I want to go to bed. I can watch it with subtitles, and nobody's annoyed. And that's just movies. I read, I sew, I do puzzles, I talk to myself, I eat bizarre meals, I clean when the urge strikes, I browse stores all Saturday afternoon, I take naps whenever I'm tired. I'm grieving the chaos and the responsibility of a house and a family, but I'm here in a quiet, beautiful place of solace and freedom.

Jody came over for dinner tonight. She brought her almost two-year-old son, her two dogs, and a pizza. I did a child proofing sweep before they showed up- ha. Brand new blinds they put in today, and he's pulling on them. I have two chairs and he climbed into the fabric covered one to eat pizza. There are pizza handprints all over the table, the doorknob, the ottoman, my book, the blinds, and the sliding glass door. There is a grease stain on the chair. Her dog, Lucy, despite having a recent encounter that ended similarly, tried interacting too closely with Solo, who popped her in the nose so deep that it took Jody several minutes and paper towels to stop the bleeding while I cleaned the blood out of the carpet and Jody's son happily explored my cabinets. I see now that those cupboard locks are not to keep darling baby from eating rat poison, but to keep him from putting his mouth all over your cookware. That was my determination, anyway, as I watched him drink out of an empty measuring cup. Imagine my confounded expression.

"Ready to walk?" I asked Jody.

See, that's the less romantic side of parenting. And it's not as if I don't understand that that's more often the reality than not- I got to experience some parental juggling, just not with a two-year-old.  And letting a two-year-old run free seems to be more about exhaustion and surrender than an intentional violation of someone else's home. But I'll come back to that.

I offered to walk Snoopy, since I'd only be walking Riley the cloud dog. Snoopy is a herding dog, bred for long days of work. She is the best off-leash dog I have ever seen, but this dog cannot walk next to you- she must run circles around you. Leashes are not her thing. I have known these two dogs their whole lives, and as diligent a walker as Jody is, Snoopy is just an asshole to walk. All she does is pull.

I tried many things: using the Cesar loop, touching her side, making noises, short tugs on the leash, making her follow Riley, switching sides, making them walk together. Finally, I had Jody walk ahead and kept Snoopy at her heels. If I had to walk a dog like this every day, I would go insane. I would buy a bike to run her with, I would take her to off-leash parks daily, I would learn to roller blade- anything to drain that energy and then train her to heel.

It was exhausting and aggravating and I don't know how Jody does it every day. But we came back from that walk and I had to look to see if Riley was still there, as all my attention had been on Snoopy. She was right there, of course. I felt this surge of love for her.

"You are such a good girl," I told her.

Now, Snoopy loves me, and I love her. When we got back to my apartment, she sat next to me and cuddled me, leaned her head against me. I cuddled her back, kissed her head, and talked to her. There was such a difference between this dog and the one I just walked. What a love.

But let me walk you to the car.

This is not a complaint. I will clean up the pizza handprints. The blinds are intact. Walking Snoopy on a leash sucks, but that gave Jody a break, because Lucy is good on walks- so good that Jody was able to let her son hold the leash.

My (long-winded) point is that for one evening, my peaceful paradise was stirred. Feathers were ruffled a little, but it was only temporary, and up until now, I had no idea how much I was enjoying my peace. My friends like Jody: I envy their chaos, their companionships, the feeling of being needed; they envy my quiet, my peace, and my freedom. We can't trade for an equal balance, and maybe someday I'll look back at this time and feel wistful, but tonight- right now- I feel grateful for what I have.

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Cat Law

Cat Law states that if you move something from its usual spot, like the water bowl, the cat will sit in the empty space.

They're replacing the blinds today, so I have to shut the animals in the walk-in closet. Solo already knows what's up-clear her tail has been a little puffy this morning. She will fight me when I try to put her in there. Riley thinks we're moving again.

I hit the store on Tuesday and bought a new bag of cat food. As I put it on the shelf, I wondered if Riley could get to it.

"Nah..."

Yeah. She pulled it down, chewed it open, and chowed down. How much cat food did she eat? She stopped on her own accord, that's how much. I came home to find a noticeably wider dog. She looked like a small, furry ottoman. Three big poops and no dinner later, she started looking like a dog again, but left a runny present in the living room for me last night. Yes, there are people coming into my apartment today and it smells strongly of dog shit. I am working on fume extraction, but I also need to go to work. Sigh.

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FU, Blogspot

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Movie and Hair Blog

Um, why did Entertainment Weekly AND the Blockbuster guy tell me The Call was a decent movie? Actually, Blockbuster guy said that's what people had said so far, so that's not actually an endorsement. It may actually be the silliest movie I have ever seen, because I can't remember a sillier one at the moment. I started watching a featurette called Emergency Procedures, thinking they would show us what being a 911 dispatcher is really like without movie nonsense, but instead it was the making of a silly nonsense movie with everybody fawning all over each other.

"You're so dedicated."
"No, you're so dedicated."

Uh, no.

Hey, I forgot to tell you that I got a $5 haircut at the beauty school on Friday. They are open 'til 9, whaaaa? It's hit or miss, depending on the student you get, but I got the best one ever: a newbie. She still kept her scissors in the plastic! What could possibly be good about a newbie cutting your hair, you ask? Constant supervision, that's what. She did the consult with me and then went right to her teacher, who came over and got her started. My newbie was very timid and cutting with deep concentration. She went back for her teacher, who showed her again. This time, I got it. The teacher left and I could immediately see where my newbie was going wrong. I kept my mouth shut. She wasn't doing any damage because she was cutting so little. Finally, the teacher came back and just took over. Her scissors zipped through my hair, finding the right part that had eluded me, and knowing where to start my bangs. My hair fell quickly and lighter than it did before, in lovely face-framing layers- exactly what I came in for. My whole head said "Ahhh." A few students gathered to watch as the teacher demonstrated the texturing techniques. Maybe I should start asking for the newbies.

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If only I could get up

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How's My Thriving?

Next time I'm going to finish the blog first, because I get derailed and when I come back to it, I'm in a different place.

It's getting late and Mini is watching the bubbles in my seltzer water. What the hell is happening here? When did I start liking seltzer? And- more importantly- when did I turn into my mother?

I have a question for you guys: Does it seem like I'm making progress?

I can't tell. Right now I feel antsy and unproductive. The heat is intolerable, and keeps me trapped indoors, undistracted from what needs to be fixed, but I'd rather do anything else. It's been movies lately, but now it's time to finish everything up and clear the table for the next big project.

Now, my horoscope says.

August is when everything starts or ends. I'll see enough change then, I guess. For now- for the end of July- I just have to run it out, give it that extra energy you have only because you're near the finish line.

I cooked meat tonight- can't remember the last real meal I made. I had baked chicken, and while I broke down and decided to buy Mrs. Dash, they didn't have any, so I did some seasoned salt and garlic powder, marjoram... and... let's see... ground mustard. Well, call me Mrs. Pinch, because that was excellent. I'll be having some cold chicken for lunch tomorrow, mmm-hmmm. I know it's 100 degrees outside and I'm not supposed to be using the oven, but sometimes you need a hot dinner that doesn't involve the microwave.

So whatever, back to work tomorrow, a presentation to edit, a job to apply for, loose ends, chores, and errands. Not fun, but necessary. Almost there.

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Art Paws

Took Riley to Art Paws, the annual dog fair by the river. It was overwhelming, as usual. I forgot to bring cash, as usual, but that was probably a good thing. There are several rescue booths, both the SPCA and the Humane Society bring adoptable animals, plus the Boxer Buddies. They are still doing their boxer kissing booth, which is still adorable.

I talked to some vendors and found out that there are some neat services around. There are people who train dogs to avoid rattlesnakes. They have a dog trainer who holds the leashed dog and a snake handler who wields a live rattlesnake. They do clinics or house calls. A live rattlesnake! I suppose it only makes sense, and their price is completely reasonable compared to the vet costs of treating a rattlesnake bite, especially if you do a lot of running or hiking with your dog. But wow, a live rattlesnake! No house calls for me, thanks.

I talked to a couple people that offer boarding and day care. One sounds great for my old lady- a separated spot where she can see and smell other dogs, but they can't hurt her. And more importantly, she can't hurt them.

Dog Training by PJ offers all levels of classes including tricks, consistency, rally, dressage, agility, and CGC, some with multiple levels, but what I'm most impressed with is that they offer a Pits & Bullies class. It is so hard to take a Pit anywhere for training- that is such a great idea. Owners of dogs like these understand what it's like and are quite forgiving and supportive of each other. They also offer help for aggressive dogs.

I got a reusable bag from

That's when Tracy called.

Jennyway, that was Art Paws.

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