Surprise for you....

Another post about running! Are you tired of hearing about my running adventures yet? Do you wish I would have just kept all the baby stuff on this blog to bore you with?

We are moving into the last week of our Couch 2 5K program. The program itself is actually 9 weeks, but with our vacation and our ~ahem~ laziness I think we've been working on this for about 6 years now. But we're almost there!

The actual running is getting better. Not much easier, but bringing Tess helps give me something to fuss over to help pass the time. SB also had a great suggestion that I should be listening to audiobooks or podcasts rather than music. Normally I would buck this suggestion, but for once I listened and gave it a try. It's actually great! I have been listening to Q podcasts so far - we'll see what else I can scare up that I like.

M is still very amenable to our runs, although I have learned that I have to go pretty much as soon as she wakes up, otherwise it totally messes with her sleeping schedule. The cooler weather is presenting some challenges, mainly finding a hat that won't fall over her eyes, resulting in screams. Mittens so far are not an option at all. Ever. We've been getting by using hoodies, and thankfully it's usually over 10 degrees in the afternoons when we run... Fingers crossed she becomes more used to winter wear or it could be a LOOOOONG season!

36 weeks, 6 days

Seeing as how our life is about to be given over to a tiny alien, I decided that this weekend I would plan a relaxing getaway weekend. However, obviously without the option of actually leaving the city just in case the alien decided to actually land, I had to be slightly creative.

So I booked a surprise two night stay at the Hotel Place D'Armes, the hotel where we got married. I picked him up from work on Friday at 5, after I had already checked in and deposited our luggage in the room (which I packed after he left in the morning). I took him to dinner at The Keg, then made him hide is eyes while I drove around the block and gave the valet at the hotel our keys. We spent the two nights ordering movies, ordering room service, reading, napping, walking around the Old Port, and just generally relaxing. Tess was in the more than capable hands of one of my co-workers for the weekend, so I was able to rest easy knowing that not only is she totally enamored by Liz and would be totally comfortable with her, but also that Liz has her own puppy at home and welcomed the play date/in-house energy burner.

The funniest thing was that at dinner on Friday night, before he knew my whole master plan for the weekend, SB said "I think that after this meal, if the rest of the weekend included nothing but lounging in pjs and not having to take Tess out, I would be in heaven." And that's exactly what it was.

***sidenote: I won't even get into the part about how my co-workers planned a surprise brunch/shower for today, Sunday, at 10:30, and SB had to covertly rearrange their plans to accommodate my surprise for him. The brunch ended up being so sweet and fantastic, and I am so, so sad I'm not joining them all at the work tomorrow. I will have to visit the clinic often throughout the year because I'm already missing it and those ladies!

Oh, ya....

I know, I know, two posts in one day - I'm such an attention whore. But I was running and thought of something that I had been meaning to blog about.

I cannot for the life of me figure out who the hell is in charge of choosing theme music for sporting events. It was something that I realized really bothered me last week while watching the Super Bowl, and then we went to a hockey game on Wednesday and it came up again. SB doesn't seem to understand my outrage, but let me set the scene for you.

Super Bowl. A commercial comes on for the NFL draft - they ran several throughout the night. I don't know any of the players, but they were apparently showing pretty key guys during their moment of their NFL draft year. Putting on the jersey for the first time, shaking hands with the owners, blah blah blah. And what song are they playing?

Wake Up, by the Arcade Fire.

Think about it for a second.

Does it seem strange to you that they are celebrating and promoting a very pivotal moment in an athlete's career, the moment where all the hard work and dedication and all that jazz culminates in earning them that shot at the dream, that they are celebrating all this with a song about being emotionally beaten down as a child and growing up mal-adjusted. Huh.

Next scene:

Habs game.

The visiting team skates out to boos and the like. Then to bring the Habs players out two young kids (maybe 10-13 yrs old, I can't be sure because, kids, who needs 'em?) take the ice (which has been darkened and there are swirling spotlights) and what song are they playing to get everyone pumped up?

Fix You, by Coldplay.

Yes, let's get this party started with a song about dealing with a loved one trapped in the clutches of a dangerous depression.

Does it really take so much effort to LISTEN to the lyrics, to see what the song actually says? Stop being so lazy sports marketing people!!!!

Because, seriously, at the hockey game I got goosebumps, but not for the right reasons.

Still waiting

Still nothing happening on the next Big Thing. I know it's very tedious that I keep mentioning it and then not going into details, but I just really dislike fielding questions about stuff when I can't control when they happen. So, you'll get to know when it happens, and until then, I get to whine about how it's not happening fast enough.

In other news, I was ecstatic to find out that Wolf Parade is doing a mini-tour in April, so we scooped up some tickets to the show in Quebec City on April 1st (we better not show up to a fake concert - I am not a big fan of April Fool's day). I'm not super stoked that we have to go to Quebec City to see them (they are from Montreal, so the only thing I can imagine is that all the good venues were already booked on the dates they needed....otherwise it's just annoying). But we're going to take the opportunity to spend the night, then check out Old Quebec the following day, which I think we've only done together once, and only for like half an afternoon.

I think it will be a fun little mini-trip, and I could never express how excited I am to see them live again. I feel like one new album every two years is just NOT enough!!! I'm hoping that since the new CD is not out yet that this means this tour is a test run of new stuff, and that they will do a big tour in the late summer/fall. Fingers crossed! Two shows in a year would be amazing!

Back to reality.

So, we're back from vacation. Been back for about a week now. It's sad. So, so, so sad.

I wasn't able to let go of thinking about work while we were there. I cheated a few times and checked the emails just to be sure things seemed to be going smoothly. I can't wait until I don't have to do that anymore. Because aside from that, I was able to completely disconnect from everything else in life (even FARMVILLE!!!!) and just spend time with SB.

The resort was fantastic, we couldn't have asked or hoped for more. We were ridiculously spoiled, and had nice surprises from the staff. SB got to do some active watersports stuff - I tried to get into the Hobie Cat thing for his sake, but was way too nervous. He didn't mind taking it out alone, and also did some waterskiing too. We went snorkeling together, which was amazing. So many cute fish to see!

Now, back to reality, it doesn't seem fair that just over a week ago I was eating dinner with my feet in the sand and the ocean just a few yards away in the moonlight. It's like it never even happened, like it was just a dream. At least we have photographic proof!

Death by exercise

SB tried to kill me today. It was a kindhearted kind of murder plot, though, in which all he really wanted to do was spend time with me doing something that is good for us. We went for a run.

This is itself would not be unusual. I have been known to run a few times a week pretty regularly. Sure for the last month or so I have been concentrating less on running and more on not throwing myself off the Champlain bridge, but before that I was getting out there pretty regularly.

SB wanted to go for a run, and I didn't really want to, but I did want to spend time with him, so thought it would be a good thing that we should do. Then he said "let's go run on the mountain". Which made me even less excited because when I run, I'm pretty particular about The Conditions, and The Conditions do not include severe inclines. Nope. The Conditions also don't include 5 degree temperature, but this is something I've been wanting to conquer, so that was less of an issue.

So, he corrals me into the car and we drive to the mountain. Stretching is required as part of The Conditions and I'm really glad that I stuck to my guns on that one. So, we got going.

The incline was not fun. Not as bad as I had imagined, but not fun.

The Conditions also mandate that I run between 20-30 minutes, depending on my pace. Running slower, I'll stretch it out to 30. Running at "race pace" (who am I kidding, I have never been in a race, but I know what pace I would like to run if I were in one) then I stick to less time, especially since I haven't been running at all lately. We were running well below race pace, so at around the 15 minute mark I started asking when SB expected we would turn this boat around and hightail it back to the bottom.

SB seemed to be in denial of The Conditions. He said "we'll just go to the top". Then when we got to the top, he wanted to keep going, probably to frolic around the lake that's up there. I had to put my foot down. I said "No, I'm turning around." "Oh, are you tired?" "I was ready to turn around ten minutes ago when I clearly said 'let's turn around.'"

So, we turned around.

We ran 6km in 45 minutes - not a great pace, but good for a long slow run. My hips are killing me. My lungs did not fail me at all, which I'm pretty pleased about. And even better, SB did not succeed in killing me off.

This time.

Rotten

Today was a rotten day. For many many many reasons.

It was long. It was a long, long day and usually when I have a busy day of work like today it goes by quickly. Not so today.

The dogs were not nice. First off, my dog was not nice. I took a chance and brought him on a group walk even though I feared he may bite the face off another dog. He didn't, he had fun. He romped. And then when I dropped him at home so I could finish my day, he wouldn't stop barking. Usually when I leave the house he will bark for about 10 seconds, then stop, but today he would not. And I understand that he knew that he was missing something, but, Dude, you miss it every day. And today you got to partake in it for an hour. So shut it.

Then the afternoon group dogs were not nice. Actually, only one of them was not nice. But I expected it. He's a puller, which means he just basically tries to pull you all over. I already have a very sore arm from lord knows what, but I woke up last Thursday and felt like someone tried to pull my arm out of the socket. Then kicked it. Anyway, I used a cross-body leash since I knew this dog was a puller and it saved my arm for sure, but he did whip me a few times quite roughly and now I have a sore back. Not too sore, but just sore enough. The other dogs made me want to eat them up they are so adorable. And I forgot my camera, by the way.

Also, when I parked my car at the mountain I parked behind a car that had its keys hanging out of the trunk's lock. So I put a note and took the keys, and she happened to call when I was in the middle of my pickups and drop offs for the next group. Then my brain fell out of my head and I forgot to pick up one of the dogs on my way to the mountain to drop the keys to her, so I had to backtrack quite a way adding even more time to the day.

Then to top it all off I had my last visits with a diabetic cat that we have cared for many times over the last few years, but now his parents are moving. I wish that was the end of the story, but not only are they moving, but they have decided that the best thing to do would be to have the cat euthanized rather than moving him with them or finding him a new home. Yes, he's old, yes he's very, very sick, and yes it probably really makes sense. But my heart can't take visiting a kitty and cuddling him and loving him and knowing that in two weeks they are going to kill him. It sucks.

So, after my bath and half a bottle of wine, I was very happy that SB had brought home some Portuguese chicken. But after dinner, what does he pull out? (dirty minds, dirty...enough of that!)

A SNICKERS!!!! And since I didn't have time to eat lunch today, I ate it and I didn't care, and I was glad that there was one thing today that made me happy. And happy that it came from him.

Don't you want somebody to love?

It's late, and I haven't posted yet. And I'm craving a Snickers bar. Oh dear.

My mother emailed me this morning to let me know that the receptionist at her doctor's office (where I used to also visit until I moved away), who is also a breeder of Bernese Mountain dogs, has pups going out right now, and will have another litter available in the spring.

TORTURE!!!

For anyone who is unaware, I am slightly obsessed with these dogs, and have long held that they would be the next breed of dog we had in our home. How could anyone resist this:

(as a side note even my friend Sam who hates all creatures can recognize these dogs in a crowd and actually thinks they are cute because they look like they're wearing legwarmers)

I think some people might be a bit surprised that I would go to a breeder rather than adopt a shelter dog, and to be honest I would love to do both. But I feel like for our lifestyle and home situation, it's very important to get the right dog and make it as easy as possible to mesh it with our lives. Our place is not big, and we don't have a yard. We also have three other pets who already live here, and a routine that we like. While a puppy would definitely be a big change to that routine, I want the puppy to feel happy and balanced with what we can offer her.

All that to say, we kind of have to have an idea of what we're going to get. And, yes, every single dog is different even within breeds, but when odds are if you choose a breed that is known for being lazy (as Berners are) you are going to get a quieter dog who doesn't need to run 5 miles every day. If we adopted a mutt rescue puppy, they generally come as "shepherd mixes" "lab mixes" or "border collie mixes" - regardless of what they are mixed with, those are all very active dogs, and you get a lab x shepherd, you could end up with a crazy 100 lb dog in a condo, and then no one ends up happy.

So at this point I would like the odds to be with us. My top dog choices are the Berners and the dachshund - at completely separate ends of the size scale. But my heart is with the Berner. We'll see how long it is before I can finally convince SB. I mentioned that to my mom this morning, and said she would have been better off letting him know about the pups that are available than torturing me with them.

Contributing to my social phobia

So, here we are, halfway through November! Can you believe I've been married almost two months? Can you believe I'm going on vacation in almost two months? Can you believe you're still reading the mundane details of my life daily???

But, I actually have a quasi-interesting topic today, so that's kind of exciting, right?

Last night we went for dinner at our friends' place. It was us, them, and one other couple who we have never met before.

Now, I'm all for meeting new people (not really, right?) so I put on my big girl pants, and was ready to be social and pleasant while in the company of strangers. The hosts are great friends, we don't see them nearly often enough, and they are moving away in January so I really wanted to have a nice evening and not make them regret inviting us.

I am stressing the point here that I was in the complete right frame of mind for meeting strangers. I hadn't had a horrible day, I wasn't mad at SB or any of our employees for anything. I was happy, and ready to keep it up.

But, it was too bad because the guy portion of this couple was one of those Overbearing Argumentative Chatty Cathy people. Now, any one of these three traits generally gets my back up. Overbearing: please stop interrupting me with your loud voice. I have things to say, and talking over me is not nice. Chatty Cathy: once everyone has yielded the "conversation" to you, please do the same for us at some point. Anytime now. Maybe you need a second to breathe.

But the absolute worst thing is Argumentative. Especially when you're with strangers. And I don't mean opinionated, that's different. Everyone should have opinions. But you shouldn't follow those up with a ten minute monologue about why everyone else's opinion is wrong. Because that's just rude.

There are certain things I believe can be debated in polite company, sure. But taste is not one of these things. For example, I happen to like Russell Brand and think he's funny. That is a matter of taste. If you didn't agree with me, the correct response would be "huh, really? I don't really get him." The wrong response would be "You've got to be kidding me! He's terrible. The worst! He has to be the worst comedian on the planet.." etc etc etc, effectively trying to convince me that I must be wrong, I must NOT like him.

And what was even more annoying was that his wife was a very very sweet woman, and I feel like I barely got to know anything about her because he just wouldn't SHUT UP. I think she's probably very interesting.

Anyway, I'm pretty proud of myself for keeping a pretty positive attitude. I do have my limits though, like at one point when that guy said something about why having a pet is a ridiculous concept, and this was after we had talked about a) the cat who belonged to the host, who was wandering around the whole night, b) our pets, and c) our pet sitting business. But as I looked past him, I saw SB giving me The Jim, so I DID NOT reach across and slam that guy's face into his salmon.

Christmas is dead. Part IV

So, another year, another holiday season is looming before us.

This is the time of year when everyone else gathers with their families to celebrate the holidays, doing whatever they all do each year. At first I resented missing out on those things. But now I realize I just miss the option of choosing those activities. Whether I want to drive 10 hours or not, hauling dogs and cats and too much luggage and too many gifts, we don't have the choice. Would I be just as happy to choose, say, travelling over the holidays to a beach, or spending Christmas in Rome? Probably. But I can't choose those things either. And maybe I would be even happier just hanging out in our condo with our own dog and cats, holed up for three days drinking hot chocolate, opening gifts, eating too much, sitting in front of the fire place. Yup, that would probably make me happy too.

But we don't have those choices anymore. For the last three years (this year will be our fourth), we get up on Christmas morning, usually before the sun comes up. We visit about a kabillion cats during the day, usually taking a break for a meal (one year my mom visited and made us a turkey while we were out scooping poop and shoving pills down cats' throats. It was awesome. But usually we stop at one of the delis and either have a club sandwich or smoked meat.) We get home after dark. The end.

I would complain more, and hate it more, except for one thing. I know that every Christmas that we own this business I get to spend the whole day with SB, just the two of us. And we usually have a great time. So as much as I hate it, I really do love it.

The Wedding Gown, Part I

Because SB turned out to be a hyper-conventional groom, I wasn't allowed to tell him anything about The Dress before the wedding. Except the price, of course, since we only have communal cash here at our house. He was actually so serious about knowing NO details about it that when I once had a nightmare that it arrived in champagne he plugged his fingers in his ears and said "la la la la la" because he didn't even want to know what color it WASN'T. So, I wasn't allowed to write about The Dress either. Because he might read about it, and then we would have to light it on fire and start from scratch.

My dress shopping experience can be summed up in 3 words - efficient, efficient, efficient. Wedding dresses are tricky things, because in most cases it is the first time you have ever shopped for one, so how can you know what it will look like on you? But it helps to know the vocabulary to be able to describe the ideas you have of what you may like. Plus, I had been looking at photos of designer dresses in magazines for so long, that I knew a lot of details that I absolutely did not want.

I worked on vibe a lot. My first time out, we visited three places. First one was great, but none of the dresses were IT. Second one (which is one of the most popular in town) had a weird smell, was extremely cramped, and there were no consultants to help us. I put one dress over my head, and before we even stepped out of the dressing room I said "I hate this place, and there is no way I'm buying a dress here" so we left. The third place was beautiful, the consultant was friendly, helpful, but not a busybody hovering over us. I found the dress there. But couldn't accept that within two hours it was done.

The second time out I visited a high-end salon - it was nice, but the consultant seemed extremely condescending, and the dresses were just alright. I tried on two, but only to humor her. The second place had a website that said they were open until nine that night, but when we arrived at 7 the lady was closing up. I saw "My Dress" on a mannequin in the front, and asked her how much it would be. She gave me a price, and we left. We went back to the original store where I had seen it, I tried it on for my friends, they all loved it, and then the price negotiating began.

Tomorrow, The Dress itself!!!

25 days

We are 25 days out and wedding fever has its hold on us (me). I feel like all I do is plan, think about planning, think about organizing the planning, and then thinking about paying for everything we've planned. Oddly enough, I don't spend much time worrying or stressing - I feel like after all this work, it's kind of a given that it will be a great time.

So then that will mean SB and I will be married. I don't think it will change much, after 11 years together, 10 years living together, and 4 years engaged. I could be wrong, but I doubt it. But, I know one thing that may have to change - his nickname! I can't very well go on calling him Sexy Boyfriend! And Sexy Husband just doesn't quite have the same ring to it....although its shortened form, SH, could also be short for ShitHead which is sometimes a suitable name for him.

What do you think his new nickname should be?

Gifts

When SB and I visited Paris last May, we spent a while roaming around the Louvre. It was a hot day, and we had already been to the top of the Arc de Triomphe and had walked all the way down the Champs Elysees, past the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais, through Place de la Concorde, through the Jardins de Tuileries, only to end up at the Louvre for free entrance night. It was a lovely, lovely day, and would have been perfect but for my highly disappointing Merrell flats that gave me blisters all over.


Our evening at the Louvre was a timed event. We had a very limited amount of time to explore, a very diverse list of items to see, two feet nearing the status of "massacred" and a throng of enthusiastic tourists to maneuver through.

Obviously Eric's girlfriend La Jaconda was first on the list:
Then we hit up as much else as we could. I believe we were actually on the hunt for Venus de Milo, who was actually just alright, when we stumbled upon a most unexpected treasure.

This photo does not do her justice. Because when you first see her you are climbing a staircase, and she is placed in the middle of the landing, so it's like she's rising before you. I remember we both gasped. Her full name is Winged Victory of Samothrace, but they call her Nike. She is from Greece, and is over 2000 years old. They found her in pieces, many, many pieces, but they put her back together. She is strong, imperfect, bold, incomplete. I was so drawn to her, I didn't want to leave. I could have sat for hours admiring her.

For my birthday, SB gave me something extraordinary, without even really knowing. He found a foot tall reproduction of Nike. And while I know that she is special for both of us, since it was one of the most memorable, striking moments of our whole trip, I feel like it is so apt that when I am feeling so deconstructed and lost and broken that this is the gift he chose to give me.

So maybe you'll see more of me.

Hey there! ***waves*** I'm alive!

I don't know why I have such a hard time updating. Sometimes funny things happen, or sad things happen, or whatever, and in the moment I say "I should blog about that" but then I just update my facebook status and forget about it.

So, I am going to try to update here at least once a week. Even if there is NOTHING going on in my life. You will have to endure it. (or just not read, but pfft, like that's an option).

Let's begin, shall we?

Last Thursday was our 11th anniversary. I'm a bit bummed about it, because as of September, our count resets to 0, kinda. No one will ask how long we've been together, they will ask how long we've been married. However, I am pretty happy that our wedding day is different then our first dating anniversary, because that means TWO celebrations each year. Yay!

For our anniversary we celebrated by having dinner at the hotel where we are getting married. The restaurant is called Aix Cuisine du Terroir and it was AMAZING. They have a great prix fixe menu, and if it was BYOW I think I would beg to go once a week. For starters, SB had this smoked salmon concoction and I had bison tartar two ways (both ways were fanatastic). As mains, SB had a veal chop with blue cheese mashed potatoes and I had a sirloin topped with seared foie gras. It was so decadent and ridiculous. Then we had a nice cheese plate, and for dessert a skor tiramisu, which was a surprise for their menu, but super delicious. I have had to be extra good about food and exercise this week to make up for it, though!

This weekend we have a mad crazy schedule - tomorrow night I have a birthday dinner for my friend Christina, Saturday we have to attend a wake for SB's boss's father in law, Saturday night we have dinner to celebrate SB's brother birthday, and Sunday SB is helping his bestfriend move. Phewf. So, I'm extra glad that last weekend we got to spend loads of time together, just hanging out and shopping and MarioKarting.

Wedding planning is becoming a bit...stressful. I thought that if we got the big things taken care of that we would be able to relax a bit, but holy heck, all the little things are starting to make me crazy.

We still don't have a new puppy. Not that I'm in a hurry to get one, but people always ask me when they find out Gabby passed away. I'm not sure when we will both be ready - I feel like emotionally I would be ready now, but timing-wise probably not until at least next summer. SB isn't sure he will ever be ready. So we'll see.

That's all for now. **waves** See ya soon!

Runningwoman

Have you ever seen that commercial for Advil Cold and Sinus, where the woman is all sick and is talking like "if you think a cold is going to keep me from running a 100 mile marathon and baking a cake at the same time then you don't know me"?

Ya, well, I'm not her. Illness throws me to the ground and stomps on my face, then it sits on me and farts. But for the past three weeks of fighting my allergy/cold (still going, by the way, and all the meds are really dehydrating me, yet also leaving me with a running nose) I have been keeping up my running regime. This regime consists of me hauling my ass into the extra room and running on the treadmill 2-3 times per week. It's been going really well - I run about 2 miles each time, so about 20 minutes, and thanks to my little iPod I not only have great tunes, but also have the Nike+ system that lets me track my runs and my progress.

I think the Nike+ is probably one of the best inventions ever. You get a little pod that you put in your Nike+ shoe (if you don't have these shoes you can buy a little clip to attach it to your shoelaces), and it sends a signal to your iPod nano that tracks your distance, pace, time, and calories burned. Then there is a whole website where you upload your data, set goals, and you can compete in challenges etc. AND there is a 'map it' section where if you run outdoors (I'm not quite there yet, so maybe in the spring I'll do it) you can map your route and how far it is, and other people can run it too.

So, I highly recommend everyone gets one, and if you do, and you are a beginning runner, then let me know and we can challenge each other online.


****totally random side note: SB and I are watching Survivor right now, and every week while it's on Global TV they show a promo for Survivor (I know, stupid right, showing the promo for the show you're watching while you're watching it) where you hear Jeff Probst saying "Just how we like it here on Survivor - nice and wet."

This cracks SB up every single time he hears it. And for the next three days, he will randomly say it while we grocery shop, drive in the car, or walk down the street. And I will laugh.

Like a Kitty Cat Rodeo

We have come upon a case of a Very Difficult Cat. This cat hates us. When we enter the apartment he hides, and if we try to dig him out of hiding he hisses and spits and growls and yowls.

This is not new for us - we take care of loads of nasty cats. I don't know what causes their attitude problems, and I don't know if they behave this way when their parents are at home, but we have lots of cats that hate us. We just feed them, clean their litter, check their plants, ignore the kitty and get the heck out of there. Once I was even cornered by a cat. He chased me into the bathroom, wherein I slammed the door in his face and promptly scooted out the door to the master bedroom.

But the Very Difficult Cat, you see, he needs the insulin. The insulin for the food processing and the living. So we can't ignore Very Difficult Cat because if we did, he would probably die. Or at the very least go into some kind of coma. (SB suggested it might not be so bad to let him go into the coma - at least then we could touch him without losing part of our arm). When I met VDC for the first time, his owner gave him his shot very quickly, after sneaking up on him, but then he was just a normal lovable cat. He let me pet him and everything. But now, as soon as he hears us coming up the stairs he hides. And then we have to dig Very Difficult Kitty out of his hiding spot, while trying not to lose an eye (we have at least purchased some protective gloves, because that first day was hard on my arm....) and inject him with his insulin. This is a two-man job. On the weekend SB helped me, and it was quite an experience, which I will describe at a later date.

Every visit (twice a day) as we go up the stairs, I ask SB "Do you want to wrangle or shoot?" He generally would say wrangle, and then after donning the gloves and preparing the Blanket of Terror (we lay it over kitty as a gentle restraint, but when he sees it coming he tries to kill it), he says, "aaah, I think I wanna shoot." And then we have to switch, and VDC gets all worked up while waiting for us to kill him, aka give him life-prolonging insulin. Generally he will pee at us as a last line of defense. Awesome.

All of this makes me think of how we would be as parents. I think we make a pretty great team - poo makes me vomit, but SB seems okay with it. I don't mind being bitten or scratched, and SB has a winning smile. I picture us trying to change a diaper on a squirmy toddler. Me gagging, SB trying to grab the feet. I think we have good instincts, but may have to fine-tune our technique a little. Hopefully we could teach a kid not to hide behind the toilet when it's time for their Triaminic.

For what may have been...

I'm not sure if this is true for everyone, but I have always had a few guys in my past who I have thought of with warmth, and always wondered "what would have happened if I'd ended up with him?" All great guys, all were great friends at the time, always had that little extra something between us, but the timing was never right, or whatever, and nothing ever happened. Or in some cases nothing much ever happened.


For me, there were probably less than a handful of guys who fit this criteria. Met them all in high school while I was in a relationship, we spents loads of time together in different capacities, and I have always wondered what would have happened.

Through the magic of The Internets, or more specifically, Facebook, these doors are slowly closing.

One boy seems to be a perpetual drifter - still just out there for the good times and not really that serious about much of anything. He still looks great, so that's a bonus, but I think I now require a little more character and go-getterism than I used to.

Another boy's looks have changed - not for the better. Now, I know no one is going to look like they did in high school, and I'm especially sensitive to The Weight Gain, as I have admittedly packed on more than a few since 1997. But this boy went in the opposite direction. He used to be cute, wasn't a big guy, but had great hair and a great smile. Now he looks like a heroine addict. Maybe he is.... And his hair is shaved off. Unless he's an actor with a part in Schindler's List, I think that daydream is done.

There are still a few who are not on Facebook, and although I would love to know what they're up to, I kinda hope they don't join. Because when I mentioned this decline in my long-lost possibilities, SB said, "well, I guess you're just going to have to learn that this is the best you're gonna get. You're stuck with me."

Yes, I guess that's what this means.

Sweaty and disappointed

That pretty much sums up my Sunday.

SB and I spent the WHOLE DAY painting - and we have only finished the hall and dining room. I hate masking tape. And I hate cleaning paint brushes. And I hate teetering on a kitchen chair trying to reach that one little spot with a brush that's a bit too big, but if I just bend my body in an ess and reach my arm up over my head like that I will be able to reach just right......ah crap, I got paint on the ceiling. And the sweating - bucketloads. Even with the air conditioning on full-blast. I must say, I was very pleased with the behavior of our pets, though. Nary a one of them stepped in any paint tray, nor did they rub their head/ears/butt/tail on the walls. Simon hid out most of the day, Gabby cowered in fear in the bedroom, and The Woodge (aka Charlie) relished in state-sanctioned time on the bed. I peeled off the masking tape this morning, and re-installed all the switch plates. There are a few touch-ups here and there, but overall I think we could start our own painting business. If doing so wouldn't cause me to have a full-on nervous breakdown.

Now that we no longer live out there, you know, on the East End, where no one goes, ever, people are around us and our pets more often. And they ask, why do you call Charlie "Woodgie". The answer: we aren't really sure. We used to call him Woofie, because when he woofs it's really deep and obnoxious. Then it just morphed into Woodgie. And I love to call him The Woodge. So, you may be seeing his name as The Woodge.

Last but not least, after bathing myself, we watched the final episode of The Sopranos. I, like pretty much every other human on earth, was pretty disappointed in the finale. I, also like every other human on earth, thought the cable had cut out, and I already had my pen out to write a strongly worded letter when the credits started to roll. WTF? I was so ticked. Thank goodness I had SB, who, in a moment of clarity, became extremely philosophical. "Well, Tony just said we need to look back on the good times...so no matter what happens, ever, we need to see that his life won't ever change. He'll always have to be looking over his shoulder, dealing with this crap. Right?" Oh, SB. I love you so. I'm still not happy, but I feel a bit less ripped-off. Things I did love:
1- Phil getting whacked
2 - Tony trying to get a free psych visit out of AJ's therapist
3 - Paulie and the cat
4 - Tony visiting Uncle June - loved loved loved this scene.

So now we wait for the movie - it took 19 months at a time between seasons, so I'm sure by the time I'm 87 it will come out.

I would suck at living alone

Sexy Boyfriend is gone for a few days visiting his family. Since I have work stuff going on, I couldn't go and am home alone with the doggies and Simon.

I hate cooking for myself. I haven't cooked a real meal for the whole two days he's been gone. I have bagels for breakfast, so I guess that counts as a meal. For lunch I have had leftover pasta and then today I warmed up some frozen samosas. And some crackers on the side. Mmmm. Supper has been take-out - Quiznos, Subway.

Also, I am very lonely. I have called all my friends, called SB like four hundred times, and even spent a whole afternoon shopping. Although that was less about being lonely and more about needing some time to decompress - and spend my gift cards..... :P

When I am home alone, I rarely do things that are in any way productive. You are more likely to find me sitting on the sofa wondering if my cat ever wonders why he's the only one who pees in a box in the closet.

Christmas is dead

As it goes with our kind of business, Christmas is a very busy time of year. While a lot of our doggies apparently take the holidays off, the kitty cats that we sit for come out of the woodwork for the period between Dec 15 and Jan 8. Because I am a super great person and love my girls, and also don't feel like paying time and a half to them when I have to be around anyway, I will be the only one working on Christmas Day and New Year's Day. Now, New year's Day is not so bad, as per the schedule I have as of today (I have at least one addition per day these days). But Christmas. Christmas is dead.

I have 20 visits scheduled that day so far. Each visit is 30 minutes. plus travel time in between. Two of the visits are actually an hour long because it's a diabetic cat who needs to eat all of his food before getting his insulin, and he likes to take his sweet old time. If you calculate that out, it's about 15.5 hours of work. With no breaks for meals. Luckily SB has offered to help me do some of them, but I think this means I won't be cooking a big Christmas dinner.

Since I've been quite concentrated on getting the business ready for the holiday, I am not exactly in a Christmas-y mood. Last weekend SB said:
"Do you feel like getting our tree this weekend?"
"no"
"yeah, i guess it's too early."
"I don't really think I want a tree."

Silence and inner tears on his part.