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This web is where I weave my wacky.

Enjoy.

 

 

I write about all sorts of things. To see a specific category, 

 click a link on the left or the tag at the bottom of a post.

 

 

Entries from July 1, 2010 - July 31, 2010

Sunday
Jul252010

Being a Doggy Mama - Escape Artist

 

 

Well, last night was exciting.

Let me put it this way - within ten minutes of arriving home, in spite of a bottle of red wine and two glasses of Pimms and Lemonade, Fluffy Bear was 100% sober.

Why?

Because Puppy Dog was missing.

We had been to dinner at a friend's house and, as we walked up the steps to our front door, I was worried right away.

Three things:

 

  • First, Puppy Dog wasn't standing behind the glass, tail wagging, greeting us.  He knows the sound of our car and he waits at the front door, guarding his den, whenever we go out.  
  • Second, the cardboard piece that had been blocking the glass panel of our front door (which the dogs broke a few weeks ago) was sticking out.  It had been shoved out from the inside.
  • Third, there was a strange bowl on the steps, with water in it.  

 

We went into the house and Puppy Girl ran out to meet us.

But no Puppy Dog.

Not in the bedrooms, not in the kitchen, not in the basement, not in the front yard, not in the back yard.

We were freaking out.

We walked around, calling him.

Then I thought I heard him bark, and the jingle of the tags that hang off his collar.

We ran back out the front and there was our next door neighbor, bringing him home.

He had found Puppy Dog on our front porch when he came home - about half an hour after we left - and he had slowly enticed our dog into his house.  Puppy Dog is a rescue, and he can get very anxious.  Our neighbor fed him and hung out with him, but he told us Puppy Dog's back legs were shaking the whole evening.

He was in the middle of telling us all of this when I lunged at him and hugged him.  I was so happy and relieved, I couldn't help myself.  The poor man.  He was very nice about it, but I think I almost knocked him over.

Puppy Dog was beside himself with joy to be back with us.  He jumped all over us - which he doesn't normally do - and licked us for about fifteen minutes after we got home.

We gathered around him and spent some time with our furkids, in our pack, appreciating our family.

Today we took our neighbor flowers, wine and a card.  I feel like it's not enough.

Thank God Puppy Girl didn't follow her brother out, because she wouldn't have hung out on the porch like he did.  She would've been off round the neighborhood, clomping along on her bandaged foot.  A car driving too fast, someone who felt like stealing a pretty dog, falling down the steep drops in the park near our house... there are a multitude of bad things that could've happened to her.

Fluffy Bear and I had a long debate about how Puppy Dog had got out.  I was convinced that it was through the missing panel in the front door, but he thought the open windows in the dining room were to blame.

Until this morning.

We left for our golf lesson and, as we got in the car, Fluffy Bear looked up to see BOTH dogs running towards us.  The windows weren't open wide enough for them to get out, so my theory about the missing panel in the front door was proven right.

As we led them back to the house, we engaged in a loving exchange:

 

Me:  "Say it!  SAY IT!"

Fluffy Bear:  "You were right."

Me:  "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Fluffy Bear:  "You heard."

Me:  "No, I really didn't.  What was it you said?"

Fluffy Bear:  "You were RIGHT, OK?  YOU.  WERE.  RIGHT."

Me:  "Thank you.  Now fix the damn door."

 

But it still wasn't over. 

As soon as we got to the golf range, I ran up to our pro and told him to greet my husband with a question.  As Fluffy Bear walked up to him, he went with my joke:

 

"Hi," he said.  "Who let the dogs out?"

 

Fluffy Bear laughed.  He's taken my shit for over ten years... I've trained him well.

But I kept the best for last.

Half an hour later, as he was lining up his putt, I let him have it, channeling the song by the Baha Men.

 

"Who let the dogs out?  Who?  Who-Who?  Who-WHO?"  

 

To read more in the Being a Doggy Mama series, click here.

Tuesday
Jul202010

Hello from Puppy Girl - Fashionista

 

 

 

 

 

Hello Mama's friends!

It's been a very annoying week.

Annoying like a cat meowing at you from behind a fence.  Or a squirrel staring at you from a high branch in a tree.  Or a Chihuahua barking at you from his mother's handbag.

First I had a sore foot, which was fine, because I have three other paws I can walk on if I need to.  But then Dada took me to the Vet Lady and she put some strange hairless ape furs on my leg.

She made me sore.  

It was very annoying.

 

Then I kinda had some fun with my new friend, the Pink Squirrel, who shoots rainbows out his bum, but then the furs on my leg started to itch.  

So I chewed them off.

Well, Dada was very, very cross with me.  

I don't understand why.

I mean, of course I chewed the furs off.  They were itchy and it was hot and I didn't like them!

Dada was being very annoying.

 

But then Dada took me back to the Vet Lady and they put more strange furs on me!

And this time they're different colors and in a funny design!

Not funny-ha-ha.  

Funny-peculiar.

The lady who put it on took a very, very long time to do it.  Much longer than last time.  She kept giggling.  

It was very annoying.

 

See what I mean?

It's been a horrible week!

And now Mama and Dada are laughing at the new strange furs.

Dada said something about "Converse" and Mama said:

 

"Ha!  At $600, that's a designer shoe."

 

I'm a DOG.

I don't wear shoes.

Mama and Dada are very, very annoying.

 

Wednesday
Jul142010

[ICYMI] Post-its of Wrath - My birthday

 

 

In case you missed it...

This is a repost.  This was originally posted Thursday, October 8, 2009 at 8:09PM.  But the thing with blogs is, new people find them all the time, and who the hell has the time to search through all the crap I've written in the past?  So, now and then, I'm gonna regurgitate some of it for you.

 

These post-its are not real.  They are just in my head.  I love my husband.  Seriously.

 

Dear Fluffy Bear

 

My birthday is coming up. 

 

You are a man. 

 

Man = boy + geek. 

 

Buying you a birthday present is pretty easy.  It needs to be a toy, and it needs to be electronic.  End of story.

 

As you know, I am a woman.

 

Woman = girl + sex bomb + mother + cleaner + philosopher + culture vulture + friend + confidant + fashionista + chef + karaoke queen + stand-up comedian + secretary + project manager + politician + taxi driver + yoga junkie + make up artist + skincare consultant + hairdresser + interior designer + real estate agent + OK let's just leave it here or I'll be here all night.

 

So here are a few pointers to help you choose my birthday present: 

 

  • Anything that can be used in the house by both of us --> Not a valid birthday present
  • Anything that needs a charger, or you to "install" it --> Not a valid birthday present
  • Anything that is considered "useful" --> Not a valid birthday present
  • Anything that is involves us going to a nice store and you taking out your credit card --> You're getting warmer
  • Anything that turns out to be EXACTLY what I dropped major hints about while watching TV --> You're pretty safe
  • Anything small and shiny, that comes in a nice box --> Now you're talking

 

 

 

 To read more in the Post-its of Wrath series, click here.

Wednesday
Jul142010

Hi from Puppy Girl - Pink Squirrel

 

 

Hi everyone!

Hi-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Helllllll-oooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I'm Puppy Girl!

It's the second time I'm talking to you and I--

 

Hello Pink Squirrel!  You have a very, very fluffy tail.  How are you today?  

Oh, that's good.  Well, sorry, but I'm talking to my Mama's friends.

Yes, OK, we'll talk later.

 

Sorry about that.  Where was I?

Oh yes...

Hello again!

I had a very fun weekend!  We went to Tasha's house to play with her and Theo.  Tasha's daddy was throwing the ball for us and we were chasing it!  It was such fun!  

But then I ran and turned around and I---

 

What, Pink Squirrel?  No, I don't want a rainbow, thank you.  I'm busy.  

Well, yes, that does look good, but why is it coming out of your bum?

Really?  That's interesting...

OK, I'm sorry but I have to go---

Pink Squirrel?

Where'd he go?

Just disappeared!  How rude!

 

Sorry about that.  So, anyway... I was running and then I turned funny and I hurt my foot.  It was very, very sore, and I had to walk on three legs.

But it felt a bit better after a day or two.

 

But then Dada took me to see the Vet man.  And they did funny things and when I woke up I was really sore!  It was horrible!

I was crying and crying!

But then Dada and Mama talked about "vallum" and gave me some knobbly peanut butter and I feel a lot better now.

And there's my new friend, the Pink Squirrel, who's been visiting me.  Sometimes he floats on a little green cloud, and sometimes he has yellow smoke coming out of his ears. 

Then he did the rainbow-bum thing, which was a bit strange, but he's very nice to me.

Also, I'm very sleepy.

So I am going to nap now.  But it was nice to chat to you guys again--

 

What, Pink Squirrel?  You're going read me a bedtime story?  That's nice!  Can it have lots of bones in it? 

Really?  Wow...

 

To read more in the Hi from Puppy Girl series, click here.

 

Sunday
Jul112010

Quote Unquote - World Cup

 

 

 

 

 

Our friend's four year old son, a few hours before the World Cup final between Spain and the Netherlands (Holland):

 

"Daddy?  Is Peter Pan going to be watching the Neverlands today?"

 

 To read more Quote Unquote, click here.


Saturday
Jul102010

Quote Unquote - God is gay

 
 
We were channel surfing and ended up watching the final scene of a movie called Whatever Works.  
 
I have no idea who the characters were.  But it was Ed Begley Jr and some actor I don't know sitting at a bar.
 
Ed Begley Jr: "Gay?  A member of the, uh---"
 
Other guy: "Of what?"
 
Ed Begley Jr: "The homosexual persuasion."
 
Other guy: "[Laughs] My God!  You make it sound like a religion.  Yes, if it's a religion, you could call me devout.  A fanatic."
 
Ed Begley Jr: "But... that's a sin against God's law!"
 
Other guy: "God is gay."
 
Ed Begley Jr: "He can't be.  He made the whole universe perfect.  The oceans, the skies, the beautiful flowers, the trees everywhere!"
 
Other guy: "That's right.  He's a decorator."
 
 
 To read more in the Quote Unquote series, click here.

Wednesday
Jul072010

Quote Unquote - The Internet

 

Fluffy Bear has a 65 year old friend who recently got online, finally embracing email.

 

One of his first messages to his friends was:

 

"Very impressed with the internet. It already knew that my penis was small and dysfunctional."

 

 

To see more in the Quote Unquote series, click here

 

Tuesday
Jul062010

[ICYMI] Puppy Talk - Sucky face and hairless apes

 

In case you missed it...

This is a repost.  This was originally posted Saturday, April 25, 2009 at 10:29PM.  But the thing with blogs is, new people find them all the time, and who the hell has the time to search through all the crap I've written in the past?  So, now and then, I'm gonna regurgitate some of it for you.

 

 

Puppy Girl:  EW!  Why does she do that?

Puppy Dog:  What?

Puppy Girl:  Try to suck my face off.  It's gross!

Puppy Dog:  You mean Mama?

Puppy Girl:  No, the Fairy Dogmother.  YES I mean Mama!  She bends over me and purses her fat hairless ape lips and makes a strange schlooping sound and leans in to suck my face!

Puppy Dog:  Sigh.  That's not what she's doing.  She's kissing you.  That's how hairless apes do it.  They don't lick like we do.

Puppy Girl:  Why not?  They have tongues, just like us!

Puppy Dog:  I don't know.  Maybe it's because their lips are so much bigger than ours.  Maybe they can't get them out of the way to let their tongue out far enough.

Puppy Girl:  Aw... they're deformed!

Puppy Dog:  Of course they are!  I mean, how about the hairless thing?  All those silly furs they have, all that time it takes to put them on, all that grunting when Mama tries to close those 'Jeans' things. We can just go outside whenever we want to. 

Puppy Girl:  I know!  And they can't run nearly as fast as we do.  Thank goodness they can go to that big house of food, because they sure as hell can't hunt with those big flabby legs.

Puppy Dog:  Have you ever seen them run?  Sometimes I run away from them just to see them klablobble after me out of the corner of my eye.  It's so funny! 

Puppy Girl:  They're so unstable standing on two legs!  Do you remember that time Mama fell over just because I wriggled a bit in her arms?  It was like a little earthquake when she toppled over!  Ha ha!

Puppy Dog:  And how about the howling?  When Mama howls at the music on the Flicker Box, my ears hurt!

Puppy Girl:  I know!  Whenever that Glee thing comes on the Flicker Box, I want to run away and hide!  Mama seems to think she can howl better than the little people inside the box, and she is so totally wrong!

Puppy Dog:  I think it's kinda funny... 

Puppy Girl:  Hairless apes are sooooo weird.

Puppy Dog:  Yeah, but they got the food.  And the beds.  And the fireplace.

Puppy Girl:  I guess I can put up with some sucky face now and again.

Puppy Dog:  Now you're getting it...

 

To read more in the Puppy Talk series, click here.

Tuesday
Jul062010

Puppy Talk - Ribs

 

 

Puppy Girl:  Mmmmmm... what is that?

Puppy Dog:  I smell it too.  We must investigate!

Puppy Girl:  It's Dada.  He's outside.  MEAT!  But the door is closed!  

Puppy Dog:  Damn!

Puppy Girl:  I don't understand!  This is the food place!  We are in the food place!  How can Dada be making meat!

Puppy Dog:  It's the Other Hot Cave.

Puppy Girl:  You're not making sense!  We are standing next to the Hot Cave!  And it's not hot!  And there's no smell from it!

Puppy Dog:  Pay attention!  I said the Other Hot Cave!  It's outside.  Sometimes Dada makes meat on it.  

Puppy Girl:  WE HAVE TO GET OUTSIDE!  I WANT THE MEAT!

Puppy Dog:  Well, unless you plan to grow an opposable thumb, you're out of luck.

Puppy Girl:  A spose-sum?  What's a spose-sum?

Puppy Dog:  [Sighs]  Never mind.

Puppy Girl:  WAIT!  He's coming!

Puppy Dog:  Stand back!  He's opening the door!

Puppy Girl:  Dada?  Can I have some meat?  Dada, can I have some meat?  Dada, can I have some---

Puppy Dog:  You're wasting your breath.  We have to wait till the Hairless Apes eat.

Puppy Girl:  But it smells sooooooo good!  I WANT SOME!  I WANT SOME!

Puppy Dog:  Listen, Kid.  You're wasting your breath.  Shut up.  Stick with me.  We'll get some.

Puppy Girl:  But I want some noooooooow.

Puppy Dog:  Follow me.

Puppy Girl:  Where are we going?

Puppy Dog:  I'll sit in front of Dada, and you sit in front of Mama.

Puppy Girl:  Check!  Oh, it smells soooo---

Puppy Dog:  FOCUS!

Puppy Girl:  OK! OK!  What now?

Puppy Dog:  Now look cute and sad and hungry.

Puppy Girl:  I can't do all of those things!  I'm just going to grab one from Mama's plate!  It's right here!  If I just lean forward a little...

Puppy Dog:  NO!  DON'T!

Puppy Girl:  But I---

Puppy Dog:  If you do that, you'll get NOTHING!  Just listen to me!

Puppy Girl:  OK! OK!

Puppy Dog:  Look cute.  And sad.  And hungry.

Puppy Girl:  How?  That's too many things!

Puppy Dog:  Just think about how much you love Mama, then think about how sad you were when you had to leave your litter, then think about how much you want the meat.

Puppy Girl:  [Mumbling]  I love you, Mama.  Aw, I miss my first Mama!  I want meeeeeeeat...

Puppy Dog:  Good, good.  Now think those thoughts again.  And again.

Puppy Girl:  I love you, Mama.  I miss my first Mama.  I want meeeeat...  I love you, Mama.  I miss my first Mama.  I want meeeeeat.... I love you, Mama.  I miss my first Mama.  I want meeeeeat... I love you--- GLURB!

Puppy Dog:  GLURB!  See?  Told you it works.

Puppy Girl:  Meat!  Yum!  Yum!  Yum!  OK, now do we do it again.

Puppy Dog:  Nope.  That's all you get.

Puppy Girl:  But---

Puppy Dog:  Mama is taking the food bowls to the food place.  It's over.

Puppy Girl:  But---

Puppy Dog:  Trust me, Kid.  It's over.

Puppy Girl:  Aw!  Still, that was goooood meeeeeat....  Maybe if I try looking up at Mama in the food place...  What was it again?  I love you first Mama.  I miss meat.  I---

Puppy Dog:  [Sighing]  Kid, you gotta lot to learn.

 

To read more in the Puppy Talk series, click here.


Thursday
Jul012010

Dear Diary - Death Stalking

 

 

 

Today was a horrible day.  

Well, not the whole day.  There was work, just like any other week day.  There was fun with friends, just like any evening that involves a social event.

But the day was defined by fear.

I was out at lunch, walking back to my office, and a man a few steps away from me had a heart attack.

Now it seems narcissistic for me to be talking about my reaction to this event.  But I only experienced from my point of view.  I feel for the man, and I feel for his wife, but what I am going to tell you about is what I experienced today.  That's all I can do.

 

I heard a half-yell, half-scream.  I don't know if it was the man or his wife that it came from.

I wasn't sure if someone was messing around, like school kids or something.  It was a little unsettling, but I went about my business.

But then I heard her.  

The wife.

She was wailing, but I distinguished these important words!

"CPR!  SOMEBODY!"

 

In one of those brain flashes that lasts a millisecond, I evaluated how I could best help. 

  • Do the CPR?  
    • I did a course on first aid decades ago.  No, I'd probably fuck that up.
  • Run over and get involved, taking up space and adding to the panic by getting in the way? 
    • HELL NO.  I am one of those people who utterly refuses to slow down and gawk at road accidents.  If you can't help, get the fuck outta the way, as far as I'm concerned.
  • Call 911?  
    • YES!

 

So I hit the phone.

Thank God, they answered right away.  That hasn't always happened when I've had to call 911.

"911.  What is your emergency?" she said.

"Heart attack."

"Putting you through."

"Fire Department and EMT. Where are you?"

"Corner of B----- and P-----."

"Outside the Starbucks?"

"No, other side of the street.  To the West."

"I've dispatched them.  But I need to ask you some questions.  Is the person male or female?"

"Male."

"Is he conscious?"

"I don't know."

 

I turned to a concerned bystander and asked him to go and check if the man was conscious or not.

 

"I'm checking," I said into the phone.

"OK.  They're on their way.  If he isn't conscious, you need to call me back, because we need to send a different kind of truck, OK?"

"Yes."

 

Click.

 

The rest of it was about trying to comfort the wife, encourage people who weren't helping to bugger off and mind their own business and make sure there was a clear path for the ambulance.

It was interesting to observe who did something useful and who stood by, watching and asking whether the man was OK or not.

It took all my control not to lash out at the bystanders.

Fuckwits.

 

I didn't go close to the man and the group around him.  There were people there who knew what they were doing.  I didn't go near the EMTs when they arrived.  I didn't ask questions.  

I made sure that I turned away when the stretcher went by me and walked away.  Men are taught from birth to be brave, to be strong, to be the providers, to rise to the top of the herd.  The last thing a sick man needs to see is faces peering at him in a time of vulnerability, weakness and - although they shouldn't feel this, they do - humiliation.

In these moments we are reminded sexism is suffered by men too.

 

After I had done what I could, I tuned into how freaked out I was.  Fear was sitting at the top of my chest, like a weight, like a vibration, like a hole hidden by the fact that I was wearing a shirt over it. 

I know that the fight or flight reflex pumps adrenaline into the muscles to enhance physical performance and, unless you actually DO something physical, it just sits inside you like a poison.

What I could have done was walk fast for half an hour before going back to the office, or just jogged for ten minutes.  

But I didn't.

 

I know from when I was grieving for my mother that I should let myself cry when I need to.  When a child falls down or gets a fright, they cry, then it's over.

What I could have done was go into the bathroom in my building, let myself feel what I felt, and sobbed for three minutes.

But I didn't.

 

What I did do was try to talk it through with people.  People who didn't want to listen.  And, even if they did, they were more interested in hearing what happened to the poor man rather than me blathering on on about my feelings.  

Then I tried to eat.  This is a classic reaction for me to stress and suppressing feelings.  First I tried a latte with 2 pumps of chocolate.  Then I tried raiding the snack basket on our floor.  M&Ms.  Almond Joy. 

After work, I tried alcohol and distraction at Happy Hour with friends.  

None of it worked.  

Even while listening to entertaining stories over a Margarita, I felt a soft, strange sense of doom.

I kept thinking about my husband, about how we're trying to get fit, but we're not quite there yet.  About how he was away from me on a business trip.  About what it would be like for me to get a call that he was sick.

If felt like Death was stalking me and, although he wasn't here to swing the skythe yet, he was toying with me, reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart, purely for his own amusement.

 

When I finally got home I put a tacky reality show on TV.  It's called the OCD Project and it follows a group of OCD sufferers as they go through a program to get control of their disorder.  A young woman who is obsessed with staying clean, who washed her hands repeatedly, was going through exposure therapy.  The other people in the group, including the doctor, were taking turns to touch her face.

Her terror and distress was palpable.  She was sobbing her little heart out, clearly completely petrified at the simple touch of fingers on her cheek.

And then I found myself sobbing with her.  

 

The lid came off the volcano and all my anxiety came pouring out.  

What if it was my husband?  What would I do?  What if it happened when he was far away from me?  What if it happened when he was right next to me and there was no-one to help and I didn't know what to do?

It was about feeling my fear.

As I allowed myself to feel, my chest slowly opened up.  My breathing slowed eventually and I was able to wipe my eyes and blow my nose.  It wasn't a pretty moment.  

Then the second eruption.  It was my grief... for my mother, for my father, for my childhood friend, all of whose deaths were sad and final events in my life.  

No mommy to rub hot camphor oil on my feet when I have a cold.  No daddy to explain finance to me.  No Ellen to share childhood memories with, reminiscing about how we used to play princesses in her swimming pool.

It was about feeling my loss.

 

After ten minutes, I was able to come back into the here and now, to feel relief.

Then I was brought back down to earth by Puppy Girl licking my ear and dumping half a ball - a triumph of her chewing prowess - in my lap, with a little squeal that is her way of asking me to throw it across the room so she could chase it.

In that little chocolate lab kiss, that little whimper, a reminder that I have love and fun in my life.

And so I threw the ball.

 

 

 

 To read more in the Dear Diary series, click here.