2011 Resolution #1: Make better decisions.
I decided to check my brand new bag in Little Rock, so I wouldn't have to stand in the freezing jetway and retrieve it from the plane-side checking. Oops, New Bag doesn't make the Chicago to Peoria leg of the trip. Double Oops, the car keys are in the New Bag. Triple Oops, wake the C&D at 12:15am to come get me at the airport. Quadruple Oops, airline breaks off one of the New Bag's wheels. Quintile Oops, airline says don't look at us, we're not responsible in any way, shape or form. Thanks for nothing, I say. God bless the New Bag service department, who apologized, and cheerfully arranged to send me a new wheel.
I think maybe I'll just Fed Ex myself next time...
Friday, December 17, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
in which our hero says goodbye to a beloved dog...
I think dogs give us so much pleasure during their lives because they know how much our hearts will ache when they leave. When we got the horrible news about our Golden Retriever's lung cancer, it was hard to accept. We knew something was wrong, because she stopped eating, but we weren't ready for such a final diagnosis. So we spent a week watching her closely, unsure if we were hanging on for her sake or ours. When it was clear it was for us, it was time to end her suffering.
It's easy to look back at Lily's life, because she was such an easy dog to own - after she got past her puppyhood issues. We brought Lily and her brother Chewy home during the Charming and Delightful's recovery from back surgery. They kept each other occupied, which is another way of saying they gave each other inventive ideas to get into puppy trouble. Most notably, they once escaped their enclosure and ate a couch. We're pretty sure Lily was the brains of the operation. (Chewy wasn't ever really housebroken; he just followed Lily out the door, and then when he found himself outside, he figured he might just as well go...)
When we moved out to Germantown Hills, Lily exploited her new fenceless yard by gallivanting about farther than the eye could see. More than once I had to coax them into the car to bring them home from adventuring, but it was a way to meet the neighbors. Not the best way, because nothing says 'hi neighbor' like dragging your dogs out of someone's yard.
One of Lily's defining characteristics was entirely my fault. We had thoughts of breeding her, but hadn't done much about it. She was in heat, wandering around the yard while I mowed. Then she was gone. When the C&D asked me why I wasn't watching her, I was like, what's the big deal? Apparently, the call of the wild is, when you're a girl dog in heat. She came home hours later, completely exhausted and looking like she'd been through a car anti-wash - soaking wet and covered in grime and mud. And that's how she became a mama dog. She was almost a perfect mom - I'd strike the 'almost', but she tried to have her litter under our bed.
And oh what a litter it was! 13 puppies, every one of them black as night, with varying touches of white. If Lily noticed they bore her no resemblance whatsoever, it never showed in her care and attention. She was such a doting and caring mother that we called her Lily Mamas from that point forward.
She loved all babies, especially Hunter. Lily was very possessive of him, always sniffing at him and needing to know where he was at all times. She would pace back and forth and whine outside his bedroom if the door was closed. Ashley swears Lily gave her an evil eye - implying she was a bad mom - whenever he cried.
Lily didn't eat like any other dog we've ever had. Most dogs will chomp whatever is near their mouth. Not Lily. She would sniff everything, from treats to corn curls to steak, and nibble at it like a kid eating brussel sprouts. No matter how many Scoobie snacks I would give her, she'd act like she'd never seen one, and want to be sure it met her standards. It never failed to amuse me - my dog the food snob. After she finished eating, she would come find us, wherever we were, and prance around our feet with her dopey face. It was like she was thanking us for feeding her. Then she would wipe her mouth on the nearest couch - one pass for the left side of her muzzle, a return trip for the right. The C&D didn't like it, obviously, but it was another thing that never failed to amuse me - my dog with manners.
She had a lot of names. Besides Lily or Lily Mama, we often called her the Babies Mama. After the puppies left, we shortened Babies Mama to just Babies, or Mamas. We referred to her by color, Red Dog, her sex, Girl Dog, or breed, Golden. Megan and one of Ashley's friends started calling her Wilma for some odd reason and it stuck. Well, sorta. I thought it upset her, so I wouldn't use it. Sometimes when we wanted to get her excited, we would call her LilyMamasLilyMamasLilyMamasLilyMamas, (I don't know if she liked it, but it was fun to say). If she didn't come right away when we called, maybe it was because she didn't realize we were talking to her.
She was extremely connected to the C&D's emotions. Good or bad, Lily always knew. More than once I came home from work to find them curled up together on the couch - a sure sign of a bad day. More often than not the door opened to a prancing, spinning golden retriever. Lily was a happy, joyful dog. She loved to roll over on her back and show us her belly for rubbing. Every time she went up the stairs, she would stop and poke her nose through the ballisters for what we called stair love. It was very cute, unless you were behind her and needed to get up the stairs.
Out in the yard, she loved rolling in the grass or lolling in the sun. Unlike her brother or her son, she wouldn't chase a ball or a bird or a stick or a squirrel. But she stalked the frogs in the pond. Back and forth, back and forth - she would pace the edge of the pond to locate her prey.
Once she spotted one, she would freeze into a point and slowly, slowly move in for the kill. Except they almost always escaped. She would spend ten minutes locked onto a frog, and when she got within four inches - bloop! - into the water they went. Then she would walk away. Never once did she show the slightest sign of frustration or disappointment - she was like, that was fun! And then five minutes later she'd be back to do it again.
The hardest part is the missing routines. Nothing seems quite right. I never realized how many times I said 'c'mon dogs'. Every night I turn off the TV and say c'mon dogs, let's go to bed. When I come in from outside, it's c'mon dogs, let's go inside. Did you feed the dogs? You dogs want to go? Open the door to let the dogs in or out. Now Lucky Dog is the only dog. He keeps looking at the garage door, expecting her to come in. Me too, buddy, me too.
Our Savior says the greatest compliment a master can bestow is to say well done, good and faithful servant. I believe that. Lily Mama, we will miss you so very, very much.
Well done, good and faithful dog.
It's easy to look back at Lily's life, because she was such an easy dog to own - after she got past her puppyhood issues. We brought Lily and her brother Chewy home during the Charming and Delightful's recovery from back surgery. They kept each other occupied, which is another way of saying they gave each other inventive ideas to get into puppy trouble. Most notably, they once escaped their enclosure and ate a couch. We're pretty sure Lily was the brains of the operation. (Chewy wasn't ever really housebroken; he just followed Lily out the door, and then when he found himself outside, he figured he might just as well go...)
When we moved out to Germantown Hills, Lily exploited her new fenceless yard by gallivanting about farther than the eye could see. More than once I had to coax them into the car to bring them home from adventuring, but it was a way to meet the neighbors. Not the best way, because nothing says 'hi neighbor' like dragging your dogs out of someone's yard.
One of Lily's defining characteristics was entirely my fault. We had thoughts of breeding her, but hadn't done much about it. She was in heat, wandering around the yard while I mowed. Then she was gone. When the C&D asked me why I wasn't watching her, I was like, what's the big deal? Apparently, the call of the wild is, when you're a girl dog in heat. She came home hours later, completely exhausted and looking like she'd been through a car anti-wash - soaking wet and covered in grime and mud. And that's how she became a mama dog. She was almost a perfect mom - I'd strike the 'almost', but she tried to have her litter under our bed.
And oh what a litter it was! 13 puppies, every one of them black as night, with varying touches of white. If Lily noticed they bore her no resemblance whatsoever, it never showed in her care and attention. She was such a doting and caring mother that we called her Lily Mamas from that point forward.
She loved all babies, especially Hunter. Lily was very possessive of him, always sniffing at him and needing to know where he was at all times. She would pace back and forth and whine outside his bedroom if the door was closed. Ashley swears Lily gave her an evil eye - implying she was a bad mom - whenever he cried.
Lily didn't eat like any other dog we've ever had. Most dogs will chomp whatever is near their mouth. Not Lily. She would sniff everything, from treats to corn curls to steak, and nibble at it like a kid eating brussel sprouts. No matter how many Scoobie snacks I would give her, she'd act like she'd never seen one, and want to be sure it met her standards. It never failed to amuse me - my dog the food snob. After she finished eating, she would come find us, wherever we were, and prance around our feet with her dopey face. It was like she was thanking us for feeding her. Then she would wipe her mouth on the nearest couch - one pass for the left side of her muzzle, a return trip for the right. The C&D didn't like it, obviously, but it was another thing that never failed to amuse me - my dog with manners.
She had a lot of names. Besides Lily or Lily Mama, we often called her the Babies Mama. After the puppies left, we shortened Babies Mama to just Babies, or Mamas. We referred to her by color, Red Dog, her sex, Girl Dog, or breed, Golden. Megan and one of Ashley's friends started calling her Wilma for some odd reason and it stuck. Well, sorta. I thought it upset her, so I wouldn't use it. Sometimes when we wanted to get her excited, we would call her LilyMamasLilyMamasLilyMamasLilyMamas, (I don't know if she liked it, but it was fun to say). If she didn't come right away when we called, maybe it was because she didn't realize we were talking to her.
She was extremely connected to the C&D's emotions. Good or bad, Lily always knew. More than once I came home from work to find them curled up together on the couch - a sure sign of a bad day. More often than not the door opened to a prancing, spinning golden retriever. Lily was a happy, joyful dog. She loved to roll over on her back and show us her belly for rubbing. Every time she went up the stairs, she would stop and poke her nose through the ballisters for what we called stair love. It was very cute, unless you were behind her and needed to get up the stairs.
Out in the yard, she loved rolling in the grass or lolling in the sun. Unlike her brother or her son, she wouldn't chase a ball or a bird or a stick or a squirrel. But she stalked the frogs in the pond. Back and forth, back and forth - she would pace the edge of the pond to locate her prey.
Once she spotted one, she would freeze into a point and slowly, slowly move in for the kill. Except they almost always escaped. She would spend ten minutes locked onto a frog, and when she got within four inches - bloop! - into the water they went. Then she would walk away. Never once did she show the slightest sign of frustration or disappointment - she was like, that was fun! And then five minutes later she'd be back to do it again. The hardest part is the missing routines. Nothing seems quite right. I never realized how many times I said 'c'mon dogs'. Every night I turn off the TV and say c'mon dogs, let's go to bed. When I come in from outside, it's c'mon dogs, let's go inside. Did you feed the dogs? You dogs want to go? Open the door to let the dogs in or out. Now Lucky Dog is the only dog. He keeps looking at the garage door, expecting her to come in. Me too, buddy, me too.
Our Savior says the greatest compliment a master can bestow is to say well done, good and faithful servant. I believe that. Lily Mama, we will miss you so very, very much.
Well done, good and faithful dog.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
in which our hero tells a story...
The old man sat comfortably in the warmth of the fire.
"Children," he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard above their playful chatter, "Come. Gather round, it's story time."
"Golly-owskis, Uncle Fuzzy, we love story time!"
"Tonight is a magical night, my loves. After we go off to our big sleep, at the place where today turns into tomorrow, we will be blessed with riches beyond compare. Where now we live in want, soon all we desire will be ours!"
"Wow, Uncle Fuzzy, how does that happen?"
"Through the power of faith, and steadfastness, and the magic of work. The Great Yellow Father will show his favor, and when we awaken tomorrow, our purse will be filled with coins. And we will show our gratitude to the Great Yellow Father by pledging to remain in his service as long as he will have us. Now, who wants ice cream?"
"Thanks, Uncle Fuzzy. You're the best."
As the old man settled deeper in to his chair, he thought, don't thank me, thank the Great Yellow Father - he's buying.
This story is brought to you by my first paycheck in a year. Thank you, Lord, for your provision and care.
"Children," he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard above their playful chatter, "Come. Gather round, it's story time."
"Golly-owskis, Uncle Fuzzy, we love story time!"
"Tonight is a magical night, my loves. After we go off to our big sleep, at the place where today turns into tomorrow, we will be blessed with riches beyond compare. Where now we live in want, soon all we desire will be ours!"
"Wow, Uncle Fuzzy, how does that happen?"
"Through the power of faith, and steadfastness, and the magic of work. The Great Yellow Father will show his favor, and when we awaken tomorrow, our purse will be filled with coins. And we will show our gratitude to the Great Yellow Father by pledging to remain in his service as long as he will have us. Now, who wants ice cream?"
"Thanks, Uncle Fuzzy. You're the best."
As the old man settled deeper in to his chair, he thought, don't thank me, thank the Great Yellow Father - he's buying.
This story is brought to you by my first paycheck in a year. Thank you, Lord, for your provision and care.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
in which our hero contemplates returning to work...
T-minus 24 days until the return to gainful employment. While obviously a happy happy joy joy event, there are always two sides to every coin. So, if I had a big sheet of paper with two columns labeled Pro and Con, what would be listed (in no particular order)?
Con:
1. The end of personal hygiene slacking. For the last 11 months, if I didn't want to take a shower, so what? But at the cubicle farm, the natives frown upon smelling like a randy goat. The Charming and Delightful may not see this as a con, but her good manners have kept her from commenting.
2. No more endless procrastination. Didn't get to it today? No biggie, there's always tomorrow. Taken to extremes, this could lead to a general laziness, evidenced by the fact that I've never weighed more in my life. Come to think of it, perhaps I could benefit from some structure in my life.
3. The dogs have gotten very used to having someone with them 24-7. That may not be true con. Their schedule basically consists of wake up, go outside, eat breakfast, early-am nap, mid-morning nap, pre-lunch nap, lunch nap, early-afternoon nap, afternoon nap, wag tail when garage door opens. The only difference will be with me gone, the naps will ALL be on the couch, as opposed to about half of them now.
4. Schedule restrictions. The hours between 8 and 5 are currently pretty open. If I want to go grocery shopping, get a haircut, browse the internet, see the doctor, etc etc, it's easy peesey. Soon, it will be that whole trading time for dollars thing, as those who provide the dollars will want a say in how I spend the time. Of course, with the way I'm spending my time now, any change will be an automatic upgrade.
Pro:
1. On the last working day of the month, the checking account receives a huge infusion of dollarooskees. Many, many more than the current employment arrangement provides.
On balance, it's no contest. When I walk back through the door February 1, I'll say the same thing I've said every day since I was invited to return: thank you, God!
Con:
1. The end of personal hygiene slacking. For the last 11 months, if I didn't want to take a shower, so what? But at the cubicle farm, the natives frown upon smelling like a randy goat. The Charming and Delightful may not see this as a con, but her good manners have kept her from commenting.
2. No more endless procrastination. Didn't get to it today? No biggie, there's always tomorrow. Taken to extremes, this could lead to a general laziness, evidenced by the fact that I've never weighed more in my life. Come to think of it, perhaps I could benefit from some structure in my life.
3. The dogs have gotten very used to having someone with them 24-7. That may not be true con. Their schedule basically consists of wake up, go outside, eat breakfast, early-am nap, mid-morning nap, pre-lunch nap, lunch nap, early-afternoon nap, afternoon nap, wag tail when garage door opens. The only difference will be with me gone, the naps will ALL be on the couch, as opposed to about half of them now.
4. Schedule restrictions. The hours between 8 and 5 are currently pretty open. If I want to go grocery shopping, get a haircut, browse the internet, see the doctor, etc etc, it's easy peesey. Soon, it will be that whole trading time for dollars thing, as those who provide the dollars will want a say in how I spend the time. Of course, with the way I'm spending my time now, any change will be an automatic upgrade.
Pro:
1. On the last working day of the month, the checking account receives a huge infusion of dollarooskees. Many, many more than the current employment arrangement provides.
On balance, it's no contest. When I walk back through the door February 1, I'll say the same thing I've said every day since I was invited to return: thank you, God!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)