Ever since I brought Edgar home with me 2.5 years ago, my mother has joked that he has been preparing me for children. From the puking in the middle of the night, numerous favorite toys that have visited the "surgeon" because he's destroyed them (mostly Mr. Quail), houndini's multiple escape tricks and subsequent messes he left in his wake, and even the special food I spent HOURS trying to find the distributor for when I moved to Indy. We even gave him swimming lessons having him watch Hannah, our neighbor's lab, jump in the lake after toys before letting him test the waters. I think yesterday put us over the top.
In the beginning of May, J and I are taking a much-needed "vacation" to the East Coast. I write that it is a "vacation" because we're hoping to mix some pleasure in with the business. Typically we buy Edgar a posh ride with us in the cargo unit of the airplane when we go back to Utah. He even has his special sweater and decorated dog crate complete with a letter to the ground crews and an extra baggy of food just in case (see previous entries where this went completely wrong thanks to Fernando). This trip, we are leaving Edgar here for the very first time.
Both of us have been quite anxious about this. Edgar? In a metal cage? For almost 3 days? It just seems cruel. (Says the ex-vet tech who took care of many animals that boarded in the clinic.) We found an alternative: cage free boarding. The dogs get to run around, play, have someone there 24 hours a day, sleep in the beds with the humans, etc. Sounds ideal, right? (Ok, ideal would be bringing him with us but I do realize he is a DOG.)
Last weekend I inquired about making a reservation. The lady told me that he had to come for an evaluation/interview where they could see how he does with the other dogs, introduce him slowly to larger breeds, and judge his temperament to then assign him a colored collar which we would pay for, of course. If he passed the evaluation, then he would need to come for a full day of doggy day care before we could make the reservation for his stay. I felt as if we were interviewing for the city's most elite private preschool...with our dog.
Our evaluation appointment was at 11:30 yesterday. My husband filled out the 4-page questionnaire about his diet, his playtime, his preferences on size/gender of other playmate dogs, how he expressed happiness, commands he knows, etc. I was pretty amazed actually to see how he filled it out so completely without raising an eyebrow. We then had to leave him for an hour. We ended up in one of the most she-she suburbs of Indy grabbing a trendy wrap for lunch and cafe au lait before returning.
We got a tour of the place and I secretly worried what color-coded collar Edgar would get.
"Red is for dominant, blue is for even tempered, green is for timid, pink is for special needs, and orange is for medication." The behavior specialist explained. "Edgar is a blue."
I let out a sigh of relief and pride. I swear it was like someone telling me that my kid had been accepted to the private, most expensive, Jesuit college prep preschool where only PhD's teach the 3 year olds and are certified in child development. We paid our handsome fee for the privilege of passing the evaluation and booked his doggy day care for later this week.
To reward Edgar for his fantastic behavior we took him to the local organic dairy creamery for some ice cream and to sit out on the deck so he could watch the free-range chickens. Ok, so we ate the ice cream, but he did get a lick of my organic strawberry flavored bit of heaven. We even took him to the dog park after, but he was too exhausted to really interact with the other dogs and in fact was more of an only child wallflower hanging out with his parents. Reminded me of Sixteen Candles where the parents are taking their child to the dance and barring the doors to the gym while he yelled, "I just wanna be with you guys!" Alas, he was tired. So we went to Brugge Brasserie for Belgian beer and to sit on the patio (Edgar on the outside of the rail for Health Dept standards) where he sat just like a good dog the whole time.
Two conclusions from my experience: No doubt in my mind, Edgar is the best dog ever; and Oh.My.God what kind of a parent am I going to be?!?
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Exercise in Parenting
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Wii Porn
Before our trip to Australia, my husband spent hours if not, days, surfing the Internet and drooling into the keyboard. Things like pixel size, DX crop mode, expanded sensitivity range, and auto focus got his blood pumping. We began to call his small obsession with underwater digital cameras, "J's porn." After months of browsing and actually visiting mega electronic stores, we finally agreed that we should purchase a camera. We had one, but it started acting up days before we got on the plane. Somehow indulging my husband's fantasy of having a new James Bond gadget seemed more rational than just buying a new battery for our existing, non-waterproof camera.
My one big worry with buying this new gadget is which new porn item will compete and successfully take over his interest? Well, for awhile it was the iPhone. I believe most women can relate to this, especially my girlfriend who sends me my own version of porn (oooh, Sims expansion packs...) and calls to check in on me from her iPhone that her husband gave her. She, by the way, loves her new gadget. J still has his old phone from the early 2000's that still works beautifully and is rationalizing keeping it until the new version of the iPhone is released so he can run things like pharmacy software on it.
The other competing interest has been the Wii. I believe part of his preoccupation can be blamed on the fact that it is in such high demand and you can't find it anywhere. J has checked Costco's website faithfully every week for over a year to see if they are in stock. They never are. Why Costco? Because it is his mecca. And truly, what could be better and more emotionally fulfilling than not only getting a Wii, but getting it WHOLESALE and bundled in a package only meant for those with membership at the mecca? This is true vindication for my man. It would be meeting that primal instinct of going out and killing a woolly mammoth and dragging it back to the cave...only this would be a lot less messy and has the promise of things like Guitar Hero III.
Yesterday, the Wii was at Costco. J stood next to the 11 year old boy in his karate outfit staring at the disappearing consoles snatched up by mostly grandparents.
"I've been here for 5 minutes and that they are almost gone." Said the little boy.
"But look, there's another palate underneath this one. There are still a few more left." J replied as two more people put the bundled package in their carts and wandered off.
"I never see them. I always look, but they are never here." The little boy didn't take his eyes off the dwindling supply but never got enough courage to touch one of them.
"I saw them here once in August of last year. It was a Tuesday." J replied. (I'm so not making this up...this is exactly what he said.)
I finally asked if J wanted to put one in our cart and wander around with it, contemplating the pros and cons of buying it. He reluctantly declined. By the time we were getting our weekly supply of milk and yogurt J mentioned that he felt really bad for the little boy. My social work side kicked in and I asked if he was projecting. Did he really feel bad for the little boy, or just himself? Both, he decided. We wandered back to the Wii. We passed the little boy and his father.
"Look, his dad has about $80 or more in wine in his cart, but no Wii." J lamented and passed a sympathy glance to his karate compadre.
By now the last palate had been exposed and an employee was collapsing the cardboard. J had a small discussion about the supply/demand and shipment regularity. In there eBay was mentioned by the employee and I swear I saw my husband shudder a bit.
"They are never here. Good idea: getting a Wii. Bad idea: paying $350 for a Wii when we have a lot of expenses coming up." He said logically.
"Wait a minute, we also have a lot to do in a very short amount of time and this would suck the time. And, we still have the blue screen of death on our other computer. We've bought an external hard drive, but we still haven't fixed our other computer. That decides it. No, we will not buy it until we have our first computer fixed." I said and began to push the cart away from my husband who was still standing by the Wii's.
"That's your addiction talking." He retorted. "You just want the computer up so you can play the Sims!"
"No, if it were up to me, I would have trashed our computer and bought a new one already." I was also dreaming of a faster processor.
"Well, I feel good about backing up your files with the external drive."
"We've done it once."
"How many new files do you have?"
"I don't know. I don't keep track. Quite a few I'm guessing." Its not like I'm keeping a log of what new documents I'm creating. "Ok, lets go."
J is now dragging his feet behind me towards the checkout. His brow is furrowed and his sighs are heavy.
"Ok, fine. Go get the Wii." I said and he was off lickety split almost skipping back to retrieve his beloved electronic console.
I ended up checking out, paying, and then waiting for him to not only show up with the Wii but also the cedar planks for our favorite salmon recipe. He was beaming, friendly to everyone, and I was a bit afraid he would burst into song and dance. He does this often when he's happy or tired. I'm always amazed by his confidence and lack of really caring what others think about him. Our kids when they are in their tweens and teens will HATE him for it. Oh well.
As we were leaving the store, J commented, "Well, now I feel better. We can decide if we want the Wii in our own time and get the option of taking it back in 90 days." Sooooo my husband. His theme song should be "I like to take my time" by Mr. Rogers.
"You're right. Its much better to have the option of feeling vindication versus just regret."
"Exactly. I'm 33 and I have my very own Wii."
My one big worry with buying this new gadget is which new porn item will compete and successfully take over his interest? Well, for awhile it was the iPhone. I believe most women can relate to this, especially my girlfriend who sends me my own version of porn (oooh, Sims expansion packs...) and calls to check in on me from her iPhone that her husband gave her. She, by the way, loves her new gadget. J still has his old phone from the early 2000's that still works beautifully and is rationalizing keeping it until the new version of the iPhone is released so he can run things like pharmacy software on it.
The other competing interest has been the Wii. I believe part of his preoccupation can be blamed on the fact that it is in such high demand and you can't find it anywhere. J has checked Costco's website faithfully every week for over a year to see if they are in stock. They never are. Why Costco? Because it is his mecca. And truly, what could be better and more emotionally fulfilling than not only getting a Wii, but getting it WHOLESALE and bundled in a package only meant for those with membership at the mecca? This is true vindication for my man. It would be meeting that primal instinct of going out and killing a woolly mammoth and dragging it back to the cave...only this would be a lot less messy and has the promise of things like Guitar Hero III.
Yesterday, the Wii was at Costco. J stood next to the 11 year old boy in his karate outfit staring at the disappearing consoles snatched up by mostly grandparents.
"I've been here for 5 minutes and that they are almost gone." Said the little boy.
"But look, there's another palate underneath this one. There are still a few more left." J replied as two more people put the bundled package in their carts and wandered off.
"I never see them. I always look, but they are never here." The little boy didn't take his eyes off the dwindling supply but never got enough courage to touch one of them.
"I saw them here once in August of last year. It was a Tuesday." J replied. (I'm so not making this up...this is exactly what he said.)
I finally asked if J wanted to put one in our cart and wander around with it, contemplating the pros and cons of buying it. He reluctantly declined. By the time we were getting our weekly supply of milk and yogurt J mentioned that he felt really bad for the little boy. My social work side kicked in and I asked if he was projecting. Did he really feel bad for the little boy, or just himself? Both, he decided. We wandered back to the Wii. We passed the little boy and his father.
"Look, his dad has about $80 or more in wine in his cart, but no Wii." J lamented and passed a sympathy glance to his karate compadre.
By now the last palate had been exposed and an employee was collapsing the cardboard. J had a small discussion about the supply/demand and shipment regularity. In there eBay was mentioned by the employee and I swear I saw my husband shudder a bit.
"They are never here. Good idea: getting a Wii. Bad idea: paying $350 for a Wii when we have a lot of expenses coming up." He said logically.
"Wait a minute, we also have a lot to do in a very short amount of time and this would suck the time. And, we still have the blue screen of death on our other computer. We've bought an external hard drive, but we still haven't fixed our other computer. That decides it. No, we will not buy it until we have our first computer fixed." I said and began to push the cart away from my husband who was still standing by the Wii's.
"That's your addiction talking." He retorted. "You just want the computer up so you can play the Sims!"
"No, if it were up to me, I would have trashed our computer and bought a new one already." I was also dreaming of a faster processor.
"Well, I feel good about backing up your files with the external drive."
"We've done it once."
"How many new files do you have?"
"I don't know. I don't keep track. Quite a few I'm guessing." Its not like I'm keeping a log of what new documents I'm creating. "Ok, lets go."
J is now dragging his feet behind me towards the checkout. His brow is furrowed and his sighs are heavy.
"Ok, fine. Go get the Wii." I said and he was off lickety split almost skipping back to retrieve his beloved electronic console.
I ended up checking out, paying, and then waiting for him to not only show up with the Wii but also the cedar planks for our favorite salmon recipe. He was beaming, friendly to everyone, and I was a bit afraid he would burst into song and dance. He does this often when he's happy or tired. I'm always amazed by his confidence and lack of really caring what others think about him. Our kids when they are in their tweens and teens will HATE him for it. Oh well.
As we were leaving the store, J commented, "Well, now I feel better. We can decide if we want the Wii in our own time and get the option of taking it back in 90 days." Sooooo my husband. His theme song should be "I like to take my time" by Mr. Rogers.
"You're right. Its much better to have the option of feeling vindication versus just regret."
"Exactly. I'm 33 and I have my very own Wii."
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Just call him Azrael
Our conversation last night getting ready for bed:
"Did I tell you what happened when I was on call?"
"No, what happened?"
"Well, I had this patient and she seemed to like me. Earlier I went into her room she was on the phone and she said she had to go because 'the nice doctor was there with the good beside manner.' So I decided to have a conversation about her code status. Well the next time I saw her she told me that I frightened her."
"What? You frighten her?"
"Yeah, weird, right? So I asked her why and she said, 'Sometimes I wonder if God has sent me the Angel of Death and I've met him.'"
I swear I laughed so hard I peed my pants just a little.
"Did I tell you what happened when I was on call?"
"No, what happened?"
"Well, I had this patient and she seemed to like me. Earlier I went into her room she was on the phone and she said she had to go because 'the nice doctor was there with the good beside manner.' So I decided to have a conversation about her code status. Well the next time I saw her she told me that I frightened her."
"What? You frighten her?"
"Yeah, weird, right? So I asked her why and she said, 'Sometimes I wonder if God has sent me the Angel of Death and I've met him.'"
I swear I laughed so hard I peed my pants just a little.
Monday, April 7, 2008
School of Rock
Recent conversation in the car with BAD Indiana radio on in the background. Song playing: Van Halen's "Panama."
"Dude, this reminds me of something on Guitar Hero." J begins to bob his head. "Where did this kind of rock go? Have you heard the new Eddie Vedder songs? I mean, they don't even sound like this."
"That's because this isn't Pearl Jam." I reply.
"Yeah, I know, its Van Halen."
"Eddie Vedder played in Pearl Jam. Eddie Van Halen was Van Halen."
"No wonder it doesn't have the same sound."
"Yeah, ok, I'm going to start calling you after my Mom. She kept calling Bon Jovi, Moonjavi."
"Shut up, dude." J immediately turns it up and begins to make up lyrics to sing along with the squealing David Lee Roth.
"Dude, this reminds me of something on Guitar Hero." J begins to bob his head. "Where did this kind of rock go? Have you heard the new Eddie Vedder songs? I mean, they don't even sound like this."
"That's because this isn't Pearl Jam." I reply.
"Yeah, I know, its Van Halen."
"Eddie Vedder played in Pearl Jam. Eddie Van Halen was Van Halen."
"No wonder it doesn't have the same sound."
"Yeah, ok, I'm going to start calling you after my Mom. She kept calling Bon Jovi, Moonjavi."
"Shut up, dude." J immediately turns it up and begins to make up lyrics to sing along with the squealing David Lee Roth.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Synchronicity
I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason. I also believe in the power of manifestation and synchronicity. Once I took a strengths profile test and one of my largest values was connectedness. I guess you could say on a scale of 1-10 for spirituality, I'm about a 56.
Today we are one step closer to being a Pottery Barn magazine layout house. The painter has come and gone and I now have fresh walls, bright ceilings, and an accent wall. The color itself is Restoration Hardware's Cappuccino although I, myself, might have called it "Putty." Its a muddy green. That's about the best I can describe it and although I remarked to our painter, "Wow, I feel like I should dress in camouflage to match the army green walls," (it was wet and a lot darker at the time), he replied, "Its very hip and in." And, it is. The room looks amazing.
Side note: one of my original childhood dream jobs was to name colors. I would sit and look at my mom's makeup colors: seashell pink, dusty mauve, iris. I would study the colors and wonder how I would rename them. I thought this would be a fun job as it was a great blend of writing, style, and marketing. I reflect on it time to time when I buy new makeup (like Diva lipstick or I'm Not Really a Waitress nail polish) and recently with the paint colors. Anyway, moving on with my story...
Both J and I were on call Thursday night. It wasn't restful for either of us and I was actually late in meeting our painter at our house in the morning. As I shook off my sleep inertia, I brewed a pot of coffee and sat down on the floor to chat with our painter, Tom. Within about 20 minutes I learned his story: a social worker who does part time organizational development consulting. Are you freakin' kidding me?!? This is THE field I want to break into (preferably in health care) and the Universe sends me a career coach to make over my home and perhaps my outlook on my career.
There are moments, perhaps even full experiences, where your mind engages so quickly you can't even stop to take a breath because it is so filled with inspiration. My morning with Tom was that kind of experience. I took notes, I asked questions, he challenged my assumptions and raised the bar. It was synergistic and I realized that paying this guy almost $600 for 10 hours to paint was a bargain compared to with how much a career coach would cost for the same amount of time. I ended up running to get burgers and bought the guy lunch; it was the least I could do and he was appreciative as no other client had done that for him. Remember, I am my mother's daughter and if my kitchen wasn't torn up I would have baked cookies.
After 8 hours of painting and consulting my brain grew weak especially on 4.5 hours of sleep. One of my finest moments of impressing my new found mentor was stepping in the tray of paint and tipping it over. I'm not kidding. Somehow it all just remained on the cardboard box and my one white sock (now not so white). Embarrassing 101.
J stumbled through the door with only 30 minutes of Z's under his belt on a 33 hour shift. He fell into a sleep coma shortly after his arrival. Tom and I chatted away and then he taught me painting tricks. For instance: no need to wash the walls before painting unless you are doing the kitchen, which you need to degrease. Of course, J and I did it the hard way because the Orange Bible said so. But then again, we typically do things the hard way. Ok, let me rephrase: I don't do things the hard way, but he does and managing his OCD tendencies is more time consuming than just doing the 15 extra steps. We talked about primer and primary colors and brushes and, well, you get the picture. Truly, what an amazing day: a nice blend of head and physical labor. It was better than therapy.
Today we are one step closer to being a Pottery Barn magazine layout house. The painter has come and gone and I now have fresh walls, bright ceilings, and an accent wall. The color itself is Restoration Hardware's Cappuccino although I, myself, might have called it "Putty." Its a muddy green. That's about the best I can describe it and although I remarked to our painter, "Wow, I feel like I should dress in camouflage to match the army green walls," (it was wet and a lot darker at the time), he replied, "Its very hip and in." And, it is. The room looks amazing.
Side note: one of my original childhood dream jobs was to name colors. I would sit and look at my mom's makeup colors: seashell pink, dusty mauve, iris. I would study the colors and wonder how I would rename them. I thought this would be a fun job as it was a great blend of writing, style, and marketing. I reflect on it time to time when I buy new makeup (like Diva lipstick or I'm Not Really a Waitress nail polish) and recently with the paint colors. Anyway, moving on with my story...
Both J and I were on call Thursday night. It wasn't restful for either of us and I was actually late in meeting our painter at our house in the morning. As I shook off my sleep inertia, I brewed a pot of coffee and sat down on the floor to chat with our painter, Tom. Within about 20 minutes I learned his story: a social worker who does part time organizational development consulting. Are you freakin' kidding me?!? This is THE field I want to break into (preferably in health care) and the Universe sends me a career coach to make over my home and perhaps my outlook on my career.
There are moments, perhaps even full experiences, where your mind engages so quickly you can't even stop to take a breath because it is so filled with inspiration. My morning with Tom was that kind of experience. I took notes, I asked questions, he challenged my assumptions and raised the bar. It was synergistic and I realized that paying this guy almost $600 for 10 hours to paint was a bargain compared to with how much a career coach would cost for the same amount of time. I ended up running to get burgers and bought the guy lunch; it was the least I could do and he was appreciative as no other client had done that for him. Remember, I am my mother's daughter and if my kitchen wasn't torn up I would have baked cookies.
After 8 hours of painting and consulting my brain grew weak especially on 4.5 hours of sleep. One of my finest moments of impressing my new found mentor was stepping in the tray of paint and tipping it over. I'm not kidding. Somehow it all just remained on the cardboard box and my one white sock (now not so white). Embarrassing 101.
J stumbled through the door with only 30 minutes of Z's under his belt on a 33 hour shift. He fell into a sleep coma shortly after his arrival. Tom and I chatted away and then he taught me painting tricks. For instance: no need to wash the walls before painting unless you are doing the kitchen, which you need to degrease. Of course, J and I did it the hard way because the Orange Bible said so. But then again, we typically do things the hard way. Ok, let me rephrase: I don't do things the hard way, but he does and managing his OCD tendencies is more time consuming than just doing the 15 extra steps. We talked about primer and primary colors and brushes and, well, you get the picture. Truly, what an amazing day: a nice blend of head and physical labor. It was better than therapy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
