Early Snow...the Joy and the Guilt....

I made a mistake last night.

I made the mistake of talking to the puppies about what would happen when it snowed.

To top it off, I wore one of my snowflake necklaces today.

This may not seem like a big deal to most people but when you're a Monkeypants in possession of a dire love of snow, it's a dangerous thing indeed.

It's only November. As much as I love snow and the comfortable cosiness of the things associated with it, even I know that it's too early. Only yesterday I was mocking the giant inflatable Santa Claus down the street from my house.

Now, it seems, even though not-so-deep-inside, I'm eager for snow, we could have snow by the weekend.

For me, this is quite a delightful idea. After all, I'm the type of Monkeypants that adores the white stuff. I don't care if it's early. I only care that it's the real thing and not some slimy sleet that only wishes it were snow.

However, while I love the wintery precipitation, I'm not deluded enough to expect everyone to agree with me.

Thus, since it's only November 3rd tomorrow, it seems that there is snow in our forecast. By Friday, we should expect raw, cold temperatures that promise precipitation. If we get the precipitation, it's likely to be wet snow.

Naturally, being the winter-loving Monkeypants I am, this sets off certain interior cartwheels/songs of joy within me.

Yet, also being the sympathetic, empathetic Monkeypants I am, I can hear the groaning and moaning of my mother's anti-winter bones curling themselves up into a fetal position as we speak.

Personally, I can't wait. I made my puppies coats a few weeks ago as I mentioned on this blog. Thus, once we start getting temperatures that are below freezing, I still expect my little pups to don their coats and go walking in a winter wonderland with me.

Yet, the realist in me protests. Perhaps it is too early. Perhaps the beginning of November is too early for snow.

The sad thing is, I just can't tell anymore. I've lost my sense of the seasons to my sense of what I love most about the seasons. I love this transition period. I loved how Autumn suddenly slapped the hand of Summer and said "no more," as it made the leaves finally tumble from the trees and the nights to grow cold. I love how Autumn has to give way to winter with the spirit of balmy days that are interlaced with frozen nights that stunt the growth and progression of anything until spring.

I know I'll love it when Winter has it's ice-cold grip on us but Spring sneaks in and says, "look, you can be as frigid as you want but during the day, I'm taking control" and, slowly, her magic works and there are crocus, daffodil and hyacinth shoots peeking through the frozen earth.

Yet there's a long way to go until then. In the meantime, it's still Autumn with only a hint that snow looms. Nevertheless, the hint is strong enough that I'm already being blamed for the potential frozen precipitation.

My problem is that I love snow. In my former days, I had a dachshund named Sausage who would help me bring upon snow by our ritual dance. In my newer days, I have a dachshund named Sookie who can also help me do the dance but she's yet to realize the consequences of her infectious joy. In addition, my mother gave me a snowflake necklace that seemed to bring on the weather whenever i wore it.

This year, I haven't yet worn that necklace but I have another snowflake which, I confess, I wore today. It's not as fancy nor as obvious but given that snow was predicted by Frank Mazullo and Fox 19 Stormtracker weather, it seems to be quite as effective.

I admit, the joyous part of me that enjoys frolicking in the snow, that enjoys the frozen tundra of winter is happy that this weekend could be the start of the ice-laced season.

Yet, the realistic part of me, the part that will always be tied, invisibly, to my mother who I love beyond words, knows that it IS too early. It's only the first week of November. Winter doesn't officially begin until December 21st. A few weeks ago I was complaining that Summer was being greedy by trying to infringe her heat and warmth on Autumn's territory. Now, it seems. Autumn is getting the shaft again because Winter is being slightly greedy and wanting to speed things along.

I have to admit, the idea of a wintry covered sidewalk adust with snow doesn't exactly make me unhappy yet the nature of my personality is that I care about others. I know my mother and other winter- despising humans are definitely not ready for snow.

Yet, no matter how I feel or try to feel, the fact is there's snow in the forecast for this weekend. I just want to go on the record and say that it was NOT my fault. Sure, I wore one of my pendant necklaces and I described it to my puppies but this doesn't mean it's my fault.

Of course, if I decide to wear the official necklace and do the offical, "Snow, Sookie!, Snow!" dance, that's another story.

I'll keep you posted. It won't happen for a while, mum...I promise.

Happy Wednesday!

The Fear of Virtual becoming Actual...At Least When it Comes to Puppies...

As far as work is concerned, tomorrow is my "Friday." I'm taking the actual Friday off so I can go and pick up Sookie, my future-puppy. Once I pick up Sookie, I will no longer be able to refer to her as future-puppy. Instead, she will become actual-puppy.

I'm nervous about 'actual-puppy'. Actual puppy means...I have a real puppy. I'm responsible for another little life. It's strange how nervous I actually am about the whole thing. I've never been a single-mother to a pet before. I've only ever had family pets, never one of my own.

Well, actually, that might be a fib. I did have a small fish tank once. I managed to accidentally kill 27 goldfish, guppies and neons within the space of three weeks. In addition, I also killed two frogs.

In my defense, the frogs and several of the fish weren't my fault. My fish tank came as a kit and the heater was faulty. I set it according to the directions but it malfunctioned and, essentially, boiled the water in the fish tank. I felt rather bad about that. I still feel rather bad about it, actually.

The rest of the fish, well, I might have overfed some of them. After that, I have no idea. When I first started my fish collection, I named them after Andrew Lloyd Webber musical characters. Yes, as stated MANY times in this blog, I was a nerd. I still am a nerd, thank you very much, (although my Andrew Lloyd Webber obsession has faded to a fond nostalgia except when it comes to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat which I still love. And, at any given time, Jesus Christ Superstar still resonates with me.) Anyways, after the first dozen...or two...fish died, I stopped naming them.

I realized I was not a good fish-mama.

Since then, I've shied away from pets. I always like dogs more than cats although for some unknown reason, other people's cats seem to like me. Well, maybe except for my good friend's cat, Godzilla, who does not like me at all. This might be because I tend to tease her. In my defense, she's not the friendliest sort of cat. Even so, she does deign to sit on my head in the night while I'm sleeping, whenever I go to visit so I suppose that's some sort of peace agreement.

Yet, as for pets of my own, I've been a petless wonder for many a year. I had planned on Sausage coming to live with me but, as aforementioned, that never came to pass and the slight guilt of it will probably never leave me. He was just too old, too set in his ways and too Sausage-like to adapt to new circumstances.

So, you can see why I'm a little nervous about my future-puppy who is soon to become actual-puppy. I'm sure she'll be cute but, well, puppies aren't just cute. They're like babies who need love, attention and good parenting. What if I'm not a good pet parent? I've checked my garden for holes in the fence and possible escape routes. I found one under a gate which, when Sookie grows won't be a problem but, in her puppy-sized world might as well be an open door to the world. I plan on fixing that but I'm afraid I've missed something. Under my tool shed there's a bunny nest. I know this because I frequently leave carrot tops and parsley for the rabbit in my garden and he, inevitably, comes out in the evenings and sits in front of my tool shed, eating his dinner. Dachshunds hunt bunnies. The gap under my tool shed might be enough that Sookie might go under it to hunt for bunnies.

I suppose this is normal, right? The inevitable "what if.." panic that sets in with every new responsibility. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have a child. I only have the virtual, future-puppy of my imagination and I'm already flummoxed.

What if she doesn't like me? What if she finds a magic hole that helps her escape? What if I'm a bad pet owner?

I know, I know...I should probably hold off stressing until future-puppy actually becomes actual-puppy.

Yet time is running out and I'm very nervous. It's natural...right?

Happy Thursday!

For Peppy....A Slightly Mental but Lovable Chihuahua

Alas, today, we did not lose our network. Though it threatened to be a little sluggish for a while, it plodded along and then recovered itself. I was quite disappointed.

Still, I managed to get some work done. Lately, my job is scaring me. There are days when I actually feel like I could say I like my job. I won't yet though. As I've stated a few times before, I have commitment issues. In this case, I'm afraid that as soon as I say that, my job is going to go right back to being that place where I go to earn my paycheck before I get to go home and enjoy life.

Nevertheless, things aren't so bad. In general, things aren't quite so bad. A week ago, things were much worse.

I think I mentioned that I lost Sausage a week ago. When I say "lost", I mean that he had to be put to sleep.

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you'll know that Sausage was my very lazy, very selfish, very loved dachshund dog who lived at my parents but, possibly, was coming to live with me. He didn't do much but sleep and eat and, when the occasion merited it (usually when I had food or a rub on the nose), he'd show me affection.

Sausage, however, was also a little mean. He'd always been a little mean, ever since he was a puppy. I think he came from a bad home when we got him because he was always jumpy and nervous. As he got older we learned that he had very big teeth that he liked to show when he was irritated. Given that my parents had four other dogs who were smaller than him, Sausage learned to bear his teeth at the ones who irritated most. It was a scary sight which, at first, seemed harmless.

Over the years, he'd always picked on one of my parent's dogs in particular: Peppy, the slightly overweight, slightly nutty chihuahua, who looked like a mini border collie. Peppy was my 'college graduation dog'. My parents had come down to help me move home after graduation and we'd stopped at a pet store. Peppy had been so irresistible, he'd come home with us. He was very loyal to certain people, me being one of them- most of the time. He also loved my older brother and would follow him everywhere when he came home. As he got older, he started to lose his vision. By the time he turned almost13 this year, he was virtually blind. Sausage had begun to pick on Peppy more and more, attacking him when he got a chance. We worried about it but we never realized how bad it would get.

Last week, my mother came home to find that Sausage had almost killed Peppy. My dad took him to the vet but nothing could be done. We'd lost Peppy. When I heard the news, it was a huge shock. What was just as much of a shock was what had to be done about Sausage. He was getting meaner with age and in addition to the other three dogs my parents' have, my nephews and nieces are often around. Given the brutal state of Peppy, it was too much of a risk to keep Sausage around.

The next day, Sausage was put to sleep. My heart broke a little, not just for Sausage but also for little Peppy who had been the victim of a bully.

It's been a week and it's easier to talk about even if it's not easier to comprehend. It was so sudden, two dogs, two days. I know, for my parents, it was a different kind of shock. They had to deal with the physical nature of what happened. My dad had to take the dogs to the vet, my mother has been dealing with an emptier house.

I suppose, in a way, it's been easier for me than it has been for them. I got to mourn away from the scene of the tragedy. Though, I will say, it doesn't make it any easier to lose a dog. When they've been part of the family for as long as they have, it's never easy.

I think the hardest part in this is trying to comprehend what it was that Sausage did. Peppy is the real victim in the tragedy. Mauled by Sausage, he didn't stand a chance. He was a sweet dog, if a little...different. He had strange dances he did, a high pitched almost soprano squeak that he'd lift in answer to the other dogs bark when, on occasion, they'd decide to have a 'sing', raising their barks in unison to whatever invisible trigger motivated them. He would sit by my feet when I was on the computer, my 'writing dog' as I called him. He was a loyal dog who didn't deserve the fate that Sausage dealt him.

Yet...I can't help but be sad about Sausage. As my dad reminded me, Peppy is the one I feel sorry for and should mourn and I do. But Sausage was....my Sausage. In all his meanness, I loved that stupid dog. I loved the snow dance I did with him, the fact that he would manage to find a patch of sunshine even if they were few and far between. He'd recharge himself in the sun and become, as I dubbed him, Solar Sausage.

It's hard to forget those things, no matter how much I should despise him for what he did. I don't think we can help who or what we love and though Sausage turned out to be a bad apple, I still loved him. I will miss him for a long time, probably always, just as I miss Peppy.

Through all of it, I know my parents had to do what they did. I will never blame them for that. I wasn't there, I didn't see how badly Sausage injured Peppy. I didn't have to be there as Sausage left the house for the last time. I've imagined it...a lot. Each time I do, I get sad and am eternally grateful I wasn't there because, if I had been, I would have begged my dad not to take him, even though it would have been the wrong thing. I thought about it the whole night before Sausage died, thought about calling them, begging them to stop.

But I didn't because it wouldn't have been right. It's only been a week and it's still fresh in my mind. I feel bad writing this because my mum will read it and I don't want to depress her or upset her. But, as a writer, this is how I express myself and tonight, I felt like it was time to talk about it, to eulogize both dogs in blog form.

I'm not quite ready to move on yet but I've decided that when Spring comes and stays for good, I'm going to go to the Dachshund Rescue of Ohio and look for a dachshund to rescue. In my anger and shock about Sausage, I tried to find another type of dog that I might click with; I even went to the pet store with my parents to look this past weekend. In the end, it was the tiny little dachshund puppy that I kept watching and I realized that it was no good. I'm a wiener-dog Monkeypants, no matter how hard I try. I'm going to look for a little girl dog who's old enough to need to be rescued and to appreciate a good home. While the puppies are adorable, I want to find a companion who'll appreciate being rescued and enjoy the home I can provide.

In the meantime, I'll continue to miss and grieve for Peppy and, despite the circumstances, Sausage. Every time it snows, I'm going to picture him doing the snow dance and giving me one of my favourite things in the world, even though he hated snow and would cower whenever I gave the victorious shout of "Snow, Sausage, Snow!"

And as for Peppy, I'll never be able to sit at my computer without imagining him sitting by my feet, patiently waiting and enjoying the peace.

I'll miss them both.

Happy Wednesday

The Weekend is Lurking....

It's finally Friday tomorrow. This week has gone by surprisingly quickly. Busy days at work will do that to you. Dog tragedies also make time go a little off kilter.

The weekend is creeping closer. I'm heading back to my parent's on Saturday morning. I haven't had a chance to get home for a few weeks because of the snowy February we've had. It's supposed to snow a little this weekend but nothing unmanageable. Besides, I don't mind driving while it's snowing, as long as it's not accumulating.

Still, there's tomorrow to get through. The company bowling trip has been postponed for a week because our president realized that it probably wasn't wise to have the whole staff leave two hours early the day before we release a new version of our software, particularly when it's being problematic. That was probably a wise choice.

Tonight, I had to do my taxes. Because I bought my house last year, I qualify for the First Time Homebuyer's Credit which is really nice. However, it also meant that I had to go to a real live accountant to get my taxes done since all kinds of fancy stuff had to be done with amended returns and other taxy kind of stuff that meant something when it was explained to me but I'd be hard pressed to recall what, exactly, it was. I went to H & R Block, mostly because there's one around the corner from my house. Also, I tend to do my taxes with them online every year and it's nice when all my numbers from last year are already in the system. Of course, with our company being sold and moving locations, it meant I had to file the regular Federal and State taxes as well as a school district tax form and two city tax forms for the two cities in which I lived/worked. Ohio is odd like that: Depending on where you live, you either have to file city taxes or...you don't. I had to file. That's a lot of things to file.

Still, it's a nice feeling to walk out and know that you're done for the year with your taxes. It's the same sort of feeling that you get when you've done all your laundry or cleaned you house throughly or paid all your bills....anything that requires effort to get done but feels like you've accomplished something when you're through.

I was also lucky enough to have a really nice accountant. I like when people are nice, it makes life much better.

All in all, it's been a very productive week which sometimes is a nice thing indeed. The snow is finally melting away outside, even with the flurries that continue to fall. I saw the first daffodil shoots yesterday, poking out of the ground under a tree outside our office building. When I got home last night, I walked around my front garden and, sure enough, my spring bulbs are fighting their way upward, challenging Winter to hurry up and leave. While I love Winter and all her snowy glory, I like Spring too. Though it doesn't mean I'm ready to stop hoping for snow, not yet. I know I'm probably alone there but I don't care. Spring will come, followed by summer and I'll have to wait months and months for the next snowfall. So, just for a little while longer, I'm holding onto Winter but enjoying the possibility and promise of a Spring that's lurking around the corner.

Just like, during a Friday at work, the weekend lurks around the corner, waiting to embrace us with its freedom.

Happy Friday!

Self-Discovery and the Art of Distraction...

Today has been a sad, hard day. All I can say is that Sausage is no longer with us. When I'm ready, I'll say more about him but my mother reads my blog and I know it's been a rough time for her too so I don't want to go on about it right now.

When it's time, I'll blog about it.

I'll miss him. That much is probably obvious if you've read my blog for any length of time.

It's funny how a cloud like that hangs over you all day. You know it's inevitable and you know it has to happen but it's still always there in your mind, the minute you stop and think.

I do think we get to know ourselves better when something like this has happened. I learned that I really am rather British. When I found out that I was going to lose Sausage, I did what any good British person does: Made myself a pot of tea. There's something about tea which is infinitely soothing. The warmth of it, the familiarity of it...there's nothing more comforting in all the world.

I also learned that I'm one heck of a worker when I need to distract myself. I think I got more done at work today than I have in a long time and I've actually been working lately. It was the good kind of work that sucks you in and absorbs you and before you know it, the day has gone by and you actually find yourself staying a little late to get stuff done.

And you know when I do that, something has to be wrong because I try not to stay later than I have to stay. As I've said before, I don't hate my job. I just don't feel like I'm loyal enough to put in any more effort than I get paid for. It's a sad fact but it might explain why I don't want to be part of the "Great Bowling Adventure" on Friday.

Our company president has decided that we need to bond as a 'team'. Instead of ordering pizzas and putting a movie on the giant HDTV's we have in our building and rarely use, he wants to go bowling.

I admit, I am not a bowler. The only time I like bowling is with friends, beer and silliness. Awkward Bowling Adventures are not a way I like to spend with my coworkers. They are far worse than Awkward Bagel Days. Trust me on that one. We had one last year. Not fun. People show up out of obligation, everyone tries to sneak out early.

Still, I suppose it's the thought that counts. To me, it only counts if it's during work hours. If it's in my free time, I'm sneaking out too.

Still, the idea of an awkward bowling day was a nice distraction from brooding about a dog. As was the fact that my boss sat at my lunch table and found out that I was publishing my novel in a paperback form. He actually was quite excited and even pulled up the Kindle version when he got back to his office. His enthusiasm surprised me. He's going to buy one. I admit, I'm a wee bit worried that when he gets to the part when my heroine lets a demon run rampant in her office building because she's not fond of her job, he might be concerned. Also, my heroine has an awful lot of similarities to...me. I just hope he takes it with the dark and twisted humour it was intended. I'm not cruel...I might be a little...sardonic but it's all in fun...right?

I'll let you know when he reads it. He was also the first person to inform me I had a five star review on my novel and I don't have a clue who posted it. If it's one of my blog readers, I thank you. If it's a stranger, I thank you too. It's very flattering and it made me feel very good, as a writer.

Also, it was a nice distraction and I needed that today.

Thanks for reading. Happy Wednesday.

Coming Home Again...

It's a gloomy day outside. Once again, the weatherman was wrong. He said it was supposed to be hot and sunny all week. There wasn't supposed to be any showers that actually fell; they were supposed to stay up in the clouds. Unfortunately, when I left this morning, there was a sprinkle happening, just enough to completely make a mess of my car.

Nevertheless, I don't mind a little gloom. I do hope the sun comes out this evening though. This is not because I miss the sun, necessarily but because I have to finish painting with my "Mulling Spices" and having sunlight makes it much easier to paint evenly. Also, since the room I'm painting lacks overhead light and requires a plug in lamp, it makes it a little dark in there if there's no sun.

Last night I took a break from the house and had dinner with some friends and saw "The Hangover." I have to say, I enjoyed that movie quite a lot. It was very silly, very 'male-oriented' and yet because it wasn't men being macho and coming out on top but, instead, men who did very, very stupid things, I rather enjoyed it. There was something satisfying about the characters who weren't more than average in their lives using their drunken/drug-enhanced night to do things that they'd never do if they were sober. Yes, they were farfetched but...well....sadly, a lot of it was believable.

I liked the diversion from the house. The little town where I live is a rather nice place to go after work. The quaint little downtown area caters to college students so there are bars and restaurants galore. Most places serve pub-grub but, given that it's a rather expensive private college in town, also gives the rather spoiled students some upscale options too. There are more and more sushi or tapas places popping up. Unfortunately, around here, tapas are more like small versions of normal bar appetizers with a slightly more gourmet twist such as mini burgers with blue cheese and some fancy dressing or spinach artichoke dip with crostini.

My new neighbourhood is much more suburban. There are a ton of places to eat but they're more chain-based, less small-town. I think I'm actually going to miss that though since our office is now not moving for a few months, I'll be commuting back here. Thus, it's not like I won't be able to still enjoy the local offerings. I'm also going to miss my apartment. I thought that last night. I actually love it; it's been the first apartment I've lived that has been easy. My first two apartments had all kinds of issues that I know I've mentioned in my blog: ants, mildew, no air conditioning. This place is just...nice. Everything works. The place is clean. It's efficient. I love it.

I'm not looking forward to moving out in some ways. For one thing, moving is always a chore. Secondly, thanks to Sausage, I have to explain the rather large hole in my carpet. It's not like I can pull a rug over it and run away. It's going to be time to own up to the fact I had a contraband Sausage in my apartment for a few days.

The nice thing about having a month to move is much of my smaller, easy to move stuff is already at the house. Each time I go, I take a load. I've moved a lot of the smallish stuff already. I'm hiring movers just for the furniture. That shouldn't take long by the time I'm done with everything else. It's actually quite sad how little furniture I have but, having been an apartment dweller for almost 9 years, it's no surprise.

This is, however, a much easier move than my last one. A 45 minute drive is far easier than the 4 day drive it took to get from L.A. to Ohio. I get to ferry my stuff this time rather than watch it take off in a lorry four days before I need to get in a car and move myself. It's also much easier to say goodbye to the life I'm living at the moment because, well, it's not like I'm actually leaving that behind.

I still miss a lot of things about L.A. I stay in touch with the people I was closest to and in many ways, I talk to them almost as much- if not more- than I used to. There are some things that aren't as easy; I can't just go to the movies with my friend the way I used to when we both had nothing to do. I can't just drive to another friend's house so we can wander aimlessly around Barnes and Noble and while away the hours just enjoying talking about books. I miss the events, the food, the beach and the variety.

Yet, I don't regret my move. I'm content here. It's funny how we have to leave home to find it. I was talking to a friend at work the other day. She has a daughter who graduates from high school this year and who has the "I hate this town, I don't want to be trapped here" bug. I had that bug. It took a few years after high school and college for me to get away but I did. I went to L.A., had my fill and, ironically, returned to a town much like the one I'd been so eager to leave. I think somewhere during my L.A. years, I realized it didn't matter where I lived. I'd really been looking to find out who I was and I thought that escaping to a big city would tell me. I suppose it did, in a way. Somehow, it made me realize that it wasn't about where I lived but what I wanted. And what I wanted had changed. I stopped needing excitement and glamour. I started needing a life in which I could settle.

And now, having just bought a house, I'm settling. Yet, as it would even a couple of years ago, the thought doesn't scare me as I thought it would. It doesn't make me feel like I'm giving up anything. In fact, it makes me feel like I'm gaining everything. There's something to be said about that. I hope my friend's daughter feels the same way someday but, as it did for me, sometimes, it takes the actual experience of leaving to make you realize you really just want to come home.

I hope she finds that too.

Happy Thursday.

Apartmentalization, Comic-Con and Overcoming Paint-Fear...

This week is going by both quickly and slowly, if that makes any sense. Work-wise, it's dragging. Free-time wise...it's whizzing by. I suppose that's the way it always is, really, but I just seem to be noticing it more.

I painted again last night. I decided it was time to conquer my Post Traumatic Paint Disorder. I'm happy to report that the "Mulling Spices" colour seems to be behaving far better than the "Cranberry." For one thing, it's actually covering the walls without needing a primer. For another, it's dark enough that I can see exactly which spots I missed unlike my "Meadow" colour which looks deceptively like it's covering the walls but when it dries, reveals all manner of 'missed' areas.

I'm still not happy with Lowes and their signature paint. I sniff at it. Next time, I'm going to Sherwin-Williams. I have a friend who can get me a 40% discount there. I thought compared to Lowes' paint, it'd be much more expensive but by the time I'm done actually COVERING my walls and ceiling, it would have worked out cheaper to go to Sherwin-Williams. However, we live and learn, right?

Aside from painting, my life is terribly unexciting at the present moment. I do need to mow my lawn yet again. I bought a lawnmower last week and let me tell you, that thing is hard work. It was a bit of a nightmare to get it running. With my piddly upper-body strength, pulling that start cord thingy is rather a challenge. Given that the lawnmower kept dying because the grass was so long and it couldn't handle the load, I had to pull that cord a lot. I got my workout even before I started mowing the grass. Naturally, the bag thing on the back of the mower doesn't do a good job of catching the grass. One lane of grass and the thing is full. This means most likely I will have to rake up the grass clippings. I HATE raking. I find it tedious and rather dull. While I mowed, I did notice that there's also a family of bunnies living under my tool shed. Or, at least, they stay there from time to time.

This poses a wee bit of a problem. You see, I had planned on retrieving Sausage from my parent's house to live with me permanently. But...well...how do I put this nicely...Sausage is a dachshund. His ancestors were bred to go down rabbit holes to hunt, hence their long thin bodies. Sausage is very loyal to his ancestors. Let's just say there might have been an incident last week at my parent's where Sausage found a nest of baby bunnies and decided to honour his hunter's blood. He might have have shaken several of those baby bunnies in his teeth and accidentally-on-purpose killed them.

Bad Sausage. I know it's his nature but...they were baby bunnies. You can see why I'm a little worried about letting him near another family of bunnies, can't you? I'll have to give that some thought.

I do enjoy watching the rabbits though. There's a vacant house right behind me and the rabbits like to bask in the sun on the lawn and the deck of that house. I think there's four of them altogether.

I move in permanently next Saturday. That's when my furniture moves and thus, I do too. To complicate matters, I'm going on holiday to San Diego the following Tuesday evening. I'm actually going to Comic-con, the big comic-book/TV/Move convention. Now is the time on Sprockets when you laugh at me for being a nerd/geek. I've been before. This will be the first year when I go for more than a day. In my defense, I'm going with a friend who has always wanted to go but never been able to find anyone to go with. I'm actually looking forward to it since there's going to be some good panels this year. I know "True Blood" is having a panel as is "Dexter" and "Dollhouse." These are all TV shows I love. There's always a chance to meet/listen to authors I love. As a writer, it's a very good place to go to see other writers and learn from them.

It's also a great place to go to watch people. Seriously...there are some weird people there. I mean, obviously...it is a comic-book convention. Though, the days of it just being "Star Trek" people are long gone. Nowadays, there's everyone from the Twilight crowd to shows like "Lost", movies like the new "Sherlock Holmes" and video games. It's an overwhelming place but it's pretty amazing. Of course, they're doing a panel for the new Twilight movie on Thursday from what I've heard. This means that the place will be packed with teeny-boppers and their mothers, all straining for a view of Robert Pattinson and stalking the poor boy until he has to run and hide. From what I read, he does a lot of running and hiding from insane fans. I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into when he agreed to play Edward Cullen. I feel bad for him because those Twilight fans are quite insane. So are their mothers.

I'll be blogging more about my Adventures at Comic-Con after I've been. It's only two weeks away. I'm excited though I wish the timing were a little better. The week right after I move is going to be a bit hectic. Still, I'll have the following weeks to settle down, unpack and really enjoy the fact that I live in a house. I'm already appreciating that while I have neighbours who seem really nice and they may be next door, they're not directly above, below and beside me in their dwellings. I cannot hear their sado-masochistic sex-sounds from my house. Granted, I haven't tried sleeping in their with the windows open but given that my future-bedroom faces my neighbours who have an eight-year-old, I'm not too worried. Of course, I haven't heard those sounds in my apartment for a while due to the fact that my upstairs neighbour moved out. I'm not too disappointed by that although there was a certain entertainment value that came from that, no matter how disturbing.

I also have my own washer and dryer. You know it's sad when you go to do your laundry for the first time and you actually look for the slot to put the quarters. Yes, blog readers, I have been apartmentalized.

Happy Wednesday

In Which I Attempt to Look Upon my Job with Enthusiasm and Gusto

I'm back in the office today. While I'd love to be overjoyed about that...it's the office. It's hard to be overjoyed about my cubicle. I'm really trying. Sometimes I do thinks like have a mini dance party to try to make it seem more lively but I have to be careful that the people coming down the stairs don't see me. I'm already getting a bit of a reputation for being odd although I think it was phrased more as 'dramatic'.

I'm also horribly afraid that I'm getting a reputation for being a complainer. One of my flaws is that I'm impatient. If I'm supposed to be working on something, I expect those who are supposed to be working with me to work. Unfortunately, that's not always the case so I have to sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting for something to happen. Lately, I seem to have little to do. I'm not bragging about this. I hate not having much to do. I need to be busy, I need to have deadlines otherwise I become a chronic internet surfer. It's not like I haven't tried to find work to do. I told my boss I needed more projects so he gave me one. I finished it.

I'm going to try to focus on the 'busy work' that I have to do. I do have some projects but it's nothing urgent, nothing that people will even notice is getting done.

My problem is that when my mind is not engaged in a project, I surf the internet. A lot. I will be working but I'll also have at least one web window open where I'm researching or reading an article. This is fine provided I'm getting my work done. It's also fine as long as the company president isn't pulling the internet logs. Unfortunately, I heard a rumour he is. If he looks at mine, he might have a fit. I do surf a lot but, in my defense, I'm working at the same time. I just have a touch of ADD when my brain is melting from the dullness of my work.

I'm going to try to throw myself into my busy work with gusto today. We'll see how that works out. I no longer have to run home at lunch to tend to a needy little dog. Who, incidentally, I miss horribly. I complained about him last week but having him around was rather nice and I missed his company last night. It was just so quiet in my flat. My parent's get back tonight so hopefully he can resume his normal pattern of eating and sleeping without too much more upheaval.

On days like this where only mind-numbing duties lie before me, I remind myself how fortunate I am to have a job. I have a paycheck. At the moment, I have a light workload. There are people who would beat me up and sit on me for complaining about something so minor as not having work to do. They'd probably be right. I deserve to be sat on for complaining so much. It's just that I see all the work that needs to get done and I feel like I could help. Yet aside from offering, which I've already done, there's little action I can take without permission.

Thus, I shall now attempt to not compulsively surf the internet and I shall throw myself into my exciting project with full abandon and enthusiasm. And a lot of coffee.

Wish me luck with that.

Happy Tuesday.

Monday Musings

It's a gloomy Monday morning but I can't complain. I took today as a vacation day from work and so, for once, I got to sleep in through the gloom.

Naturally, I didn't get to sleep in as much as I'd like. During his time with me in my apartment, I spoiled Sausage by allowing him to sleep in my bed. However, now we're back in his home, my parent's house, he doesn't have that luxury and he's not taking too kindly to it. He likes to bark very loudly from the foot of the stairs which is my wake-up call.

Nevertheless, I don't mind him barking anymore. It's not going to disrupt my neighbours and so I can relax and stop worrying about the dog.

Now I can start worrying about closing on my new house next week. So far, things aren't going quite as smoothly as I hoped. My mortgage broker has turned all my paperwork over to his underwriter. This would be good except...she seems to have lost a lot of my paperwork. I keep getting emails from her asking for things like my paystubs. I've given them every paystub I had for the past four months. Also, she's not terribly pleasant about it. I'm sure it's just because it's an email but the tone of them seems to imply that it's my fault she doesn't have the paperwork. I'm politely just resending everything to her. I'm hoping it goes through.

If it doesn't, I'm not sure what will happen. I have a conference at work coming up the week after I'm supposed to close. After that, the little old lady living in my house is supposed to be moving. I'm not terribly sure what happens if closing is delayed. If it is, I'm not going to be a very happy Monkeypants. I've gone above and beyond to make sure I have everything my mortgage broker could possibly need. He's had over a month and a half to process my loan. Needless to say, I'm trying not to stress but it isn't going well.

Aside from that, the weekend went nicely. Sausage and I arrived at my parent's on Saturday night. We watched some lovely recorded episodes of "Iron Chef America". Also, I've been addictively watching "True Blood" and to my delight, HBO ran the last couple of episodes last night so I didn't have to wait for my Netflix. It's a bit of a silly show but I rather enjoyed it. I'm having a little trouble wondering why Sookie Stackhouse doesn't pick Sam the Sshapeshifter over Bill the Vampire because, frankly, Bill's a bit of a drip. However, it's still fun to watch. The only problem is it makes me want to walk around talking in a Southern accent. Given that I have mostly a British one, this would be a little odd.

This is one of my more random posts, for which I apologize. Sometimes I have a topic in mind; other times, you get these more rambly blogs. Tomorrow, I'll probably be back on track being free from the responsibility of The Sausage as my parent's return from the U.K. tomorrow. I'm still thinking about having him move in with me when I get my house but we'll see. It depends on how much I like my carpet.

Happy Monday.

Home is Where my Bed is, Contentment is where my Heart Lies...

It's Friday today and I'm in a far better mood than I was yesterday. I apologize for that by the way; some days you just wake up crabby and moody and the shadow of the day never quite goes away.

Today seems better though. The mere fact that it's a Friday helps. I had a nice relaxing evening with Sausage last night, ordering pizza, watching a little "True Blood," and catching up with a good friend on the phone. That's always a mood enhancer.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. I have a bridal shower tomorrow and after that, I'm heading to my parent's to house-sit/drop of The Sausage. In a way, I'll be sad to lose him from my apartment. Aside from the stress of having to leave him alone all day, having those liquid brown eyes following me with adoration (even if he is really just waiting for a snack), is a lovely thing. Last night while eating my pizza, I was sitting on the floor. He was on the sofa behind me and he just put his head on my shoulder. It was a nice moment. It's about as much of a Marley and Me moment than I'll ever get.

As of Monday, I'll be a dog-less singleton again. I'm going to start packing to move though when I look around, I feel like much of what I need to pack can just be taken as I need it. I can pack my media up, my CD's, my books, my DVD's. I can take my Christmas decorations and storage-type items. But when do you decide when to take things like cookware, silverware, bathroom stuff? I use all that now. It's going to be a balancing act between when I decide to physically move into the house and move out of my apartment. When my bed goes, I go. That's pretty much all there is to it, I suppose. I always say home is where my bed is. I have a bed at my parents. Thus...I have two homes.

Given that it's a Friday, I'm prone to ramble. I'm rambling now. I was reading a friend's blog today. She just bought a unicycle and juggling pins and is going to bartending school. She recently graduated with honours from college with double degree in Engineering and Philosophy. She has decided she doesn't want a 9-5 job and is now exploring different paths in life. I'd like to admire her for that but mostly, I can't help thinking how lucky she is to have friends and family who are supporting her as she goes through a stage in life many of us go/went through. I graduated with a degree in Technical Theatre. When I left school I became...a legal secretary. I wanted to go to law school, you see and that was my way of figuring out if I really wanted it or if it was a the effect of reading too much John Grisham. It turned out to be the Grisham effect because I realized law was boring. I moved on to other fields, medical, journalism, video production, market research and various other fields. I had my writing ephiphany and from then onwards, I realized it wasn't about how I earned my paycheck, just that I liked my job enough to keep doing it so I could keep writing.

I'm reminding myself of that now. I'm letting this job trip me up, fall into a pit of insecurity because I'm just not being utilized enough. I need to remember that while I need to like my job, it isn't where my heart will ever truly be. My heart is mentally sitting at a computer, the sun pouring in while I hold a cup of coffee, a warm brown Sausage dog at my feet and a novel open on the screen. I can have that no matter where I'm working and when I picture that, I realize it's not so much about getting a good review from Publisher's Weekly, it's not about debating with acolytes of Nathan Bransford about craft vs. profession and what makes us writers and it's not about those rejection slips I get regularly. It's about that level of contentment in knowing I have the power to create anything on that Word document.

I hope my friend discovers that somewhere between learning to ride a unicycle, juggling and going to bartending school. I hope that someday, just as I did, she wakes up and realizes that working in an office, working a regular day isn't imprisonment, it's a means to support the things in life you really want to do. It'd be nice if we could all have our dream job but sometimes we think we know what that is and then, when we have it, we realize it's not what we thought it would be. For me, that was theatre. I loved it. I love it still. But I got burned out from it, I got tired of working 18 hour days, tired of seeing the magic of the theatre in it's realistic, down-and-dirty reality. I still love it and wouldn't mind doing some light theatre work but when I actually got to do it, I realize it wasn't my dream job.

I'm sure there is such a thing as a dream job. Right now, I think it would be nice to get paid to blog. I'd love to be a television blogger; I do that occasionally on my Captain TV blog but not as often as I'd like to. I still get to do it though, I just don't get paid for it. So, in a way, I am doing my dream job, blogging here every day, blogging sporadically there. I just don't earn a living from it. Yet when I do it, my heart is there and I am happy. Contentment is where my heart lies and it lies with writing. It's a nice realization.

Happy Friday.

The Vampire Trend

It is a nasty, damp, steamy day out there. We had thunderstorms last night, not the air-clearing kind but the clinging kind that come in, rumble, rain and then evaporate, leaving the air heavier and stickier than ever.

It's grey and gloomy and feels like a 'stay in bed' type of morning. Unfortunately, I have work commitments and I had to rouse myself. I also had to rouse Sausage who does NOT like to get out of bed until he's ready. He growls gently at me when I make him get up. It makes me laugh. I don't think he means to be funny.

Things are going a little better with the dog. I think he only barks a little in the crate and settles down to sleep after he realizes he's in there for a while. At least, this is what I've convinced myself. There's less guilt involved in that. Doggie day care didn't work out. For one thing, they never called me back and, for another, I realized they'd need proof that Sausage had his vaccinations as a puppy and, naturally, I don't have that proof.

So, it's just me and Sausage for a few more days. We have a routine now, at least I think we do. I get home from work and we walk. He hates walking because he's a lazy dachshund. Once he's done his business, he doesn't see the point of walking anymore. I think exercise is good for him. In disagreement, there will be times during our walks in which he will sit himself down on the grass and refuse to move. Then, when I make him get up, he gives me disgusted looks and trots along until he decides to sit down again. Like I said, we have a routine.

Of course, having a routine with Sausage means my regular routine is a little off-kilter. I haven't been able to write in a while because of house-buying, Washington D.C.-visiting, Sausage-sitting and various other interruptions. Of course, I do recognize the fact that I could still find time to write but...I'm not. I hate that I'm not. I hate that the past few years have spurned a flurry of books from me and this past year has been very thin on the writing front. I love to write. I want to write. It's just been a bad year as far as getting anywhere with my writing. I can blame the economy a little for that. I can also blame my writing for that. I'm writing what I want, not what's popular.

At the moment, I should be writing vampire novels, it seems. That's the trend. People give credit to Twilight and Stephanie Meyer's other vampire books. I don't. Vampires weren't invented by Meyer, they were just Victorian-ized, stripped of their natural eroticism and made sparkley. I'm reading Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse books at the moment and enjoying them immensely. Now these books are what vampire books should be: Sexy, funny, witty and clever. While I know the actual writing in them isn't perfect, the beauty of Harris' books is that I don't care. I'm so taken in by the story and the characters that I forget to notice the writing. To me, that's the mark of a good writer, not necessarily the structure, the words, the grammar and the formal side of the craft.

What I love about Charlaine Harris' books is that she has fun writing them. You can jump right into the story and when you're reading them, it seems perfectly natural that vampires have come out of the coffin and are fighting for equal rights in society, that shapeshifters are lurking in the shadows, trying to hide what they really are by keeping a human form, that mythical creatures lurk in the woods. I enjoy reading about Sookie because she acts like a real human; yes, she makes some unwise choices because she's a little naive but...I find it perfectly believable that she would fall in love with a vampire. I also rather like that though she loves the Vampire Bill, she's still horribly disgusted with the more bloodthirsty vamps and the fact that they're actually...you know...dead. She's also declared that she adores sunshine and has no intention of becoming a vampire. I love her for this. Unlike, say, Bella Swann from the Twilight novels who fell for a vampire, is enamored with their beauty and was already begging to be turned into a vamp at the end of the first novel. Sookie also can take care of herself or, at least, thinks she can and tries admirably. She doesn't always needs to be rescued. I like that in a heroine.

Anyway, these are only two of the vampire series flooding the market. In the teen market, in particular, there are multiple other series or stand-alone books on the Barnes and Noble display tables. Next season on TV, a series called The Vampire Diaries is being filmed for the CW network. Now there's talk about a remake of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie. If you've seen the first movie, you'll know it was awful. It was bad. It was campy crap that only has significance because it was the springboard for the brilliant TV series by Joss Whedon.

Of course, Joss isn't going to be involved in the movie. From what I'm reading, he wasn't asked and the studio responsible for the stupid idea is hoping to jump on the vampire band wagon. Also, knowing what I know about Joss, he probably said, "what a dumb idea," shrugged, and continued filming Cabin in the Woods or whatever is the name of his new movie. You see, Joss probably knows what all we Buffy fans know. Buffy was only Buffy because of Joss. Take the Whedon out the equation and essentially what you have is...the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie with Donald Sutherland, Luke Perry and Kristy Swanson which...sucked. Joss wrote the script for that movie and was essentially taken out of the equation because the studio so heavily rewrote his script. When the movie bombed, Joss took his idea and made the series which, to me, is still some of the best television ever created.

I know I won't be going to see that movie. What's the point? I've lived in Buffy's world and it's in Sunnydale, California which, blew up at the end of the series. Buffy and the slayers are all around the world these days. That's the Buffy I know. It'd be a little like going to see a remake of Star Wars in which Luke Skywalker was allowed to exist but there could be no Han Solo, Princess Leia or Darth Vadar because the studio didn't have the rights to the characters. Dumb, right?

I could rant all day about this but it won't do any good. Movie studios are greedy. They've long forgotten to make movies for the filmgoers, concentrating instead of the cheapest way to make a lot of money. Fortunately, there are talents like Joss Whedon out there to give us what we really need: Good entertainment that actually makes us think a little at the same time we're laughing.

I've digressed from my original point which is why I stopped writing for a while. I want to wait and see when the wheel of trends turns, what will be next. We've had pirates, wizards and dragons recently...I'm curious to see what's next to be in vogue. Then again, if I get my act together, maybe I can try creating something original that sparks a million other ideas.

You just never know.

Happy Wednesday

Saga of the Sausage, Part 2: Carpet-Woes

It is day two of Sausage-sitting and I'm already exhausted. When I picked him up from my parent's, he came with his crate. I felt guilty yesterday about confining him and was also terrified that it would cause him to bark. So, I let him run loose in my bedroom.

Yesterday morning, this method was fine. Sausage appeared to have slept happily on my bed. I had to rouse him to take his lunchtime walk.

The afternoon was another story, however. Due to feelings of massive guilt at the thought of crating him for the afternoon, I continued to let him run loose, confining him to my room. I learned quickly that Sausage does not like to be confined. I came home to discover a huge piece of my bedroom carpet had been ripped up, chewed and clawed in his efforts to free himself from captivity. He's persistant, I'll give him that.

The thing is, I wanted to yell at him, to tell him off but it really wasn't his fault. He has separation anxiety and I know it. He was left alone in a strange room and he was trapped. As a dachshund, his ancestors used to burrow, to dig down into the ground to hunt prey such as rabbits. Sausage does not disappoint his ancestors, digging with the best of them. He tried to dig out of my room. He didn't succeed but my poor carpet suffered anyway. Now I'm going to have to pay for that when I move out. It's an expensive fix, that I know. Lesson learned.

So, today, I left him crated in my room with the TV on. He's watching NBC today. He watched FOX yesterday. I blame that for the digging. I'm hoping NBC is a little more soothing. He was trying to dig his way out as I left. Now I worry that he'll realize he's alone and he'll start those howls of anguish. I have no choice though- if I let him roam, he'll still bark but it'll be more likely the neighbours will hear him.

Truth be told, I do love having him around in the evenings. It's nice to curl up on the couch in the evenings with a dog by my side. When I made dinner, I cooked him his own hot dog (fat-free, of course) on my George Foreman grill so we could eat together. He seems happy in the evenings; it's the days that are hard. I only hope that at the moment, he's settled down to sleep. I gave him his sweaters, a chew-bone and some snacks. It's only four-hours until I can run home at lunch and walk him and then only another four hours before I stay home for the evening with him.

I've realized that having a dog in an apartment is no easy feat. I'm looking into doggie day-care for the next three days. I figure if I have to pay $20 a day for someone else to deal with his howling, at least I won't get evicted and some of the guilt will go away.

Aside from Sausage-sitting, my life is pretty quiet. I did approach my boss and tell him I was slightly bored at work and would love more responsibility. I figure that was easier than going the Monster.com route. Also, I like my company. I just find my job slightly mind-numbing. I know I am lucky to have a job in this economy, even when someone's not saying it, I hear a voice in my head saying that. I just also have a need for some personal satisfaction in a job and when I don't get it, I tend to get restless. I'm hoping that subsides for now.

I'm also thinking that I should start packing to move. I close on my new house in 13 days. Yes, I'm nervous. Actually...I'm terrified. Buying a house is a huge responsibility. I think it'll be a great house and my mortgage will be lower than my current rent and I get a place twice the size of my own. Also, if Sausage comes to stay/live with me, it'll be easier because he'll have more room to howl and less chance of complaints. That doesn't mean I'm not scared. I have a little trouble with commitment and, as commitments go, this is about as big as it gets short of having a baby. Given how hard trying to juggle a Sausage and my life, I have new admiration for mothers.

This is going to be a very long week.

Happy Tuesday.

A Contraband Sausage...

It's a Monday morning and to add to the normal gloom of having to get up on a Monday morning, I have added Sausage-stress to make it worse.

You see, my parents are currently on holiday in the UK visiting with family. They have five small dogs. I have three siblings. We decided to divide up the dogs for the duration of the two weeks between the siblings: My older brother took a chihauhua as did my sister. My younger brother got the two miniture Yorkies which come as a pair anyway. I got Sausage.

I love Sausage. I've wanted to have him come and live with me for a long time. Unfortunately, I'm beginning to realize that while I'm living in an apartment, this is not a good idea.

Sausage is very needy. This is my fault. I have spoiled him. He sees me, he thinks it's all attention, all the time. He likes treats. I give him treats. Then, when I leave him he howls. Literally. He barks too, a deep, heavy woofing sound that vibrates from within. In my parent's house, this is manageable behaviour. In an apartment, this is terrible.

The problem is, I'm not really supposed to have Sausage at least not without letting my apartment managers know and then I'm supposed to pay a deposit for him and an extra fee on my rent. Thus, since I haven't told them he's staying for a week, he's technically a contraband dog.

Sausage isn't used to apartment life. He isn't used to having people around he doesn't recognize. He feels the need to woof at them. He doesn't like strange noises which is why I'm careful to close my windows at night lest my CEO and her boyfriend have one of their interesting nights. He doesn't like me to leave him and he cries. And he barks. And he cries more.

This means my having to leave for work this morning may be a terrible mistake. I left him shut in my room with access to his food in the bathroom. The bathroom also has a tile floor which means should Sausage have an unfortunate accident, it's easy cleaning. I left him with the TV to mask the noise. I gave him treats. I gave him a pillow to lie on. Yet, my imagination is picturing Sausage howling his little head off, disturbing the neighbours and having the dog-police show up on my doorstep.

I'm hoping at the worst, the only people who can hear him are my CEO and her boyfriend in which case I can apologise profusely. Also, I think they owe me a wee bit o' noise given the thiness of my ceiling.

I plan on going home at lunch to walk him. Walking Sausage is interesting because he doesn't like to get his feet weet. Thus at night and in the morning, the grass is sodden with dew and he has to get his feet wet. I'm a little worried because he hasn't really figured out that it's ok to go outside on the leash. Yet the trouble with going home is that I have to leave any my worries about howling and noise will start up again.

I had planned on keeping him two weeks. Due to a commitment on Saturday, I can't take him to my parents until the evening. I'm going to try to take Monday off so that I can leave him at my parent's next week, have a long weekend and only abandon Sausage for a day before my parent's return. I'm hoping he complies with this plan. I can only imagine him whimpering with loneliness for that...is what he does.

I hate feeling guilty about a dog and yet if ever there was a dog to make me feel guilty, it's The Sausage. I only hope when I return home at lunch, my bedroom is in one piece and the door hasn't been busted down with someone's attempts to shut him up. I'll keep you posted.

Happy Monday.

Surreality: Amish on Rollerblades

It's Monday morning and I can't believe the weekend flew by so fast. I know it always does but it doesn't mean I wouldn't have liked to have reached out and grabbed hold of it to make it last longer.

It was, as anticipated, a lovely weekend. The weather was unbelievable. Just a week ago, we were all shivering in the frosty chill of the morning. This morning, the temperature is already 70 degrees. The weekend was hot. There was always a strong wind blowing which, at times, served to cool down the hot day and, at others, add a layer of sultry humidity so that it emphasized the heat.

I learned that I love garage sales this weekend. I spent the day with my sister and brother-in-law on Saturday going around to the sales. The nice thing about a City Wide Garage Sale Day is that no matter which neighbourhood you're in, someone is having a sale. I spent a grand total of $14 and came home with a box of treasures. I found a nice food processor for $1 which works just fine. I found drinking glasses for ten cents, brand new leather boots in my size for $2 and a ton of other treasures. I did learn that the more expensive the neighbourhood, the higher the price tags on the items. This is a rather ironic thing given that people with money still have the same sort of junk as everyone else. Overall, I learned that garage sale-ing is fun yet exhausting and the earlier you start, the better the deals. We started at 9 a.m. and by 11:30 a.m. many places were already packing up, the only sale-ables left were meager pickings of children's clothes and bric-a-brac that doesn't seem to fit anywhere.

The rest of my weekend was also wonderful. I got to spend time with my parents and Sausage. I decided this was the weekend where I would teach Sausage to walk on a leash. This has been attempted before but has only ever resulted in Sausage plopping himself down on the floor, lying as stiff as a board and refusing to budge. The only way to get him to move is to drag him which I don't like to do because, well, it's not very nice. Also...it's not easy. He's very heavy when he decides to play "Rigor Mortis Sausage," as I have dubbed it. He also stares up at me with those massive sad eyes, pleading for me to stop and just let him sleep. Have I mentioned he's manipulative?

However, this weekend, I decided to try him with a harness rather than a collar. Also, I decided carrying a piece of chicken would, perhaps, provide an incentive. I can proudly declare my mission successful. Not only did Sausage walk nicely on the leash but he also went for a bit of a lollop. This is how I describe Sausage when he runs. He's got rather tiny legs and his long body looks awfully comical as he tries to move quickly and so rather than run, he lollops. I think, perhaps, it might have been the chicken that inspired both the walking and the lolloping. I suspect this because on the first attempt, I rewarded him by stopping on a patch of grass and giving him his chicken. On the second attempt, I was chicken-less but he managed to stop in the exact same place as before and sniff to see if there was any more chicken. Sausage has a good nose. There was no more chicken but still he walked on the leash. I hope the success continues. I'm supposed to Sausage-sit while my parents take a trip to the UK next month and it would make life much easier if he will walk on a leash to do his business.

Overall, I would say, it was a very successful weekend. I had fun, Sausage walked on a leash and I got to see my family. I'd say that was a pretty good way to spend my days. Even the two hour drive to get there and get home was nice. Being that it's spring and that I have to drive through a lot of countryside to get to my parents, it's a fine time to be driving. The fields are full of cows, sheep and horses and they all have new babies. I love seing the new lambs and calves still glued to the sides of their parents and still trying to find their feet a little.

One other thing I saw on my drive is probably one of the most surreal things I've seen in a while. I think I've mentioned that my parent's town is close to an area where many Amish families have settled. Usually on my drive, I pass at least one horse and buggy. Yesterday, being that it was a beautiful day, I passed several. One of them was packed full to the brim with a family. The father drove the horses, the mother sat next to him with a baby on her lap. Crammed onto the bench beside her were two small little boys. Behind the buggy, clad in the lighter dresses that the Amish females wear in summer were two little Amish girls. They held onto the back of the buggy and they were both wearing rollerblades.

I had to do a double-take when I saw that. I mean, it just seemed to be one of those sights that you have to stare at to take in. When I thought about it, it seemed to me to solve the problem of not having room in the buggy in a rather innovative fashion. I would have snapped a picture but I know the Amish do not like to have their picture taken and I didn't want to violate that. However, I wish I could show you. It's one of those moments in life that you just have to say, "huh, would never have thought of that!" when you see it. It brought to mind the movie "Back to the Future" in which you see Marty hang on to the back of vehicles on his skateboard. I suppose that might just be the Amish equivalent. They had the wheels under their feet, even if it did look a little odd with their long homemade dresses. They had the vehicle. It might have been driven by a giant cart horse but it was still a vehicle. Now if those girls had suddenly broken out into some fancy skating moves, I might have been a little more alarmed. As it was, it was a sight to see in it's simplicity.

Now, I sit here on a Monday morning, enjoying the fact that it's quiet for now. It's supposed to be another gorgeous day today with only a slight chance of storms tonight. Even though I'm in the office, I can feel the sun beaming through the filtered light of my basement "window" and that makes a big difference when starting the work week. Here's hoping it's a great week for everyone.

Happy Monday.

Tales of a Sausage

So, I wasn't really planning on blogging today but I've been specifically told that 'it would be nice' so I did. It's nice to have loyal readers.

As always, I don't have any idea of what I'm going to say. I'm actually at my parents today. Having a four-day weekend, it seemed like a good idea. Currently, I have a loyal dog at my feet. Well, actually, he's not really that loyal unless I happen to have treats on hand. He's currently staring up at me, whining. In the interest of anonymity, I shall call him "Sausage".

Oh, who am I kidding, his name really is Sausage. He's a dachshund. We call dachshund 'sausage dogs' in the UK so the name stuck. He's the most exasperating dog in the universe, fickle in his love, lazy in his nature and not the brightest bulb in the box.

Of course, I love him dearly. He loves me too. He loves me most when I have what we call "meaties" which translate as leftovers from the fridge. Then, Sausage will stare at me with those liquid brown eyes, whimper with just enough sadness that I melt and I give in. I hate it. I'm being manipulated by a creature who sleeps eighteen hours a day and who would give me up for a slice of bacon.

And yet, I still adore him. He really is the laziest dog in history. He likes to wrap up in one of my dad's old sweaters and hibernate in the winter. Occasionally, he'll get stuck in the sweater. Sometimes, he manages to actually wiggle into one of the arms of the sweater and get stuck. Picture Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Pot...that's Sausage when he's caught in a sweater arm. During these situations, Sausage panics. He doesn't calmly wait to be rescued. He flails and cries and doesn't understand what has happened. We've had to cut him out before because he's a bit too big to be pulled gently out of the sweater's arm. After he has been rescued, he stares at you with baleful eyes that are almost accusing, like it was OUR fault he got stuck.

Have I mentioned that he's not the brightest dog in the universe? He's terribly sweet though. When he wants to be, that is. We used to have this tradition I called "The Snow Dance." Even before I moved to California, I loved snow and liked nothing better than a thick covering on the ground that would allow for snowman-building and the subsequent hot-chocolate drinking. So every winter, I would have Sausage sit up on his hindquarters, grab his front paws and shout "Snow, Sausage! Snow!".

And every winter, within a week of The Snow Dance, it would snow. My mother hated it. She actually forbid me to do the dance, convinced that it actually worked. I'd still sneak it in, anyhow. Especially when I was home for the holidays from California and missing the snow a lot.

Sausage actually did get smart enough to realize he should hide when I said the "S" word. You see, he hates snow. He despises it almost as much as my mother. He burrows under his sweater for days when it snows emerging long enough to eat. He'll also go outside to do his business. It takes him two minutes and then he's back, diving under the sweater for warmth.

I used to make up stories about Sausage. Well, ok, so I still do. I tell him he used to be King of the Village in his former life. Being a dachshund, naturally, I assume he used to live in Germany because it seems to fit. Sometimes I call him "Der Wurste Hund". I know that's probably bad German but it roughly translates to..."The Sausage Dog". Hey, I'm original, what can I say?

In my stories, as King of the Village, Sausage used to be the former fearsome ruler of Ravensburg in Germany, an idyllic little village where the residents celebrate Christmas year-round, where there is always snow that doesn't melt, even when it's warm, where everyone loves one another. Ravensburg is perfect, you see.* There are hot chocolate vendors downtown, candied houses like in Hansel and Gretel and, in the very middle of the village, there is a giant Christmas Tree where the villagers gather nightly, in a circle, hands clasped, to dance around the tree to celebrate the perfectness of their village.

Sausage, naturally, watches the dancing from his Sausage Throne, being fed meaties by the villagers who adore him. When he's hungry, he goes hunting, burrowing down holes and retrieving whatever pests bother him. He's particularly fond of chihuahuas. This is mostly because Sausage wishes in his real life that he was an only-dog. Instead, he is one of five little dogs- two chihuahuas and two Yorkshire Terriers.

Sausage hates the chihuahuas. Normally, he's a placid dog but he has awfully big teeth and when the chihuahuas yap and bother him, Sausage the Mighty King comes out and gets angry. He's a bit scary when he's angry, actually. He just doesn't like being provoked.

So, I tell Sausage stories of Ravensburg and he stares up at me with those big eyes, almost as if he understands me. I think he also enjoys the fact that I'm rubbing his nose or petting his tummy but he looks like he understands.

Around my nephews and nieces, Sausage is actually rather gentle. He's been forced to play Red Riding Hood by my oldest niece and was very good natured about it at the time although now, whenever she comes over, he dives under the table to avoid contact. He might not always be the brightest but he's not completely stupid.

He's with me now as I type this, his whining is increasing. He's convinced that nothing I do is nearly important as what I should be doing which is, naturally, paying attention to him. It's hard to resist. He has sad eyes and he knows how to use them. I know I'm being manipulated and yet...I can't resist.

The whining is getting louder which means I'm going to have to wrap this up for some one-on-one time with The Sausage. As the first blog of 2009, I didn't intend to spend the time talking about my dog but, well, he's adorable.

Just as long as you're not a chihuahua.

*Note: The perfect qualities of Ravensburg are not entirely fictional but are a result of being forced to spend a large amount of time with slightly insufferable German relatives one Sunday afternoon who could talk of nothing but how perfect their town of Ravensburg was. So, yes, this is slightly sarcastic. But then again, would you expect anything else?