Naughty Pups and Fast-Flying Weekends

It's another one of those weekends that flew by too quickly. I'm having trouble believing that it's Sunday evening again. I was talking to my mother this weekend and we were talking about how time moves so much more quickly when you're an adult. As a child, it's measured by school days, vacations and weekend. A day seems much longer when you don't have any obligations other than school.

For adults, at least adults who work, time is measured by evenings and weekends. It becomes blocks of time. The blocks must account for errands and responsibilities as well as relaxation time. For every free evening, there's laundry to be done, groceries to be bought, dogs to be walked. I'm sure with children, there's even less time.

Weekends just fly by...that's all there is to it though, I suppose, when I was in school they always went by too quickly so I suppose some things don't change that much when you become an adult.

Still, I can't complain. I had a nice weekend. I went back to my parents just so I didn't have to spend the weekend by myself. My parents took me out to eat on Saturday. Unfortunately, it was one of those bad server experiences where our waitress forgot to put in our order. Thus, we ended up waiting almost 30 minutes for our entrees to arrive. In the end, we got our meal for free which was very kind of them but after you've sat there for 30 minutes getting more and more frustrated, the food never tastes as nice as it would have normally.

The pups always enjoy a trip back to my parents or their 'grandparents' as I refer to them. Sookie, especially, enjoys her visits. My parents have three dogs of their own. My dad has always taken pleasure in disturbing the dogs peace by winding them up and getting them excited by chasing them and playing with them. One of my parents' dogs, Oscar, a yorkie, is a yapper. He barks at EVERYTHING. My dad takes great pleasure in getting Oscar to "shout" at him which basically means Oscar chases him around and barks. A lot.

My dad has recently been playing with Sookie. She's always been a bit more vocal that Rory but it seems that thanks to my dad, Sookie has discovered her bark. She absolutely loves it when my dad winds her up and gets her to woof her little heart out. It's fun to watch because Sookie has so much fun.

The only problem is that it's very hard to get Sookie to turn off her bark. Thus, when we come back home, Sookie likes to continue to woof. She's starting to join in the chorus of the Dog Whisperer's beasts. She now barks anytime anyone walks by the house. She's just enjoying the sound of her bark.

It's hard to tell my dad not to play with her because it's clearly something Sookie loves and I love to see my dogs happy. It's just a little hard to find a way to get a dachshund to understand that it's not so ok to bark at her own house.

I'm going to have to figure out a way to do that. Either that, or curtail granddad's habit of getting her wound up and barking.

She's not my only problem child. My number one, mayhem-maker, is Rory. As I've mentioned whenever one of the pups is doing something she shouldn't, it's always Rory. Rory's the one who wriggles under the toolshed to catch a bunny when she can squeeze through a gap. Rory's the one who squeezes through the tiniest gap in my parents' fence to go running out in the field next door. Rory's the one who burys her head in the snow, comes out looking like an eskimo-dog and then gets an ear infection. She's the one with mud on her nose, leaves attached to her underbelly and cobwebs on her ears.

Now, Rory has taken to ice-skating. My parents have two fish ponds out back, connected by a deck and with a waterfall. My dad took the time to put nets over the ponds to deter the puppies from walking on the frozen surface. Unfortunately, Rory doesn't care about nets and if you don't watch her, she's found to be standing on the frozen pond edging closer and closer to the unfrozen part near the waterfall.

I don't think it's likely the ice will give way. She's only 13 pounds and the ice is pretty solid. More, I'm worried she'll skid or fall and end up falling into the unfrozen part of the pond. Thus, my new hobby has become watching-Rory-When-She's-Outside-To-Make-Sure-She's-Not-Up-To-No-Good.

Rory is often up to no good. It's in her nature. She's just that kind of dog. She doesn't mean to be naughty. She just is. It's just her personality.


She's currently asleep on the couch. Sookie is curled up next to her. It's times like this that I realize that for all the trouble she causes, I wouldn't trade her for the world. It's those big brown eyes and the tilt of her head that gets me; she looks like she's actually listening when I talk to her, even if I'm telling her off.

Of course, she currently has a huge splodge of mud on her nose but, well, if she didn't, I'd probably be worried.

Happy Monday

Icy Days and Mondays

Once more, 'tis a Monday. It feels like a Monday already and I haven't even been up that long. When I went out to start my car this morning, I realized that the parking lot of my building had turned into an ice-rink overnight. It was warmer yesterday and a lot of ice started to melt. Naturally, since the temperature dropped below freezing last night, it all froze again. This makes it very difficult to wear my heeled boots that I'm wearing 'round the office this week. Since our company is being sold, our potential buyer (and, hopefully, employer) is in our offices for the next week so we're forbidden to dress the way we normally dress which is to say that we can't just wear jeans and sweatshirts. We're having to look nice and, for me, that means my heeled boots.

So, as has been my habit, I wore my snow boots to start my car and to drive to work. Once again, I ran into my stray. He was not ice-skating around the parking lot. If he had been, I might have been more pleased to see him. The problem is, I can't get away from him. There are at least 25 people in my building. The only one I ever see is him. Don't get me wrong, he's perfectly nice but he's also very friendly. He lives with three other young men and from the sounds of it, they're a little frat-boy-ish, at least judging from the noise that comes from upstairs. They're young. Very young, compared to me. On Saturday, I was coming home and it was almost 12:45 a.m. He was just going out with his buddies and asked me to join them.

Now, it was a nice invitation but here's the thing. I'm in my thirties. Getting in at 12:45 a.m., for me, is really late. I like to go to bed at a decent time and wake up fairly early. I'm not a night owl anymore. Needless to say, I declined. Also, now I feel old. Really old.

My ice-skating stray also likes to knock on my door to see if I want to go get coffee. Again, it's kind of him but being a rather private person, I'm not big on drop-ins. I like my privacy. I lived in a college dorm in which it was normal to knock on a neighbours' door to see if they wanted to do something. Now I'm an adult, I tend to like to have my uninterrupted time at home to do what I want. If I plan something, that's different but when I'm home, I'm home and unless it's someone I actually want to see, I don't like surprise knocks on my door. And yes, I am aware that this makes me into an official Old Grump but, well, it's true.

I should probably defend my grumpiness and remind y'all that I call myself a writer which means I...say it with me now....write. When I'm home and I'm writing, I don't like to be interrupted. It's difficult to get a flow going when there's people around and even a friendly knock on the door can be a stumbling block.

Yesterday, I spent a very long time getting my manuscript ready for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. It was finished but I had to give it a polish and since I never could hold of my edited hard copy, I had to do it from scratch. On the plus side, I'm really happy with how it's turned out and I think it's definitely my most polished novel. It's the last one I finished which is quite a contrast because I had originally intended to enter the first novel I ever wrote and until two weeks ago, I'd been editing that manuscript like crazy only to discover that losing 15,000 words was just not going to be possible to meet the contest rules. It's amazing how much my writing has changed over the last eight years. It's definitely more mature and I use bigger words now, take the time to describe things rather than rush at the story like there's no tomorrow. I'm not sure what's best, only that I love all of the stuff I've written, especially when it's been edited.

I'm hoping to get it entered tonight. Since I had to get a pitch ready, I got to tweak an already existing query letter and, I have to say, it's better. It means I have another letter to send to agents in hopes that just one of them wants to take a chance on me. If not, well, I suppose I'll just keep trying and hope that the urge to jump off a cliff doesn't strike me during the rejection process. The timing of those cliff-jumping urges can be incredibly bad.

Seriously, though, I'm going to try and be more positive for the rest of the day, even though it's a Monday. It's a new week, a new month, actually. It's the shortest month of the year which means I'm a little closer to my next paycheck and we're a little closer to watching the daffodils bloom amidst the melting snow. As much as I love my snow, there's something cleansing about watching the final heavy layer melt and reveal the refreshed world beneath. As a child, those days were marked by getting to wear knee socks with my skirts rather than the heavy winter tights my mum liked me to wear. As an adult, they're marked by the freshness of a spring breeze, the green of the grass and the buds on the trees.

Yet for now, there's a chance of snow tonight and I'm hoping it will make for more traction on the ice outside my building. In the meantime, I can always hope to find my stray ice-skating outside.

Hey, there's nothing wrong with hope, right?

Happy Monday.

These Boots are Made for Walking...on snow...

It's freezing outside last night. When I went to bed, the wind was howling around my apartment building, rapping at the windows and generally just making a lot of noise. It was a nice night to sleep. It had snowed earlier in the day. It was the perfect snow that makes the ground and trees white but miraculously doesn't stick to the roads. That's the best snow.

My feet are cold now even though I have my furry boots on under my jeans. I bought my boots this year realizing that my nice skate shoes, flipflops and heels from California weren't exactly going to cut it in the midwest when it's icy and snowy. The boots I bought are comfy. They're mostly warm, very waterproof and are great on snow. On ice, however, it's another matter. I know, aside from spikes, there's not much that will grip on ice. Yet I do think there are degrees of grippage. My boots are at a zero degree of grippage. If they so much as see ice, they start slipping. It's a little like ice-skating. If I get out of my car after a bout of freezing rain, I have learned that unless I grip onto my car for dear life and then slowly make my way across the parking lot by gripping other cars, I'm fine.

You might wonder why I don't just walk slowly. Well, I can't make any sudden movements in my boots. I tried that once. Let's just say I came microscopacally close to falling down, my legs in the air, resembling a fly in its last minutes of life. If I were braver, I'd go ice-skating in my boots but since ice-skating to me is a bad idea, I think I'll leave that to my stray. My idea of ice-skating is clinging to the rail of the rink, slowly getting up enough balance and courage to move away. I can usually make it round the rink after about half an hour as long as I don't stay too far from the edge. I still end up falling down but it's still quite fun.

You're probably laughing at me now, and my desire to live in a place that actually has snow. Whatever. I still love snow. It's ice I'm not a fan of. Ice is mean. It hides. You can be looking at the snow around you, ambling slowly along and admiring it's beauty and then, boom! you hit a hidden patch of ice, concealed by the snow and then, hey, look- pretty sky! No...ice is too sneaky for me. It's also a lot more brutal. The ice storm I mentioned a few weeks ago in Indiana was brutal. Beautiful, yes but also much crueler than snow. Snow falls, landing softly, a soft coating of cold whiteness. Ice....ice comes down in the guise of rain, harmless, wet, gloomy and cleansing rain. When it hits the frigid landscape, it changes form, forming a hard coat of ice on everything. The more the rain falls, the thicker the ice gets. It's heavy stuff- tree branches that are tired to begin with can't withstand the weight and they crack, hurling downwoods until there's nothing but a pile of wood on the ground.

No, ice is nasty stuff. It makes roads impassable, takes out power lines and still makes for a breathtakingly beautiful sight with its crystaline glaze.

My boots don't like this ice. They like the snow. Yes, that's probably projection. By now, you're probably thinking I lost my mind- writing an entire blog about my boots. All I have to say to that is you're just now thinking I lost my mind, I'm highly flattered. I can assure you, it's been gone for a while. Probably somewhere around the time I wished George Michael would propose to me.

It's suppose to rain this weekend. I hope it remains rain and doesn't turn into sleet or freezing rain. It's my birthday this weekend and I'm really looking forward to actually be able to spend it with my family. It's been a very long time since I had a birthday with them and it would be lovely to be able to drive the two hours north without worrying about sliding off the road. I'll be wearing my boots, just in case though.

Happy Thursday.

Ice Storm Watch 2008

We were supposed to have an ice-storm last night. It was one of those things that sent the weather people scurrying around like squirrels, interrupting TV, reporting on "Ice Storm Watch 2008," and having that banner flash across the TV every five minutes to tell which counties would be affected.

We never got the ice. We had nothing. It's cold. There are patches of ice where the puddles were yesterday but no ice storm. Supposedly, it may hit today but there was definitely an air of disappointment in the weather people this morning. I, for one, am not too disappointed. I did, however, discover an area of my parking lot that could be compared to an ice rink. It's where the storm drain sits below a slight incline. It also happens to be in the main traffic area. I'll have to remember to watch out for that. I'll also keep an eye out for my stray there; maybe he'd like to use those ice-skating skills for which he was so eager to hitch a ride.

It is cold though, so cold that my window on my car freezes shut and going to the drive-by mailboxes at the post office isn't so simple. I had to open my door to mail my letters since my window wouldn't budge. Now I'm in the office and people are being very...ominous. Several people have walked by my cubicle and said, "No snow....yet." They say it in this tone that implies dark and shady happenings are afoot. Personally, I'd rather like some dark and shady happenings, nothing too depressing but something to liven up my day.

Then again, maybe I have enough dark and shady happenings in my dream life to fill the quota. I've been having weird dreams. A couple of nights again, Keanu Reeves was an alien, just like he was in "The Day The Earth Stood Still." I haven't seen the film but I did see the preview. Anyway, Keanu was going to kill us all. We had to run. I ended up in a house that was filled with frozen food. Not sure why. The night after that, I dreamed Heath Ledger was talking to me. Given that he passed away, that was a shade creepy. Last night, I dreamed a high school classroom had caught on fire, killing everyone. I know why that one happened- I was editing too much. I have a scene in which that happens in Rainlight.

I did mention that I wasn't into sparkles and rainbows in my novels, right?

So maybe I don't really want dark and shady happenings. I wouldn't mind some snow though. Just a dusting would be fine. It is coming up on Christmas. I have my decorations up, my lights glowing. I even have a little electric fireplace that simulates dancing flames on logs. I love it. It's not like I can roast chestnuts on it because it's not an open fire. Besides, roasting chestnuts on an open fire is a bit dangerous anyway- those things can shoot right out like bullets if they get hot enough.

But I have my apartment set up and I'm ready for a little more snow now. I'm a traditionalist: Firmly believing that Christmases should be white. That's one of the problems I had when living in L.A. Granted, I spent the actual holiday with my family in Indiana so I often got snow but the preparations for the holiday were all done in L.A. It's not easy to be festive when it's 80 degrees and sunny. The campiness of palm trees with lights on it wears off fairly quickly. That's why I loved our annual trip to Disneyland; the might fake it but at least it snows there. It's hard to hear "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" in L.A. Sure, you can drive to the mountains but it's not always possible.

I'm rambling. I'm a rambler. By now, you'll know that's normal. Blame it on my dark and shady dreams from last night; my brain feels a little mushy this morning. I'm surprised I can form a complete sentence. More people are trickling into the office now; the first pot of coffee has been emptied, more is made, steadily growing in vileness so that this afternoon's pot will be disgusting. I usually skip the afternoon coffee these days.

Another person just said "The storm is coming!" It makes me smile at how dramatic it is. If we have a storm, I'll let you know. In the mean time, I'll just sit back and see what happens. There's no controlling nature; if she wants to be dark, shady and stormy, she will. If not, we always had "Ice Storm Watch 2008".

Happy Tuesday.

Thursday Randomness

It snowed a little last night. It's very pretty but not icy which means I'm feeling poetical about snow again. Don't worry, I won't write about it today. I'll give it a couple more snowfalls before I start talking about the twirling, whirling flakes that create their buffer of peace for the world.

It's Thursday, as I'm sure you know. Unless you're one of those people who can't remember what day it is when you wake up and don't bother checking because knowing doesn't really alter your day all that much. I have a friend like that. I have a feeling he only knows it's the weekend because there are movies opening and he's got a radar for those things. I always know what day it is because I'm a regular TV viewer and I know what show is on that night. This time of year is a little tricky for that though because it's coming up on the winter hiatus and most of my shows are off the air now until January. I probably should just rely on a calendar. I love calendars.

This morning, I took my stray to campus again. He's getting sneaky. I went to leave my apartment and he was waiting outside the building. I'd started to leave a few minutes before but realized I forgot to turn my thermostat down. When I'd left then, he'd been coming down the stairs and I knew he was headed to my place. When I went outside to my car, there he was. He had his cell-phone out but wasn't dialing. He seemed surprised when I politely asked if he needed a ride but it was the type of surprise you feign when you're secretely hoping for something. Like when someone says "let's have lunch, my treat" and you're supposed to say, "Oh, really, are you sure? It doesn't have to be your treat" and then you hope they insist so that you get a nice free lunch. Of course, this backfires if they say, "Oh, alright then, we'll go dutch."

I didn't mind giving him a ride though. It's the last time since his class is over. Of course, had I know that he was stuck for a ride because his class was ICE SKATING, I might have been a little less generous. I mean, Ice-Skating? Seriously? Not that there is anything wrong with ice skating- I can fall on my bottom with the best of amateurs but I thought it was one of those " I stayed up all night to get ready for it and now I'm going to flunk because I can't make it to campus" classes. Ice skating wasn't what I imagined his crisis was. Oh well, glad I could help him become a better skater. Or something.

Anyway, being Thursday, it is The Office and 30 Rock night. Normally, it'd be "Grey's Anatomy" but that's done until January. This is actually a good thing. I used to love my Thursday night ritual of glass of wine and Grey's. Lately, as I've mentioned in my other blog, I'm a little worried about that show. The last three episodes have made me angry. I don't like being angry at Grey's. It's like having a fight with my best friend. It means I can't rely on it for escapism at the moment because the storylines have been making me want to escape from the show.

So, without Grey's, I think I'm going to get festive. I have Christmas cards to send and presents to wrap and some nice holiday movies to entertain me while I do so. My absolute favourite is "Love, Actually" because it's a fantastic film, I love everyone in it and it makes me extremely happy and hopeful that everyone can find love. I'm very susceptible to a good, non-sappy, romantic film like that. Also, I love British actors and it's rare that you find one film that has as many great British actors in it as that one. Except, maybe, Harry Potter but they're all split up. "Love, Actually" has Alan Rickman, Bill Nighy, Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant along with many others who I love. I won't watch that tonight though: "Love, Actually" deserves it's own evening, not to be spent multi-tasking. That's what "Elf" is for. I can feel my mother cringing as she reads that. She's not big on movies like "Elf." She also hates "The Santa Clause" which is my dad and my tradition for Christmas Eve. Sadly, I enjoy "The Santa Clause," mostly because it's syrupy and silly and a nice habit to have for the holidays.

I think I'm going to have to apologize for the randomness of my blogs this week. I haven't had a great week. I got myself into a nasty dark mood as I indicated earlier. It's better now but I hate getting into a funk like that. It makes me doubt myself which is definitely not a good thing. Self-delusion is so much less painful and makes the world all shiny and pretty. Like snow. Snow can be shiny. Snow is pretty. And there's still snow on the ground outside. But I promised to hold my lyrical musings on that for the day and so I'll honour my promise. For now.

Happy Thursday.