Oh, the shame!

So, Jenge and I decided to hire a dog walker. She will come twice a week and suit up all three dogs for a half hour walk.

Yesterday was her first day.

My mum emailed me when the dog walker came to get them, and then again, half an hour later when she returned.

Someone got a bad report card.

Was it Portia? Known for trolling for garbage and trying to chase rabbits?

Portia

Was it Rocky? Who barks non stop for the first 20 minutes of a walk? and also likes to chase large trucks?

Rocky

Nay, the dog walker said that it was Lola. Lola!

LolaThe Dog walker wrote that she was “Ill Behaved” and that her behavior would be “unacceptable” in a large dog.

Lola!

So guess who has to have special training lessons now.

I’m so embarrassed! Lola!

Share

Oh Perry!

Perry was my car. He was my reliable boy. A ’97 Pontiac Grand Am. Six cylinders. Look at the hood on him!

Perry the Pontiac
Perry the Pontiac

He had issues. But so did I so it was okay. I spent a lot of time with Perry. To and from Vancouver. To and from work, to and from wherever I wanted to go. If I had Perry, I felt safe. It meant I could leave whenever I wanted.

Despite his issues, I found him strangely reliable. While I worried sometimes that he would leave me stranded, I never really thought he would do it, and he never did.

I knew pretty much how long I had once his “Low Gas” light came on, and I pushed it almost every time. I knew that when his gauges started flickering, he would settle out by Avenida [five minutes from my house]. He made a “thunkah clicka clicka” sound that only I heard, usually about 3 minutes into our morning drive. His windshield wipers weren’t so hot, and I didn’t like to replace them. I got talked into replacing them once, and they were WORSE after that so I left them mostly alone.

I could add coolant, oil and change all of his lights. I changed one of his tires once.

I ate in that car, dozed in that car, took smoke breaks from work in that car, cried in that car, drove the puppies in that car. I cursed his check engine light, on pretty much non stop for the last six years. I cringed when the ABS light came on. Or the coolant light. I would glare at the non-existent A/C.

But I knew how fast he could accelerate, and I knew how hard to hit the breaks. Sigh. I’m gonna miss him.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my new car, Johnny Fiama [pics to come soon]. He’s new. What’s not to like? He has air conditioning. He is clean. He smells like new car. But I haven’t yet bonded with him. I’m sure I will. I know we will be great friends. But new friends don’t ever replace old friends. They are just new.

Oh, Perry! I hope they didn’t scrap yard you! And if you did, I hope it was quick!

Share

An Excerpt from the Diary of Lola

L. Beans

L. Beans

Dear Diary,

Rocky still doesn’t want to talk to me. Every morning, as soon as I’m out of my box, I run to him and try to snuggle in his fur, but he barks at me and runs away. I’m starting to wonder if he’s not just playing hard to get. Nah!

Portia is very bitchy grumpy lately. When I do my happy-skippy dance in front of her and try to nuzzle her, she has been growling at me. The mummies say I need to leave her alone at this time, but I maintain, this is the time I need to DOUBLE MY EFFORTS. So I dance more, add in some nibbles on her fur, and even wag my tail in her face. when she growls, I just look over my shoulder at her, show her my butt, and bat my eyes. I just KNOW I’m making progress.

Lately, I’ve taken to having dinner in my crate quarters. Although I’ve been rather off the puppy food lately. this morning, mummy Margarita gave me big dog food and it was SO MUCH BETTER than my stupid puppy food.

I got to sit next to mummy this morning and chew my bone, and when I dropped it, she picked it up for me. FIVE times. she must like it as much as I do.

Mummy Jennfur let me go Off Leash yesterday and I got run and play with another dog named Sophie. I had fun.

Mummy set up a twitter account for us. She said she would post it on her blog. We are all allowed to tweet no matter what Rocky says.

Love Lola

Share

The Way Things Are – A post by Portia

P. Cakes

P. Cakes

There’s been a lot of bitching and whining talk about how I get my mummy up early in the morning, and I’m here to set the record straight. When I was a puppy, I would stand in front of the door when mummy would try to go to work. And she would sigh and say:

If mummy doesn’t go to work, there is no kibble and portiacakes goes hungry.
If mummy doesn’t go to work, there is no heat and portiacakes goes cold.
We don’t want portiacakes to go hungry or cold, do we?

Hell no! we don‘t want Portiacakes going hungry or cold!

Lately, my mummy is very tired and I’m worried she will not wake up in time for work. So I do my best to get her up and at ’em. The fact that she feeds me kibble has NOTHING to do with it!

Share

An Excerpt from the Diary of Lola

Lola

Lola

June 23, 2009

Dear Diary – This morning Portia and I woke mummy up at 5.30. I know she loves getting up early as much as we do! she put us out and then she stretched out on the couch, like she usually does and when I came back inside, after my potty, she left me sleep under the blanket. It was nice. I know she loves me.

Portia almost stole my kibble again this morning but mummy saved it for me. I know Portia loves me.

BUT I was put in the box AGAIN today when the mummies went to work, and although it is big enough for Portia and would fit 10 of me comfortably, I don’t know HOW MANY TIMES I WILL HAVE TO TELL THE MUMMIES I DON’T WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE. I cried for Grandma, but she must not have heard me. I will try again louder tomorrow.

I’m super exicted to be going to work on Thursday. I work very hard keeping mummy’s lap warm while she is at the office. Portia is going to get her nails done and then play with the big dogz at day care, so mummy said I could go to work with her. I asked Rocky if he wanted to go too but he said

“Shut up and leave me alone.”

He’s a bit of a grouch in the mornings. And the afternoons. And sometimes the evenings. But I know he loves me.

and then I got to sit with Grandma. She says I look like I was built by committee and she doesn’t know why my back end is higher than my front.  I know she loves me.

And I’ve got big plans for tonight. I have supper time and then potty time and then a nap, and then play time with Portia and then another nap and then more play time and then I will chew on my shoe, and then it will be bedtime. Sometimes mummy reads in bed and lets me sleep on the bed until she is done. One of these days, she will forget to put me in the box for night time. But she says she’s still mad about me pooping in the closet, so probably not tonight.

Love Lola

Share

Memory Game

So mum has had her house on the market for a while, and although I do think it’s time for her to move out [nudge nudge, mum], I find myself torn about how I feel about the actual SALE of the house. I know that it’s not the only house I have ever lived in. I think we moved in when I was two. and I don’t even live there right now. I live with Jenge [where mum is moving in]. But I still feel very attached to the house.

It doesn’t have a garage. It’s not open concept. There is no master bath. And yet, I’m very fond of it. I grew up there, and it’s the only house I remember. And there’s my other problem. Memory. I remember falling off my bike and pushing said bike home, lower lip trembling, leg and arm bleeding and seeing the house up ahead of me. I remember coming home from trips and being so glad to see it. Heck, even coming home from days at work or at the university. And then there’s my dad. I remember him in that house.

Intellectually, I realize that the sale of the house doesn’t mean I’ll forget. I know my memories are not somehow tied up in the wood and concrete that make up that building. But I can’t help but feel as though they are. As if having that house there somehow solidifies my gray matter.

Jessi, at work, says she has no similar feelings about the house her parents live in because she moved alot when she was a kid. So I guess it’s because I only know that one house that I feel that way.

And like I said, I know it’s not rational. It’s not logical. My memories are what they are regardless of what external cues are there. And it’s impractical to think that you can keep every place you live and go back whenever you want.

But that doesn’t keep me from feeling…. nervous? sad? morose?

Share

Still a busy Squirrell

So it’s almost a month after my post where I said I was crazy busy and I’m still crazy busy. Although it has gotten a lot better now that my nail class is over and I just have my ‘clients’ to work on.

I skipped out on 2 bootcamps last week, which means I only went to one. and boy did i feel that last night. We had a relatively easy bootcamp and I was struggling.

I actually have been out of breath a lot at bootcamp lately and so I popped by my docs and she gave me an inhaler to see if I have exercise induced asthma. which I thought would be kinda weird if I developed it after a year of bootcamp, but I gave it a try last night anyway. Breathing was somewhat easier, although I still got tuckered out pretty quick.

So if I don’t lose weight this week at my weigh in, I’m going to ask Kelly, my nutritionist if I’m getting enough calories. Maybe that’s why I’m so tired, and am finding the bulge won’t budge.

As I mentioned I’ve been trying to do some nail sets in my spare time, and everyone has been super sweet. I’m charging FREE right now, but people have brought me starbucks cards and some bottles of wine, and I super appreciated the thought. Sniff. It’s so nice.

My sister said my work is getting better and I’ve been trying really hard to work on my technique. My own nail tech is sick this week, so instead of rebooking my fill appt, I’m just going to do my own set. I’ve been waiting for my business cards to arrive but no luck yet. I’m hoping any day now!! that and I’m waiting for my first issue of a nail magazine. oh, and I’m going to my first trade show on Sunday, whoot whoot.

and that’s all the shrimp there is.

Share

Um, No. I just like to eat

You know, I’ve battled my weight for as long as I can remember. My first memory knowing I was chumby, hmmm….I think I was about 8 years old and I realized I was 20 lbs heavier than my classmates. Today, this is not a lot, as A LOT of kids are overweight [and that’s a WHOLE other post] but back then I was the only girl in my class who was overweight. I remember what it felt like and I didn’t like it.

Flash forward 25 years and I’m still struggling with that extra 20-40 lbs. I go up, I go down. I’ve tried a lot of different things. Never diet pills. Always something like Weight watchers or Jenny Craig. Working out more, watching what I eat. that sort of thing.

I read a lot of people’s stories on the internet and in print about their issues with food. I’m FASCINATED by anyone’s struggle with the bulge, and I voraciously read blog posts, articles, and the like. In these articles, someone is always coming to the realization that they have used food as a filler. Something to stuff down their emotions, or fill an emotional void. Often you hear them say “Food was my best friend.” “Food comforted me.” “I used food to salve the pain.”

I’ve thought long and hard about this and my ‘realization’ is: I just like to eat.

Plain and simple. If something tastes good, I want more. If something tastes like crap, I don’t want it at all. and High calorie, fat laden food tends to taste really really good and ergo, I like it. I like it a lot. I like the way yummy food tastes. and I’m like a 6 year old when it comes to decisions about my food. Ice cream for breakfast? You bet! Birthday cake when it’s no one’s birthday? why not? peanut butter as a food group? sure thing.

Trust me, I’ve been in therapy. I KNOW what my issues are, but using food as a filler for some void deep in my psyche is not one of them. I don’t eat to numb pain. I don’t eat less when I’m stressed. I don’t ever lose my appetite from my feelings. I do reward myself with food [do well on an exam, do a good job at work = CRAVE CUPCAKES!] but I don’t see this as any sort of emotional eating, but rather a cheap, inexpensive reward. People always say, don’t use food as a reward. Why the hell not? It’s cheap, it’s readily available. and like I said, it tastes good.
I don’t think of food as my best friend, I don’t think of food as “there for me.” And I don’t think that people who feel that way are wrong. I’m just saying that personally, I don’t have those issues. I like food. I like yummy food. I like sweet and salty and sour and crunchy and smooth and tasty.

Maybe someday I will wake and realize that I’m just deluding myself and I really do have deep-seeded issues about food. But then I’d prolly just roll over and get a cinnamon bun.

Share