| older posts | categories & tags | photos | send me an email |
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be thirty four, and I have to say I love life as a thirty-something. I'm the happiest and most secure I've been in years and really like the person I've grown up to be. And according to Wikipedia, I'm in good company with other July 29th babies: Clara Bow, Jean Baudrillard, Tim Gunn, and Ted Mosby! My day will begin with a call from South Africa, then off to work where in the middle of the day the best volunteer ever (a woman I call "Mom") is taking me to lunch. Indian? French? Thai? How to pick? Then dinner with the P's, maybe some hangout time with Mammacita (chilling on my patio with her last week on her birthday was so grand, I kinda want to repeat the experience!). Maybe I should call and ask her if she wants to come.
Speaking of Alisha, the pAAin don't hurt pAArty, this year's AA Extravaganza, was super big fun Saturday night. The mood was just right, and with few exceptions the guests kept it crazy but not too drunk. The overall mix of guests was random, glorious, and peppered with lots of folks from out of town. The food was delish and comedic, and a lot more people enjoy the Swayze than we could ever have hoped. I stayed up talking with Darrin and Holly until 7:30 in the a.m. when they folded and went to bed. I called them wussies and put the food away before collapsing myself. While talking all night with interesting people is incredibly enjoyable, it certainly isn't something I hope to do many more times in my life. I'm still feeling a bit discombobulated.*
I better pull it together, because my life is turning topsy turvy on Friday when Mister Puppy (name still to be determined) moves in. This week I need to finish puppy-proofing and make some final decisions about The Rules. Hopefully I can start out his life with me well rested and ready to become a lot more patient. I know that raising him is going to be hard, but I can't imagine anything more rewarding than a friendly, jovial dog waiting at home.
*note to self, in the future spend lots more time with Darrin and Holly because they are all of the awesome.
I have quite a stash. In fact, I have so much yarn stuffed into odd corners I'm not even sure what all is there or what I had intended to make with most of it. This is particularly sad since I just moved. This weekend I finished a couple pairs of socks and a sweater that I've been ignoring, not realizing that there was only about 2 hours of work left. Tadum. I also realize that I have a couple of unfinished gifts that I really need to finish up--Mammacita's Special Day socks that turned out ridiculously small and need to essentially be re-knit, and some hand-sewing affixing a knit-bit to my Pop's birthday gift. From February. La la la. I also started work on cutting teeshirt strips to make a ball for the Mason-Dixon Dizzy Rug. My intent is to make a bunch of them as washable dog-bed covers. However, I think my rotary cutter needs a new blade, actually knitting is way more fun than cutting and winding, and I'm getting a blister on my thumb. Basically, the chances of me working through the eight garbage bags full of old teeshirts I freecycled a year ago any time soon is slim. Poor puppy won't get his cool beds right away. Whatev.
Anyway, the point of this post is that even though I have plenty of stuff to work on, much of which is surely fascinating, it has come to my attention that I must make this out of some bulky weight kitchen cotton from Elmore-Pisgah as soon as is humanly possible. Duh.
I had the best weekend. Seriously, the best! Since I know the entire world is fascinated by the minutae of my everyday life I will share a blow-by-blow account.
Thursday evening I stayed up way too late first watching Road House for the third time in six months with Mammacita and Leah, a Road House virgin. I'm not positive she loved this quality film as much as we do, but she didn't walk out so I guess we're good. How can someone not be blown away by the Swayzetastic wonder of bar fights in high-waisted, pleated, white pants? After arriving home I was not at all sleepy--I blame the red vines--so I puttered around the house until the wee hours.
Friday I didn't leave the house once, and I'm pretty sure the phone didn't ring either. Sometimes it is nice to have a completely alone day. I continued the house puttering, tidying up and puppy-proofing mostly. I caught up on some tivo and knitting (watch for a future post about some lagging UFOs that are now finally off the needles), and made myself some weenies and potato salad in honor of the holiday. Even though my neighborhood is apparently fireworks crazy, I was sleeping by eleven. Lovely!
Saturday I woke up early and made a big breakfast that I ate with The Economist at the dining table. The temperature cooled a bit so I was able to go out and mow at a neighbor-friendly 10, instead of waiting until a neighbor-friendly hour and discovering that it was already too hot to be pushing a mower around (like happened on Friday). Instead of the approach that is becoming normal--to mow as quickly as possible missing a number of spots somehow and skipping the scary weed-wacker all together--I took my time and really polished off the yard. I followed this with some weeding and compost-bin collecting. During the afternoon I attacked the house with vacuum, dustrag, and sponge. The place looks great! Around seven I rode my bike downtown for the Northwest Motorfest Capitol City Cruise. I watched the cars go by, including Pop's '32 Ford, and was able to enjoy a tasty beer with my Pop and his buddy before heading home as the sun started to set (boo on me for not bringing a bike light). Unfortunately, Pop's car had a hard night (having to do with a faulty distributor) and had to go home on a flatbed. Sad. Not to worry! It was feeling better the next day after a cash transfusion! Since I had no clue of the bad news happening downtown, I enjoyed the evening sitting on the front porch watching the world go by, followed by another early bedtime.
Sunday I woke early again and scurried outside to feed the plants some fertilizer before the sun got hot. Everybody was looking much happier by the end of Sunday, so it must not have burned. Hooray! The rest of the day was spent cooking, cleaning, and carrying things that I'm not sure what to do with to the basement. I guess all that stuff can just sit down there until I want it--even though the house is big (relatively, of course) with lots of storage, I'm not sure where to put plenty of junk. I guess that's what unfinished basements are for! Around seven Pop called and invited me to dinner. Hooray! He picked me up in the (now running) fun car and we whizzed downtown for some fish and chips. There is something so fun about riding in a tiny convertible with a ridiculously overpowered engine--as long as you don't think about the inherent dangers or environmental outcomes. Hey, he's going to be driving anyway. I might as well enjoy the wind in my hair. Anyway, good food and fun times. I enjoyed some more porch time before heading to bed for another good night's sleep before having to return to work.
Such a perfect weekend. I never felt pressured or like I had to be anywhere, accomplished a ton, and feel totally relaxed and recuperated. Why can't all weekends include an extra holiday?
I try really hard not to drive my car to work. Really I do. But even for somebody who is really committed to making it happen, the Subaru ends up in the employee parking garage more days than not. During the homebuying/moving/what-have-you marathon I frequently had to run places during the day or directly after work, but even on days where I don't have to have the car available I find myself jumping in each morning.
Since I moved I haven't tried the bus, but I loved bus-riding last winter. It was especially easy because the bus rolled by right in front of my apartment. At the new house, the bus comes by about seven minutes earlier and is about four blocks away across a busy street (there is a stoplight another two blocks away). Have I timed how long it will take me to walk that far? Of course not. Biking takes just about as much time as driving in the mornings, assisted by a steep downhill. In the afternoons it takes considerably longer, and seems almost impossible when temperatures are hovering around 100 degrees at quitting time. I need to get rolling on the bus, but the route and schedule are frankly quite inconvenient--I'm guessing I'll have to leave the house 30 minutes earlier than I do to drive/bike, and in my rushed mornings a half hour seems impossible. Getting home is even worse. Because of the distance from my office to the bus stop and the lame-o once-an-hour Boise bus schedule, I will have to hang out downtown for over an hour. I will miss the earlier bus by mere minutes, but miss it I will. While window shopping is an occassional treat, not every stinking day. Especially with a sweet lonely puppy waiting at home! I had this same problem at the apartment, but usually I would just walk. In the shade. In about 40 minutes. The walk to the new house would probably be over an hour and decidedly not shady. Please refer back to the aforementioned 100 degree temperatures at quitting time.
I'm thinking about this a lot right now because I have been invited to participate in a group trying to improve alternative transportation usage at The Place That Pays The Bills (you know, my job). Being selected to be part of the committee feels like a big deal, and I hope we can do some good. But short of improving the area's completely subpar transit system, I'm not really sure what can be done to get lots of people on board. Bikes are fun some days, but require a lot of gear and planning, and are very weather-dependent for most riders. In other words, possible in the spring and fall, but pretty much out when temperatures go to the extremes. Walking is limited to the few people who live close enough. And the bus? Unless you are very lucky (as I was at the apartment), it is a huge hassel and never convenient--even if the employer picks up the fare (as mine does). I hope the other people on this committee have some good, fresh ideas. Even though I really want to leave the car home, and I do think it is critically important, I can't seem to figure out how to make it work in a very practical way. Maybe I should join a carpool.
Anyway, I'm feeling discouraged.
With the arrival of the puppy imminent (you know, a few weeks off), I've been reading the training books like a crazy person. Almost everyone I've spoken to swears by the monks. Most of these people have great dogs themselves. However, the monks freaked me out. FREAKED ME OUT. They had me convinced that there was no way I could go to work everyday (thereby allowing me to bring home the kibble) and raise a healthy, happy, socialized puppy. If I was going to do this, I needed a six month vacation.
Now let's not be hasty. I'd love a six month vacay to hang at home with the poocharoo. However, see aforementioned "kibble". See also: mortgage. Oh boy, how do I love a good "See also". Nerd. Moving on. Obviously the monks are not for me (though I will definitely be trying some of their techniques, I'm just not down with the whole philosophy--any dog training book that makes me feel bad about myself can be returned to the Library! post haste). Monday night I started reading the right puppy training book for me. The approach just makes sense! The philosophy is pretty much from the instant the dog comes into your home, you teach him how to be the best member of YOUR family possible.
You teach him to respect you and your friends and family. You teach him how to entertain himself when you are not home. You teach him appropriate ways to play, eliminate, and interact with his new environment. And all of it happens in a way that from where I'm standing feels very organic. It is a training method that will work with my already established life. As I was discussing this with Mammacita, all she could do was laff and laff and laff. I know she's just waiting to point, chuckle, and say "I told you so". she knows from experience that all the planning in the world doesn't change the fact that every pooch is different and pretty much nothing is going to happen just as I want it to. While this is possible (and in fact probable), the way I operate works better if I have a plan to be tweaked rather than figuring it out as I go.
Just last night my good friend Jennifer was up at my place for some chatting and knitting. I was trying to finish some socks (monkeys for my mom--shhh top secret) and Fern was making up a top-down raglan cardigan. While actively chatting with me, she realized that her idea was not going to work out quite as expected. My approach to this catastrophe would have included totally dropping out of the conversation (or perhaps more politely waiting until my guest went home), pulling out graph paper, hitting up some ravelry forums, and totally overthinking how to solve the problem. Jennifer's approach? Was to just knit a totally different sweater. With no planning. And by the time she left it as obvious that a) the sweater was going to be totally cute, and b) fit her really really well. If I had just wung it, that wouldn't have been the result. No-way Jose.
I think my approach to dog training is the same way. I'm a planner, an overthinker, a strategizer, and maybe just a titch anal. Obviously, the best thing for me to do to maybe become a little more relaxed about things (which is probably necessary for me to have a happier and healthier life), is to adopt a dog.
Czech!
