The Supernanny - For Dogs

Ginger had her very first puppy class last night. (By the way - 18.2 pounds now. And still growing.) She was very excited to walk into the local Petsmart with Lexie and me, and went nuts when she saw all of her classmates. We tried to reel her in, but were admonished by her instructor, who told us, "Let them play! We don't keep children away from each other in school, do we?" So she happily sniffed and jumped on and licked her new pals.

And the instructor was amazing. Lexie commented, "She's just like the Supernanny, mom, but for dogs!" She really was. Gracie is a large woman, not in a fat way, but in a German fraulein way, if you know what I mean. And she has a British accent. She's definitely not the kind of person you would ever want to be on the bad side of. She stressed that her main concern is the dogs, and that we, as humans, were secondary. That if we worked together, we would have perfectly mannered pooches who would soon become productive members of society. And I believe her. Actually, I'm too intimidated not to believe her. I only hope Lexie stays on her good side...

Anyway, there are seven total dogs in Ginger's class. Since it would've been very rude to snap pictures of them during class, I searched the net for acceptable representations. And I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. All the pictures are really close to what the actual pups look like. So, here are Ginger's new classmates:

First we'll start with the three dogs whose names escape me. A boston terrier, a wheaten terrier, and a schnoodle (I think - at least this schnoodle looks like the dog in her class).
Then there was Nala, the precocious boxer who learned to "hush" before the rest of the class learned, since she had a proclivity for barking:
And Nunu, who was going through class for the second time (but Ginger really loved Nunu anyway...I have a feeling she's going to be a bad influence on my baby...!): And finally, there was Walter. By far, my favorite of her classmates. Walter didn't quite seem to fit in with the rest of the group... maybe because he was barely ten weeks old... but Gracie said he would be the leader of the class in a couple weeks. I don't know, what do you think? Walter is a papillon/maltese mix and weighs about a pound, if that much. He was really scared around all the bigger dogs, and really didn't want to walk into the classroom. So his owners sort of pulled him on his leash, making him look kind of like a little dustmop. You couldn't help but laugh.

Lexie and I listened raptly as Gracie told us all that it was important to exercise your dog before class so that they would be tired enough to pay attention and learn, but not too tired. "Especially you!" she said sharply, pointing at our Ginger. Lexie and I laughed uncomfortably and shrank a bit on our stools while Ginger continued to prance around as far as her leash would allow. Then Gracie called Ginger and gave her hugs and kisses. So I guess Ginger was forgiven for her rambunctiousness.

At one point in the class, Gracie asked us if any of the pups were fixed yet. Negatives all around. She then asked how many males were in the class. We all looked around in curiosity to see the lone hand in the air - Walter's owner. Amid the laughter, Gracie shook her head. "I'm not sure Walter even knows he's a boy yet," she commented, "and no offense, but I'm thinking it would be physically impossible for him to do anything with any of these ladies anyway." Poor Walter. "Although Lord knows, stranger things have happened," she added with a grin.

All in all, I think all three of us enjoyed the class thoroughly. I just hope that Ginger earns enough points to graduate. I would be mortified if my pup-pup flunked out. I'll keep you posted on all things doggie, I promise.

Scary

So what I think is that if I am to continue to be honest with myself, and to stay mentally healthy, I need to write. And I need to write the not-so-great things, too, because pretending that everything is hunky-dory is a really bad thing to do, especially when you have a past like mine. And yet, I do tend to do that way more than I should. Well, I either put on a happy face or just drop out of sight entirely. And neither is a good thing. For me, at least.

As you saw yesterday, I am a tiny bit overextended lately. And tired. After working all day with Satan, I went in for another RL shift, which kept me running my ass off until almost 10:30 p.m. Soooo... start the day job at 8:30, leave RL at 10:30 - you do the math. Yes, kiddies, 14 hours of work, then it's back home, shower, go to bed and back up at 6 a.m. to do the whole thing all over again today. Last night I was a bit more on edge than usual. Lexie called at like 9:30 to inform me that the toilet was about to overflow, the cat just puked, and "when are you coming home??" And I still had two tables sitting, and I still had sidework to do, and I was tired, and crabby, and depressed, and I really wanted to just cry. I started wondering if it all was worth it, you know? I mean, here I was, busting my ass, while my daughter sits home all day by herself. What kind of mother am I, anyway? Do I really need the extra money? Well, the short answer is 'yes,' but I started trying to figure out how I would manage if I did quit. And the bottom line is, I probably would, but I would never get out of debt or get that new car or be able to actually have a savings account.

So I'm sitting in one of the booths, doing some sidework and waiting for my tables to leave and worrying about Lexie, when Dani asks if I would like to join some of the other servers for a drink after work. And I really wanted to say, "Definitely! I'm there!" but instead I shake my head and smile. Because I am a responsible person now, and I have a daughter who needs me, and a cat who puked, and a toilet on the verge of overflowing, and I have to save my money and get up at 6:00 am to work for Satan. But my brain is still going 100 mph since I am now exhausted and crabby and depressed, and it wasn't until I finally left the restaurant and got in the car that it happened.

I'm guessing it was a combination of my mental state and watching "Intervention" the night before and the fact that the song playing on my radio was seducing me with its mellow lyrics:
Hello? Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me...
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, come on now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
Relax -
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts -
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain, you are receding...
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon...
You are only coming through in waves...
Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying...
When I was a child, I had a fever,
My hands felt just like two ballons.
Now I've got that feeling once again -
I can't explain, you would not understand -
This is not how I am...
I have become comfortably numb.

I wanted to get high.

I wanted to go back to Kenny's apartment with the balcony door open and the summer breeze blowing the curtains towards us as we partied. I wanted to let Kevin fill my pipe and light it for me and inhale the smoke and let it take me away to where I was comfortably numb. Back to before the paranoia, before the end stages of addiction - when I had no job, no daughter, no responsibilities except for making sure the test tube was dry enough to cook up a new batch of crack.

When I could've cared less how late it was, because the days and nights all bled together, anyway, and you slept when you felt like it. When collection agencies made me laugh, because they couldn't get blood from a stone. When nothing mattered - nothing - except for that feeling you got when the drugs took over your body and soul...

For the first time in I can't even remember how long, I actually felt the physical nausea I used to feel before I partied. My head had that buzzing sensation and I could feel myself starting to grind my teeth. I closed my eyes at the stoplight before my complex, and took a deep breath. when the light turned green, I continued on my drive with my stomach churning and pulled into my driveway a few short minutes later.

I turned off the car and the music stopped. And I felt like I wanted to cry. Because I had never had a jones like this since the previous millennium. And it scared me.

And I walked into my house, and I saw Lexie's smile, and Ginger was practically falling over from the force of her tail-wagging, and it all stopped. Because all the stress, all the responsibility, all the hard work... this was what it had accomplished for me. My own home, my wonderful daughter, my psycho pets, everyone who loved me and who I loved back. Trust, and the knowledge that I am a good person. The ability to take care of not only myself, but a child and my menagerie. The security of having money in the bank, and not having to depend on anyone else for that. The strength to have those feelings, and to overcome them instead of giving in to the old temptations.

Because it is so not worth it. I may be going through some tough times, but I need to keep my focus on the most important things in my life. I don't ever want to lose them, especially not for 'one more hit.' Which I am too smart to think would end with 'just one hit.' I refuse to go down that road again - ever.

And I think writing all this down and having some cyber-support really helps, too. So thank you all for being here, listening, and not judging. I promise when those feelings resurface, as I'm sure they probably will, I'll keep my focus and write it out again. Things may suck at times, but at least I know they'll always get better.

Gee, I Almost Even Forgot to Put a Title...!

You know, I just read Amber's newest post - one that has apparently been a long time in the making. And I can totally relate to how she feels. On a different level, of course. But she made me think a lot about myself and my blogging (or lack thereof, as the case may be). I miss it too. But for whatever reason, it just seems so damn difficult now. Just like TBOTE. It's all "up here," but for whatever reason, it just never makes it to print. I know I have let down a lot of people with that, too, because the story is just kind of hanging, and I feel really bad. But it just isn't happening now.

And I look back at my early blogs and I smile and laugh and when I do get around to reading all MY favorite bloggers, I realize how much I miss them too. What happened? There was a time when I made a point of reading everyone on my blogroll first thing in the am, when I couldn't WAIT for Satan to take a day off or leave early or even just take a long phone call so I could blog myself and comment as much as I wanted. Now, I think "eh," and forget about it.

Which makes me sad, because then I think about how I have probably lost most of my cyber-buddies because I myself have become such a god-awful cyber-buddy. THEN, I post one new blog and see comments from the likes of Amber, and Alice, and Rick, and Cheryl and I get all sentimental and think "they're still THERE! They DO still like me!" Which makes me feel like I am a total sap and am probably losing my mind as well. You know, since I feel like crying over comments on my blog.

Anyway, as far as losing myself, I also feel dangerously close to doing so. Because having two jobs, and a daughter, and two cats, and a puppy makes me forget about the little things - like how important it is to do things for ME every once in a while. And how Lexie is being so damn supportive and understanding when I come home EXHAUSTED and go to bed at like 7:30 pm (like I did last night) or when I am crabby and snap at her for no reason - she really deserves more of my time and I need to make a point of letting her know how much I appreciate her... and how I really shouldn't feel guilty if I want to use my ONE day off to just relax with my daughter instead of doing whatever it is whoever wants or expects me to do.

I feel like I have been shutting out a lot of people, both in cyberspace and in the "real world," and believe me, it is not intentional. I love all the people in my life so much and it makes me feel bad knowing that I've been doing that, on purpose or not. But at this juncture in my life, I can't afford to give up either job - especially when my job with Satan is ending in November and I have no prospects on the horizon. I need to keep moving forward and keep doing what I have to do, but I also need to slow it down a bit. I'm not quite sure how I am going to do that yet, but I'm going to try...!

Know what? I'm not even sure any of this entry made sense, but I think I'll post it anyway. I thank all of you who continue to check on me and comment, and hopefully you'll continue to bear with me. Maybe someday I'll start making more sense, and maybe someday I'll be struck by inspiration and get another chapter cranked out, who knows? In the meantime, I need to just focus on taking things one day at a time...

Make My Day

There are times when my daughter cracks me up. Often, these times are when she isn't trying to be funny. Which makes me laugh even more. I know as a supportive parent, I should try to keep my laughter in check a times, but the other day it was impossible. And honestly? I needed a good laugh. So her golf conversation really made my day.

Yes, her "golf conversation."

You see, a few months ago my father called Lexie up. "I've signed you up for golf lessons," he informed her. "You start on June 11 at the driving range right behind the house."

"Ummmmmm..." (that would be Lexie.)

"Now don't worry, I'm going to get you a set of used clubs. They won't be the best, of course, but as you improve maybe I'll get you a better set."

"Ummmmmm..."

"So I'll bring those by when I get them, and I'll drop off the information on the lessons, too. All right, talk to you later!"

Now, Lexie isn't a golfer. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall the first time we took her miniature golfing when she was like four. She grabbed the club like a baseball bat and almost took out me and her grandpa. But apparently since his grandson is only 16 months old, he decided that Lexie would be his golf protege. And didn't really give her the opportunity to say no.

Sine I have raised my daughter well, she sucked it up and acted excited for her grandpa's sake. But she told anyone who would listen, "I really don't want to play golf, but since grandpa wants me to so bad..."

In any case, as the day drew near, my dad got more and more excited, and Lexie got more and more apprehensive. Finally, the day arrived. I left for work, and told her I would call her at 9:10 to make sure she was leaving. When I called, she actually sounded a little excited. Maybe this golf thing isn't such a bad idea, I thought to myself. I mean, I've never golfed in my life, but Lord knows it's a good networking tool and hell, maybe she's got a little Tiger in her, who knows, right?

So I'm sitting at work, watching the clock, and at about 10:10 my phone rings. It was my little golf pro - but wait - what's this? She sounded all out of breath...

"Whoever said golf was EASY and RELAXING is a LIAR!" she spat into the phone.

There. That is exactly where my giggles started. But I tried to keep them in check as I responded sweetly, "Why, baby? How was it? Did you have fun?"

What came next was a tirade that left me gasping for breath with tears in my eyes.

"WELL," she began, "it is hard. And these clubs are heavy! And every time the instructor came by, I would miss the ball. And he would tell me to FOCUS. And I WAS FOCUSING!! And a third grader hit the ball 175 feet, and the farthest I hit the ball was 95 feet. And I think I burned off 20 million calories, AND I am sweating off ALL of my sunscreen!" her tween indignation burned through the phone line.

I tried to regain my composure and tell her, "Well, honey, it was your first lesson. I'm sure you'll get better."

"It's not funny," she said, with a trace of laughter in her own voice. "Maybe I'll sign you up for golf lessons and see how you like it!"

"Well, now, see, I have to work, so I really don't have time," I demurred, still wiping at the tears in my eyes.

She didn't even seem to hear me. "AND? I don't think my fingers will ever straighten out again."

"Why?" I mananged to say while still laughing.

"From gripping the club so hard!" she said in exasperation.

"But honey, are you supposed to grip it that hard?" I asked innocently.

"NO!" she responded with frustration. "But if I don't, I'm gonna throw the stupid club! And stop laughing!!!"

I ended my conversation with the young Tigress by telling her to go home, drink some water, relax and call me later. Which she did, and after some relaxing? I think she actually kind of liked the golfing.

Or to put it in her own words, " I really like hitting things, only not when people are watching me."

I'm hoping by "things" she only meant golf balls...

Yesterday went a little better, although she does have a blister. I promised her a golf glove. Haven't heard from her today yet. But that first day? That conversation will keep me chuckling every time I replay it in my head. God, I love my daughter!

***

And since you are such loyal readers, I will leave you with a few pictures:

Here is Ginger, the cute little puppy who was supposed to be only 30 pounds. She is now 16 1/2 pounds, and not quite four months old. According to the nice attorney in my office, "Looks like you are going to have the World's Largest Sheltie." Not funny.

And? Drumroll, please... my favorite godson and the pro golfer extrordinaire. TOO CUTE, RIGHT?? All right, folks, dasi, OUT!!

School Days...

Hi! It's me, dasi! I know, I know... Does being totally EXHAUSTED excuse me from my blogging? Because between the two jobs, a suddenly sullen and attitude-laden daughter, a dibetic cat and a puppy who is growing more than she should (15 lbs already - and she's not even 4 months old!!), I haven't had time to THINK, much less blog. Anyway, I'm sure none of you have any sympathy for me. You don't care about my issues - unless I am blogging about them, right?? (Did I mention that being stressed and exhausted makes me chairman of my very own Pity Party as well??) Anyway, lucky readers that you are - this goes out to all three of you who still check my humble blog every once in a blue moon. It's actually going to be a very good blog, because it is about my grammar school reunion, and with PICTURES, no less!

So this was all a few weeks ago, after much planning and organizing the day itself finally arrived. I was really excited. Mary Pat and I got there early to set up, and Paul, Lynn and Sue showed up a little while after. Now, Paul and I have been in close contact for a while now, but Lynn and Sue I haven't seen in forever. And guess what? THEY DIDN'T RECOGNIZE ME!! I was really happy! Because, dear readers, in grammar school, you would know me as the girl with the glasses, bad perm, worse teeth, and unibrow. Yes, unibrow. I hate to admit it, but it is true. Can anyone say "awkward phase?" Heh.

So as the night went on, I continued to drink these yummy concoctions the bartender was making for me (cranberry vodka, pear vodka and lemonade - I think. I just kept telling her "make me another whatever") and since I don't drink very often anymore, I was EXTRA social. For instance, guess who was there? KRIS ROGOWSKI. You may remember her from this blog a while back. And guess what? She is still pretty snarky. I sat down next to her at the bar and told her she was really mean in grammar school. Her reply? "Funny, I don't remember being mean..." To which I responded, "Oh, you were, believe me! Actually, I wrote about you on my blog. Because my daughter has a friend who is just like you were. Or had a friend, actually. Because she really doesn't talk to her anymore. And I'm really glad, you know, because that girl is a little BITCH." After that, there was kind of a lull in the conversation. Go figure. But I tell you, it felt great 25 years later to finally confront her!! There she is, the short one on the end in the black shirt. And not to sound rude, (oh, hell, who am I kidding? I WANT to sound rude!!) but she should really start wearing a bra.
The other girls look GREAT, though - look at Suzy in the pink pants - she has FOUR sons - the oldest is 16. AMAZING!! And Julie, with the long hair and black camisole top? Two kids, 11 and 10. I think for the most part, our class aged well.

I've told you about Paul before, right? He was my unrequited love in fifth grade. I say unrequited because EVERYONE knew about my crush, and this is what he wrote in my fifth grade autograph book (yes, fifth grade authograph book. What can I say? We were a bunch of geeks.):
Broke my heart, the little shit. But as it turned out, we dated for a while in sophomore year in high school (once he discovered I turned into a "f---ing babe") as seen in this lovely picture (check out my Flashdance shirt - GOD I loved that shirt!!): Eventually we wound up just friends, and now he is living happily ever after with his true love, James. So I guess it is for the best that things didn't work out romantically... I love Paul to death though, and the fact of the matter is that we STILL make a damn good-looking couple regardless! My other grammar school crush Tony was there as well, only he was with his wife. He looks pretty much the same and is a real sweetheart. Here's my two grammar school loves:
He's a cutie, isn't he?? The only down side of the evening was the fact that three of our classmates were unable to make it because two had passed away, and the third, well... here he is in sixth grade:
AND, here he is now:
I tried to convince the rest of the class that we should take a road trip out to Logan the next day, you know, just say "hi" and maybe drop off his copy of the "Revue of '82" (our class variety show - he did a square dance, I bet his fellow inmates would LOVE it!!) but there were no takers. Go figure.

Anyway, that was my reunion in brief. I'd write more, but all that photo uploading took a lot out of me. And I really should do some work for Satan, since I am stuck here until November. But since we all had such a great time at the Reunion, we are now planning a picnic for all the kids and families too. Amazing how even after 25 years some bonds just never break...