Old Dog, New Trick OR Taming The Monster

Bailey has an obsession.
Well, obsessions is more like it, but today  I’m going to focus on her Major Obsession.

Balls.
(no, you perv)

om nom nom

Tennis balls. Rope Balls. Kong Balls. Planet Dog Balls.

Seriously, she can not go outside without dashing around the yard, looking for something for us to throw at to her. Have to admit, she’s quite daft at catching.
But this OBSESSION makes it hard to get anything done.
Not only can she catch, but she can throw.
If you don’t pay attention to her and she wants to play, she will throw the ball at you until it hits you. If you still ignore her (because, say, you’re trying to hold a conversation with the neighbors/playing volleyball/planting) she will yell at you.
“BORF!”

This dog is CRAZY. She must get it from me.

Because she runs so much, it’s hard to keep her water bowl full/free from other critters.
While at a local farm store (huh-yup!) I found this dandy device.

slurp

Ideally, she would walk up to the device, lick it, a stream of water comes trickling out and she can drink at her leisure.

Well, she’s a bit, dumb, and needs help.
Pretty much, this is how it went down last night.

I am decked in flip-flops, sweatpants and ratty ass-sweatshirt. Pocket of sweatshirt has treats. I pretty much knew I was going to end up dirty/wet/unhappy so why mess up a clean pair of pants?
Bailey is still sporting Bank-Robber-Bandanna. She’s racing around the yard, looking for a ball, while I position myself as to not get drenched or stepped on.

me: Baaaailllllyy
Bailey: BALL! Where is it?
me: Commer!
Bailey: BALL! I left it somewhere…
me: Commer!
Bailey: I have to pee.
me: Okay.
(meanwhile, the neighbors puppy has broken free from her collar and is tearing up our yards. I catch and return her. Meanwhile, Bailey is concerned that Elle (the puppy) is going to find her ball and take it.)
Bailey: Look mom!  BALL!
me: yeah yeah. Come closer… “give kisses” [pointing to spigot]
Bailey: I’ll kiss you! (kisses* on cheek)
me: I love you too!
Bailey: BALL! (I toss the ball)
me: Kisses here!
Bailey: BALL!
me, taking the ball and pushing it against spigot thing: Drink! Good Girl!
Bailey, taking a muddy paw, bats my hand away: NO!
me: take nice! drink! good girl!
Bailey, backing up: BORF!
me: Well come here and take nice!
Bailey: BORF BORF! (I throw the ball)
me, taking the returned wet, slimy ball and placing it high on the deck where she can’t get it: Bailey. Come. Drink! Good Girl.
Bailey, puts her head on my arm, then my shoulder, gives kisses: Mommy, I loves you!
me: Aw, I love you too. Drink! (tapping the spigot)
Bailey: You’re the bestest mommy ever!
me: Aw, thanks! What’s this?!?! (tapping spigot)
Baily stares longingly over my shoulder: Ball.

Less to say, training shall resume tonight.

* “kisses” for all of you “EWWW you let your dog kiss you?!?!” is pretty much her wiping her snout on your cheek. Like you did with a relative you were forced to kiss.

Trials of The Hunt

Not content with spending the summer basking in the yard, The Mister has started sending out his resume.
We’ve been discussing the whole job-search thing, what needs to be done, etc. and one of the key things was to get his suit cleaned.
FROM OCTOBER.
(reminder)

and begin with the charming

While that’s not his normal “face”, it’s the “I’m drunk and right after this, I’m heading to the DJ booth to harass the DJ about not playing obscure Pink Floyd… so what if it’s a wedding!?!?” expression.

Anyway, that evening ended with him ruining one of my sink bumpers (those things in the bottom of the sink that prevent your glasses from breaking if when you drop them), which he still owes me, BTW.

Today’s conversation (in which I invited him downtown to have lunch a mock interview) via e-mail.
him: I got the suit back, they did a good job getting all that puke off. I should of left that on it would be an indication that I can socialize.
me: no no honey, I think Pukey Lapel means you OVER-socialize. And wasn’t that cheaper and less painless then having to shop for a new suit?! And, you probably have new suit smell!

Also, for everyone else effected by this whole not-really-a-recession-but-it-is, here are some key terms to remember-

“COMPETITIVE SALARY”: Most of our competitors don’t pay much either.

“JOIN OUR FAST-PACED COMPANY”: We have no time to train you.

“CASUAL WORK ATMOSPHERE”: You’ll be here very late, very often — might as well be comfortable.

“MUST BE DEADLINE-ORIENTED”: Your first four projects are already way overdue.

“SOME OVERTIME REQUIRED”: Did we mention that you’ll be here very late, very often? And most weekends.

“DUTIES WILL VARY”: Anyone in the office can boss you around.

“MUST HAVE AN EYE FOR DETAIL”: We have no quality control.

“CAREER-MINDED”: Female applicants must be childless.

“APPLY IN PERSON”: If you’re old, fat or ugly, that position has already been filled.

“NO PHONE CALLS PLEASE”: This job listing is just a legal formality. The position was filled by
some executive’s nephew.

“SEEKING CANDIDATES WITH A WIDE VARIETY OF EXPERIENCE”: Due to consolidation, you’ll be replacing three people.

“PROBLEM-SOLVING SKILLS A MUST”: This company is a total mess.

“REQUIRES TEAM LEADERSHIP SKILLS”: You’ll have all the responsibilities of upper management, without the pay, title or respect.

“GOOD COMMUNICATION SKILLS”: Listen to management, figure out what they want, don’t ask too many questions and get the sh*t done.

Pass the… LIVER???!!!! eeewwwwwwww

Well folks, the results are in from last weeks blood-letting.
While everything “looked good” (as I was told), ends up that yours truly is a bit lacking in the B-12 department.
I’m sitting at about half the level my doc would like to see.
This basically means I get to add another pill to the daily routine, with the hopes that my body can absorb and use some of it.

WebMd says that this may explain my fatigue and joint pain. The uppage in B-12 could also help with The Crazy.

Some noms rich in B-12: liver. Sardines. Hossenfeffer. Various other fishes. Duck. Steak and Kidney Pie.
Seems to me that this list is missing some vegetables.

And a “British” site said I can try something called “faggots”. Now, I thought those were smokes/cigarettes and I don’t really see how THAT is going to help anything.
Oh, ew, just googled it…. meatballs wrapped in intestine. Um, does anyone have gravy? Lots and lots of gravy. And cheese. And sorbet (that last one is for me).

Sunday in the Yard: Special Guest, BaileyBean

Hey evrybodie, Mom sayd dat she wuz tyrd of heering me being all “But Dennis getz to use the cumpter!” seww she sayd that I can post taday!
Sew taday I will shows yous aroond my yawrd.

Abuv iz my mag-nowl-lee-uh twee.
Mom and Dad did knot knews what this twee wuz (even though it wuz there befor I wuz) until the guiz came two instawl da invisible fense and they told them. Mom callz it her “Easser Bush”.

And now, herz da las of the daffydyls. Dis is gud and bad becuze they die but then wes gets tulips!

see, dis is da first tuplips of the year and it was hydden.

Oh, and des, dees here are some annoying twees in the bak.

Dad hates dem cuz they’re not very pretty. Mom doesn’t lyke dem cuz they’re a “payn in da butt!”  too mow arund.
Evry year, Dad sayz he gunna take dem out and put in pyne twees butt he doesn’t evr.

I cantz go back behyds da twees to helps mom becauze my fense is there and I don’t lyke gettin tickled.

Oh, and da most bestest part of today?!?!?!
I GOTS TO PLAYYYYYY!!

Lemons into Lemonade

Well.
This has been an interesting day- to say the least.
First, the crummy part.

735am: en route to work my phone rings but I miss the call as I am listening to the news.
When I get a hold of Steve, he informs me that The Company made their decision and he is on his way home.
Permanently.
He’s getting severance and we’re more shocked than concerned/worried. He’s a smart guy and I see this as the cosmoses way of kicking him in the pants.

Around 4pm, he sends me a pix message.
Mom and Dad sent me LEMONS!!!!
And he included the caption, “When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.”

Oh, I should probably divert here… we all have our obsessions… Nat has her books, Dishy has her garbage disposal, Daffy’s got her birds (sorry if I forgot you and your quirk).
Besides antiques, I get all Bubba (as in the character from “Forest Gump”) about lemons.
LEEEEMMMMMOOONNNNSSSSSS.

om nom nom

(oh, and that flashy piece in the back, that’d be my kick-ass spring trench)

“Are those all?!”
Heeellll no.
Those are the ones going to my friend Heather. The same Heather who made me an ENTIRE tray of lemon tart for my birthday.

So I thought to myself, WHAT am I going to do with near ten pounds of lemons?! (the box was 12 pounds and 2 of those pounds were beer)

A number of them are sliced and freezing (single layer), where upon solidarity, they will be freezer-burn-proofed and placed in water/lemonade/broth/chicken/pasta/shrimp.
Another lot have been zested (yes, I do own a zester, why?) and squeezed, yielding their sweet sweet juices…

Juices for LEMONADE!

That would be my new set of glasses, thanks for noticing! (The Easter Bunny brought me a Kohl’s card and seeing as I was about to drop all of the other crappy glasses…)
Included with my LEMONS was this recently tested with a bit of frozen lemon slice recipe:

3/4 cup cold water
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup fresh lemon juice (about 4-6 lemons)

Mix water and sugar over high heat (you know, a simple sugar!) and let simmer until water is dissolved.
Let simple sugar cool.
Mix sugar solution with lemon juice.
Add about a quart of water- the whole thing yields about  two quarts to taste- stir and serve.

I think that when God pees, it’s lemon juice; I love lemons that much.

wordless wends.

specials guests, Kali and Buffy

observations (who didn’t see this coming?)

The past couple days have been a crazy roller-coaster. I’m just glad that I remembered to fasten my seat belt.

weeeee!

Items of note:
– Steve’s uncle had a heart attack. He’s 40. With three kids. Word has it that he’s fine and the docs are going test crazy.
– For the past (what feels like) forever now, Steve’s place of employment has been jerking the employees around regarding layoffs (when it will happen, how many will be cut). Granted, most of the information regarding “when” is all hearsay, first it was Sunday, then yesterday, now tomorrow; but we just want it to be over with so we know whether to pop the champagne* or iron a load of laundry. And then people can stop asking us, “but what are you going to do?!?”
– My friend’s dad is in hospital as well with a laundry-list of afflictions.

And perhaps the most concerning, I AM GETTING BLOOD WORK DONE TONIGHT.
(I kid, I kid)

In other news, my “ah-ha” light bulb went on.
Okay, remember how I would say that I felt slighted at The Old Job? Like the boss didn’t like me, for whatever reason?
This week is Administrative Professionals Week (or some such bull), happens every year. Bosses are supposed appreciate copier un-jamming/supply stocking/telemarketer aversion/junk mail sorting/records keeping/event coordination/etc. with flowers, coffee, lunch, whatever whoever is selling… and the following week, Bosses resume badgering for collaborating office-wide informationless reports.
Anyhow, so last year, and don’t think I didn’t notice, despite my aloofness, The Boss took out Co-Worker** “to get office supplies”. Not surpisingly, it took over an hour and Co-Worker didn’t eat her lunch when she came back.
It’s not that I’m asking for recognition, but at least be fair.

Also, I have decided to stop wondering why somethings don’t make it across my desk in a timley manner-
Field Engineer, to me: Oh, can you give this to Project Engineer?
me: Sure thing.
Constant Comment: What’s he [Project Engineer] need THAT for? He’s got all the money in the world!
me, to FE: I’ll keep this up front with me… don’t want it to get lost in the shuffle.
CC, to FE: You know that guy, Jerry, Jerry what’s his name?
FE: The guy who owns the [client’s] company?
CC: Yeah, Jerry, Jerry, Jerry Bee, Jerry Ach?
FE: yeah yeah!
CC: Well, when he started out, he didn’t have two pennies to rub together! And do you know how he started his business? He purchased one of those line-making devices and restriped a parking lot!
me, internally: Whoop-de-freaking-do.
FE: NO WAY!
CC: YUP! Just one parking lot and now he has his own plane!
FE: He’s a mulit-multi-multi-millionare now!
CC: YES!
me, interally: what would it take for my eyes to melt?

And then, the full circle… guess who offered to take Kick-Ass Co-Worker and I to lunch tomorrow?

* not saying that this is an optimal situation, but I think it’d push him to find something he laments less.
** You remember them, don’t you? “‘The Glassman’ is filed under ‘T’ for ‘The’!”

Pain in the Butt

In this morning’s office wanderings (2 cups of coffee, oatmeal, 2 trips to the copier) I found that my butt really hurts! I’m trying not to wince while wondering why my tuckus is angry. Must have been something i did yesterday…
* up at 730am
* Breakfast with ‘lissa at 9
* Vacuumed by 10
* Removed rooted composter from the back fence… it’s been there since we moved in (5+ years ago) and I figured we should get it out before all the brush grows in this year…
* Knotted ball tossing
* Trip out for groceries (grilling season= veggie burgers!), organizational supplies (nothing to suit my wants needs), contractor trash bags (Steve cleaned out the garage) and BONUS grass seed
* Knotted ball tossing
* Window opening (YYYYEEEAHHHHH!!!!)
* Selective weeding/dead leaf removal
* Knotted ball tossing
* Dinner Prep. Planned spaghetti and meatballs because I was feeling lazy, only to find out that the pasta box had fallen over and emptied. Rigatoni it is!
* Dishwasher empty/reload/start
* Complete perishable/non-perishable cabinet cleaning, which basically required my consistent climbing up and down on a kitchen chair (had to get all the whatever out of the back of the cabis). Some choice items disposed: 1/2 cup of wagon wheel pasta, a multitude of expired spices, “Wayne Rabbit” x2 (another Wayne is on top of the fridge) (Wayne is a chocolate hockey playing bunny that SMS buys for Steve every year, despite his not eating chocolate). I also realized I have three cans of spray olive oil, 2 tins of baking powder and more varieties of vinegar then I knew existed.
* Two loads of laundry
* Remade the bed
* Gave Muddy Beans a bath, including therapeutic massage (okay, “deep cleaning”) and four-towel dry-off. Coincidentally, she’s more sheddy now than she was before

Hmmm.

Do tell dear reader, how did you spend your Sunday?

Sunday in the Yard

Aw yeah, aw yeah, it’s that time of year…
The time of year when we take the toiling of indoor chores and move them outdoors.
If I was smrter, I would have taken some before and after shots, but, well, I think you know where this is going.

Hyacynthics (spelling is not my forte)

I cleared out this patch [of leaves/sticks/last year’s mums] after this shot and well, my feet hurt, so once the tulips come up, you’ll be able to see the work I’ve done.
*pant*

grape something or other, not actual grapes.

plants and plants and plants

And, as if by obligation, it’s Bailey, now she can shed someplace else.

I are outside!

And being outside also mean being barraged with various ball-type objects.

I can has happy?!

In Which Stephanie Doesn’t Expect You to Understand

As most of my faithful readers know, I have Dysthymia. And no, I can’t pronounce it either.
For those of you new to the fray, it pretty much means my brain can’t shut-off the nasty voices in my head and I’m pretty much always sad on the inside.
Because we all know that wikipedia is The Do-All-End-All in knowledge (I kid, I kid) here’s the link if you’re interested: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dysthymia

Anyway,
Easter saw me in an “episode” which was included, but not limited to, curling up in a ball and crying… for no reason.
This is part of my, gosh, disease makes it sound so, je ne sais quoi, leper-like… affliction?
I’ll pretty much be down, hiding any type of real sadness from Joe Everybody, typically using humor and once and a while, I  have a major breakdown.  I.E. Easter.

The doc and I discussed these “lulls” and medication and vitamins etc…
Last night, Steve and I were discussing the same and he looks to me and asks, “Really, is your life that bad?”

No.
No it’s not.
My life actually kicks ass.
Which is why I wish I knew why I felt sad on the inside.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to someone that you’re crushingly sad and you don’t know why and you can’t “just cheer up”?
Trying to explain your mental state to someone who doesn’t understand?
Gosh, it’s really hard to put into words.
And yes, it is all in my head. I know that. The meds help take care of that, but it’s hard to explain (even to myself) how and why this happens.

I just feel, beh, like I wish there was a way to get him inside my head to see and hear what it’s like.

Like that movie, The Butterfly Effect

Truthfully, I think it’s got a lot to do with the way he was raised… of the “walk it off” mentality… and I can’t. And he doesn’t get it. And I’m at my wit’s end.