Zuko

Oh, Zuko.

He's had a raw spot on his leg for a while now, and I've been watching it to see if it's getting better. It seems to be getting worse, though, and he licks it constantly, so I took him to the vet today.

Before we even saw the vet, he lunged at every man, woman, child, dog, and cat in the waiting room, peed on a bag of dog food for sale, and pooped on the floor. So it was an auspicious start.

The vet poked and prodded and squeezed the affected area for a minute before declaring it a "lick granuloma." It's caused by licking. It's psychological. It's basically an OCD thing.

I know it might be easy to assume that he somehow contracted OCD from my crazy ways, but he's obviously demonstrated OCD behavior since the day I met him, and it's usually in a repetitive mannerism kind of way. That day at the shelter, he jumped up and down constantly in his cage on repeat, like, boing, boing, boing, boing, boing. Every day when the mailman comes, he not only barks his face off but spins wildly in a circle chasing his tail again and again. He will jump up on the back door over and over and over, boing, boing, boing. He walks around a circle several times as if preparing a spot for himself before just lying down already. He runs along the side of the couch, pressing his side against it and plastering it with his fur, back and forth, back and forth. He is also a pacer. He paces back and forth from the living room to whatever room the cats are locked in when the dogs are inside. Over and over and over, back and forth, wearing a path on the ceramic tile. So he's got these repeat motions / movements / behaviors that he has always exhibited. It's just part of his charm (to me) / weirdness (to everyone else in the world).

And now his repetitive behavior is licking his leg raw. It's really upsetting me to hear the vet say there's really no treatment. He gave me some steroidal spray, but I don't really see the point of that when Zuko immediately tries to lick it off. The Internet says there's really not much that can be done.

I am going to attack this head-on as a psychological thing and do my best to make him so distracted and so tired that he lacks the desire and energy to stick out his tongue and start licking. If that means walking him every morning before work and having to reschedule going swimming or biking or running, so be it. If that means conducting vigorous towel chasing games in the back yard (wave the towel around, he likes to jump up and chase it), fine. If it means encouraging wrestling matches between him and Daisy, great. I worry this started when I was away recently and is being aggravated by the terrible heat that prevents the dogs from being very active at all when they're out in the yard. The heat will be a challenge in my new Project Exhaustion, but I think I can do it if I dedicate myself to it. I think the extra exercise and attention might help the situation. If nothing else, it can't hurt.

There is nothing like seeing an animal who annoys me almost all of the time suffering to make the love in my heart pour forth. I've been scratching his belly, brushing him, and loving on him like I haven't in a long time. He is really such an idiot -- he cannot be restrained, causes monsoons in the bathroom during baths, does not mind, is sent over the edge by thunder as if being personally tortured by Thor himself, flails uncontrollably when riding in the car, scratched my ex-fiance's cornea with his paw while roughhousing, flunked out of obedience school, ate my houseguest's jewelry, emits loud and relentless staccato barks in the middle of the night until I get up to let him out, has tried to eat the cats on numerous occasions and is the reason the dogs and cats live forever separated, and steals pizza off your plate -- but he's not a bad dog. I love his black eye and the dopey way he cocks his head when I talk to him. I don't want him to have lick granuloma. I just want him to be healthy and happy. It is strange to think it was eight years ago this summer when I first brought him home. He's still got a lot of love and life in him, and I realize this is minor in the grand scheme of things, but I don't like it one bit.

I don't hate Zuko.

Catching Up

Before it gets away from me, I want to get a little down about a wonderful weekend. I've already posted about the concerts, which were both amazing, but I want to record what else went on. It was a rare weekend when the whole family was in town -- my sister and her husband (they live out of state) and my brother and his new girlfriend (they travel a lot). My sister had the inspired idea to rent out a private karaoke room at a Thai restaurant in an early celebration of my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. We thought about inviting other people, but in the end, it was just us, and we had what can only be called a blast. There was dancing, there was drinking, there was so much eating, and there was plenty of singing. One of my favorite parts was watching my mother watch my brothers sing together. Their harmonies were admittedly beautiful but she was just blown away. Many pictures were taken, some of which I will eventually get around to posting. We also went to one of my brother's gigs, had boiled crawfish, had beignets and cafe au lait, and just had a merry time. I loved having everyone here. Just sitting around eating my mom's crawfish etouffee or lying around on the bed with my sister and brother-in-law were delightful. It was a really wonderful weekend and one I will not soon forget.

Randomness: The Great Performances special In the Heights: Chasing Broadway Dreams is excellent, even if you are not familiar with the show. Definitely worth checking out.

Meanwhile. I am still watching season two of Chuck and loving it a lot and am thrilled it has been renewed. I am reading The Wednesday Wars, finally, and loving it.

I got from Netflix the DVD of the Rent: Live on Broadway special that my brother and I went to see last fall. The special features are indeed quite special. I highly recommend both the live stage show itself as well all of the featurettes, which are VERY WONDERFUL. Seeing Jonathan Larson's parents and sister, all kinds of backstage goodness, the longtime crew members, the closing cast, the original cast (except Adam Pascal -- where were you, Adam Pascal? What could have been more important than this?). Everyone crying and laughing and singing and embracing and remembering, forget about it, it was too much, the tears poured like rain. Rent, I thought I was all cried out over you. But I was wrong.

Once again I have found myself engaging in last minute triathlon registration ridiculousness. A few days ago, I signed up for one that is tomorrow. The distances aren't terribly long, so I think I'll be okay, though I am a bit apprehensive about the biking part since the farthest I've ever gone in my life was seven miles. I'm just going to take it slow, try not to fall off or crash, and try to enjoy myself. I'm viewing it as a chance to road trip with a friend and as good practice for the one in August. I know myself, and I know my anxiety over that one will be greatly lessened over the summer by having this one under my belt.

This morning I went to the farmer's market and came away with fresh eggs, cucumbers, strawberries, bell peppers, yellow squash, and carrots. I feel really good about this. The dogs also approve.

Catching Up

This weekend was also all about friends but in a quieter way. My friend who was meant to fly home to Hawaii was delayed, so we spent Friday evening at our other friend's daughter's 2nd birthday party which went somewhat awry due to illness.

The next morning, I tried and utterly failed to do homework. That afternoon, we returned to the scene of the birthday party to help do some pantry cleaning, which is always easier to do when it's not your own pantry. That evening, I was on my own and watched Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, which was disappointing after enjoying the book so much. I also watched Zack & Miri Make a P0rn0, which was mostly a little too vulgar for the likes of Eliza, though Elizabeth Banks=great.

Sunday was a nice patio coffee and bagel date with my friend and Ghost Town, which I liked much more than I thought I would. The writer/director, David Koepp, has a huge list of credentials behind him (mostly as a writer of major blockbusters). I thought the whole thing was sweet, funny, un-blockbuster-y, and charming. Gervais, Leoni, and Kinnear can basically do no wrong in my book, and throw in a little Kristin Wiig and Billy Campbell and Aasif Mandvi and I'm sold. I could easily watch this again, and I know I'll listen to the commentary because life is too short to deny oneself any Ricky Gervais doing commentary as far as I'm concerned. This movie totally flew beneath the radar for me, and I'm glad I decided to rent it. On paper, it seems like it would be sort of wretched, but the cast and Koepp pull it off somehow. The bloopers reel also gets a big thumbs up.

This weekend also involved taking my fave five-year-old to the dog park, which was fun and exciting but also mildly terrifying, like, what if one of these dogs takes a big bite of her hand on my watch? Dog parks are generally happy shiny places but sometimes these loving family pets devolve into savages when thrown together. A dog park is an uncontrollable place! But it all went well, and we had fun. The best news was that Daisy and Zuko had their first ever meaningful reaction with a small child, and it went swimmingly. They thought she was the bomb diggity and did not try even remotely to eat her. I think it might have been because she was about their size and gave them treats and they sensed her pure, childlike, blissed-out dog love. Shame on me for not doing a better job socializing them, it's totally my fault, but I was so relieved and overjoyed that they were great with her because I think she'd somewhat celebritized them in her mind and I didn't want her to be disappointed if they were on their worst behavior, which they weren't. They totally showed off for her, sprinted through the yard, rolled around, sat on command, and were adorable. It was a trio of adorableness all around. Yay, dogs and children!

Last night I petted my friend's belly and talked to the guys growing inside. I felt not only kicks but what can only be described as rolls and squirms. Which was thrilling beyond belief, frankly, and made me scream. I also kissed them goodbye and my friend humored me and all of my belly love. I will miss all three of them more than I can say.

Castle is a cute show, but I find that it stretches the whole suspension of disbelief a bit far if they honestly expect us to believe that the lead female detective would be able to maintain this ruse of being constantly annoyed by Nathan Fillion at all times. I'm sorry, but who is more charming than Nathan Fillion? In any role? Even Dr. Hammer? Nobody, that's who. At least David Addison misbehaved and was really juvenile and ridiculous and earned Maddie Hayes' annoyance with him at all times. But Nathan Fillion's Castle is a successful author, a doting son, and a devoted father. And ... he's Nathan Fillion. What is to be annoyed by? Unbelievable. But still entertaining. Especially when Hallie Lowenthal is a guest star.

Meanwhile, my new Indigo Girls CD arrived this afternoon, and I can't wait to listen to it. I'm not sure what else to say. I made yet another giant stir-fry tonight. I had a wonderful run on Sunday and my heart sang with the joy of beholding dozens of people out around the lakes enjoying the beautiful weather. I had a horrible run this evening during which I felt alternately like barfing, dying, and passing out like Margie in Thailand on The Amazing Race. Once again, I thank Kelly Clarkson for getting me through.

Catching Up

It hasn't been the healthiest week in the history of my life. Last night, I woke up at 2:30 a.m. and was wide awake. I think this insomnia resulted from a week of no running (resting the shins), which resulted in major restlessness, along with the consumption of a steady diet of chocolate mint brownies, Thanksgiving leftovers for about a dozen meals in a row, and Fa La La La Lifetime. I decided to turn on the light and read Coraline, which I did in its entirety. I'm not sure if this book is normally terrifying, but it definitely is in the middle of the night. Terrifying and AWESOME. I can't wait to read the graphic novel version of the book and to see the movie.

I haven't written in so long that I'm not sure where to start. The past few weeks have been filled with running, then abruptly not running. Worked a Habitat day one Saturday. Got to help build and raise walls, which was pretty great. Thanksgiving was small but very nice. I saw Atonement, which was both very lovely and very annoying in ways. Today I took my favorite almost five-year-old to see Bolt 3D, which was fun, especially when she did cute child things like reach her hands out try and touch the 3D-ness. I've been spending the past few days working on homework, which has been a drag but a necessary one. I'm in the middle of reading Watchmen, which I only understand about every other page of, but I'm sticking with it.

My little brother and I did year two of our pre-Thanksgiving afternoon movie tradition ... this year was Role Models, and it made us laugh and laugh and laugh. Mostly because of McLovin, who has to be one of the most endearing kids every to be on screen. I don't remember his name in this movie, but he was adorable, and the movie, though stupid at times, actually had a sweet gooey center, largely to due to long, ridiculous scenes of role-playing wars and kings and knights and whatnot.

Today is December 1. I hope to start the week and month off on a healthier note and hope my shins don't break when I try to run on them tomorrow. I need to get my school shit together. I need to not freak out at the monster work holiday project because it always works out somehow year after year. I need to not kill my dog when he wakes up in the middle of the night two nights in a row to go out and potty but refuses to actually potty but rather stands there and looks at me like, "Who, me?" while I stand shivering in my pajamas. I need to get into the holiday spirit and get pumped for all of the fun events of the coming month, mainly my sister's wedding which should be grand. I guess that's about it for now. I'm gonna shut this down because I have a date with a David Sedaris book. But first, a few recent pics:

This is going to be one weird summer.

Weekends!

This past one was an early birthday/bon voyage celebration and started with a mix-up of Elizabeth's famous bourbon slush. I decided to halve the recipe, so it went like this: 4 cups of water, 1/2 cup of frozen lemonade (thawed), 1/2 cup of frozen orange juice (thawed), 1/2 cup of bourbon, 1/2 cup of sugar. Freeze in plastic pitcher. It was frozen by morning, and we enjoyed it all weekend. This is the perfect summer drink treat.

Friday afternoon, we headed out for pizza with one of B.'s school friends and his fiancée. Blue moons and pizza were consumed and presidential politics was discussed. Then we watched Battlestar Galactica, which frankly was as dull as dishwater. It seemed like a lot happened, but it all happened so utterly boringly that I could not care. We also started The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, but I slept through most of the first half. I blame the Blue Moons.

On Saturday morning, we headed out to the farmer's market for muffins, lemon scones, garlic cheese biscuits, and coffee. At some point, we finished The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which was so utterly gorgeous and profoundly moving that I wept throughout. I loved every performance in the movie, especially Max von Sydow's. Highly recommended. We had lunch at one of our favorite sandwich places and listened to the guitar man play the theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly on his fiddle very beautifully. B. went for a massage, and when I went to pick him up, I saw the teacher of my old circuit class!!!!! He gave me his card and I really hope to check out his new gym. B. said, "She loved that class," and I said, "I did. I really did." In the immortal words of my teacher, "Love yourself!"

That afternoon, we went to a reception at an art gallery where for some reason I almost had a heat stroke even though normally I'd be all about visiting a labyrinth, and then we went out to dinner. We had shrimp over eggplant and angel hair pasta and some other stuff. I can't remember. Oh yeah. A fried ball of crabmeat with little fried strings shooting out of it that looked like the flying spaghetti monster. Sazeracs. Cake.

A new dog park opened, so when we woke up early on Sunday morning, we decided to head over there.

I first brought Zuko home a little more than seven years ago because the shelter people told me he gets along with any dog, any time, and I didn't want a dog who would snap back at Daisy. They were right, and it seems this is his essential nature and hasn't changed. He just rambled around at the park and had a great time, not really engaging in serious play with the other dogs, but being unfazed by it all and peeing happily on every fence post he passed. Daisy was nervous, but she didn't snap at anyone and seemed to appreciate the wide open spaces she could retreat to. It was a good time.

Later that morning, we headed down the river for brunch. I got us hopelessly lost and was an asshole about it. But brunch was divine.

"Why don't we eat here all the time?" B. asked. "I was just thinking the same thing," I said. He had some kind of black bean soup with shrimp and bacon, and I had the best food on earth, otherwise known as a bread bowl with shrimp, yellow/red/green bell peppers, and purple onions in some kind of buttery, spicy heavenly sauce and a mimosa.

Then we split eggs over a fried grits cake topped with BBQ shrimp. All of this took place in a little old wooden building that used to be a general store right across from the river. This place is almost too perfect.

After that, we stopped at my parents' house so B. could look through their multiple boxes of crazy travel accessories. On our way out the door, my dad asked him if he had a pedometer. When he said no, my dad shrieked, "YOU CANNOT GO TO EUROPE WITHOUT A PEDOMETER!" and ran back into his study to fetch one. One of my dad's favorite things to do when traveling is to measure and then report how many miles he walked that day.

Early that evening, we met a couple of friends and their dogs back at the dog park. It was way, WAY more crowded this time, and while Zuko continued his easygoing wandering without caring where I was, Daisy was not as relaxed and stuck pretty close to my side. I think it was because she was pretty tired from the outing that morning and kept looking at me wearily while surrounded by fetching, spazzing dogs with an "I am nine, and I have had it" face. If she felt cornered and didn't appreciate it, she definitely let the other dogs know. B. kept reminding me that she picks up on my nervousness, so I tried to keep my distance, but usually I'd just walk away from the scuffle and call her to come with me to a less crowded area of grass, and it would work out okay. I really want to keep taking them, but I do worry about her sometimes. The funniest sight of the evening was seeing four large dogs sniffing the belly of a yorkie who'd rolled over and seemed to be loving the attention -- either that or seeing our friends' floppy, adorably clownish boxer / mastiff mix bound over, come to a face-to-face stand-off with a chihuahua, and lick it delicately on the nose.

The reason behind all of the festivity this weekend = B. is going to France for the summer. I just waved goodbye in the driveway and cried a lot. I am now consoling myself with cold cashew chicken and a Gossip Girl rerun.

I miss him already.

Day three

It's 6:59 in the morning. I managed to get out of bed, but I have now relocated to the couch and am having trouble forcing myself off of it. 25 degrees is too cold to face. I am pretending I don't have to be at work in an hour.

So, it's the beginning of the third day of the new year. 2008 was rung in quietly but happily. A matinee of Juno with Skittles and popcorn, then an afternoon of crock pot cooking and No Man's Land (excellent, thanks, Kymm) and Superbad (dumb but funny) and a bottle of red wine. I was asleep when the clock struck twelve, but I'm fine with that.

On New Year's Day, we watched yet another movie, The Bourne Ultimatum, and I jotted it down, hoping to actually stick to keeping my movie and book lists for 2008.

Last night in the tub, I finished What Gets Into Us by Moira Crone, which was very good, and then I tackled How Sassy Changed My Life. It really took me back to the days of Sassy. I have very vivid memories of lying around on my friend's bed reading it. I think she was the one who first discovered it; I'm not sure how. But I know we loved it from the start, and it meant so much to us. Reading this book was a nice way of learning that it meant the same thing to lots of other people. I also remember quite clearly getting the issue run by the new staff and being like, "What are you and what have you done to my Sassy?" It was kind of crushing, like the end of an era. This book was also enlightening relative to the boycott of the magazine and how it tied its hands when it came to sexual topics. I had no idea that ever happened. I was just happily reading it in my friend's bedroom and spinning my little REM record that came in one issue. I wonder if I still have that record somewhere? That I still have so many issues is one positive aspect of being a lifelong packrat. I don't see ever parting with them, honestly.

I am vowing to embrace the joys of this new year and focus less on the bummers. I really want to stop waking up in the middle of the night and using that time to fret, fret, fret the dark hours away. I want to be healthy and kind and energetic and creative and loving and have plenty of fun.

I guess I need to face the music and get up off the couch. I'll end this with a few pictures -- flowers by me, dogs by B.

Closed hearts, open hearts

I took both pups to the vet the other morning at the same time -- what a fiasco. Daisy's microchip injection bled all over the place, Zuko's poop juice got all over the vet's outfit during gland expression, and Daisy peed all over the room. It took me, the vet, the vet's wife, two vet techs, and a muzzle to wrestle Zuko into submission during the gland procedure, and he was still thrashing like a maniac. It was awesome. $300 later, they are both vaccinated and chipped and checked and all good, though Daisy needs to have her teeth cleaned and has once again not taken well to her vaccinations at all. She's hobbling around, can barely use one of her back legs, and did not even bat an eye when both cats entered the room and perched not too far from her. Normally she would be in full chase mode. I feel really awful for her, but I keep telling myself this happens every year and not to freak. Next year I might reconsider loading them up with all of these shots. What is the point, really? Zuko cried all night after the appointment and would only stop if I went to lay on the couch. And Daisy was just pitiful yesterday. I can't really bear it.

Last night, I made this recipe, and it turned out pretty well. I used light instead of fat free sour cream because life is too short, and I served it over gemelli noodles because it turned out that my bag of brown rice was full of little dead bugs. Also, it was the first time in my life I'd ever bought sausage that wasn't made by Boca or Morningstar, so it felt like a turning point. (It was Healthy Choice smoked sausage.)

Meanwhile, the neighbors' dogs broke through my fence again, leaving the neighbors' "barricade" as a pile of fallen cinderblocks (safe!), so I don't know what in the hell to do. B. thinks I should call their landlord, which I am leaning towards doing because as soon as Daisy feels better she is going to bust through that gap like Seabiscuit.

Meanwhile, I got my computer back from Apple for the 2nd time. Hopefully the disc drive is now fixed. What is not fixed, however, is that certain things on the internet remain invisible. Such as: where a YouTube video is supposed to be, there's no video. It's just comments. Or where Myspace songs are supposed to be on a band's Myspace page? Not there. Or any embedded video on websites? Not there. No "x" inside a square, no empty space, nothing. Just .. not there. Even trying to change my buddy icon in Flickr, where you drag the square on the photo, you know what I'm talking about? That doesn't work either. I've googled my face off and can't find anything about this, talked to several different Apple people about it, I wrote in detail about it both times in my little notes to Apple when sending it in for repair, and nada. This cannot be that hard to fix? Right? Frustration. (Update: Apparently, all evidence to the contrary having spoken to at least 3 other technicians about this, it is not. All I had to do was check a box that says "enable plug-ins." Thank you, Aaron at Apple, who just helped me through this over the phone!) (My sister just had an amazingly positive experience with Apple that almost restores my faith in corporate America. I'm not kidding.)

Lately I've been feeling very tired and crappy. Partly because my dog worries and ailments are keeping me up nights. Mostly I think I blame the heat. It is so oppressively hot. Nobody can deal with it. We all try to have conversations about how hot it is. In the elevator, on the phone. But there aren't that many original and newfangled ways to say how hot it is. So people just say over and over, "I can't believe how hot it is. It's -- unbelievable." And the other person says in defeated misery, "I know." I have to walk across the street to sign something in another office, and I told the guy I'll have to do it first thing in the morning before the sidewalk starts boiling. He agreed, insisting it's far too hot to make that walk. It's, like, literally across the street. It is a 2-minute walk. That is how hot it is. I can't really form coherent thoughts. I think things like, my house is messy. Weeds is funny. I wish I were as sexy as Mary Louise Parker. How have I gained 10 pounds since last summer? My dog is crippled. I hate my neighbors. Golden Grahams are the best food on earth. Sandy and Dennys are both likeable and annoying at the same time in Many Waters. I wish I could say "take me someplace cool" like they said "take us someplace warm." I can't concentrate long enough to read an actual book. So I lie on the couch and do things like watch The Hills. I'd never seen this show or any of its related shows before this week, and all I can really say is that I don't understand. Is it scripted? Or not? The heck? It's confusing, and it frightens me that there are (a) people like that in the world and (b) young kids who actually watch that show and think that's what your twenties are like. Gross. I'm not sure tonight is a good night to finally watch The Pianist. I'll probably just watch The Nine although if we don't find out by the end of this show what actually happened I am going to be some pissed. And -- great. it looks like they're no longer going to show the final episodes over the summer. Thanks a lot, ABC.

I had a really nice talk with Jessamyn today. We agreed to do something nice for ourselves tonight, be kind to those we love, and start tomorrow with open hearts.

Because I have not been feeling supremely serene lately due to the heat, the dogs, not having my computer, the non-sleep, and so forth, here is a picture to remind myself that I am capable of serenity and that surely I will experience it again soon.

Wrestling

Tonight my dogs came inside wet and smelly from their day in the rain. They tore the house apart, basically, and then started a vigorous wrestling match. I've never really used the video setting on my digital camera before or used iMovie, so I decided to give it a shot. This is very basic, very low-quality, very lame, and very boring for anyone who doesn't enjoy watching dogs wrestle. Which I do, so ...

Catching Up

After work on Thursday afternoon, I baked lemon scones. I liked them. They tasted kind of biscuity, and the lemon flavor was present but not overpowering. I might become more adventurous with my next batch.

That night, we had mediocre Thai food at a place that is usually one of my favorite restaurants.

On Friday, I went to work and he went to his thing. That evening, we had another mediocre meal! This time at a casual Italian joint. Two for two. We started Marie Antoinette, which was pretty to look at but kind of boring.

On Saturday, we had egg sandwiches on biscuits at our breakfast joint and fetched a vanilla iced coffee. Then it gets kind of blurry. We finished the movie, still pretty but still boring. He spent a few hours writing, and I spent a few hours taking pictures of the dogs on their cots and playing on my computer. I baked Rolo and toffee brownies. We went to visit Maryelizabeth, the new baby, et al. I got my weekly fix of baby head smell. That night, we went to an old friend's house so she and B. could actually meet each other. I drank too much wine, which I have not done in a long time.

On Sunday, we made egg sandwiches at home, discussed some things, he went home, I mowed the grass, dropped off a birthday gift, and got some granita and a sandwich and headed into work for a few hours, which is always a delightful way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon. But I was cheered up by my great visit with the inimitable Mo. I then headed to my parents' house for my mom's incredible tuna salad and a good, frank conversation about my secret dreams of becoming a young adult librarian and, also, living in sin.

Today I am groggy and kind of surly. With no energy to say anything profound or entertaining, I will now post some pictures of my wicked dogs and their groovy new cots.

Would it be wrong to eat leftover brownies for dinner?

Random

This is going to be a post of randomness.

Another thirtysomething episode has been added on YouTube, blessedly. It's "Second Look," otherwise known as one of the best and saddest episodes ever on television. So if you need a good honking cry, have at it. (An interesting old article about Nancy's cancer storyline can be found here.)

Here's a Sheriff Seth Bullock Alert: He's appearing in a movie called Catch and Release starring Jennifer Garner. I am a sucker for both Jennifer Garner and Sheriff Seth Bullock, so I'm sure I will end up seeing it even though once again I have to state my hatred of trailers that give away the entire movie.

This amused me deeply.

I've really been enjoying Cold Feet on DVD, and I'm all set to start season three, but I'm bummed to discover that seasons four and five aren't even available on DVD. So I'll have to stop mid-series. Which is frustrating. I could buy them used from the UK, but they wouldn't play in my DVD player. Piss.

Much suffering in human life results
from a fruitless attempt
to retain a note that has
already ceased to sound
or to anticipate a note
that has yet sounded.
I found this quote in a little plastic table card rack at lunch the other day, handwritten beneath a drawing on another card. I liked it, so I wrote it down on a takeout menu. Supposedly it's from a book called The Theory of Conscious Harmony by Robert Collin. The only place I can find it online is on a single MySpace page of an 18-year-old. So it might be made up or misquoted. I have no idea.

I like it.

I've been won over by The Office (U.S.), okay, it only took me a few years. I really like it, and I really like reading Jenna/Pam's blog. I've also decided that other than The Office, the best sitcom on television is How I Met Your Mother. I like it more every week, and last night's made me laugh out loud. Especially the way that Barney says, "Uh, dance?" And in case you missed it the first time, this remains one of the best talk show appearances ever by anyone.

I can't stop going to the memorial site set up for Helen Hill. I can't stop reading about her and her family and what a wonderful person she was and how many people's lives she touched. I did not know her, but the stories of her life and death are filling me with both inspiration and despair. My boyfriend told me this afternoon that there is much to be happy about and thankful for even in this messed up world, and I am trying hard to remember that.

(Photo by B.)

Emily

Emily
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

Emily the great grey cat is now gone. My boyfriend made the best decision he could in letting her go, there is no doubt about that, as she was suffering. Even though she was pretty old and I knew in the back of my mind that she would not be here forever, her last illness came on rather suddenly and it was stunning that she was gone so quickly. I tried to be strong for my boyfriend, but when I first walked into his house the day after she died and she was not there, I was overcome and had to excuse myself to the bathroom before properly greeting his mother and cry my eyeballs out for a few minutes. She was not mine, but I loved her.

I have only known Emily a relatively short while, so it is not my memories of her that matter most, but I will always remember her. She stayed with me for about two months after her hurricane rescue, living in my room away from the other cats most of the time. She would venture out sometimes and they would commence a triangulated staring session. She warmed up to me during those months for the first time, coming out from under the bed for treats and even sleeping with me for the first time on the last night of her stay.

Since then, she has never loved me with the mighty love she reserved for my boyfriend, but she would come to me sometimes when I wiggled my fingers and let me brush her occasionally. She loved being petted and drinking water out of the bathtub faucet. She would jump out with a wet forehead, her thirst happily quenched. She also liked sitting on the back of the futon and lying on the bed in a shaft of sunlight from the window. She loved lying on B.'s chest most of all, I think. One of my last memories of her was laughing at the way she crouched down and approached the new Christmas tree as if an explorer or a stalking tiger. How do you comfort someone you love who's lost the cat he had for, like, 15 years? I don't know. She was very well taken care of and loved and just one of those very good, sweet cats. Life will not be the same without her.

Pink roses

Sometimes I feel like if I don't write about my weekends that they'll be lost somehow.

On Friday night, there was sushi. And, of course, the watching of Battlestar Galactica. On Saturday, there was running shoe shopping, beignets and half-cafe au lait/half-hot chocolate, a stop in my favorite store, a visit to the library book sale where I bought this CD for a dollar, a visit to this store where I accidentally plopped a giant blob of lotion all over the floor, a work fish fry, Vietnamese food, and Wordplay, which was very geekily enjoyable. On Sunday, there was a homegrown orange for breakfast and a game of Scrabble where I got the X, Z, J, Q, and all sorts of other high-scoring consonants so I actually won the game. Then I went on my first five-mile run on a cold sunny day. I was very glad to have my new headband/ear-cover thingie or I think my ears would have frozen and shattered onto the ground. I have no idea how I'm going to run 16 miles this week considering it's Tuesday and I haven't started but I suppose I'll make it happen somehow. Along with a six mile run at the end of the week but I'm not thinking about that yet.

What I'm thinking about is how I have a sudden new obsession with baked Cheetos, how sad and moving Anne Frank Remembered (that I watched Sunday night) was, how very good Case Histories is, how Zuko smells lately like he rolled in something that died which is possible considering the deer legs that were being tossed about to and fro in my backyard by the neighbors until I left them a very nice note asking them to please keep the frightening hoofed meaty limbs to themselves because they are in fact super gross, how Marley spends entire days with her entire body buried under my comforter in a hidden lump of warmth and purriness, how Khaki refuses to get down from her cat bed unless it's time to eat, how totally awesome the James Taylor Great Performances show was on PBS and how I cried at the end when they sang "Shed a Little Light," how Daisy just wants to curl up on top of the pillow that sits atop her crate in ball of shivering my life is so hard-ness, how I don't understand why it was 23 degrees here this morning and 40 degrees in New York City, and how happy I was made earlier by the appearance of pink roses in my office in recognition of two December fifths ago being the scary but exciting blind date I went on with the sender of the pink roses.

I've never really been a huge James Taylor fan the way my sister is a huge fan. I've always loved "Carolina in My Mind" and an old live version of "That Lonesome Road" but I've never really known much about him except that most of his music seemed kind of, I don't know, milquetoastey. But after watching this show, I think I am digging him on a deep level. I mean, maybe there's nothing wrong with singing songs about how we should shower the people we love with love and show them the way that we feel.

Two deer legs and a partridge in a pear tree

People always say that things look brighter in the morning because they do. I woke up this morning after dreaming of deer parts all night long -- seriously. I set out for an early morning run even though it was 34 degrees outside convincing myself that my very expensive running pants would keep me warm but they certainly did not and I only lasted about two blocks before running home and driving to the gym for my 3.5-mile run. I hate running inside, but what're you gonna do? Anyway, so I got home, felt emboldened by my run, and decided to go on a spy mission and peeked into my neighbors' (college boys) yard and saw that it, too, held a deer's leg. So I figure that they gave one to their puppies and decided to toss one over the fence for mine, too. To which I can only say thanks but no thanks. I definitely got myself worked into a frenzy last night, concluding that it could only be the remnant of a Satanic animal sacrifice ceremony. Lord. I talked to a co-worker about it this morning who said that her husband always gives deer legs to his dogs after hunting. "Fur and all?" I gulped. "Fur and all," she assured me. My boyfriend said last night that there was probably a simple explanation, and, as usual, he was right.

Oh deer

I was outside with my dogs a few minutes ago and saw Zuko sniffing something fuzzy in the grass near the house. I did my automatic "get away from that fuzzy thing" yell like I usually do when it's a mouse or a bird. I've become strong about my dogs catching mice or birds or even little snakes. Those are normal things that live in backyards. But I thought tonight they'd caught their first squirrel. I told my boyfriend I'd need to call him back and inspected it further. The long, furry thing sort of looked like a squirrel's tail. But it had some really large bones sticking out of it and was too long to be a squirrel's tail. I got a little closer and saw that it had ... a hoof. A big black hoof. I screamed and flailed and did what all 31-year-old women do when faced with a dead deer's leg in their backyard. I called my parents. They were supportive and humored me but I knew I needed in-the-flesh support. I called my next-door neighbor, and I said, "Can you come stand by me while I shovel a dead deer's leg into a plastic bag? I'm scared." She rushed over in her robe and said she was watching "Grey's Anatomy" and I felt terrible but she said, "I'm TiVoing it." Of course! TiVo is a blessing in all of our lives. She ended up holding the bag for me because it was really windy and we were truly a sight. Her in her bathrobe and slippers and me in my sweatpants and sweatshirt and shovel hollering, "I swear I won't touch you with it, oh my God, oh my God, I am going to throw up." She was very calm. Thank God. Meanwhile my phone rang and it was my mom, who announced, "Daddy's on his way over." I said, "No! I've got it taken care of! It's in the bag. It's in the bag!" She ran out the door and chased him down the driveway to tell him never mind. Now I've got a big dead deer's leg in a big black trash bag in my trash can and I was all set for the garbage truck to take it away in the morning but my boyfriend thinks I should call Animal Control or Wildlife & Fisheries to report it just in case there's been a rash of dead deer parts in people's yards or something and that they might want to check it for diseases or something. I should have taken a picture of it or something, but I was too beside myself and now I can't face it again. Meanwhile I am panicking severely that my dogs gnawed on the dead deer's leg and are going to be poisoned and die. Or that my other neighbors hate me so much that they went hunting and threw a deer's leg into my yard where my dogs could possibly eat it and die or where it would nearly scare me to death. So there it sits in the trashcan which I pulled away from the curb so it won't go out with tomorrow's trash. And I poured bleach all over the grass. And it makes me feel very sick and weird. Poor deer. It's not like I live in the country or in the forest where deer typically scamper about. It's not like a big-assed deer leapt over my fence in the middle of the city and left its amputeed leg behind. It's just nasty and sad and scary and bad. I just want my dogs to not have gotten sick. And I want to not find any more parts of deer carcass in the daylight tomorrow morning.

Cats and Such

Early morning with Khaki
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

Khaki woke up this morning, ate breakfast, and jumped up onto the window ledge, which is what Khaki does most every morning.

Though you probably can't see it on her face, she's pretty excited about the Democrats taking the House, but the fact that seven more states passed same-sex marriage bans makes her want to puke her guts out.

My parents' cat is a cat they've had for twelve years. He was actually my kitten that I got against my dad's rules (he was my landlord at the time) at age 19. He became flea-ridden and tore the apartment apart and I pleaded with them to take him off my hands. They did, and he's been chilling on their brick wall ever since. I've always thought he's lived a pretty charmed life for an outside cat despite a few scrapes with things like racoons. He's always seemed really fat and happy. Lately, not so much. He's thin and dirty and it makes me so sad that I can't even be around him. I know I should take him to the vet but I am scared to. It's weird. I haven't felt any ownership or responsibility towards him since dropping him off at my parents' house twelve years ago, but I feel like I owe him something now that he's not doing so well. I feel guilty and sad about him.

My brother's girlfriend looks after my pets on occasion. She likes the dogs (or claims to) (she's nice that way) but admitted she feels like she doesn't know the cats very well. I told her, "Oh, the cats are perfect. They are the sweetest girls." Which was the barfiest thing to say, but I mean it.

I feel like so many people are driven so crazy or even terrorized by their cats. But I must have lucked out with mine. Sure, sometimes they puke on the rug and they manage to track cat litter into every nook and crevice of the house, and sure, they scratch things and shed and meow annoyingly like they are being starved to death and act like I'm murdering them when I trim their claws, but they make up for it in so many leaps and bounds with their cuteness, their sweetness, their spazziness, the way they wrestle in the bathtub, and the way they cuddle up on the couch with me always when I need them to. I love them. It's true.

I've decided all I'm doing tonight is petting my animals, watching last night's Veronica Mars and Friday Night Lights, enjoying the smell of my pumpkin candle that smells so good it almost makes me feel drunk, eating breakfast for dinner (eggs and grits), and waiting to see who takes Virginia.

Puppies and Plans

Puppy!
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

My neighbors got a puppy. She was really sweet. Then they got another puppy! And shockingly, even Daisy can't hate them. Zuko loves them so much he wants to adopt them. They touch noses across the picturesque chain-link fence. This morning, they were shaking like crazy. It was cooler than it's been in ages, and I wonder if puppies just shake or if they were really suffering. I hope they were okay; I wanted to scoop them up and hold them inside my t-shirt. I want to lie down on the grass and let the puppies run all over me. One puppy = cute. Two puppies = make me want to die with the cuteness. The cuteness exponentially multiplies. Even when they squeal like lunatics, I just want to writhe around with them and squeal myself. I've never had my own puppy; I never want my own puppy. But Other People's Puppies + Me = True Love.

One puppy!

Two puppies!

Pamie's awesome marathon story is making me want to (and foolishly entertain the notion that I could) train to run a marathon. I even rashly ordered the book she linked to. I just want to check it out and see if it inspires me. I mean, I can barely run three miles. But then, a few months ago, I could barely run for ten seconds. Who knows? Something inside me feels like setting a totally insane goal and then working to reach it might be sort of fun. Torturous and painful and possibly dangerous and crazy-making, but also fun.

My sister ran the Chicago Marathon a few years ago. She got blisters the size of small potatoes on the arches of her feet because her insoles shifted slightly when she was running. She still finished. She took a picture of the potato blisters when she was done and displayed it in her room. Awesome. My sister is totally awesome.

The thing is, though, I don't even like running all that much. I like listening to the music I run with, and if I'm outside, I like looking at trees and flowers and stuff, but the running? I like it not so much. I only do it because of how I feel when I'm done, which is great. I think you probably have to like running a hell of a lot more than I do to train for a marathon. I think you probably also cannot like to spend so much time doing things like watching TV and eating slices of American cheese melted on tortillas and fudge pops. Because that is time you will have to spend running. You have to spend time running instead of practically everything else in life. But I feel like I need a focus. Something to work for. Something that would be good for my body and my mind. If not this, because the odds are lousy, I get that, then something else.

I'm in vacation fantasy mode today. We're thinking possibly Mexico or some place in Central America. Any suggestions?