The other night I had one of the most terrifical dreams I've ever had. I had LOVED elephants for as long as I can remember. My friends are always getting me elephant pendants, lamps, and paper made from elephant poop (okay--two people have given me this as gifts--I love elephants, not their poop! If I hear that you like dogs, do I give you a bag of my dog's poop?).
In my dream. Peter and I were living in some sort of city. We were renting this huge and awesome apartment and we had a roommate--who had a miniature elephant from Ethiopia as a pet. She was all:
"Oh, this elephant? I got him in Ethiopia when I lived there for a few years."
Okay, so in my dream, I totally fell in love with this elephant--which looked like one of those baby elephants you see on TV. It was about as tall as a Great Dane--so pretty big, but so sweet and cute! And in my dream, I was trying to concoct all these ways that I could kidnap her because my roommate was never going to let her go.
The roommate got this last-minute call--I guess she worked for some sort of organization like the Red Cross or something like that and was called away to Sarajevo, or some other remote country. She asked if I would take the miniature elephant because she didn't want to have her quarantined for 4 weeks like she had to when she brought it to America.
Peter said to her, "Oh, I don't think that's a good idea."
And of course, I totally elbowed him in the stomach and said, "WE'LL TAKE HER!"
The rest of my dream was telling Peter that I would never, ever ask for anything else for as long as I lived if I can have a pet elephant. And we were already living with her!
And then I woke up.
You know that hazy state you're in right after you wake up from a dream? Well, I went over to my computer and looked up "Miniature Elephant as Pets" because I sort of believed that they were out there. And when I found a link, I got SOOOO excited--I mean, I'll go to the ends of the earth to get me a miniature pet elephant.
Apparently, this was a facebook page for the "Society for the Introduction of Miniature Elephants as Pets." It's sort of a jokey site created by someone who had the idea before I had my dream. And no, miniature elephants don't exist...yet. Bummer.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Eeeeeeeeeek!
A few weeks ago, when I was in Kentucky, I talked to Peter on the phone and he said, "I think I hear an animal in our bedroom wall."
It's not that I didn't believe him, but Peter's ears suffered through years of playing in extremely loud clubs and rock concerts without earplugs. So yes, I believed that he heard something, but I wasn't really convinced that it was an animal.
About a week later, we were in our bedroom and he said, "That! Do you HEAR that?"
I did hear a little something, but it was very faint and I'm not even sure if I trusted my ears. But then the next morning when I woke up, I distinctly heard something that sounded like chewing in the wall.
I googled "animal in wall" and came across websites featuring birds and possums and raccoons caught in between the walls.
An hour later, I was blithely getting a Swiffer cloth to Swiffer around the living room floor. I pressed down on the box to lift up the flap and AMOUSERANOVERMYHAND!!!! Oops, sorry. I meant: A...MOUSE...RAN...ACROSS...MY...HAND.
Just at that moment, Peter turned the doorknob as he returned from work and heard my bloodcurdling scream that sounded a bit like: "UUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
(deepbreath) AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEE (deepbreath) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
He said that at first, my frenzied, high-pitched scream made him think that I had hurt myself, but then my scream took on a frantic energy that made him think, "Oh, yeah. That noise I've been hearing is probably a mouse!"
Apparently, the mouse had been FEASTING on the bird seed that we keep under the sink--which is also where we keep our cleaning supplies.
That night we went to Home Depot and picked up these plastic kill and contain mousetraps because they didn't have what my friend who lives in Park Slope calls the "Mouse Electric Chair."
It looked pretty flimsy, but it caught the mouse a few days later. At least, I hope it was that mouse and I hope that it was the only mouse in the house.
Although, Peter and I keep wondering, how was is that the mouse was in the Swiffer box the moment I reached for it? Was he sleeping in there like Stuart Little?
It's not that I didn't believe him, but Peter's ears suffered through years of playing in extremely loud clubs and rock concerts without earplugs. So yes, I believed that he heard something, but I wasn't really convinced that it was an animal.
About a week later, we were in our bedroom and he said, "That! Do you HEAR that?"
I did hear a little something, but it was very faint and I'm not even sure if I trusted my ears. But then the next morning when I woke up, I distinctly heard something that sounded like chewing in the wall.
I googled "animal in wall" and came across websites featuring birds and possums and raccoons caught in between the walls.
An hour later, I was blithely getting a Swiffer cloth to Swiffer around the living room floor. I pressed down on the box to lift up the flap and AMOUSERANOVERMYHAND!!!! Oops, sorry. I meant: A...MOUSE...RAN...ACROSS...MY...HAND.
Just at that moment, Peter turned the doorknob as he returned from work and heard my bloodcurdling scream that sounded a bit like: "UUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
(deepbreath) AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEE (deepbreath) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
He said that at first, my frenzied, high-pitched scream made him think that I had hurt myself, but then my scream took on a frantic energy that made him think, "Oh, yeah. That noise I've been hearing is probably a mouse!"
Apparently, the mouse had been FEASTING on the bird seed that we keep under the sink--which is also where we keep our cleaning supplies.
That night we went to Home Depot and picked up these plastic kill and contain mousetraps because they didn't have what my friend who lives in Park Slope calls the "Mouse Electric Chair."
It looked pretty flimsy, but it caught the mouse a few days later. At least, I hope it was that mouse and I hope that it was the only mouse in the house.
Although, Peter and I keep wondering, how was is that the mouse was in the Swiffer box the moment I reached for it? Was he sleeping in there like Stuart Little?
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Birthday Party
My sister Judy had a birthday party dinner last week and it was really wonderful. You know the feeling you get when you get so happy that it makes you feel sad? I felt a bit like that.
Judy has developmental disabilities so she kind of operates like a seven-year-old at times. Her friends were mostly from her school and programs she's involved in and a few of her friends have Down's Syndrome. My family picked a restaurant that does events with people who have developmental disabilities and the waitstaff was super-nice (The Bicycle Club in Englewood Cliff, NJ--a really nice space with great people).
When the menus were passed out, one of the kids asked if there was a party menu and when my sister Jenny said, "No party menu, you can order anything you want in the regular menu."
He gasped, "We can order off the REGULAR menu?"
You could tell that inside, he was thinking: Boy, this is CLASS.
It was sweet to see all those kids together. Each person has different disabilities. For example, some kids are shy about asking where the bathroom was, some kids won't eat vegetables, some have special food restrictions, some need help walking because they have physical disabilities. What was amazing was that they all knew each other so well, that they helped each other out.
One girl took away her all her neighbor's vegetables because he won't eat his ribs if vegetables are touching them. (Of course, I'm thinking: Man, his poops must be tough!) One girl with Down's Syndrome needed to go to the bathroom and a friend helped her find it. It was nice to see that everyone had their strengths and weaknesses and as a group of friends, they all worked together to help each other out. I wished that more people could be like that.
Jenny also made these gorgeous decorations with banners, place cards, cupcake flags and goodie bags. She spent hours and hours printing them up and putting it all together. And it did not go unappreciated. When we wrapped up the party, we discovered that a lot of the kids kept all those paper decorations--even the cupcake flags. How cute is that?
Jenny got cupcakes from Manhattan for the party, and on the way home, one of the girls told her mom, "We ate cupcakes from NEW YORK!" It was just so nice because these kids just APPRECIATED the hell out of every little thing and it did kind of make us feel like a million bucks.
I mean, the night was all:
"You're so PRETTY!"
"Where'd you get this? You MADE this? WOW! You're REALLY GOOD!"
"Judy, your sisters are SO NICE!"
"Who's this? Hi! Nice to meet you!"
"I LOVE your dress!"
What's not to love?
I've heard of so many people who terminate their Down's Syndrome babies and it actually made me cry when I got home because these kids were so sweet and kind. And I know that growing up, a lot of my parents' friends have felt sorry for us, but we're so lucky to have Judy in our lives.
I mean, who else has a person in their lives who, no matter what he or she does, will ALWAYS love them unconditionally?
This is how nice my sister Judy is--when she first started work at the library, there was a co-worker there who HATED Judy. In fact, she tried to get the boss to get rid of Judy a bunch of times. I mean, what a creep, right?
About a few months after Judy started her job, I asked her how this co-worker was doing--and if she was being any nicer. Judy said:
"Oh, YES. She's SOOO much nicer now."
"Really?" I asked her. "What's different?"
"Now, sometimes she says hi!"
Judy has developmental disabilities so she kind of operates like a seven-year-old at times. Her friends were mostly from her school and programs she's involved in and a few of her friends have Down's Syndrome. My family picked a restaurant that does events with people who have developmental disabilities and the waitstaff was super-nice (The Bicycle Club in Englewood Cliff, NJ--a really nice space with great people).
When the menus were passed out, one of the kids asked if there was a party menu and when my sister Jenny said, "No party menu, you can order anything you want in the regular menu."
He gasped, "We can order off the REGULAR menu?"
You could tell that inside, he was thinking: Boy, this is CLASS.
It was sweet to see all those kids together. Each person has different disabilities. For example, some kids are shy about asking where the bathroom was, some kids won't eat vegetables, some have special food restrictions, some need help walking because they have physical disabilities. What was amazing was that they all knew each other so well, that they helped each other out.
One girl took away her all her neighbor's vegetables because he won't eat his ribs if vegetables are touching them. (Of course, I'm thinking: Man, his poops must be tough!) One girl with Down's Syndrome needed to go to the bathroom and a friend helped her find it. It was nice to see that everyone had their strengths and weaknesses and as a group of friends, they all worked together to help each other out. I wished that more people could be like that.
Jenny also made these gorgeous decorations with banners, place cards, cupcake flags and goodie bags. She spent hours and hours printing them up and putting it all together. And it did not go unappreciated. When we wrapped up the party, we discovered that a lot of the kids kept all those paper decorations--even the cupcake flags. How cute is that?
Jenny got cupcakes from Manhattan for the party, and on the way home, one of the girls told her mom, "We ate cupcakes from NEW YORK!" It was just so nice because these kids just APPRECIATED the hell out of every little thing and it did kind of make us feel like a million bucks.
I mean, the night was all:
"You're so PRETTY!"
"Where'd you get this? You MADE this? WOW! You're REALLY GOOD!"
"Judy, your sisters are SO NICE!"
"Who's this? Hi! Nice to meet you!"
"I LOVE your dress!"
What's not to love?
I've heard of so many people who terminate their Down's Syndrome babies and it actually made me cry when I got home because these kids were so sweet and kind. And I know that growing up, a lot of my parents' friends have felt sorry for us, but we're so lucky to have Judy in our lives.
I mean, who else has a person in their lives who, no matter what he or she does, will ALWAYS love them unconditionally?
This is how nice my sister Judy is--when she first started work at the library, there was a co-worker there who HATED Judy. In fact, she tried to get the boss to get rid of Judy a bunch of times. I mean, what a creep, right?
About a few months after Judy started her job, I asked her how this co-worker was doing--and if she was being any nicer. Judy said:
"Oh, YES. She's SOOO much nicer now."
"Really?" I asked her. "What's different?"
"Now, sometimes she says hi!"
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Bangs That Never Were
When I was young, my mother used to cut my hair herself and she kept all of her children in bangs up until we were in junior high school. I haven't had bangs in about twenty-five years, but I had been hankering for a change, so I decided that when I went for my haircut, I was going to get bangs.
I've tried to get bangs before, but many hairdressers have talked me out of it, saying that my forehead was too small, my hair was too stiff, I'm too lazy for the upkeep, blah, blah, blah.
When I call up the salon I go to, I was told that my (very expensive) hairdresser was out of town for the next few weeks on vacation. I've had my hair cut with the other senior stylist they have, but I wasn't that happy with it, so I googled around for another salon who can do Asian hair. I found this Japanese hair salon in Scarsdale and thought, "Well, they're Asian, so they should do Asian hair well, right?"
I got there and I told the guy that my hair was really thick, so I wanted my hair thinned out and that I wanted short bangs. However, I did ask him if he thought that my hair could do bangs. He looked at me and said, "Yes, of course."
An hour later, I looked like a mulletted rat.
And I don't know why, because I was paying for a VERY EXPENSIVE haircut, but I didn't want to make a fuss. When the guy looked at my hair, he gave me his card and even offered to fix it if I didn't like it. You know it's bad when the stylist is already offering that while you're still sitting in his chair. I said it looked cute because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Meanwhile, I was crying in the car on the way home.
This is why I had my friend Marisol come with me to get my hair put up the day of my wedding. I needed a hair advocate because when I'm sitting in that chair, I lose all ability to think straight and I'm so afraid of hurting the stylist's feelings that I don't ask for what I want.
So now I've been pinning back my bangs until they grow back, which according to google will be six months.
I've tried to get bangs before, but many hairdressers have talked me out of it, saying that my forehead was too small, my hair was too stiff, I'm too lazy for the upkeep, blah, blah, blah.
When I call up the salon I go to, I was told that my (very expensive) hairdresser was out of town for the next few weeks on vacation. I've had my hair cut with the other senior stylist they have, but I wasn't that happy with it, so I googled around for another salon who can do Asian hair. I found this Japanese hair salon in Scarsdale and thought, "Well, they're Asian, so they should do Asian hair well, right?"
I got there and I told the guy that my hair was really thick, so I wanted my hair thinned out and that I wanted short bangs. However, I did ask him if he thought that my hair could do bangs. He looked at me and said, "Yes, of course."
An hour later, I looked like a mulletted rat.
And I don't know why, because I was paying for a VERY EXPENSIVE haircut, but I didn't want to make a fuss. When the guy looked at my hair, he gave me his card and even offered to fix it if I didn't like it. You know it's bad when the stylist is already offering that while you're still sitting in his chair. I said it looked cute because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Meanwhile, I was crying in the car on the way home.
This is why I had my friend Marisol come with me to get my hair put up the day of my wedding. I needed a hair advocate because when I'm sitting in that chair, I lose all ability to think straight and I'm so afraid of hurting the stylist's feelings that I don't ask for what I want.
So now I've been pinning back my bangs until they grow back, which according to google will be six months.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Bra Whisperer
I was sitting at a good-bye lunch with the magazine gang last week (our managing editor and three interns were leaving us for greener pastures) and I kept tugging at my bra because it was chafing my right boob. I was trying to figure out what was wrong and I thought that perhaps after all these years of practice, I had simply put my bra on all twisted up. I was sitting there sipping my extremely delicious butternut squash soup with dollops of creme fraiche when I simply could not take it any longer and went to the bathroom to investigate.
Yes, I went to the bathroom and took off my bra. And it wasn't all twisted, in fact, the underwire had BROKEN IN HALF. Yes people, my boob broke the underwire in my bra.
In the past I've had underwires just poke out and decide to leave themselves on Boston's Newbury Street. Apparently, Boston likes to see me without a bra on.
But this was the first time the underwire BROKE IN HALF. I asked all my friends if that had happened to them before and they were like, "Uhm. No. What's wrong with your boob?"
Unfortunately, my publisher and I had a very important meeting so I couldn't just go braless, so I MacGyvered the damned thing with some rolled up paper towels to act as wire supports.
That's when my publisher told me about the Orthodox Jew Bra Lady, who is the New York Bra Whisperer. She can look at any woman and know instantly what size bra she should were.
"Do you think that it'll be weird to tell them that I'm just going to wear it out of the store like a pair of shoes?" I asked.
"Are you kidding me?" she said. "ALL of my friends walk out of there wearing their new bras."
Unfortunately, when we drove by, it was CLOSED. Nerts!
Yes, I went to the bathroom and took off my bra. And it wasn't all twisted, in fact, the underwire had BROKEN IN HALF. Yes people, my boob broke the underwire in my bra.
In the past I've had underwires just poke out and decide to leave themselves on Boston's Newbury Street. Apparently, Boston likes to see me without a bra on.
But this was the first time the underwire BROKE IN HALF. I asked all my friends if that had happened to them before and they were like, "Uhm. No. What's wrong with your boob?"
Unfortunately, my publisher and I had a very important meeting so I couldn't just go braless, so I MacGyvered the damned thing with some rolled up paper towels to act as wire supports.
That's when my publisher told me about the Orthodox Jew Bra Lady, who is the New York Bra Whisperer. She can look at any woman and know instantly what size bra she should were.
"Do you think that it'll be weird to tell them that I'm just going to wear it out of the store like a pair of shoes?" I asked.
"Are you kidding me?" she said. "ALL of my friends walk out of there wearing their new bras."
Unfortunately, when we drove by, it was CLOSED. Nerts!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Slovenly Vs. Sloppy
The other day I bumped into a person I know from town at the local coffee shop. She was wearing this old strappy-type dress that hung so low that her boobs were kind of hanging all out. And we're not talking movie-star boobs, but momish boobs. Plus, she was carrying around this really old pocketbook--it was dark with dirt and yuckiness. Also, she didn't look like she had washed her hair in days. She's kind of a salesperson, so I didn't understand why she doesn't take more care with her appearance.
I came home and told Peter that I didn't understand why my friend wanted to look so slovenly.
"Well, you look slovenly sometimes."
"Uh... Uhm... EXCUSE ME?" I said. "I may look SLOPPY all the time, but I don't EVER LOOK SLOVENLY."
Apparently, Peter didn't know the difference.
Sloppy is when you might not iron your shirt so it's still a bit wrinkly, but slovenly is when you don't even bother putting on a bra.
So after a loooong discussion where he took back the part about saying I was SLOVENLY--I said:
"The thing is, she IS married. Isn't it her husband's job to tell her that she doesn't look very good in that dress?"
And Peter said: "Oh, nooooooooo. That's the LAST thing he would ever do."
I came home and told Peter that I didn't understand why my friend wanted to look so slovenly.
"Well, you look slovenly sometimes."
"Uh... Uhm... EXCUSE ME?" I said. "I may look SLOPPY all the time, but I don't EVER LOOK SLOVENLY."
Apparently, Peter didn't know the difference.
Sloppy is when you might not iron your shirt so it's still a bit wrinkly, but slovenly is when you don't even bother putting on a bra.
So after a loooong discussion where he took back the part about saying I was SLOVENLY--I said:
"The thing is, she IS married. Isn't it her husband's job to tell her that she doesn't look very good in that dress?"
And Peter said: "Oh, nooooooooo. That's the LAST thing he would ever do."
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Goo Is What Tape Is All About
House of Yes is now playing on Hulu!
It's on my favorites list. I love Parker Posey and the writing is incredible:
"Goo is what tape is all about. Goo is what makes it tape instead of PAPER!"
"If she were ill I could give her an aspirin, I could put her to bed, I could make her that soup you're supposed to make. But I cannot. I mean, I can make the soup, for Heaven's sake, it comes in a can."
"Excuse me, I'm going to go baste the turkey and hide the kitchen knives."
"Boy, it's been a long day."
"Not as long as yesterday. Yesterday was 24 hours."
"Oh, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. There's this thing I heard. And if I thought for one second it was true I would probably kill myself. Does your fiancee work in a doughnut shop?"
"A Doughnut King, actually."
"A Doughnut King? So is she like, the Queen? Are we entertaining royalty?"
"She would be more of a Doughnut Lady-in-Waiting."
"So she's sort of a marginal donut figure."
"In all fairness, she is a minor and not a major doughnut...figure."
It's on my favorites list. I love Parker Posey and the writing is incredible:
"Goo is what tape is all about. Goo is what makes it tape instead of PAPER!"
"If she were ill I could give her an aspirin, I could put her to bed, I could make her that soup you're supposed to make. But I cannot. I mean, I can make the soup, for Heaven's sake, it comes in a can."
"Excuse me, I'm going to go baste the turkey and hide the kitchen knives."
"Boy, it's been a long day."
"Not as long as yesterday. Yesterday was 24 hours."
"Oh, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. There's this thing I heard. And if I thought for one second it was true I would probably kill myself. Does your fiancee work in a doughnut shop?"
"A Doughnut King, actually."
"A Doughnut King? So is she like, the Queen? Are we entertaining royalty?"
"She would be more of a Doughnut Lady-in-Waiting."
"So she's sort of a marginal donut figure."
"In all fairness, she is a minor and not a major doughnut...figure."
Saturday, June 18, 2011
16 and Pregnant...and Stupid
There's a show on television that I can't tear myself away from and it is 16 and Pregnant.
I know, it's totally strange. I think this is the same part of me that loved to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8. One time when my sister and I were watching the show, my husband said, "I don't understand the appeal to this show. It's just a show about two people taking care of some kids."
"Yeah," my sister said. "But we're compelled to watch because there's just so many of them."
My favorite episode is the one where the anorexic girl is having a baby and she asks the doctor, "So, do you think it's possible to lose weight while I'm pregnant?"
Uhm...yeah...because you want a baby that weighs negative pounds.
And then one of her friends tries to get her to eat some food and says, "Aren't you supposed to be taking prenatal vitamins?"
The 16-year-old's response was: "I do when I remember to take them...about once a week."
Yup. This is why the show should be called 16 and Pregnant...and STUPID.
The funny thing is that a lot of the 16-year-old pregnant girl's friends have been forbidden to socialize with the pregnant girls. However, I think that hanging out with a teenager who is pregnant is the best thing to scare your daughter shitless.
There's a scene in that anorexic girl episode where she starts to go into labor while her friends are all over her house for a sleepover. All the girls burst into tears and broke out into hysterics. There was not one level head in the room.
No one said, "Okay! Let's get you to the hospital! Where are your bags?"
Instead, there was a lot of freaking out, hand-wringing and crying as the pregnant girl passes out at the dinner table.
Another reason not to get pregnant as a teenager: Your friends are just not ready to handle it.
I know, it's totally strange. I think this is the same part of me that loved to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8. One time when my sister and I were watching the show, my husband said, "I don't understand the appeal to this show. It's just a show about two people taking care of some kids."
"Yeah," my sister said. "But we're compelled to watch because there's just so many of them."
My favorite episode is the one where the anorexic girl is having a baby and she asks the doctor, "So, do you think it's possible to lose weight while I'm pregnant?"
Uhm...yeah...because you want a baby that weighs negative pounds.
And then one of her friends tries to get her to eat some food and says, "Aren't you supposed to be taking prenatal vitamins?"
The 16-year-old's response was: "I do when I remember to take them...about once a week."
Yup. This is why the show should be called 16 and Pregnant...and STUPID.
The funny thing is that a lot of the 16-year-old pregnant girl's friends have been forbidden to socialize with the pregnant girls. However, I think that hanging out with a teenager who is pregnant is the best thing to scare your daughter shitless.
There's a scene in that anorexic girl episode where she starts to go into labor while her friends are all over her house for a sleepover. All the girls burst into tears and broke out into hysterics. There was not one level head in the room.
No one said, "Okay! Let's get you to the hospital! Where are your bags?"
Instead, there was a lot of freaking out, hand-wringing and crying as the pregnant girl passes out at the dinner table.
Another reason not to get pregnant as a teenager: Your friends are just not ready to handle it.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Rocky Killed an Opossum
Last night Peter couldn't call Rocky back into the house and went out to see that he had killed an opossum. We love opossums. They eat all the rotten fruit on the ground and roadkill. Basically, they are the garbage-eaters of the world, making our communities cleaner. Plus, they're adorable.
Peter was shaking when he came back to the house and threatened to get rid of our dog.
"Is this your anger talking, or do you really want to get rid of him?" I asked.
"I just don't want a dog that does this. He's a real asshole."
I sort of argued the point that as his owners, it's our responsibility to ensure that there are no roving small animals in our yard. But Peter is insistent that Rocky "knows" it's wrong to kill animals. Hmmm. Sometimes he doesn't even "know" where his tail is.
Today I called the vet, who directed me to the Department of Health. Apparently, I need to take the dead opossum to get it tested for rabies and make sure to give the dogs their booster rabies shots. And if the opossum did actually have rabies (which the dept. of health thinks is a really low possibility), then Rocky will have to be quarantined for 6 months.
He got skunked last year and he also killed a crow. The crow, I'm just like, well, what kind of self-respecting crow can't fly away from a dog? But this poor opossum? Rocky sure is a big jerk.
When I told Peter what would happen if the opossum had rabies, he said, "Well, instead of quarantining him, I think we should put Rocky down."
Oh boy, that dog's days in our home may be numbered.
Peter was shaking when he came back to the house and threatened to get rid of our dog.
"Is this your anger talking, or do you really want to get rid of him?" I asked.
"I just don't want a dog that does this. He's a real asshole."
I sort of argued the point that as his owners, it's our responsibility to ensure that there are no roving small animals in our yard. But Peter is insistent that Rocky "knows" it's wrong to kill animals. Hmmm. Sometimes he doesn't even "know" where his tail is.
Today I called the vet, who directed me to the Department of Health. Apparently, I need to take the dead opossum to get it tested for rabies and make sure to give the dogs their booster rabies shots. And if the opossum did actually have rabies (which the dept. of health thinks is a really low possibility), then Rocky will have to be quarantined for 6 months.
He got skunked last year and he also killed a crow. The crow, I'm just like, well, what kind of self-respecting crow can't fly away from a dog? But this poor opossum? Rocky sure is a big jerk.
When I told Peter what would happen if the opossum had rabies, he said, "Well, instead of quarantining him, I think we should put Rocky down."
Oh boy, that dog's days in our home may be numbered.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Gender Neutral Debate
I recently read an article about a baby in Toronto who is being raised gender-neutral. At first I thought it was a crazy thing to do, but when I kept reading the piece, the parents started to seem less and less crazy. Basically, the couple want to raise this child to figure out his or her gender preference without society pressures. Here's the article.
When I talked to Peter about this, he was all, "Uh, don't get any ideas of doing this for any future children."
I don't see that there's anything wrong with sending out a birth announcement with just a name and a picture. If people want to find out what gender, they can come over or pick up the phone. While we're going that route, we won't let them know what ethnicity the baby is either.
In theory, I think that this is a great idea and it would be great for people to get over the old-fashioned notions of what's right for girls vs. what's right for boys. I went to a Catholic school where boys and girls had their gender-specific uniforms. We had to line up with one line for girls and one line for boys. They also separated us in the classrooms--boys on even rows and girls in odd rows. I always felt that sort of gender-specific classroom placement so oppressive. That separation kind of reached its way into the playground--boys never played with girls. I had only spent a few years in a public school in NJ where all the boys and girls played together (mostly because there were 19 girls and 3 boys in the class--girls ruled that grade!) and it wasn't a big deal.
Intellectually I think it's great that the parents of this kid are trying this out, but I wouldn't feel comfortable about it because I also don't want people in my neighborhood thinking I'm a total freak. Maybe this is just something that you can get away with more in Canada.
When I talked to Peter about this, he was all, "Uh, don't get any ideas of doing this for any future children."
I don't see that there's anything wrong with sending out a birth announcement with just a name and a picture. If people want to find out what gender, they can come over or pick up the phone. While we're going that route, we won't let them know what ethnicity the baby is either.
In theory, I think that this is a great idea and it would be great for people to get over the old-fashioned notions of what's right for girls vs. what's right for boys. I went to a Catholic school where boys and girls had their gender-specific uniforms. We had to line up with one line for girls and one line for boys. They also separated us in the classrooms--boys on even rows and girls in odd rows. I always felt that sort of gender-specific classroom placement so oppressive. That separation kind of reached its way into the playground--boys never played with girls. I had only spent a few years in a public school in NJ where all the boys and girls played together (mostly because there were 19 girls and 3 boys in the class--girls ruled that grade!) and it wasn't a big deal.
Intellectually I think it's great that the parents of this kid are trying this out, but I wouldn't feel comfortable about it because I also don't want people in my neighborhood thinking I'm a total freak. Maybe this is just something that you can get away with more in Canada.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Another Use for Balsa Wood
Peter and I had an errand to run super-early in the morning last week on the upper east side, and after some debate, we decided to go home for breakfast. However, it was raining so hard that we ran into what looked like a small lake that had formed at the entrance ramp to the FDR.
Just then, I remembered that there was this breakfast place I used to go to when I was in college--E.A.T.
So Peter turned the car around that's where we went for our overpriced omelette and an overpriced danish. But while we were sitting in the restaurant, Peter remembered that we had gone there before when we used to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
"Hey!" I said. "Didn't you want to go to the Guitar Exhibit?"
We googled the Met's hours and it was about to open so we got our stuff and walked over.
There was a HUGE line in front of the museum, which was a pretty amazing sight. I used to spend every weekend at the Met during my high school years, but I had never been there when it opened (let's say I'm not a morning person). It was so nice to be in that dinghy, rainy, early morning hour to see a zillion tourists clamoring to see ART!
The guitar exhibit was in my favorite gallery space in the museum and the only thing I was bummed out about was that the Stradivarius violin was missing because it had been used in a performance the night before. I have never seen one in person before. That would have been fun.
Peter and I also walked through the Alexander McQueen exhibit which was Ah-MAZing!
I've never seen an exhibit like this at the Met in my life! When you walk in, it's really goth-looking with dark mirrors and mannequins with leather wrapped over their faces. The dresses were gorgeous. There were dresses made up of feathers of all kinds and a hat made up of elaborately carved cork which reminded me of the cities carved on a grain of rice in the Taiwan museum. It's definitely a sight not to be missed.
My tip is that if you want to go to the exhibit, get there as soon as it opens, because Peter and I just walked right in, but I saw a bunch of velvet covered ropes with signs that said: 30 MINUTE WAIT FROM THIS POINT
The exhibit was pretty fabulous, but it kind of made me a bit sad and I said to Peter:
"Now I hate all the crappy clothes I have at home. I want a vest made of balsa wood."
Just then, I remembered that there was this breakfast place I used to go to when I was in college--E.A.T.
So Peter turned the car around that's where we went for our overpriced omelette and an overpriced danish. But while we were sitting in the restaurant, Peter remembered that we had gone there before when we used to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
"Hey!" I said. "Didn't you want to go to the Guitar Exhibit?"
We googled the Met's hours and it was about to open so we got our stuff and walked over.
There was a HUGE line in front of the museum, which was a pretty amazing sight. I used to spend every weekend at the Met during my high school years, but I had never been there when it opened (let's say I'm not a morning person). It was so nice to be in that dinghy, rainy, early morning hour to see a zillion tourists clamoring to see ART!
The guitar exhibit was in my favorite gallery space in the museum and the only thing I was bummed out about was that the Stradivarius violin was missing because it had been used in a performance the night before. I have never seen one in person before. That would have been fun.
Peter and I also walked through the Alexander McQueen exhibit which was Ah-MAZing!
I've never seen an exhibit like this at the Met in my life! When you walk in, it's really goth-looking with dark mirrors and mannequins with leather wrapped over their faces. The dresses were gorgeous. There were dresses made up of feathers of all kinds and a hat made up of elaborately carved cork which reminded me of the cities carved on a grain of rice in the Taiwan museum. It's definitely a sight not to be missed.
My tip is that if you want to go to the exhibit, get there as soon as it opens, because Peter and I just walked right in, but I saw a bunch of velvet covered ropes with signs that said: 30 MINUTE WAIT FROM THIS POINT
The exhibit was pretty fabulous, but it kind of made me a bit sad and I said to Peter:
"Now I hate all the crappy clothes I have at home. I want a vest made of balsa wood."
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Fates Hate My Dentist
So I've had this cavity that I needed to get fixed for a while--but I was a bit nervous about finding a new dentist because my previous two have been not-so-great.
After a few months of procrastinating and getting on a better dental plan, I picked a dentist out from one of the "Best of" lists in the local magazine and he's great. I had an appointment with him yesterday which got cancelled because I had to make a last-minute trip to the city for a work emergency at the time of my appointment. The receptionist was nice enough to reschedule it for today at 2pm.
I left my house with plenty of time to get there, but that's when the road crew decided to shut down all the roads FOR HALF AN HOUR. I was so annoyed. And of course, this was after a HUGE fight I got into with Peter because we had planned on going downtown to run an errand and he didn't understand why I couldn't blow off the appointment. So we basically got into a huge fight for NOTHING because the fates have decided that my cavity WILL NEVER GET FIXED.
When I called the receptionist again, it's a new one who I've never met and she doesn't like me already because of all the cancellations. Begrudgingly, she scheduled me in for Monday at noon. I hope that there's no crazy tornado or anything. I'm going to leave two hours early to make sure that I make it on time.
After a few months of procrastinating and getting on a better dental plan, I picked a dentist out from one of the "Best of" lists in the local magazine and he's great. I had an appointment with him yesterday which got cancelled because I had to make a last-minute trip to the city for a work emergency at the time of my appointment. The receptionist was nice enough to reschedule it for today at 2pm.
I left my house with plenty of time to get there, but that's when the road crew decided to shut down all the roads FOR HALF AN HOUR. I was so annoyed. And of course, this was after a HUGE fight I got into with Peter because we had planned on going downtown to run an errand and he didn't understand why I couldn't blow off the appointment. So we basically got into a huge fight for NOTHING because the fates have decided that my cavity WILL NEVER GET FIXED.
When I called the receptionist again, it's a new one who I've never met and she doesn't like me already because of all the cancellations. Begrudgingly, she scheduled me in for Monday at noon. I hope that there's no crazy tornado or anything. I'm going to leave two hours early to make sure that I make it on time.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Everything About Everything
The other day I was teaching creative writing and the kids had a zillion questions.
"What does a gun case look like?" (for a murder/mystery she was working on)
Well, I've only seen one gun case--my friend John's father mailed him a gun (which is against the law, by the way) the week John got engaged. It was aluminum and padded with yellow foam on the inside.
"What does a divan look like?"
It's basically a sofa.
"What's that sort of chair that looks like a bed?"
A fainting couch.
"What's another word for off-white?"
Ecru
After answering all of their questions, the little boy in the class looks up at me in wonder and says:
"You know what I like about you? You know everything about EVERYTHING."
Kids are so easy to please.
"What does a gun case look like?" (for a murder/mystery she was working on)
Well, I've only seen one gun case--my friend John's father mailed him a gun (which is against the law, by the way) the week John got engaged. It was aluminum and padded with yellow foam on the inside.
"What does a divan look like?"
It's basically a sofa.
"What's that sort of chair that looks like a bed?"
A fainting couch.
"What's another word for off-white?"
Ecru
After answering all of their questions, the little boy in the class looks up at me in wonder and says:
"You know what I like about you? You know everything about EVERYTHING."
Kids are so easy to please.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Own Your Notes
Last week it was raining and when I got to my car, which was parked on a PUBLIC street, I found this note on my wet windshield:
It says:
If possible please leave this spot open, for I come home late from work and its very hard to find a parking space considering I have no driveway and you do.
Thank you for your consideration
Besides the fact that this person isn't very literate--I mean, c'mon neighbor! (its=possessive it's=it is)--this is about the fourth or fifth note we've gotten from a neighbor about parking. It's so ridiculous.
When I moved back into town, a guy I know who has lived here his whole life was so happy to see me and asked if I was glad to be back. I said yes, but I was getting stupid notes from my neighbors whenever I parked on the street. He got so mad that he offered to get his police officer friend to send letters out to my neighbors. I was all, uh, no, I think my neighbors hate me enough already.
You know, I also come home late from work and it isn't very hard to find a parking spot. Honestly, most of the homes are single-family so you just have to walk about three houses down on a very safe block. I get really annoyed when people are SO LAZY that they find it a complete hardship to walk a few extra feet.
I'm so thankful that I have legs and feet and that I can walk. Whenever someone is being ungrateful for something in their lives, I always say to them, "But hey, look on the bright side--you've got legs and feet! Some people would do ANYTHING to be able to walk." My friend Andrew is always, "Urgh...you're STILL talking about the feet thing?" And I always answer him by saying, "Well, if YOU had an aunt who was in a wheelchair because she contracted polio, you would be thankful every single day you could walk also."
I mean, if you have the energy to go home, write a note, and put it on my car, then you certainly have the energy to walk a couple of steps to your house. And if you don't have feet, let me know! I would have total sympathy for you...but I've seen you guys and you all look like you have feet. And what's it to you, stupid neighbor, if I have a driveway or not? That's like saying, I would appreciate it if you could give me ten dollars because you have a driveway.
I find this note extremely cowardly because it is unsigned. I mean, own your notes, dude. Leave a phone number. If my neighbor actually wanted to open up the lines of communication, then I could tell her that we can't park in our driveway because the ramp needs to be fixed and it's just not at the top of our priorities budget-wise.
I also find this note totally infuriating because it is the same handwriting as the note I got on my car last year when it was parked on another spot in the street. Okay crazy neighbor! Even if you want to "claim" a public parking spot, don't try to "claim" two. I mean, that's just plain greedy.
I think the neighbors are getting upset because we've started to park our two cars in front of our house. Usually there are three cars parked there and now we're taking up two prime spots that our neighbors have gotten used to parking on. I asked Peter if he thinks that the neighbors are upset that we're parking our cars in front of our own houses and he said:
"Yeah. I bet they WISH they could write us a note about that."
Hmmm. Maybe I should park my car in front of my house and put a huge note on it saying:
"Don't you WISH you could write me a note telling me not to park here?"
It says:
If possible please leave this spot open, for I come home late from work and its very hard to find a parking space considering I have no driveway and you do.
Thank you for your consideration
Besides the fact that this person isn't very literate--I mean, c'mon neighbor! (its=possessive it's=it is)--this is about the fourth or fifth note we've gotten from a neighbor about parking. It's so ridiculous.
When I moved back into town, a guy I know who has lived here his whole life was so happy to see me and asked if I was glad to be back. I said yes, but I was getting stupid notes from my neighbors whenever I parked on the street. He got so mad that he offered to get his police officer friend to send letters out to my neighbors. I was all, uh, no, I think my neighbors hate me enough already.
You know, I also come home late from work and it isn't very hard to find a parking spot. Honestly, most of the homes are single-family so you just have to walk about three houses down on a very safe block. I get really annoyed when people are SO LAZY that they find it a complete hardship to walk a few extra feet.
I'm so thankful that I have legs and feet and that I can walk. Whenever someone is being ungrateful for something in their lives, I always say to them, "But hey, look on the bright side--you've got legs and feet! Some people would do ANYTHING to be able to walk." My friend Andrew is always, "Urgh...you're STILL talking about the feet thing?" And I always answer him by saying, "Well, if YOU had an aunt who was in a wheelchair because she contracted polio, you would be thankful every single day you could walk also."
I mean, if you have the energy to go home, write a note, and put it on my car, then you certainly have the energy to walk a couple of steps to your house. And if you don't have feet, let me know! I would have total sympathy for you...but I've seen you guys and you all look like you have feet. And what's it to you, stupid neighbor, if I have a driveway or not? That's like saying, I would appreciate it if you could give me ten dollars because you have a driveway.
I find this note extremely cowardly because it is unsigned. I mean, own your notes, dude. Leave a phone number. If my neighbor actually wanted to open up the lines of communication, then I could tell her that we can't park in our driveway because the ramp needs to be fixed and it's just not at the top of our priorities budget-wise.
I also find this note totally infuriating because it is the same handwriting as the note I got on my car last year when it was parked on another spot in the street. Okay crazy neighbor! Even if you want to "claim" a public parking spot, don't try to "claim" two. I mean, that's just plain greedy.
I think the neighbors are getting upset because we've started to park our two cars in front of our house. Usually there are three cars parked there and now we're taking up two prime spots that our neighbors have gotten used to parking on. I asked Peter if he thinks that the neighbors are upset that we're parking our cars in front of our own houses and he said:
"Yeah. I bet they WISH they could write us a note about that."
Hmmm. Maybe I should park my car in front of my house and put a huge note on it saying:
"Don't you WISH you could write me a note telling me not to park here?"
Monday, May 02, 2011
Magnolia!
Our magnolia tree blossomed this week!
Last year we were in Denver the week our magnolia tree bloomed--basically we came home to the pink petals all over our yard. The thing only blooms once a year for less than a week. The year before that, we got a crazy thunderstorm right before the tree bloomed and all the flowers got dashed to the floor before its glory could be realized.
This year we're really lucky! Here's to the end of the longest winter in forever!
Last year we were in Denver the week our magnolia tree bloomed--basically we came home to the pink petals all over our yard. The thing only blooms once a year for less than a week. The year before that, we got a crazy thunderstorm right before the tree bloomed and all the flowers got dashed to the floor before its glory could be realized.
This year we're really lucky! Here's to the end of the longest winter in forever!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Dirty Rocky
This is what happens when we let the dogs outside a day after it rains:
Did I mention that he's a WHITE Siberian Husky?
Did I mention that he's a WHITE Siberian Husky?
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
You Spin Me Right Round
Right now my arms feel like they're about to fall off, my hands are shaking, and I feel sick to my stomach--I even have the shakes. What happened to me? I just failed my first spin class.
This class felt like TORTURE. And it's not only because that teeny-tiny seat just about dug right into my lady parts. I'm still feeling the burn.
Just ten minutes into the class, I felt like getting out--and the worst part was I didn't even know how long the class was going on. We cycled like super-crazy, then we got up and cycled standing up for five whole minutes--the longest five minutes of my life, then we were supposed to hunch over and cycle some more like crazy, still balancing on our feet.
On my way home from the workout I called my sister Jenny.
Me: I just took my first spin class.
Jenny: That's great! Wasn't it super-fun?
Me: No, it was TORTURE.
Jenny: What? Did you tell the instructor it was your first class?
Me: Yes, and all she said was--"Good luck keeping up! Ha. Ha. Ha."
Jenny: She's supposed to make sure that you're seated in correctly and show you how the resistance levels work.
Me: My arms feel like they're about to fall off and my hands are shaking.
Jenny: That's not good. I think you're seat was too high. There's NO REASON why your arms should hurt. Your legs should hurt. That instructor doesn't sound very good. I think you should try it again with another instructor.
Me: I'm NEVER trying this again. The whole time I was on the bike, I was all, "I HATE THIS. Why do people like this?"
Jenny: No, you should come to my gym. I have a great instructor and it's really fun if you do it right. I have to show you because it seems like you were supporting yourself with your arms and hands and you're really supposed to be working your core.
Me: I didn't know that! I wasn't working my core at all! Sucky Westchester lady's gym! Y'know, I took a Zumba class there too and it was all over the place.
Jenny: Oh, Young is a great dancer and she can't do Zumba. That's for pros.
Me: Okay, I'll try a class with you with a GOOD instructor and see if I like it. I definitely think I was doing something wrong because my lady parts are all sore too.
Jenny: Oh THAT? That's normal. You're just going to have to get used to it.
This class felt like TORTURE. And it's not only because that teeny-tiny seat just about dug right into my lady parts. I'm still feeling the burn.
Just ten minutes into the class, I felt like getting out--and the worst part was I didn't even know how long the class was going on. We cycled like super-crazy, then we got up and cycled standing up for five whole minutes--the longest five minutes of my life, then we were supposed to hunch over and cycle some more like crazy, still balancing on our feet.
On my way home from the workout I called my sister Jenny.
Me: I just took my first spin class.
Jenny: That's great! Wasn't it super-fun?
Me: No, it was TORTURE.
Jenny: What? Did you tell the instructor it was your first class?
Me: Yes, and all she said was--"Good luck keeping up! Ha. Ha. Ha."
Jenny: She's supposed to make sure that you're seated in correctly and show you how the resistance levels work.
Me: My arms feel like they're about to fall off and my hands are shaking.
Jenny: That's not good. I think you're seat was too high. There's NO REASON why your arms should hurt. Your legs should hurt. That instructor doesn't sound very good. I think you should try it again with another instructor.
Me: I'm NEVER trying this again. The whole time I was on the bike, I was all, "I HATE THIS. Why do people like this?"
Jenny: No, you should come to my gym. I have a great instructor and it's really fun if you do it right. I have to show you because it seems like you were supporting yourself with your arms and hands and you're really supposed to be working your core.
Me: I didn't know that! I wasn't working my core at all! Sucky Westchester lady's gym! Y'know, I took a Zumba class there too and it was all over the place.
Jenny: Oh, Young is a great dancer and she can't do Zumba. That's for pros.
Me: Okay, I'll try a class with you with a GOOD instructor and see if I like it. I definitely think I was doing something wrong because my lady parts are all sore too.
Jenny: Oh THAT? That's normal. You're just going to have to get used to it.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Dog Food Hoarder
I love Trader Joe's, but the one thing that drives me a bit nutty about that store is that sometimes for no good reason, they decide to discontinue something that I have grown to love with no warning. That happened to Oregon Chai, those yummy spicy papadums, those really crazy delicious garden burger chicken patties, to name just a few. I mean, with no warning? That means that there's no time to hoard supplies.
The one thing that I have CONSTANT paranoia about is the Bench & Field holistic dog food.
Yes, I feed my dogs holistic dog food. Why? Because when Scout was a puppy, she used to have an explosive diarrhea problem. I tried several different kinds of food including Iams, Nutro, and PHD dog food and it wasn't until we moved to Westchester that I picked up a bag of Bench & Field dog food on a lark and...discovered...that Scout's poop no longer just pooled on the sidewalk whenever she squatted down. Try picking that up...it made us VERY popular neighbors back in the Queens days.
Another reason I like buying the Bench & Field food is that the company is great. About five years ago, there was a problem with a Bench & Field shipment to our local Trader Joe's and I called Bench & Field in a panic. The customer service person calmed me down and told me that she would overnight a bag of dog food to me FOR FREE.
Scout is two months away from being 12 years old and she's in great shape. In fact, every time I tell people she's 12, they marvel at how great she looks. Both of my dogs are in super condition (knock on wood) and I know that this food plays a large role in this.
We really cannot be without this dog food. In fact, just last year when Peter and I went to Denver, I got a call at about 6am in the morning and one of the poor boys at the dog kennel said that Scout's poops were getting a bit soft, so he gave her a special veterinary dog food and now she was exploding poop all over the place and he wanted to call in a doctor ASAP.
After I talked him down from the cliff, and believe me, I understand that cliff. I talked Peter down from that same cliff when Scout was still a puppy and I had left Peter alone with the care of this puppy for the first time. As soon as the plane touched down, I called to tell Peter I had landed safely and his first words to me were:
"I AM GETTING RID OF YOUR DOG!"
Apparently, when Peter came back from dropping me off at the airport, Scout had exploded diarrhea all over her dog kennel, rolled around in it and shook it all over our bedroom. It was all over our carpet, our bed, our walls...Peter said after he gave Scout a bath and cleaned up the mess he couldn't even look at her. He was THIS CLOSE to taking her back to the breeder.
So with this kid from the dog kennel, I explained that his first mistake was taking Scout off the Bench & Field dog food and to put her back on it IMMEDIATELY. She probably got a bit anxious so had a few soft poops and then he totally exacerbated the situation by taking Scout off the only food that has ever made her not explode feces out of her ass.
She was totally fine when we went to pick her up.
Last month, every time I went to our local Trader Joe's they didn't carry the Bench & Field dog food. Not only that, but there was a strange new bag of TRADER JOE brand holistic dog food, which is something they do sometimes. They take away the brand that you have grown to love and trust and put in an imposter TRADER JOE usurper.
Of course, I kind of flipped out. I ordered a huge bag from Amazon, went to another Trader Joe location and picked up about 10 bags of dog food. Peter thought I was going nuts. But my response was, "Hey, this has been working for us for the past 13 years. It's TOO LATE to get this dog used to something new!"
The one thing that I have CONSTANT paranoia about is the Bench & Field holistic dog food.
Yes, I feed my dogs holistic dog food. Why? Because when Scout was a puppy, she used to have an explosive diarrhea problem. I tried several different kinds of food including Iams, Nutro, and PHD dog food and it wasn't until we moved to Westchester that I picked up a bag of Bench & Field dog food on a lark and...discovered...that Scout's poop no longer just pooled on the sidewalk whenever she squatted down. Try picking that up...it made us VERY popular neighbors back in the Queens days.
Another reason I like buying the Bench & Field food is that the company is great. About five years ago, there was a problem with a Bench & Field shipment to our local Trader Joe's and I called Bench & Field in a panic. The customer service person calmed me down and told me that she would overnight a bag of dog food to me FOR FREE.
Scout is two months away from being 12 years old and she's in great shape. In fact, every time I tell people she's 12, they marvel at how great she looks. Both of my dogs are in super condition (knock on wood) and I know that this food plays a large role in this.
We really cannot be without this dog food. In fact, just last year when Peter and I went to Denver, I got a call at about 6am in the morning and one of the poor boys at the dog kennel said that Scout's poops were getting a bit soft, so he gave her a special veterinary dog food and now she was exploding poop all over the place and he wanted to call in a doctor ASAP.
After I talked him down from the cliff, and believe me, I understand that cliff. I talked Peter down from that same cliff when Scout was still a puppy and I had left Peter alone with the care of this puppy for the first time. As soon as the plane touched down, I called to tell Peter I had landed safely and his first words to me were:
"I AM GETTING RID OF YOUR DOG!"
Apparently, when Peter came back from dropping me off at the airport, Scout had exploded diarrhea all over her dog kennel, rolled around in it and shook it all over our bedroom. It was all over our carpet, our bed, our walls...Peter said after he gave Scout a bath and cleaned up the mess he couldn't even look at her. He was THIS CLOSE to taking her back to the breeder.
So with this kid from the dog kennel, I explained that his first mistake was taking Scout off the Bench & Field dog food and to put her back on it IMMEDIATELY. She probably got a bit anxious so had a few soft poops and then he totally exacerbated the situation by taking Scout off the only food that has ever made her not explode feces out of her ass.
She was totally fine when we went to pick her up.
Last month, every time I went to our local Trader Joe's they didn't carry the Bench & Field dog food. Not only that, but there was a strange new bag of TRADER JOE brand holistic dog food, which is something they do sometimes. They take away the brand that you have grown to love and trust and put in an imposter TRADER JOE usurper.
Of course, I kind of flipped out. I ordered a huge bag from Amazon, went to another Trader Joe location and picked up about 10 bags of dog food. Peter thought I was going nuts. But my response was, "Hey, this has been working for us for the past 13 years. It's TOO LATE to get this dog used to something new!"
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Passive-Aggressive Are We?
So the other day, I was outside waiting for Peter to come out of the house so we could go out for lunch when one of my neighbors across the street--no, not the one who left huge snowpiles in front of my house...and not one of the ones who wrote me douchey notes about parking in front of their houses.
That's right--that's TWO neighbors who have written me notes about not parking in front of their houses. Is that Kah-razy or what? It's a PUBLIC STREET people!! Well, even though it's a public street, I don't want to park my car in front of people's houses if I'm going to find notes on my car, it's more aggravation than it's worth. (Unlike my sister, who would totally be parking in front of that person's house every chance she got, because she's just like that.)
Anyway, I was parked in front of yet another neighbor's house--why? Well, our driveway ramp needs to be fixed because we no longer have our cute Honda Element due to all the 800 blind spots that kept causing me minor hear attacks every time I tried to merge into traffic because there were hidden cars that suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere being driven by extremely angry people who would honk and curse at me. Hey! It wasn't my fault!! It was the Honda Element blind spot! I once nearly ran over a lady because I stopped at a stop sign, looked at the street and no one was on it. I proceeded to drive--and apparently a thin woman was totally hidden by the metal between the windshield window and the passenger window of the Element. She screamed at me and I was all, Hey! I didn't see you! It's not me, it's this car!
Basically, if you see an Element on the road, STAY CLEAR! And if you're crossing the street in front of an Element, WATCH OUT!
Oh, did I digress again? Sorry!
Every time we go up and down the ramp of our driveway, it scrapes the undersides of our cars--and we like to keep our mufflers ON our cars. So, it's not a huge priority to fix this, but for now, we're parking on the street.
So I was waiting for Peter to come out of the house when I see the neighbor and three middle-school-aged girls get out of his Highlander. Then he faces his kids and shouts really loud, "I WOULD HAVE PARKED ON THE STREET BUT SSSOOOOMMMMEEEEBBBBOOOODDDDYYYY TOOK MY SPOT!" Then he ran into his house.
My ears heard his shouting, but my brain hadn't processed what he had said yet, so my first thought was: Wow, he really is super-mad at his daughter--and why does he need to shout at her in public?
Then a few moments later, my brain finally kicked in and I was all: He was passive-aggressively communicating with ME!
I mean, what a COWARD! Not only does he not have the balls to just come over to me and say, "Stop parking in MY SPOT." He ran into his house after his outburst like a total pussy!
I've mentioned before that it's not difficult to find parking on my block. At most, you'll be one or two houses down from yours. In Queens where I grew up, you're lucky if you can see your apartment from the parking spot you find. So you have to walk a few feet to get to your house. Is that any reason to get so worked up?
The fact is, people ALWAYS park in front of my house, which is why I have to park in front of OTHER PEOPLE'S houses!! See how that works? And by the way, that guy who screamed before he ran into his house? His wife is always parking her car in MY SPOT. I should totally scream at her. What a BITCH.
That's right--that's TWO neighbors who have written me notes about not parking in front of their houses. Is that Kah-razy or what? It's a PUBLIC STREET people!! Well, even though it's a public street, I don't want to park my car in front of people's houses if I'm going to find notes on my car, it's more aggravation than it's worth. (Unlike my sister, who would totally be parking in front of that person's house every chance she got, because she's just like that.)
Anyway, I was parked in front of yet another neighbor's house--why? Well, our driveway ramp needs to be fixed because we no longer have our cute Honda Element due to all the 800 blind spots that kept causing me minor hear attacks every time I tried to merge into traffic because there were hidden cars that suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere being driven by extremely angry people who would honk and curse at me. Hey! It wasn't my fault!! It was the Honda Element blind spot! I once nearly ran over a lady because I stopped at a stop sign, looked at the street and no one was on it. I proceeded to drive--and apparently a thin woman was totally hidden by the metal between the windshield window and the passenger window of the Element. She screamed at me and I was all, Hey! I didn't see you! It's not me, it's this car!
Basically, if you see an Element on the road, STAY CLEAR! And if you're crossing the street in front of an Element, WATCH OUT!
Oh, did I digress again? Sorry!
Every time we go up and down the ramp of our driveway, it scrapes the undersides of our cars--and we like to keep our mufflers ON our cars. So, it's not a huge priority to fix this, but for now, we're parking on the street.
So I was waiting for Peter to come out of the house when I see the neighbor and three middle-school-aged girls get out of his Highlander. Then he faces his kids and shouts really loud, "I WOULD HAVE PARKED ON THE STREET BUT SSSOOOOMMMMEEEEBBBBOOOODDDDYYYY TOOK MY SPOT!" Then he ran into his house.
My ears heard his shouting, but my brain hadn't processed what he had said yet, so my first thought was: Wow, he really is super-mad at his daughter--and why does he need to shout at her in public?
Then a few moments later, my brain finally kicked in and I was all: He was passive-aggressively communicating with ME!
I mean, what a COWARD! Not only does he not have the balls to just come over to me and say, "Stop parking in MY SPOT." He ran into his house after his outburst like a total pussy!
I've mentioned before that it's not difficult to find parking on my block. At most, you'll be one or two houses down from yours. In Queens where I grew up, you're lucky if you can see your apartment from the parking spot you find. So you have to walk a few feet to get to your house. Is that any reason to get so worked up?
The fact is, people ALWAYS park in front of my house, which is why I have to park in front of OTHER PEOPLE'S houses!! See how that works? And by the way, that guy who screamed before he ran into his house? His wife is always parking her car in MY SPOT. I should totally scream at her. What a BITCH.
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