1. I have felt a lack of words this week.
2. Sometimes I think Monk has missed out on his life purpose, since we don’t hunt. We see him in the yard, looking around, quiet and alert. He stops and points. He waits and waits, we look and look, wondering what he sees. Finally we’ll spot a squirrel several yards over or a bunny that was invisible to us, and Monk seems relieved. Last night we watched a few minutes of a bird dog competition on television, and I felt a little ache for Monk’s non-existant career.
This, I know, is silly, because his life of carrying toys around, barking happily when we dance, sneaking onto the couch, leaning against me with dramatic exausted groans, watching and listening for members of our family if we are not in the same room, breaking up cat spats, and screwing with Cab’s mind? It is a good life. His sense of humor is evident; he is alert for other things. He is cuddled against me now, and he knows his life is good.
3. I can guarantee, no matter what you think or how much you protest, that in person, you would prefer Monk to Cab, even if you didn’t want to admit it. Cab seems ghostly, lurking, spooky (until I see him clumsily smash his paw into his food dish to watch the kibble scatter or I catch him licking the place on the grass where Monk just peed). People like the Idea of Cab, but always prefer Monk. It’s kind of like when you watch Perfect Strangers, and you think you would ALWAYS prefer Balki. But in real life Balki would drive you craaaaaazy, and you would rather live with Larry.
4. I like both of the dogs shit tons. Sometimes when they are cantering around wildly playing and I am saying, DOGS, BE GOOD, FOR TWO SECONDS, my husband says, “THIS IS THE LIFE YOU WANTED.” It’s true. I like it.
5. Ever since I got immersed in my job and felt happy/busy/involved in the new town, the baby-craving disappeared again. Perhaps I should explore that further sometime. Or perhaps I should not worry about it at all.
6. Oh, man, do you guys remember Perfect Strangers? What a great show.
7. There were other things, but I’m running out of time!
Friday question time! If you have an end table next to your favorite place on the couch/chair, what’s on it? What did you eat for dinner last night? Do you prefer plastic cups or glass? And because it never gets old, what are you doing this weekend?
On the end table beside my end of the couch (it’s true, we totally have sides and always have), I have one green reading lamp, one empty glass, one empty Hires rootbeer can, one fresh can of Diet Dr. Pepper, one letter from a sister-in-law, one paper towel, one clipboard with paper, two envelopes, two tubes of Burt’s Bees lip balm, and one mysterious fork. I also keep a footstool near me and a plastic basket of random crap, such as more paper, a sketchbook, thread, and camera cords.
Last night for dinner I ate some boneless chicken breast baked in a sort of mesquite sauce, with a side of Cheez-Its. IT WAS A BALANCED MEAL. I think my husband ate his chicken on bread. Monk drooled because he loves Cheetohs, and Cheez-Its were close enough to make him drool.
I prefer glasses if I am drinking water, or…pretty much anything that’s not offered in a can or bottle. I can use plastic cups for soda, and possibly tea or juice, but never for milk. And never, ever, ever for water. Drinking water out of a plastic cup pretty much makes me gag almost every time. It’s something about the smell and the texture. I (seriously) gag. It’s really weird, and annoying. If there is ice, there is less of a gag chance, but if it is tap water plain, in a plastic cup? SHUDDER.
This weekend I am working. And doing laundry. And maybe going on a hot date Saturday night to a movie with my husband, because: hot date!
Go!
black sheeped
