Me on a Monday.

The following is my advice to anyone who may be wondering how they could possibly be, as awesome as me, on a Monday:

For most accurate results, it is best to first stay awake all night long…

As many of you already know, I am currently the Care Manager for a sweet elderly lady in Seattle, named Ethel.  We have had an extremely difficult time filling a couple of the night shifts, so I have volunteered to work Sunday nights as a caregiver.  Ethel is very excited that I’m staying the night with her now, and unfortunately for both of us her excitement has translated into insomnia.

Ethel’s insomnia seems to stem from her constant need to have me to sit next to her bed and hold her hand, massage her legs, massage her arms, massage her feet, reposition her in the bed, adjust her pillows, remove her covers because she’s too hot, add more covers because she’s too cold, etc.  There were a few times last night when she felt a little guilty because she knew how tired I was, and to my relief she would say, “Oh Winnie, you really should go get some rest.  You must be so tired.  Please go get some rest Winnie…”

But as luck would have it, I would no sooner have made myself comfortable on the couch again before I would hear her call out from her bedroom, “I miss you, Winnie!  I miss you!  I miss you TOO MUCH!!”

I have experienced this many times over my 12+ years, working as a Caregiver, and I can attest that it is both a blessing and a curse to be loved so dearly and so exuberantly by an elderly person who suffers from dementia.  While on one hand they love you so much that they are concerned for your comfort and safety (“You really need your rest, Winnie…”), they soon forget (dementia) how much time has passed between them telling you to get some rest and you actually resting (approximately 30-45 seconds), and in that short span of time the anxiety that they may never see you again sets in (“I miss you too much”), and at that point nothing becomes more important than coming up with any excuse to see you once more (“legs ache, tummy aches, shoulder aches, too hot/cold”), and therefore your life becomes an exhausting/endearing sort of living hell.

Then at around 3am they look at you with so much love in their eyes that it almost makes you feel uncomfortable, and their sad eyes well up with tears, and they say, “You are so nice, Winnie.  You are the nicest person I have ever met.  You are the nicest person IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!” and then your heart melts a little, and you just smile and continue to hold their hand until they start to nod off, and then you attempt to tiptoe out of the room…

“Winnie, Winnie!  Winnie, WHERE ARE YOU?  Oh thank God!  Thank God, Winnie!  I had a dream that you left me and I never saw you again!  But you’re HERE!  God Bless You.  God Bless You, Winnie…”

After very little sleep and several cups of coffee, proceed to begin walking the first of 6 dogs…

I left Ethel’s apartment at noon so that I could begin the dog walking festivities for the day.  Since I was already on Dixie’s side of town (Dixie is a Golden-Doodle) I picked her up first, and as always she was over-the-moon-happy to see me walk through her front door.  She was briefly disappointed that her boyfriend Nash (my yellow lab) wasn’t with me today, but she still enjoyed herself immensely during our long walk around the neighborhood.  Had our walk ended without any diversions, this particular Monday may have been much like any other.  But since Dixie had been such a good girl on our walk, and since we had the north end of Madison Park to ourselves (other than the fellow mowing the lawn), and since she was missing her boyfriend Nash so much, I decided that Dixie deserved a little off-leash time at the park.

Dixie was ecstatic to be off of her leash, and she rejoiced by sprinting back and forth along the waterfront as fast as her long Golden-Doodle legs would carry her.  When she paused just long enough to hunch awkwardly over a tall patch of grass, I groaned to myself that “of course she has to poop at the very bottom of the hill ugh” and reluctantly got the poop bag ready to clean up her mess for the second time that day.

It works best if you don’t pay any attention to where you are going and just focus on the poop and the poop bag and the task at hand…

On about my second or third step, I felt the earth give way under my feet, and I realized much too late that the bright green grass covering the steep hill toward the lake was merely an optical illusion.  There was no way to know (other than the fact that it had rained all night) that beneath the springtime glow of the glistening blades of grass at Madison Park, there lived a thick basin of slick, slimy, yucky, quick-sand-like-mud.  Before I could even find time to spew out a curse word, my two feet shot out from under me and my rear end was quickly transformed into what can only be described as a butt-sled.  As I tobogganed halfway down the hill, Dixie came bounding toward me and I hollered out to her to “get out of the way!  Save yourself, Dixie!!”

When my joy ride finally came to a stop, Dixie tried to resuscitate me by slobbering all over my face.  “Great, just great” was all I managed to say before I began the process of picking my aching bones off of the ground.

When you think that things couldn’t possibly get any worse, think again…

Not to be deterred from the mission at hand, I found the poop bag that I’d thrown in the air during the whole hoopla, made a quick assessment as to the percentage of my body that was saturated in mud, (my butt, calves, arms, hands, shoes, and I could not help but notice that the mud had actually found its way DOWN my pants and made a home in certain crevices) before I began my descent down the hill once again.

I had no sooner taken a step forward with my right foot before, once again, I became a victim of the menacing, slippery-slope, and this time I completed my journey down the hill, entirely on the right side of my body.  I had mud in my armpit, on the side of my face, in my right ear, and all through the right side of my hair.  Dixie, being my noble companion and all, decided to come and lay down beside me (white dog laying in the mud, great, just great) and lick the mud off of the side of my face.

Between these two falls, I had actually managed to dislodge a significant portion of earth. 

Once I was able to look back at my tobogganing pathway, I was horrified to see that there was a stretch of about eight feet of exposed soil, with a large mound of grass and dandelions piled up at the end.  When I went to pull my pants back up (they had practically fallen off of me by then) I actually had to pull a bunch of grass and dandelion stems out of my crack, and that was when I said to Dixie, “Seriously?  I mean…SERIOUSLY?  F*#KINGSH*TBALLS!!!”

The lawn mowing guy (ie; Sole Witness) must have 0bserved my acrobatic skills from afar, because I noticed that I no longer heard the engine running.  I looked over at him and waved (with my clean arm) to reassure him that I was okay.  He hollered out, “Sure you’re OK, ma’am?” and I just waved him off again with my muddy arm.

By then I had practically landed on the poop-pile’s front door, and I thanked my lucky stars that I didn’t just slide right through it.  Of course, since Dixie was frightened by my elegant trip down the hill, she was unable to complete the process of pooping.  In other words the whole disastrous slip’n’sliding incident, all of which began because I was trying to be a good citizen and pick up after my dog; it all of it had happened in VAIN!  While continuing my cursing rampage under my breath, I picked up Dixie’s little tiny turd-nugget with the poop bag, tied it up, put Dixie back on her leash, and we set off for home.

Remember, I STILL HAD TO WALK FIVE MORE DOGS after this fiasco!  In PUBLIC no less…

Fortunately, since I had stayed the night with Ethel, I did have a pair of pajama bottoms that I could change into, so I quickly weighed out the pros and cons of which would be worse; to walk all around Seattle in a pair of pajama bottoms, or to walk all around Seattle looking like a swamp person who may have possibly crapped themselves?

I opted to go 90’s grunge-style and tie my raincoat around my waist for the rest of the day. 

download-6

By the time I had finished walking all of the dogs that day, I thought that I might die from exhaustion.  I drove home as fast as I could, parked my car halfway in the yard, and plowed my way downstairs, to the coziest couch on the entire planet.  I kicked off my muddy shoes, but didn’t even bother to change clothes before I collapsed onto my favorite part of the sectional and shouted, “Hallelujah!”

My yellow lab, Nash, is not allowed to sit on the furniture, but when I looked over at him and saw his adorable brown eyes looking at me with more love than I could ever possibly deserve, I couldn’t resist him.  I said, “come on up, little buddy” and in less than a second Nash had positioned himself entirely on top of me so that he could close his eyes while he enthusiastically licked my neck and face.

My phone started ringing.  It was Ethel…

(Keep in mind that Ethel has a caregiver there with her 24/7, so she is never alone.)

Me:  “Hello?”

Ethel:  “Winnie?  Are you there, Winnie?”

Me:  “I’m here, Ethel, how are you?”

Ethel began to cry:  “Not too good.  I’m not too good at all, Winnie…”

Me:  “Uh oh, are you feeling kind of crummy again?”

Ethel:  (sobbing) “I feel so BAD, and I MISS YOU SO MUCH, WINNIE!”

Me:  “I’m sorry that you’re missing me so much.  I’m sure that you caregiver is taking excellent care of you though, right?”

Ethel:  “Well…I suppose.”

Me:  “Maybe she needs to give you some medicine to help you feel better?”

Ethel:  (sobbing again) “I don’t need medicine, I need YOU!  The only thing that will make me feel better is YOU, WINNIE!”

Me:  “Well I’m not able to come and visit you tonight Ethel, because I am really tired, but I can talk to you on the phone for a little while.  Do you think that might help?”

Ethel:  “I guess so…but it’s NOT THE SAME!”

Me:  “Hey, guess what, Ethel?  Guess who is sitting on my lap right now?”

Ethel:  (sobbing sounds)

Me:  “Nash was so happy to see me when I came home, that he just had to lay on top of me and lick my whole neck and face!”

Ethel:  “Oh…WINNIE!  (whimpering sounds) I WISH I COULD DO THAT!”

Oh boy…

download-7

 

The Impromtu Family Reunion at Subway.

1979680_10152227791645862_1644103267_nMom and I ran into my Dad at the Subway on Cook Road yesterday.  We had stopped there for dinner on the way to a play in Bellingham, and while we were eating, low and behold, in walks Dave Button!
Mom gave him the other half of her sandwich, but she complained about it later when she didn’t have anything to snack on.  Dad tried to steal half of my sandwich as well, but I called him out on it as he was trying to shove it in his pocket.
Me:  “What if Mom and I weren’t here tonight?  Would you have starved?”
Dad:  “No, I would’ve taken a bite of someone else’s sandwich…”
Me:  “That’s not even funny, because you probably would!”
Dad:  “You wouldn’t believe how much food people waste!  I’m just doing my part to help the environment.”
Of course I also teased him about his hair hat that makes him look like he has doll hair on the top of his head.  I asked him why he even bought such a hideous hat, and he said, “What do you mean, ‘why’?  I’m losing my hair and I have a snaggle tooth.  When you get to be my age and start losing your teeth and your hair, then you will understand.  The top of my head gets cold!”
Me:  “First of all, most women don’t get bald spots on top of their heads, and even if I ever do, I still would never wear a hat with doll-hair on it!  I would wear my Seahawks beanie to cover my bald spot, and to keep my head warm, and where is your Seahawks beanie by the way?  I would also purchase dentures that fit my mouth; if and when I begin to lose my teeth.  I wouldn’t be like George Washington and carve a new tooth out of wood.”
As if on cue, Dad took his partial denture out of his mouth at the table, in order to remove a piece of lettuce.  With one of his front teeth missing out of his mouth he said, “I don’t wear dentures; I wear a partial and it fits my mouth fine…”
Mom and I cracked up.
Me:  “Dad, you just said yourself that you have a ‘snaggle-tooth’ and the one tooth that is a snaggle-tooth, is the only tooth in your mouth that isn’t real.  It’s bigger than your other teeth!  Did you get it in Mexico or something?  Did you steal it off of a horse?”
Dad, still missing one of his front teeth, replied, “Jeesh!  We’ve got a feisty one here tonight, Margaret…”
Mom:  “You have to be careful with what you say to Whitney, because everything you say can and will be used against you on her blog.”
Dad:  “I’ve seen some of the blogs that she’s written about you, and they’re not very flattering.  They’re not all true, are they…?”
Mom grinned sheepishly:  “Well…yes.”
Dad laughed:  “I guess you can’t blame her for writing about it then, huh?”
Mom shrugged and smiled.
Me:  “Mom you secretly love it.  I’ve practically made you famous!”
Mom:  “Yeah, famous for farting.”
Dad:  “Ladies don’t pass gas.  You don’t really pass gas that much, do you Margaret.?”
Again Mom grinned sheepishly:  “Well…yes.”
Dad and I cracked up.
When I showed Mom and Dad the pictures on my phone, Mom said, “Oh god, why didn’t you tell me how awful my hair looked!”
Dad said, “My hair looks GREAT!”
Me:  “Dad, seriously?  It looks like Davy Crocket made a coonskin cap out of possum roadkill, and now you are proudly displaying it on top of your head.”
Dad:  “My customers love it!  They say that it gives me character.”
Me:  “Dad, you ARE a Character!  You don’t need anything to give you MORE character.”
Dad:  “Well that’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”
Me:  “Do your cats get frightened when they see you wearing your hair-hat?  They might think that you will make a hat out of them next…”
Dad:  “Have you met our new cat, Sammy?  She’s so cute!”
Me:  “You mean the one that you make me talk to over the phone?  The one that you spayed twice?”
Mom:  “You spayed her twice?!  How in the world did that happen?!”
Dad:  “Well I didn’t do it on purpose.  We adopted her, and we didn’t know that she was already spayed, so she ended up getting spay-ded twice.  Poor little thing.  She was so upset about it.”
Me:  “Of course she was upset!  She got spay-ded twice!  How would you feel if you got spay-ded twice, huh?  Never mind, don’t answer that question…”
Dad:  “Since I am a male I would have gotten neutered, and I wouldn’t have enjoyed it one bit!  You should be glad I wasn’t neutered, because where would you be right now if I had been neutered, huh?”
Me:  “…and that’s the part of the conversation that I was hoping to avoid.”
Dad:  “You should be nice to your Mom and I, because without us, where would you be…?  Also, don’t forget that you still break the record for being the youngest person to ever float down the river.  How old was she, Margaret?”
Mom:  “6 weeks.”
Dad:  “Wow, 6 weeks old.  How did you grow up so fast, Whit?”
Me:  “It’s amazing that I grew up at all, considering that you dangled me over the side of the raft when I was 6 weeks old, just like how the Crocodile Hunter dangled his baby over a giant crocodile and made everyone get all up in an uproar!”
Dad:  “I never dangled you over the side of the raft, and I sure as heck never dangled you over a crocodile!  I held you in one of those backpacks on my chest, and everyone just couldn’t believe how cute you were!  Margaret, do you remember when you were pregnant with Whitney and we all got hit by a semi truck…?”
Mom:  “How could I ever forget that?  My water broke just a few days later and I almost lost her!”
Me:  “Dad, I heard that after the crash, you got out of the Checker and your shoulder was obviously dislocated, and even though Mom kept asking you if you were okay, you just kept insisting that you were just fine.  Then you walked a couple of steps and fainted right into the ditch.”
Dad:  “I never fainted; I’m a man!  Besides, I don’t remember fainting…”
Me:  “Of course you don’t remember it; you were passed out!”
Dad:  “Well if I remember right, the semi truck had actually crashed into the side of the Checker, and parked itself on top of my mother-in-law’s feet.  You would pass out too if you saw your mother-in-law stuck under a semi truck!”
Me:  “I’m sure that you’re right about that.”
In the end, it was a very sweet little visit, and it was nice to see my Mom and Dad together and enjoying each others company.  I have absolutely no photos of the 3 of us together, and now (thanks to one of the Subway employees who was nice enough to snap a few pics for us) I have a photo that sums the 3 of us up pretty perfectly:
Dad giving the ‘thumbs up’ in his crazy hat with doll hair sticking out of the top.  Mom sporting a sweet smile while proudly wearing her Native sweatshirt.  And me, standing between the two of them, looking a little bit like both of them, with a smile that says, “I still don’t understand how the 2 of these people ever got together and made a baby, but they did, and now that I’m a (somewhat normal) grownup I get to tease the crap out of both of them, and it’s glorious!”
And that, my friends, is called Sweet Revenge…
(Go ahead and try dangling me over the side of the raft now, Dave Button!)
10011175_10152227785320862_1575754684_n

The Evolution of Men.

Click on the following link to watch the video that this conversation refers to:  Man Humor

I just watched this with (an unnamed) friend, and we both agreed that this video most completely and accurately narrates the Evolution of Men, better than anything we’ve ever seen.

Maybe even better than “Men are from Venis and Mars”…

Me:  “Wait…did I just write ‘Venis’?”

My unnamed friend laughed and said, “Why didn’t you just say ‘penis’ and ‘vagina’?”

My reply was, “Because I meant to say ‘VENUS’…”

UFO:  “Oh…okay, you absolutely cannot post that on your blog…”

Me:  “What about if we have someone else read it first, and then we have a vote to decide whether or not it should go on my blog?”

UFO:  “But will it actually contain the word ‘penis’?”

Me:  “Of course it would!”

UFO:  “Then, NO.”

A Case of Child Abuse in O Little Town of Bethlehem…

IMG_1309IMG_1306I went to Mom’s house last weekend to help her decorate for Christmas.  She had already pulled out the boxes from the garage (which she shouldn’t have done alone but she’s as stubborn as an ox) and had baked a zillion Christmas cookies.  She is planning to have everyone over to her house on the Sunday before Christmas, and so of course she wants her house to look beautiful for the special occasion.

It is sort of unbelievable how many Christmas decorations that Mom has, but she was quick to remind me for the um-teenth-thousandth time that she had been building her collection for her entire life, and for MY entire life, and that one day I would be so grateful that she had saved all of the ornaments and decorations.  Of course she also had to add that, “After Christmas, ornaments go on sale for like 90 percent off!!  They’re practically giving them away!!!”

Yes, I know, I know…

At some point during the unloading of the Christmas boxes, I was on the phone with Rea (who was home sick with a horrible cold), and suddenly I had a vivid, traumatic, childhood memory.

Me:  “Um…oh my gosh…seriously?  SERIOUSLY?!  Spun glass?  SPUN GLASS?!  MOM!  You still use spun glass with your Nativity Set?!  HOW COULD YOU?!”

Mom:  “Huh?”

Me:  “Why can’t you just use cotton like a normal person?  I’m seriously having PTSD right now.  I think I’m hyperventilating.  MOM!  I’m having a panic attack right now!!”

Mom:  “Have a cookie.”

Me:  “Don’t you remember what happened to me, Mom?  When I was like, what…?  I couldn’t have been more than four years old?”

Rea:  “Should I let you go?”

Me:  “No, it’s okay, you can hear this.  I’ll just tell you about it later anyway.  Besides Mom is barely listening to me as it is and I need to talk about it.”

Mom:  “That’s not true; I’m listening!  Hand me that box behind you.”

Me:  “I remember being like four years old and sitting on the floor, just staring up at the Nativity Scene for hours and hours, because it was so beautiful on the mantel next to the Christmas tree at our old house.  I was fascinated with the Baby Jesus.”

Mom:  “Yes, you always did love the Baby Jesus.”

Me:  “My sweet little blonde haired, blue-eyed, innocent self; I remember that you would play Amy Grant‘s Christmas albums on the record player, and I would just sit there and daydream for hours and hours…”

Mom:  “You really were such a sweet and precious little thing.”

(Of course we were listening to Amy Grant’s Christmas music on the CD player as we were decorating Mom’s house in present day as well.)

Me:  “…this may be one of my earliest memories actually.  The Christmas tree lights were shining through the “cotton” that was billowing softly beneath the Nativity Scene, and it was all that I could do to resist touching the puff of cotton that cradled the Baby Jesus.  The more that I admired the Baby Jesus, the more that the cotton beneath him shimmered, and it just looked so soft; like pure silk.  I knew that I wasn’t supposed to touch it, but I just had to.  IT JUST LOOKED SO SOFT!”

Mom:  “I think we’re going to need more lights for the tree.  It doesn’t look like we’re going to have enough.”

Me:  “Mom!  Are you even listening?!”

Rea:  “I’m still here.  I’m listening.”

Me:  “Thank you REA, I’m glad that SOMEONE is listening.”

Mom:  “Fred Meyer has lights on sale for fifty percent off right now.  I should send you to the store to get some before we start decorating the tree.”

Me:  “Looks like I lost her.  Oh well, whatever.  It’s only my most traumatic childhood memory, no big deal.  This is why I go to therapy right?”

Rea:  “So what happened?”

Me:  “So of course I couldn’t resist, and I had to reach out and not only TOUCH the shiny, puffy, cloud of cotton beneath the Baby Jesus, but I had to PET it.  Like a kitten.  Of course you’ve figured out by now that it wasn’t actually cotton.  It was SPUN GLASS.  So what happens when you PET spun glass is:  you get your poor little four year old hand all CUT UP to SH*#!  I was screaming and crying, and I was bleeding everywhere!”

Rea:  “Oh honey, that’s just terrible…”

Me:  “Mom, are you smiling right now?!  Seriously?!  Rea!  Mom is smiling.  She’s not saying anything, she’s just got this sadistic grin on her face.  Oh and now she’s chuckling about it.  MOM!  THAT WAS CHILD ABUSE!  I THOUGHT THAT THE BABY JESUS CUT ME!!

Mom (very quietly):  “I told you not to touch it ya dumb shit.

Me:  “What did you just say?  Did you just hear that Rea?”

Rea:  “No.  What did she say?”

Me:  “She said, ‘I told you not to touch it ya DUMB SHIT!’  Can you believe she said that?!  Oh and now she’s thoroughly pleased with herself…”

Rea:  “I wish I could be there with you guys.  Sounds like you’re having sooooo much fun!  Love you!”

Me:  “Yeah, you’d better run Mom!  Okay, love you too Sweetie.  I’ll call you later.”

——————

It turns out that Mom has several Nativity Sets that she has inherited over the years, and instead of using only the best piece of each of the sets to make one, Ultimate Set, Mom likes to put every single figure out on display; on top of spun glass.

Me:  “Mom, your Nativity Set is too big.”

Mom:  “No one has ever said anything before.”

Me:  “Well I’m saying something now.”

Mom:  “It’s like this every year.  You never said anything last year.  Or the year before…”

Me:  “I must’ve been too drunk to notice.”

Mom:  “They are all such beautiful pieces.  There’s no sense in NOT putting them out on display.  Oh look!  Another camel!!  Isn’t it beautiful?!”

Me:  “Oh yes.  So beautiful.  Can’t you at least pick the best Mary and the best Joseph?  For example.  Here is a blonde Mary.  Mary was Jewish.  Do you really think that she would have been blonde?”

Mom:  “Well she could have been!  Stop being so judgmental!”

Me:  “Whoa!  Okay, sorry…I didn’t realize that you were so sensitive about your blonde Mary.”

Mom:  “Well maybe she’s the next door neighbor.  These could just be like cousins and neighbors who just felt like hanging out that night.”

Me:  “They just wanted to hang out during the birth of Jesus.  No big deal.  Like, ‘Hey what’s up neighbor?  Give birth to any Messiah’s lately?’  There just happened to be a really strong resemblance between everyone is all.”

Mom:  “Well it was a really small town.  I’m sure that there was a lot of inter-marrying going on.  Oh look!  Here’s another Baby Jesus!  TWINSIES!!

Me:  “Two Baby Jesus’?  Where are you going to draw the line, Mom?!”

Mom:  “I guess I should draw the line at two Baby Jesus’…”

Me:  “Well there are some religions who believe that Jesus had a twin brother, and that his twin was Satan…”

Mom:  “Oh yeah!  Well that could work!  This Baby Jesus does look kind of evil…”

Me:  “That must have been the Baby Jesus that cut me.”

Mom:  “Yes.  It was.”

Me:  “It wasn’t Baby Jesus’ fault that I got cut up!  Stop laughing!!”

Mom:  “You’re getting a lot of good material for your blog huh?”

Me:  “Oh yes.”

Mom:  “Where should I put the other Baby Jesus?”

Me:  “Mom, seriously…one Baby Jesus is enough.  We are Christians and we don’t believe that Satan and Jesus are twin brothers, remember?”

Mom:  “Yeah, that’s true.  Okay, I’d rather have the sweet looking Baby Jesus on display if I have to choose.  We’re running out of room on the mantel anyway.”

Me:  “I think that you should probably rename this set, because it’s really not technically the Nativity Scene anymore.”

Mom:  “Let’s call it, ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’…”

Me:  “Yes, that’s perfect!  Now, will there be any kids coming to your Christmas party next Sunday?”

Mom:  “I don’t think so…not really little.”

Me:  “Well you’d better make sure.  You don’t want another Spun Glass massacre on your hands.”

Mom:  “I will just be sure to tell the kids not to touch it.”

Me:  “Oh yes, because that works so well…”

Mom:  “As long as they’re not a bunch of dumb-sh*#s it will be fine.”

IMG_1297

High 5-ing God.

One of my finer moments occurred this morning, when I woke up early to take Rea to the bus stop on my way to the gym.

Yes, you heard me; the GYM!

I even took a faraway parking spot, rather than taking the one right next to the handicapped spot, and opted to take the stairs as opposed to the elevator, so I wasn’t the fata** who got up early to go to the gym only to avoid walking and taking the stairs on the way to my workout.

Now, one might think that God would give me an awesome high-5 for all of my extra effort today, but instead God allowed me to trip and fall; my fata** flying and flailing all over the place.  Curse words were uttered and I may or may not have seriously injured my left, big toe.  It’s purple and it hurts.

The worst part?  I was going UP the stairs. Who falls going UP the stairs?!  There were only like 10 steps. I couldn’t handle going up 10 steps without falling this morning. That might be a new record for me…

Little Miss Size Zero, who had been skipping behind me, was trying not to crack a smile, nor fully make eye contact, when she asked me if I was okay. I just told her that I was fine; just not fully awake yet.

Of course I made a mental note to limp painfully every time I saw her in the gym the rest of the morning.

On top of all of this, I get into the gym to find out that it’s a 24 Hour Fitness Sport PLUS or some crazy thing and my membership is only the regular kind of 24 Hour Fitness, so I’m not even good enough for them unless I give them more money!

They generously let me workout for free this morning, possibly because they felt sorry for the Circus Act performance on the stairs that they may or may not have also been able to see (I’m going to hope for my own sanity that they were not able to see)…

On a more positive note: I went to the gym this morning – YAY ME!

Nash’s Diary – November 6, 2013

IMG_0505Today was just like any other day; Momma Rea woke up and fed me, let me outside to do my business, and then put me back to bed with Mom and Kitten before she headed off to work.  Mom got to sleep in today since it was her day off, so we just settled in for a lazy morning.

As usual, Kitten was driving me completely crazy.  She just can’t seem to leave my tail alone.  She thinks it’s her own personal play-thing, and I’ve HAD IT!  The next time that white, furry, little, purring little PSYCHOPATH so much as puts a NIBBLE on my tail, I’m going flatulate the fires of HELL onto her precious little kitten face until she cries out for meow-ercy.

Wait…I think I just saw Mom move a little bit.  Her arm.  She’s stretching!  Okay, now if she reaches out for her rectangle-machine-ringy-thingy and starts staring at it for hours, then it’s time to get up.  Time to get up.  Did you hear me world?  It’s TIME TO GET UP!!!!!!

Awww shizzle.  Mom rolled over and farted.

We’re in for another hour at least.

F#*% YOU KITTEN and your CUTENESS!!!

(An hour later)

Well Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m proud to announce that we’re up and on the move!  We’ve made it as far as the living room.  But I will give Mom credit for having changed into the coat that she wears when she leaves the pack (aka; got dressed).  As usual, I was banished to my little, tiny square area on the floor, while Kitten aka; Her Royal Cuteness was allowed to go anywhere she f*#%ing pleased.  She was allowed to do her business in the house, curl up around Mom’s neck, sit on Momma’s lap.   She can even drool freely and do silent, smelly farts without being mocked for it!  And as if my life wasn’t unjust enough…

KITTEN!  Stop playing with my Jungle toys DAMN YOU!  That is MY Rhino!  You wouldn’t believe what that kitten just did.  She just bit my Rhino in the arse as hard as she could, and she looked me right square in the eye while she did it.  She was MOCKING ME!  Well F#*% you KITTEN and your CUTENESS!!!

……….

I just woke up from a nap, and was shocked to find Mom wandering around, looking rather ambitious.  I wonder what this is all about…?  Omg, omg, omg, OMG!  Did she just say what I think she just said?  No.  It can’t be.  It is.  Be still my heart.  Mom is holding a leash.  I cannot contain myself any longer.  A WALLLLLLLKKKKKKKKK!!!  WALK, WALK, WALK, WALK, WALLLLLLLLLLLKKKKKKK!

Oh Lord, I think I just pooped my pants.  Oh god, please don’t let me poop my pants right now or Mom won’t take me on a walk anymore, and that would just completely break my heart Lord, seriously.  No pee either.  Lord please help me hold the pee in until I get outside okay?  I promise I’ll be good from now on.  I promise.  Oh god, I feel some almost coming out.  Of both ends.  Oh jesus, please help me…Oh lord…

MADE IT!

Mom:  “Holy crap Nash, you were just outside an hour ago.  Are we feeding you too much or something?  Jeesh!  I’ve never seen a dog poop so much!”

Gosh Mom, you’re like so judgmental.  And it’s not like you’re one to talk!  I’ve seen you running to the john with your pants around your knees many a time, and have I told anyone about it?  No.  It’s between you and me.  But guess what?  You tell everybody about how much I poop, and about that one time when I had the stomach flu and I spray painted the bedroom furniture, or that other time when you put that other dog in a kennel next to me and that other dog got explosive diarrhea and shat all over me.  You thought that was so funny.  And you know what Mom?  That hurts.  How would you have liked to be shat on like that?  How would you like to be shivering in a dog kennel, covered in another dog’s shat?  And have your Mom laugh at you??  Oh forget it, let’s let bygones be bygones.  We’re going for a WALK!!!

Oh my goodness Mom, can you smell all of these glorious smells?  It’s like there’s been a million, trillion, zillion, quadrillion dogs and animals peeing out here all over these trees and bushes.  Maybe even Bigfoot!  I believe in Bigfoot, Mom.  I totally do.  I’ve smelled some urine that is so strong that there’s just no other explanation for it.  It has to be Sasquatch urine.  You know?  Bigfoot.  Omg it all just SMELLS SO GOOD!

The only thing that makes it better is adding my pee to it.  There’s just no way to even describe to you, Mom, the way it feels to lift my hind leg in the air and let my urine just flow, you know what I mean?  There’s nothing better.

Trot, Trot, Trot…

Sniff, Sniff, Sniff…

Pee, Pee, Pee…

All of a sudden Mom pulled the leash so hard all of a sudden I thought that my eyeballs might bulge out from whiplash.  It was really rather hostile if you ask me.

She hollered:  “NASH!  STOP PULLING ON THE LEASH!!”

Is it just me, or was that just completely and totally hypocritical?  Pop out my eyeballs and break my neck, just to yell at ME for pulling?  What is this world coming to?  Animals just have no rights at all, I tell you what?!

Mom:  “NASH if you don’t stop pulling we’re going to go back home!  You’re BETTER than this!  Stop PULLING on your MOMMA!”

Oh god, now she’s just trying to shame me.  This always works.  Even though I know better, I always fall for it.  I have a bleeding heart, what can I say?  Alright Mom, sorry.  I’ll try not to be such a terrible, horrible dog who is ONLY just TRYING to be happy and enjoy life for ONCE!  I’ll go back to being the sad, miserable, depressed middle-aged bastard who just lies around waiting to die.  As you wish.  As YOU wish…

Two can play at this game!  HA HA!

Amidst all of the excitement and stimulation, I was getting to get a bit of low blood sugar.  Hopefully Mom remembered to bring treats, because it seemed to me that we were getting pretty far from home.  Oh good, Mom’s slowing down so it looks like we’re going to take a break.  Next to a store no less, so treats look to be on the way.  Very Promising indeed.  Yep-yep-yep.  Looks to be a good day today, yes sirree.

Umm wait a minute, I’m not going to jump to conclusions, but it seems like Mom may be tying me to some kind of metal thing.  Why would she do that?  I can’t remember this ever being part of the plan before?  She hasn’t watched that show “Dexter” in a while, has she?  Oh dear god!  Not Dexter!  She seems like she’s in a good mood though, so I don’t think she wants to stab me in the heart or anything like that.  She’s talking to me nicely too, so that’s always a good sign.  She’s just called me “good dog” for no apparent reason, so either she really, really loves me or…

Oh god.  There she goes.  She’s backing away slowly.  She’s walking away.  Oh no…

She’s telling ME to stay while SHE’S walking away.

This doesn’t look good.

She’s a runner.

After 9 years she’s abandoning me.

This.  Can’t.  Be.  Happening.

At a QFC?  Really Mom?  A QFC?

You couldn’t have picked someplace a little more homey like, say, Martha Stewart Living or something like that?  You could have at least brushed me first!  I must look a mess.  Who’s going to adopt me now?  I’m old.  Unkempt.  Mildly overweight.  Socially awkward.  Oh god Mom, WHYYYYYY?  WHYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!

Wait, someone’s coming.  Maybe it’s her.  Maybe it’s Mom, coming back to me.  Why won’t my neck stretch any higher?  God, my neck isn’t tall enough?  Could be Mom, no, it looks more like a man, but Mom has short hair, no, that’s definitely a man.  Wait, it could be mom.  Taller but, almost short enough, but just too far away to tell…no, no, it’s not her.  I see a beard.  Well shiznit.  All this waiting around for Mom is just wearing me out!  I’m just gonna lie down here on the sidewalk and take a little snooze.

5 minutes Later…

I heard a noise!  Oh gosh it’s been hours and hours and hours at least!  I’m dying here by the grocery store!  I’m starving!  I’m parched!  I feel like the Good Samaritan.  I mean, what if I were Jesus, you people?  What if I were JESUS!  People keep walking by, but they’re not helping me, and they’re definitely NOT my MOM!

Wait.  I see a new group starting to walk over the hill.  I’m craning my neck to see.  I see two people, with a little one being carried on top.  Boy, that really looks like fun!  None of them are Mom.  But wait!  I might see Mom behind them, in the middle; behind them.

I arose and my body tensed in alert.  I couldn’t even help it, because just to see Mom’s face, even after her abandoning me all of these hours all alone, tied up around a piece of metal at the QFC parking lot, forgetting all about me; I just love that woman with all of my heart and soul and my whole, entire, 9 year old dog body broke out in a smile.  My tail was wagging, my head was shaking, my feet were dancing.  It was revival breaking out all up in the grocery store parking lot!

The cute little family who were walking in front of my Mom thought that my Welcome Home Mom Dance was all for them and they were all giggling and trying to get out their rectangle-machine-ringy-thingies to take a video of my antics.  Once they realized that my Mom was walking right behind them then they all really had a laugh.  Some other people who were standing near the scene were laughing also.

Mom came running and gave me a hug, because she was overcome with my cuteness.  Human folks broke out in applause.

I’m not kidding.

What can I say?

I mean, other than…

F#*% YOU KITTEN and your CUTENESS!!!

You didn’t even get to go for the most awesome walk ever with Mom, so THERE!