1) Last Saturday morning, I decided I would do yoga in my own house. So I unrolled my cutesy little mat and popped in my yoga DVD. I was completely color coordinated; from mat to clothes to ponytail holder, of course. Lily was having a panic attack.......yes, the dog has a major anxiety disorder. She cries and headbutts things and pulls her toenails out with her teeth. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus so I gave Lily a Valium (her prescription. not mine. i know what you were thinking). I marched back to my mat and got in my best mountain pose. Ok....not my best. But I was making an effort. I was trying to focus. Trying to breathe. But that damn dog kept acting a fool. Soooooo.......I paused the video and gave her another Valium. Hey, I was trying to practice yoga. I needed focus. Back to mountain pose.....breathing.....sun salutations.....and then the yoga instructor on the video breaks out into what can only be described as trials for the Olympic gymnastics team. I stood and watched her for a moment. And when I grew tired of standing, I flopped myself down on the couch. Pretty soon, Oscar (the cat) came along and started napping on my yoga mat. And I just sat on the couch like a slug and watched Ms. Bendy McBenderson fold herself over and tie herself in knots. She was on a beautiful secluded beach in the Bahamas. I was in my living room with a dog having a panic attack and a sleeping cat. I wanted wine. And Mexican Food. That is when I discovered that, for me, yoga is something to only be practiced in a studio where other people are around me focusing and doing yoga also. I am too easily distracted on my own. Basically....I can't be trusted. This leads me into my next rambling.....
2) Ok, yeah......I drugged Lily Saturday. I shouldn't have. I realize that now. But damn. Enough is enough. She was still acting a fool when I left the house a couple of hours after forcing pills down her throat so I assumed she was fine. When I came strolling in the door about 7:30 that night, I was greeted by an angry husband who was pointing to Lily and asking "what did you do to my dog". At first I denied doing anything to her. But one look at her high-as-a-kite demeanor and blood red, drooping eyes and I knew I was busted. I told him I had given her a pill. But he wouldn't leave it alone. He wasn't buying that one pill had caused her drunk state. So I had to come clean and admit to giving her two. He was ranting about my cruelty and selfishness and calling the humane society and even PETA to report me.......blah, blah, blah. I was half listening/half tuning him out. The dog has major psychotic episodes. Not unlike my own. And maybe, just maybe that is how I know when she needs the aid of drugs. Anyway, after I watched her stagger around and fall off the furniture, I did indeed begin to feel lower than the ground. What kind-of monster am I?! Charlie, in his pissed off state, finally scooped Lily up and told me with an indignant air that he and Lily were going to bed. Good night, good riddance. Sunday all seemed to be forgotten. So that is why me causing her to have a concussion and bite her lip on Monday morning was REALLY not received well. It was not my fault. I was taking her to daycare for the week. Charlie is gone, I can't control her, she goes to daycare....that's the way it works. I had to slam on my brakes in traffic....Lily went flying into the dash and ended up underneath the dash. When I finally pulled her out, she was shaking her head back and forth like crazy and her bloody tongue kept darting in and out of her mouth. I had to tell the daycare lady what happened. And later I had to break the news to Charlie. Who blamed me, of course. And he told me that he would be repurchasing a new doggy seat belt and I would be using it in the future. Fabulous. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Lily is just fine now.
3) Yesterday afternoon when I got home from work, Hank was napping in the front yard. I walked down to the mailbox and saw Hank stir and noticed him intently watching something across the road. It was T. Oh lucky, lucky me. I called Hank's name. He ignored me. I called him a few more times. More ignoring. He was watching T and his new crack whore girlfriend walk across their yard. I called Hank again. And what did he do? He darted across the road to visit T. Naturally. That's when T hollered at me and said, "his name is Jake. if you call him Jake, he will listen". Really?! He is MY dog.....I guess I know what his name is. It's Hank. About that time, Teen Mom and Teen Dad's three raggedy ass, dirty-as-a-pond little rodent children came running of their house sing-songing "Jake". And then in the next second all three grotesque, dirty little monsters were hanging all over Hank.....hugging him, kissing him, trying to ride him. And Hank is standing there wagging his tail like he's in heaven. Later that night when Hank came to the door, I told him good riddance....that if he chose the white trash neighbors over me to just go on and live somewhere where he would get fleas and worms and eat Old Roy. Because quite frankly being a traitor doesn't go over well with me. Even in the canine world. When I left for work this morning, Hank was asleep on T's front porch. Such loyalty. Currently? He's asleep on his bed in my living room floor. I can't play hardball forever.
4) Everyone knows that Charlie and I live like college kids in a dorm. We have a neat, clean house....courtesy of a housekeeper. Because left to our own devices, I'm not sure what would occur. Anyway, we do everything separate. We do our laundry separate. I do mine and he does his. We grocery shop separately. I buy my stuff and he buys his. Etc, etc. This is the way our marriage has played out. Odd...peculiar...strange? Perhaps. But we have been together longer than anyone else I know (my age, that is). So it works. He was home all of last week so we tried to coexist and share to the best of our abilities. But then we came to blows over a box of granola bars that I purchased. ME. That means they were MY granola bars. Charlie tried to say they were his because he bought them. But I just purchased them a couple days prior. What other married couple fights over a box of granola bars? Seriously....its a like a preschool class in this house! But this week......the man took it one step too far. Now I know that granola bar possession seems like a petty, ignorant thing. And it is. Truly. But this week I am holding a massive grudge against my husband for what I feel is a perfectly good reason. I accidentally swiped the debit card to his account instead of the one to my account a couple of days ago. Charlie called me from Chicago and told me was looking at his bank statement online and noticed a strange $15 charge. I told him it must have been me.....that I swiped his card by mistake. His response? "Well...I am transferring that $15 from your account into mine". Seriously? That is what I asked him...."seriously?!" He said "yes, because it was my $15". Ok, now we are being selfish/fighting over $15. I would like to think had he been the one to make the mistake, I would have been the bigger person and ignored the $15. But considering the granola bar incident, I'm not so sure. This, my friends, is why there are no children involved. We can't conduct ourselves like responsible adults. Much less add a child to the equation.
5) I love my best friend, Jennifer. I seriously love this chick. We "get" each other. We have spent the better part of the week discussing our age and age-related issues. I got my face pumped full of Botox on Monday. We have to laugh about that. I know it has to be funny when she looks at me and notices my eyebrows are sitting up higher. And we have been smacked with the realization that we are 35 and guess what that means? Mammogram time. Yep, we are both getting ready to get our baseline mammograms. HOORAY! As if it wasn't bad enough that we already had the yearly molestation that is a pap smear and breast exam and pelvic exam to look forward to, we now get to endure a mammogram also. And what is even better? We work and are friends with the people performing our mammograms. So basically we get to go to work and disrobe and let everyone stare at our breasts. Once again, hooray! And while Jennifer has normal sized boobs....mine need their own zip code. They are already the topic of many conversations and the butt of many jokes. And now I get to share them with my coworkers. Heck, it won't be long before we start getting yearly Dexa scans too. We are both probably already osteopenic and on the verge of a fracture. Which will happen to one of us at a completely random time. Like during yoga. Or just sitting drinking wine. Or while we are eating chips and salsa. Hey, we are just that talented. Ohhhh.....and her doctor told her she needs to go back to yoga because it improves her personality. And my doctor told me I need to meditate daily to improve my personality. Does that mean we both have significant personality disorders? I think so.....
6) Some nice lady from housekeeping came up to me today in the hospital cafeteria and said "honey, you don't have kids do you". I told her no. Her reply? "I already know you don't. I knew it. Because you strut in here everyday with your make-up all done and your hair all perfect with your cute clothes on. If you had some kids at home, you wouldn't be looking like that". Huh? I didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or insult so I just laughed. To which she replied, "have some kids and you won't be looking all perfect anymore. People with kids don't have time for all that". Ummm.....ok. Apparently she didn't notice the muffin top I had going on with my scrub pants. THEN she would have probably thought I had already given birth to about three kids and failed to lose the baby weight! Thank God for scrub jackets that cover up that sort-of thing!
7) Apparently it rains Xanax from the sky that is me. I'm like a tree....and my pollen is Xanax. It just drifts off of me, I think. A couple of years ago, I gave a bag to a coworker. She shook it out and was preparing to put her stuff in it. Apparently one of my little blue "friends" fell out of the bag and she found it in her hallway. She had convinced herself that her teenage daughter was using drugs and was having the drug talk with her. Kind-of an ugly mix-up....but it resolved itself. Today while having dinner with Jenn, she told me she found a pill in the bag I gave her a week or so ago. She said it was blue. I told her it was Xanax. It's like my fairy dust.....I'm just sprinkling the earth with it trying to make people happy. What makes that girl my best friend? Because she said "I kept it because I figured it was Xanax. I'm going to take it". She truly has my heart. She is usually the wino....leaving the pills to me. But occasionally I enter wine territory so it's about time she leap into the land of Xanax. It really is like Oz here.......
Enough rambling. Maybe I've gotten it out of my system for awhile.
Hugs & kisses!!!! xoxoxoxo
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