The last day

I’m waiting but I don’t mind waiting in the microcosmic sense of the word. Those short stints of waiting: in front of the school a few afternoons a week; in check out lines at the grocery store. I have a file of articles pulled from magazines to read in the car for the after school wait and I amuse myself reading tabloid covers at the store. If I’m waiting at home there is always some sort of ’net entertainment. I don’t like waiting in the macrocosmic sense. You know, waiting for the big stuff: like the end of the Bush era, or for vacations to start.

Why am I content to wait? I think it’s twofold: My job is terribly time dependent. Medicines must be given at scheduled times. Tasks and duties must be preformed within a prescribed time. They simply must.. Rather than being a clock controlled freak at home, I work at not over scheduling my life and if I have more than three things I MUST DO OR THE WORLD WILL STOP SPINNING on my days off, I‘m pissy and angry about it. Today for instance, is the last day of the year and the boys are with me. Wally stayed out until about God only knows when last night and is still asleep; Beav gorged himself on The Sims until about that time so they have both just now rousted themselves to a waking state at the bright and early hour of 1pm (hey, it‘s 0600 in New Zealand!). I was waiting on them to get up so we could do something together. Maybe see this movie . Maybe go to the mall so they could spend some of their Christmas cash

What did I do while I was waiting? I read a few blogs, chatted with friends; goofed off at facebook. I could have been in the chilly basement making scrap pages or revamping some frames I’m using in a home dec project. I could have even gone to my second favorite crack dealer--the fabric store--but I didn’t. The only thing on my To-Do list for today I’ve come close to tackling is writing a blog entry. The two more important things on the list involve thinking about nursing stuff and aren’t terribly interesting. They’ll get done. Eventually.

So am I procrastinator? I don’t think of myself as one because I have places in my life where things must be done. The boys must be places, I have to show up at work on time and preform my duties on time. When I was in school, I didn’t wait until the last minute to study for tests or write papers. If that had been my approach, I would be flippin’ burgers and living in a trailer park. I’m not smart enough to fake my way through school. My Quaker ancestors would think of me as a lazy but then that was the 17th century and I’m not growing my own food or clearing land or fending off Indians. So I have time on my hands to see what my invisible friends are thinking about today; bantering and/or arguing with them. What a lush life.

This being said, last week I made up my mind to be more productive in the new year because I’m about to morph into one of the a Wall-e character. I’m promising myself every day off I will do something physical. Physical beyond pushing the vacuum cleaner or opening the ‘frig door. This will require getting up earlier than 9ish. Working out, walking and going to yoga has been spotty for me but once I do them, I feel much better; my body and soul feel lighter. After the physical is accomplished, I will tackle the creative. The joy I felt those few days before Christmas when I made my sister’s gifts did more for my soul and my state of mind than hundreds of hours in therapy. She loved them by the way. Loved them! I have plenty of projects to occupy me without spending loads of money. Which circles my third goal to eliminate debt and save enough money to go here next year. My fourth goal, to develop a much needed habit of daily meditation and gratitude journaling will--from a metaphysical standpoint--bring me closer to the end of the debt and closer to Spain.

I know I can reach all of these goals. I’m mapping them out day by day. Besides, if I can quit smoking and wean off the nicotine patch the first six months of 2008 and I can do anything. It will take some adjustment to the daily
to-do list extending beyond two items. Fortunately, they aren't chores so it isn't like I'm resolving to poop scoop everyday!

But in the meantime, it’s still 2008 and I have time to check my email and poke around Craigslist before I get busy, right? The last day of my procrastinating life feels much like the last day I was a smoker who smoked cigarettes. Good. I am reveling in my hanging out. It feels good to wait. But unlike smoking I will be able to endulge myself now and again with hanging out and doing nothing. Unless I'm truly addicted to hanging out and doing the bare minimium and that would be bad.

Today’s passage from Manifest Your Desires starts with these words: “Be easy about all of this. Life is supposed to be fun, you know.”

It is supposed to be fun!

My Glass? It's half full but sits precarously close to the edge of the table

Bringing people Figgy Pudding and decking the halls is always a stretch for this Grinchy McScrooge and because this year has been wrought with challenges; I'm slogging my way towards next Thursday. Like many people, I use this time of year to take stock and plan for the next year so since Thanksgiving, I have rehashed the bad things rather than rehearse all that is good about my life. Last week, I hit bottom when I had an anxiety attack because I had to unexpectedly leave the house. A simple trip to the grocery store turned into an ordeal. Scary, eh? I’ve been down the agoraphobic path and it isn’t one I want to revisit. Teetering on the brink of a depression that would make 1999 look like a case of the blues and 1979 a trip to Disneyland; I pulled out my trusty copy of Power of Intention and Feel Good Workbook as an attempt to recreate what happened in 2008.

1. February: After we Returned from Mexico, Ward kicked Wally out of the house. Wally was devastated, threatening to spin out of control and frightened; I was angrier at Ward and Alexis than I‘have ever been in my life. I felt punished because I took a vacation.

What really happened: Wally and I grew closer. I tapped into strength I didn’t know I had and was able to maturely put aside my anger and negotiate terms with Ward and Alexis.

2. June: We were robbed and with my computer, most of our jewelry was taken. The worst part was sweet Kipper was traumatized. We lost sentimental pieces of no value to anyone but ourselves. My extensive and valuable collection of vintage jewelry, gone. The process of documenting what was lost: going through pictures and sending them to strangers at the insurance company felt more invasive than the break in.

The other side of this: The Girl had hidden her late mother’s wedding band and some jewelry I gave her last Christmas. The robbers managed to miss a one of a kind custom necklace. More importantly, I learned we have wonderful neighbors who stopped by to make sure we were OK and extend their sympathy after word got out we were robbed. Two of my co-workers gave me lovely pieces of jewelry just because they had heard about the robbery. (I still get teary when I think of those gifts.) Most importantly, no one was home when it happened. Finally, we have another tax write-off.

3. June: My assigned unit closed due to low census and my income dropped by 10% until just recently. Not only was my unit closed but there wasn‘t enough work for any of us. With gas at an all time high and food costing an arm and a leg, the economic picture at Chez Cleaver was grim.

Flip side: I only worked two days a week and had at least two days a week to do whatever I pleased. It was like retirement! I had time to write, mess around with art projects, scrapbook and just hang out. I discovered the joy of Pilates and Yoga. What did I do without? I stopped making unnecessary trips in my elderly gas guzzler, I practiced the economy of: “Why am I buying this? Is it necessary or am I fulfilling some other need? “ Seriously, did the Cleaver’s do without? Nope.

4. October: My mother died.

Another version: My mother is no longer suffering chronic physical pain nor is she suffering under the weight of guilt surrounding her 40 plus nicotine addiction and how it altered her quality of life and along with it my father’s quality of life. I was blessed with reconnecting with family and longtime friends. I realized how much people care for us through their acts of kindness and caring. Most importantly, I fell in love with The Girl all over again.

5. November: The economy completely melted down and took 50% of my retirement savings with it.

The big picture: I am still employed and Obama is going to be president and Clinton will be Secretary of the State. Life is looking sweet.

6. November: My son joined the military. He wants to join the medical corp and work with Marines on the battlefield.

What really happened: He has a sense of purpose and figured out all on his own without wasting five figures, school is not his gig. (I previously beat this point to a pulp)

These are just the big things. This year was one tiny cluster fuck after another. Lucky for you rehashing them bores the crap out of me, much less anyone reading this. It was like the Universe was Hell bent on gas lighting me. It could be worse: We are healthy, employed and I love my family more than ever. And best of all? For the first time EVER in his WHOLE life, Beav gets up for school without drama. Before? It was as if I had asked him to cut his arm off with a dull knife or clean the fish tank.

One of my imaginary friends linked this video a few weeks ago and the expressions worn by Hardrock, Cocoa, Joe and Santa match how I’m feeling about Christmas. I swear, Hardrock looks like he is doing community service time.


It isn't any surprise, after losing a couple of weeks to melancholia and then seven days working away from melancholia; I’m a bit behind the eight ball as far as Christmas preparation goes. Even though I lost those precious days off, I wouldn’t back away from commitment to making half of the presents. I hit my crack dealers on Tuesday, and yesterday was an arts and crafts extravaganza at my house.


My gifts rock. But I’m not posting pictures; I don’t want the gifts leaked to my sister and I haven’t a clue if she knows about my blog. The buttons offer a hint. I love my gifts so much, I considered getting her a gift card and keeping these things for myself.

My family arrives next week and I’m preparing for four additional people in my house. I’m not one for a jamboree so this is rattling me a bit. Given the tenuousness of my recent emotional state; the urge to take to my bed a la Alice James has occurred to me on a couple of occasions. I battle The Urge To Nap by kicking into Type A mode; lists are made, tasks divided. Just to make things more interesting, my unit has reopened and I’m scheduled to work the next three days.

Naturally.

Kipper Q. Dogg

OH HAI, MAH NAMEZ IZ KIPPR AN IS JUNECLEAVERS DAWG BUT IM NOT EDGY. I LUV MAH MOMS, THAY GIMMIE TREATS. TONITE I GOT 2 LICK PIE TIN CLEAN. I DID GUD JOB, TEW. BUT MAH MOMS TEASE MEZ AN TELL MEZ IF I WORE PANTS THAY WUD BE BELTD UNDR MAH ARM PITZ CUZ MAH BELLY IZ SEW GUD. SEW I SHOWD TEHM, I WENT 4 WALK YEZTERDAI ALL BY MAHSELF! IS VRY SMART DAWG AN WENT OUTSIDE 2 TEH HOOJ FIELD BEHIND MAH YARD. IT SMEZLLD SEW GUD, TEW. I CUD SMEZLL TEH SNOW IN TEH AIR. I KNEW IT WUZ GOIN 2 SMEZLL BE4E MAH MOMS KNEW IT. TODAI I PLAYD IN TEH SNOW. I HAD EXERCIZE SEW I CUD HAS PIE. MAH MOM DIDNT EXERCIZE AN SHE HAD PIE. IF SHE DOESNT STOP EATIN PIE SHE WILL HAS 2 WEAR HER PANTS UNDR HER ARM PITZ LIEK MEZ.

I know, I know. LOL Cat speak is possibly one of the most ridiculous internet memes. But Kipper isn’t as smart as my friend's dog who speaks as if he were the product of a first tier southern university. He certainly isn’t as smart as this dog. Kipper speaks in LOLCat.

I love Kipper, so Monday almost killed me when I heard the tearful: “The dog is gone!!” when the girl opened the door to let the dog in. He’s escaped before and has been gone for hours; the other day it had only been about fifteen minutes so the search wasn't too hard. I found him in the open space behind our house, nose to the ground, tail up in the air, rapt in a smelly treasure. At first he didn‘t respond to my calls and I know he heard me. But when he finally looked up at me, the joy on his face was infectious. I found myself laughing at him and encouraging him to come to me versus yelling and telling him he was a bad dog for leaving the yard. As Kipper ran towards me, ears flapping back, tongue out of his mouth I could almost hear him say:

“MOM! DIS AR TEH SO KEWL! I LUV DIS PLACE! I GAEV MYSELF WALK! I SMELL OTHR DAWGS! I SMELL BUNNEHS! I SMELL DOSE TRICKY RACOONS!“

Kipper is a sweet dog, he means well but he is incorrigible. I blame myself of course. I’m the one who ignores the begging behaviors and laughs at him when he barks for his supper. Tonight, I give him a pie tin to finish off the bits of crust and pumpkin.

In early 1999, I was running some useless errand with The Beav and bribed him with a trip to the “Fish Store” as a vain attempt to belay the whining and flailing because we were going to Home Depot or some place terribly important like The Rack. At the pet store, Beaver dried his tears and ran back to the fish tanks so I amused myself wandering around, mindlessly looking around at things I hadn’t any use for, when I came upon this massive cage holding one little white pup. He looked like an albino Golden Retriever puppy. All by himself, head neatly placed on his front paws lost in some sort of reverie and when he saw me stop, he looked at me expectantly, light blue eyes softening as we continued to look one another over. I was in love. All the advice of “wait until your youngest child is in first grade…having a puppy is like having a baby, are you ready…?“ flew out the window because I was gobsmacked with love. I think I fell in love with this dog faster than I did my kids; and about as fast as I did The Girl. Before I told Ward about the dog, I took the boys back to the pet store and we played with the puppy. (Hey, I’m not stupid). That evening, after Ward was gobsmacked we took Kipper home and a new era was ushered in for me. I became a Dog Person.

Kipper is just like me and Wally: smart but not a great student. He flunked Puppy Kindergarten twice. He just won‘t stay if there is another dog to play with or a treat or a loved one nearby. Why should he? Being the elicit progeny of a border collie champion and a golden retriever champion, he herds, talks and will eat anything vaguely resembling food. As a puppy, he needed a job. One day, he moved the entire wood pile into the middle of the yard. I couldn‘t convince him to put it back it, either. Kipper loved to chase after the boys when they were small and he still plays tug-of-war but don’t count on him fetching and retrieving anything. Nope, that dog wouldn’t retrieve a ball to save--his favorite--Wally’s life.

Last year, we left our little crack shacks and moved into our new-old house. It’s the perfect setting for us, too. Only one neighbor can hear me yelling at the boys or the dog in the backyard we back to green space. The downside to this are the varmits. We have rabbits, squirrels, raccoons and--my favorite--coyotes. Kipper has this stupid bark when he sees a rabbit or a squirrel. Its the sort of Squeee bark of a dog who has just had his tail stepped on or his balls cut off without anesthesia. And then the poor animal runs sort of knock-kneed. Picture the most uncoordinated nerd in your fifth grade class and you have Kipper. Of course, his goofy yelping precludes him from ever catching a squirrel. Poor Kip, he didn’t get the adorable and useful creeping behavior his mother probably possessed. In fact, he probably would do as poorly as Jas’s tard dog did with sheep. A few weeks after we moved into the house, he did manage to get a baby rabbit. The poor creature barely had it’s eyes open and the inane squeeee barking probably made it’s brain explode. I don’t know who was more surprised, the dog or the boys. I think the boys stood on the porch gaping at him until someone finally called me:

“Mom! Kipper has a bunny! He finally caught a rabbit!“

I’m intrigued and wander to the back door. Yup, dog is in the middle of the yard with a tiny bunny in his mouth.

“SO WUT DO I DOEZ NAO? I JUS SCOOPD DIS UP INTO MAH MOUTH AN I DON’T K NAO WUT 2 DO! DO I EAT IT OR DO I DROP IT. MOM IZ TELLIN ME 2 DROP IT. BUT I DON’T WANTS 2 DROP IT CUZ I CAUGHT IT AN IT’S MINE. BUT IT FEELS FUNNY IN MAH MOUTH. IT FEELS LIEK MAH POUNCE BABY. I DON’T EAT POUNCE BABY, I LUV MAH POUNCE.“

TG very helpfully walked outside with a stick to try to get it out of his mouth. Um…yes…NO. He was not going to open his mouth on the command of “Drop it!“ Predictably he ran away from her. I call Wally outside, he’s a boy he likes disgusting things, maybe he’ll pull it out of the dog’s mouth.

“You want me to do what?…No way, that’s gross! And it‘s dead!“

Yeah, my heroes. Whatever. We were late for an orthodontist appointment and I couldn’t leave the dog to eat the bunny because that would be a disgusting mess when he threw it up or if he left bits on the back patio. I was upset we were late for the appointment and I was mad the dog had caught this poor baby so I stomped into the house, put some vinyl gloves on, stomped into the backyard, commanded the dog come to me. Of course he came to me, still stunned that he had actually caught something with all the stupid spastic barking.
“Y’all are all a bunch of pussy’s!” I scolded as I pried the dog‘s mouth open and popped out the corpse. I marched to the back fence, arm outstretched and threw it over the fence. I turned around and TG, Beav and Wally were now gapping at me. “Oh, please, I touch worse at work!” I still tease Wally about being such a baby about the dead rabbit.

So far, Kipper hasn’t even come close to another rabbit. My guess if he ever gets another one it will because he gives it a heart attack with the infernal barking.

We do have a witching hour at our house and it is only made worse by early darkness in the winter. The Spas-Dog behavior begins at about 4:30.
7:00 BARK AT MOMS CUZ I HAS 2 PEE! NAO! AN WHILE I’M UP, I NEEDZ 2 EAT NAO!!

7:15 FINISHD WIF BREAKFAST NAO IT’S TIEMZ 2 SNEAK INTO MAH BEDROOM. THAY CALL IT TEH GUEST ROOM BUT RLY, DAT’S MAH BED.

11:30 GO DOWNSTAIRS AN C WHA MOM IZ DOIN. USUALLY SHE IZ IN TEH BASEMEZNT PAINTIN SEWMEZTHIN AN YELLS AT MEZ WHEN I NUDGE HER. SEW I BARK AT HER TILL SHE LETS MEZ OUTSIDE. BUT FURST I HAS 2 PULL ALL MAH TOYS OUT OV TEH BASKET AN PUT THEM BY TEH BAKDOOR SO THEY CAN GO OUTSIDE AN ENJOY TEH GUD SMELLS.

12:30 I HAS 2 BARK AN BARK AN BARK 2 COMEZ INTO TEH HOUZ CUZ I’M THIRSTY FRUM CHAZIN DOSE DAMN BIRDZ DAT TEASE MEZ SEW MUTCH. I FINLEE LERND IF I JUS SIT STILL AN WATCH TEHM FLY AROUND, THAY WON’T BOTEHR MAH FUD. BUT IF I CHAZE WAN, TEH OTEHR WILL TAKEZ MAH FUD. BAD BAD BIRDZ!

12:35 SNEAK UP 2 MAH BEDROOM 4 NAP.

4:30 IT’S DARK. MUST BE TIEMZ 2 EAT. TIEMZ 2 EAT!! TIEMZ 2 EAT!! OMG IT’S TIEMZ 4 MAH DINNR. GIT MAH DINNR NAO GIT MAH DINNR NAO!! Y DOEZ SHE MAK MEZ GO OUTSIDE WHEN I’M ASKIN 4 DINNR. DOSE BOIS DON’T HAS 2 GO OUTSIDE WHEN THAY R NOISY.

4:40 BEG 2 COMEZ INSIDE

4:45 BARK SEWMEZ MOAR

4:55 GO BAK OUTSIDE IF I CANT EAT NAO, CAN MAH MANATEE GO OUTSIDE, HE NEEDZ 2 GO POTTY? NO? CAN MAH POUNCE BABY GO OUTSIDE? HE NEEDZ 2 GO POTTY! NO? CAN MAH SNOWMAN GO OUTSIDE, HE IZ SNOWMAN AN HE NEEDZ 2 GO OUTSIDE! NO!? HOW BOUT MAH SOUR. MAH DINOSOUR NEEDZ 2 USE TEH POTTY!!

5:05 COMEZ INSIDE AN ASK: WER IZ MAH DINNR IZ TIEMZ 4 DINNR WER IZ? IS HUNGRY DIS MINIT!

Kipper and I play this game for another ninety minutes until it is time for him to eat; or I’m insane from the barking and playing doorman and just feed him early. I thought the witching hour was bad with a toddler but winter with Kipper makes the hours between four and six with a two-year old Beaver look like a relaxing spa vacation.

I was without my boy for eight long years, and the idea of returning to a Kipper free life is unimaginable. After I left Ward, he wouldn’t let me have the dog. His argument was he would get too lonely if the dog left when the children were with me. Oh what--the fuck--ever. It wasn’t until Ward married Alexis Carrington Colby when I was allowed to have Kipper. Alexis and Kipper didn’t hit it off so he was relegated to the evil ex wife's house. Kip is panic stricken if we even tease him about returning to Alexis' house! More panic stricken than when the suitcases appear.

As I was writing this last night, the dog was sleeping on my feet when he heard the garage door open. He leapt to attention, grabbed his manatee and moved to sit squarely in the doorway so whoever was coming into the house would not miss the dog.

"IZ MAH OTHR MOMMY, OR MAYBE DOSE BOIS! I LUV OTHR MOMMY AN BOIS! MAYBE THEY WILL LET ME TAEK MAH MANATEE OUTSIDE! IF IZ TEH BOIS THEY WILL SAY OH HAI, AN PET ME AN PULAY TUG-OV-WAR WIF ME. BEAVR GIVEZ ME TREAT. WHEN OTHR MOMMY COMEZ IN SHE ALWAYS SEZ OH HAI 2 ME AN GIVEZ ME SNUGGLE!”

It’s the other mommy and yes, she gives him a snuggle even before she shuts the door.