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Strolling through nature’s beauty

It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter (in all senses both literal and metaphorical). The arrival of spring has us all but dancing around with cartoon wildlife. Never has a return to normal life and pleasant temperatures been more highly anticipated than this year, I’m thinking.

And never has there been a happier canine than one Spoiled Rotten Licorice, who is reaping the benefits of our spring-drunkeness in spades. The nice thing about a tiny little mutt like her—12 pounds of terror, man—is that she doesn’t HAVE to have a daily walk. She’s not an insane breed whose brain goes berserk without proper exercise, plus (let’s face it), at her size, we can toss a ball in the house or let her out into her run and she can get all the exercise she really needs. Still, walks are ZOMGEXCITING and lately she’s getting a walk every day.

Is there anything more soothing, more American, more simultaneously meditative and invigorating than clipping a small animal to a rope and then alternately dragging her/being dragged around outside on a beautiful afternoon? THERE IS NOT.

It has gotten to where as soon as anyone starts putting on shoes, the dog starts dancing around in little circles. (more…)

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Comments { 45 }

Things which are scary

When I was about Chickie’s age, I was busy chewing my way through everything Stephen King ever wrote. The freakier and scarier, the better. This came up when I tried to convince Otto to watch Bates Motel with me the other night; he’s not so much a fan of a series that is fairly unapologetic about the amount of blood and gore, whereas I love it. I found myself explaining that—for me—there is catharsis in stories filled with terror. I get to experience all the fear/loathing/panic my body can handle WITHOUT having to relate it to my own particular life, and afterward, somehow my brain goes, “Well, then. We’re fine. Thank goodness none of that stuff was happening to US!” And I walk away happier.

Apparently that’s odd…? Like, most people read/see scary stuff and it just freaks them out? I’m now wondering if I am the only person who enjoys freaking myself out this way and feels fine, after. (Example: I watch Bates Motel, I can happily move on with my life when it’s over. But I have a real-life encounter like the last one I told you about and I’m disturbed and squicked out for days.

This tells me that fear is relative (duh). So here are a few other recent frightening things: (more…)

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Comments { 53 }

Minutiae for your Monday

I have a variety of not-long-enough-to-be-a-complete-post stories which are either 1) still interesting enough for sharing or 2) mind-numbingly dull but I don’t realize that and insist you must know, and therefore that shall result in this, a disjointed mishmash of unrelated things all in one place. It’s just like my junk drawer! Only with more words and fewer pen caps!! (Moral of this story: If you need a paperclip and a button, I’m your gal.)

There’s a slight twinge of remorse here that I don’t have a more exciting life or whatever, but on the other hand, I got up this morning and brought up Facebook and was immediately presented with several hundred of my closest friends (haaaaaaaa) complaining about snow. And I’m not doing that! This is going to be WAY more interesting (to me)!

Though—speaking of weather—we had a gray, rainy weekend, and nothing makes me adore my spoiled rotten dog more than a few days of rain. While her lovable traits are numerous, the fact that she will leap at the door as if bladder explosion is imminent (ZOMG MUST GO OUT NOW NOW NOW OPEN THE DOOR I’M DYING!!!), then will poke her head out onto the porch once the door is opened, listen to the rain for a moment, and flounce back inside, all, “Just kidding, did you know it was RAINING out there? I just had my hairs did. I’ll just flop down on your couch and cross my legs for a while and take a nap,” is endlessly hilarious to me. This is a dog who was picked up as a stray, clearly in terrible shape. What have we done over the last three+ years that now has her convinced she’s far too delicate to even get WET? (more…)

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Comments { 41 }

Weekend fun

And here we understand “weekend fun” to be synonymous with “dog torture.”

Licorice really, really, REALLY wants a walk from woulda on Vimeo.

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Comments { 9 }

Licorice declares it best Christmas ever

Q: Mir, are you totally phoning it on your blog while you soak up the good moments with your girl and weather the rest of the emotional storm that is a still-not-entirely-well kid with a wicked case of homesickness who isn’t dealing well with the fact that she has to leave again in a few days?

A: Yes. Yes, I am. Sorry (I’m not sorry).

Oh, look, it’s a very happy doggie on Christmas morning:

And this is what I just found while packing up the Christmas stuff:

Moral of the story: Sometimes love hurts.

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Comments { 22 }

NOT how we’re ending this stupid year

Praise the lord and pass the libation of your choosing; this awful, awful year is almost over. As Monkey might say: DANCING TIME!

Just a couple more weeks and change. And then we can kick 2012 in the rear and everything will be better. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA. (Who, me? Hysterical laughter? I don’t know what you’re… oh, shut up. I’m entitled to a little hysteria these days. The logical part of my brain knows that flipping over the calendar isn’t necessary going to lift the Curse of 2012 from Casa Mir, but you just hush up and let me have my fantasy, mmmkay?)

I can see the finish line. I can practically taste it. (It tastes like peppermint, and relief.) We just have to get there.

In the meantime, we keep on keepin’ on. Otto has finished classes for the semester. Monkey finished Virtual School and has just a couple of days of Hippie School left. I’m working away (in my NICE CLEAN OFFICE, don’t you dare put that down in here, dude, it’s CLEAN and I don’t want your mess). The tree is going up this weekend, travelers are poised to travel, and all is as it should be.

Or, at least, I thought it was. (more…)

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Comments { 60 }

Poor little daft princess

Licorice is having kind of a tough week.

First there was the long holiday weekend, which meant people were home all the time—YAY!—and then strangers were here—BOO! Except FOOD! YAYYY!—and then people were home but the doorbell was ringing a lot.

We’ll never know what Licorice’s life was like before she came to us, but I strongly believe at some earlier point in her development, every time the doorbell chimed, someone kicked this sweet little pup in the face. It’s the only explanation I can think of that justifies the way she loses her ever-lovin’ mind whenever someone comes to the door. She runs in circles and barks her head off and generally has a mighty conniption. (Yes, we’ve taken her to training. Yes, I can get her to shut up and sit down when she’s doing it, but as soon as I stop LOOKING DIRECTLY AT HER she goes back to freaking out, and as I find it kind of funny I haven’t bothered working on it further with her. I know, I’m a terrible, negligent doggy-mama.)

And, see, ’tis the season of Amazon Lightning Deals, which means the UPS guy is here a LOT. Also the FedEx guy, sometimes. (more…)

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Comments { 31 }

Kibble eater, butt-sniffer, guest lecturer

Licorice was invited to come speak at Hippie School, today.

Well, okay. TECHNICALLY she was just invited to come in. I think the understanding was that she probably wasn’t going to talk. But part of the fun of Hippie School is that they do a lot of hands-on stuff, and that means that while they’re doing a unit on animals, the kids get to bring in their pets. Super fun, right?

[Sidebar: For this unit Monkey is doing a research project on badgers. I don't know how he decided that this was the animal he wanted to research, but now I know more about badgers than I ever wanted to or thought necessary. He's become a badgerholic. A total badger freak. ("Did you know they've recorded a 75 pound badger? That's the heaviest weight for a terrestrial mustelid!" And to think I might've missed learning that.) I was tempted to dress the dog up like a badger, but I was afraid Monkey might get mad at me.]

The problem, of course, is that Licorice is a nervous car rider. (more…)

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Comments { 16 }

Not actually a post

I kind of left you hanging, this week. I’m sorry. I would tell you all about it, but I’m currently still in the “I hate everyone and everything” phase on several fronts, so give me a few more days to return to some semblance of humanity.

In the meantime, here’s a dog:

She says she absolutely was NOT sleeping in the sun when I crept up on her, and she was NOT attempting to lick the drool off her whiskers when I insisted on taking her picture. Also, I love how even she is giving me the hairy eyeball. GET IN LINE, LICORICE.

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Comments { 26 }

Slobber therapy

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled Reporting On Very Serious And Also Fairly Depressing Things to bring you this important update on where we stand in my campaign to convince Otto we need another dog*.

Mario’s family went away for the weekend, and so we had Kaiser here with us for a couple of days. (You remember Kaiser! He is Licorice’s boyfriend and partner in random barking, as featured in this post about our recent camping adventures.) I was thrilled because next to Licorice, Kaiser is perhaps my favorite dog. And I figured they would play together and it would be delightful. And also I am not very smart.

Shortly after Kaiser was dropped off, we had to head off to the hospital and leave the dogs alone for a while. But this was wonderful; they’d have each other to hang out with, and no one would be lonely. At least, this is what I told myself as we were pulling out of the driveway and we could still hear Kaiser barking.

“I’m sure he’ll stop once he realizes we’re gone,” I said to Otto, who was giving me A Look. “He WILL,” I insisted. “I’m sure he will. There, I can’t hear him anymore! Problem solved!”

“We’re a block away,” my darling husband pointed out.

“Shut up,” I replied, lovingly. (more…)

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Comments { 27 }
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