The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

The Good:
Well, I'm in the new place. I've got some semblance of a routine going and I've actually cleared one couch off enough to sit on it. Last night, I even figured out that one of the "dead" switches turns an outlet on and off, so now I have a lamp that I can control from the front door. Oh! And the gas stove works....turns out it was just user error that kept me from making the Papa Murphy's pizza I bought for that first night.

Laney is a happy happy cat. I can't decide if it's the week long head start she had that makes her feel ownership over the place, or the subtraction of Tyson from her life...but she's a happy and outgoing and bossy cat. Last night, Blue was in my bedroom and wouldn't come when I called him. I made my voice stern as I commanded, "Blue come here now." He just looked at me nervously. I looked over to the right, and lying right by the path Blue would have to take to exit the bedroom, was Laney. It seems every time he would approach her, she would growl. I laughed. I guess we know who runs the house now.

I'm slowly clearing out the boxes that littered my house. I have a friend from college days coming to stay with me on Saturday, and the goal is for her to be able to navigate the place without having to move boxes around to get comfortable. I'm not sure I'll hit that goal, but I'll sure try. Last night was a HUGE step forward as I put together the new bathroom étagère and was actually able to get the bathroom stuff into the bathroom and up off the floor. This lead to one couch being cleared off, and actually being able to wear makeup to work today.

My boss's wife originally told me that one of the bonuses to the place I would live (that counterbalances the small space) is that I'm so close to Butler University. Even though I was already well acquainted with the campus, I thought she was just blowing me shit. Until I started walking the dogs. Seriously - WHOLE new respect for my alma mater. Now that I'm not just going from the house to class or class to class, and I'm roaming around the gardens and mall....it's gorgeous! I mean, I knew this, but I didn't KNOW this. Blue, Casey and I found a nifty little loop that takes us about 30 minutes in the morning and begins with a nice walk through Holcomb Gardens and ends with about 40 stairs back up to campus from the canal. Shady, picturesque, safe....seriously. SO worth my location. Maybe this will help me get over the sting of the ridiculous tuition I paid for four years and I'll start donating. Maybe.

The dogs are okay with sleeping in the (cool) basement. Why? Because...

The Bad:
Well, I don't have air conditioning, and I don't yet have screens in the newly painted windows. This is a HUGE BOO!!! While the mornings and evenings have actually been pleasant outside, my place has been stifling with no breeze and, um, no breeze. Ugh. Last night Blue literally melted off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. There is no other description for how he slowly slid to the floor. I would have laughed if I hadn't been trying to remain perfectly still in an effort to cool off. I took a poll, and all the animals decided that I should demand screens today or threaten bodily harm. Done.

There is no way to anticipate everything I need to get the house set up. I'm taking things one box at a time. I stumble across bathroom stuff and have no where to put it? Must purchase étagère. Too many books and nowhere to put a bookshelf? Must buy two Rubbermaid 18 gallon tubs. (and then go back for a third...) I'm currently facing random kitchen crap with nowhere to put it. (I don't have a junk drawer? Seriously? Who built a house with no junk drawer in the kitchen??) I'm thinking a rolling set of Rubbermaid drawers to put potholders/junk/spices in. That will be my purchase tonight and should help get rid of three or four more boxes. I will also get more wall anchors (the correct size this time) and screws to actually try and get pictures hung on the walls....

The Ugly:
The basement and I are still not good friends. However, I put all extra lamps down there, so we've reached an uneasy truce. Still. Large spiders that crunch when I kill them? (While sobbing "Ewwwwwww....ew, ew, ew" mind you) Not cool. I'm going to eventually need a dehumidifier, and have you SEEN how much those suckers cost? Ugh.

Oh, and while the washer and dryer are (finally) hooked up and functional, the washer will only wash with hot water. Odd you say? Why yes. Yes it is odd. You might think that perhaps the cold water that feeds the washer is not turned on. Well, I thought of that, and attempted to remedy the situation, only to find that the cold water doesn't actually have a valve to turn it on and off. Only a sad little stump that is apparently turned to the "off" position. Okay - pliers. Negative Houston. Okay - landlord. Plumber visiting tomorrow. I hope it's easily fixable because the laundry situation is becoming dire. (Oh, and here's a tip - don't try to shower after running an empty load in the washer that turns out to be full of hot water. Just a tip.)

While moving stuff into the place, and on death's doorstep, (cause of death - heatstroke) I took it upon myself to wonder why on earth the ceiling fan wasn't making much of a breeze. I mean, it was on high, and it's only about a foot and a half above my head... So Sunday night I stopped the fan to take a look at what might be wrong. Maybe it's going the wrong direction? A direction change yielded nothing. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the fan is jacked up my friends. Jacked. Up. It's like someone put the fan together from extra parts from about five other fans. The pieces all match, but three blades are angled to the left, and three blades are angled to the right - oh, and they're placed in alternating order. This means that the blades are effectively fighting themselves and not really creating any air flow at all. (This is also why it rocks maniacally from side to side when on high....but that's a whole other story.) I would normally just shake my head and laugh at this, but coupled with the lack of screens, it was enough to make me curse the previous tenant and demand reimbursement for the new brackets I purchased to "fix" the jacked up fan. The "fan fixing" experiment is going to be tonight. I'll keep you posted.

The "ride my bike to work" experiment was postponed to next week. There are just too many errands I'm running in the afternoons to pick up random crap to finish the apartment to justify riding my bike. (Although I'm sure I would look ridiculous with Rubbermaid containers strapped to my back. Worth considering, no?) I use that as the reason for the postponement, but in reality, it's the two flat tires that derailed my lofty goals. I'll get those fixed and get back to you.

I'm actually having quite a bit of fun getting settled in, jacked up fan or no. I just wish I could have all this fun while, you know, not working and stuff. After getting home, changing, walking the dogs, and then getting a bite to eat, there is woefully little time in the evenings to get crap put away. Still, progress is sometimes slow, and at least it's noticeable, right? I promise I'll get pictures up here when I'm not embarrassed of the state of my living quarters. (and, you know, when I get internet capabilities set up.)

Stay tuned for the update next week about the "mowing the lawn" experiment.

Updates

1) I have the best friends in the world, yo. I went into moving weekend thinking that I was so grateful for my friends coming to my aid with moving, but if worse came to worst, I would have been able to handle everything myself.

After watching those guys fit all of my furniture into the U-Haul like a jigsaw puzzle, not to mention wrestle a washer and dryer out of the basement (having to remove the basement door to get the dryer out) moving the new washer and dryer in, unload the furniture into the new (tiny) place, help me plan where to put the recliner (that barely fits...it barely fit through the door, actually) and THEN move the OLD washer and dryer to the boy's new place.... And do all of that with SMILES and LAUGHTER... well, there's no way I could have done that by myself. Buying them lunch and ice cream just doesn't express how very much I appreciate having them to rely on. It makes a single girl misty to know that she's not really that alone after all. (One guy even VOLUNTEERED for this madness....yes, Brad, I'm looking at you.) I'm so very lucky to have met these guys and I'm reminded of that with every act of generosity and kindness.

2) I have disrupted the lives of my children. Laney is already in the new place. I wanted her to have a chance to explore and take an ownership of sorts before I brought the dogs in. I'm not sure that she's actually taking advantage, though, because every time I'm there, she's tucked between the toilet and the bathtub. Maybe now that the furniture is in she'll be a bit more bold. I sure hope so, because we're coming down to crunch time, and the dogs are coming soon...

3) There is no right answer when moving animals. I moved Laney first, but she's obviously terrified alone in a new place without me. However, Casey freaked the HELL out with all these strange people in her apartment moving stuff out the door. She was barking pretty much constantly the entire time the boy moved his stuff on Saturday and I moved my stuff on Sunday. She calmed down a bit when she was let out to explore the emptied apartment, but she's still obviously on edge. Something's going on that she doesn't understand and she's not too happy about it. Blue, on the other hand, has obviously had disruption in his life before and come through it just fine because not only was he the most quiet one, I actually caught him snoozing amidst moving. Yay Blue!!

4) Remember when the boy loved his dog? Yeah, well, any sort of progress that Tyson has made has gone all to hell with the disruption of his routine. With Casey's barking, though constant, I could tell her to "sit" and "lie down" for a brief reprieve in the noise. Tyson has been pretty much foaming at the mouth for two days straight now, complete with whining/howling and heavy panting. At one point, one of my friends mentioned that he sounded like a horse with his panting. Like a neighing horse if that gives you any idea of how bad it was. When we had to move the items in his room, we put him in his crate since the door was standing open and he's the one dog that can't be trusted not to run off. Boy he loved that! Enough to empty his bowels for the boy to clean up. This morning, when putting him in his room as usual (no crate - it's already been moved,) he was immediately freaking out again. Apparently the lack of furniture scares the hell out of him. The boy is terrified of what will happen in the new place. I can't say I blame him. I can't say I'm sorry to see Tyson go, either.

5) Miraculously, everything fits in the new place. One chest will be taken back to my parent's house for storage (because it's kind of nice, and I don't want it in the basement) but everything else fits just fine. Even the recliner. I was beginning to despair about the recliner, but it just fits in the bedroom. I can't really recline, but at least it wasn't given to the spiders. AND it still sort of looks like a normal room. (Some boys will just put furniture anywhwere it fits and couldn't understand that I'm a girl, so the room still had to be functional....)

6) I'm currently on an air mattress in the old place to pack up the remaining items and not have to move the dogs quite yet. I'm officially entirely in the new place by the 15th at the latest. Next week begins the "ride my bike to work" experiment. My friends have bets going....the shortest time being three days before the experiment fails, and the longest being one week. I'm setting out to prove everyone wrong.... (Of course, if it rains, I get to drive.... :-)

7) When the boy got home from work, Bob was MIA. However, I saw him one last time on Friday. Unfortunately, he had attempted to cross a very busy street near my apartment complex - during rush hour. When I called to tell the boy, he made me turn around and attempt to rescue Bob. I did. It was too late. When I got through playing chicken with morning commuters (in my frigging high heels) and got close enough to confirm that Bob had moved on to a better place, the Public Works truck was pulling up to remove him from the road. I did NOT confirm this to the boy. I left it as "I wasn't sure" if he had made it. The boy takes these things pretty hard...better to let him hope, right?

Lots of Crap, Little Apartment

So I'm moving. I'm moving from a very large three-bedroom-with-attached-garage apartment to half of a double with one bedroom. One small bedroom. (But it has a basement!! Can't forget the spider-infested, dark, dank, Emily-will-probably-never-do-laundry-again basement!! For some reason, everyone always tells me this (minus the adjectives) when I talk about my new place.)

And yet, even knowing the size difference, for some reason I didn't think that my stuff would be affected. After all, I lived in a one bedroom apartment before the boy, surely I can live in a one bedroom apartment after the boy just as easily.

Um, no.

There have already been sacrifices. I'm pretty sure I'm going to receive some sort of award from Goodwill for the number of bags I've taken over there in the last three days. All my beloved movies that happened to be on VHS tapes? Axed. VCR? Axed. I originally thought I would have to put the dining room table down in the basement but after careful measurements, I think it will fit in the living room and will serve as my study table. Computer desk will move to the bedroom. See? Everything fits.

Well, almost everything.

But I'm going back to school. Tuition is a bitch, and I'm making sacrifices for a reason. I can do this.

See, there's this recliner. And I don't have room for it. But it's my RECLINER. I'm emotionally attached. Here's a picture.



Oh, whoops...that's what it looks like when I'm not CONSTANTLY asking the boy to PICK! UP! YOUR! CLOTHES!...which I've pretty much stopped doing since we decided to take a brief hiatus on the cohabitation experiment. After all, what's the point now? Here's what the recliner really looks like:



Given my competitive nature and the fact that it's such a very cheerful color of blue (not to mention comfortable as HELL to read a book in) it's one of my favorite pieces of furniture. When you can see it.

But I have no room for it. None. And, to be honest, it matches nothing. I don't know what to do. So here are the options that I'm facing. I'll leave it up to you guys to tell me what to do with it.

1) Give it to the boy.
This has one pro (at least it would be used) and several cons (um, 'we're broken up' and 'I don't want Tyson on it' immediately spring to mind.) Ultimately, what keeps me from doing this is the thought that if we didn't ever patch things up, I would never see my recliner again. And then I would hate myself forever.

2) Put it in the basement.
The rational part of my mind knows that the basement in the new place is no better or worse than an unfinished basement in any other place. But seeing as how I've never lived in a place with an unfinished basement, I'm still creeped out. Spiderwebs everywhere. Spiderwebs mean spiders. Spiders crawling into my recliner. Into the stuffing. So that perhaps when the recliner is moved into a bigger location someday, the spiders would then exit and eat whoever is then sitting on the recliner. To be honest, I'm not really a fan of this option.

3) Goodwill.
Which would make me cry. And really, no one wants to see me cry. I'm not a pretty crier.

So I have no idea what to do. I can't put it in the bedroom and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the living room and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the kitchen, because - really? In the kitchen? Besides, I wouldn't have any room to move at all.

So I'm sad. I fear the recliner may have to pay the ultimate price in the name of continuing education. Thoughts? Comments? Salvation for the recliner?

Adventures in the Apartment Complex

So, this post is a brief intermission between tales of moving. I have plenty of before and after pictures of painting to show you, but I took my computer apart and it won't be back until Sunday at the earliest, so you'll just have to wait on those.

BTW, how can no one have told me how much painting sucks? Seriously? I mean, here I was thinking it would be fun. Um, no. There was no fun. It was sucky. I agree with bsj and if anyone knows a boy that I can marry who enjoys painting, and a job I can get where I travel a lot, I'm in. Painting = suck. Especially the taping. Sample conversation:

"[Insert Boy's name here], why am I taping? It's my new place...how come I don't get to do the fun painting?"
"Because taping is the bitch work, and you're the bitch."
"Point taken."

I did eventually get to paint (and it wasn't fun painting)...and then I found out that I'm really really bad at it. Either that or the boy is just really really good at it. (It does have direct relation to his job...) I don't know if it was just the patience thing...or the fact that the color I used was darker... Whatever. My kitchen (that I painted) was super streaky and my bedroom (that he painted) looked perfect. We had to go back for a second coat in the kitchen to cover my mistakes. My kitchen is now YELLOW! (or GOLDENROD if you want to be really specific.) Whatever. My accent wall kicks ass. You'll see...

This morning when I was walking the dogs, we came across this:

It's not a great picture, but I would say the sucker was about a foot and a half to two feet across at his widest. Seeing as how my only experience with a turtle was a box turtle that I "rescued" from my backyard and took into science class in the eighth grade (and named "Louis" by the way. "Louis the Turtle" to be exact) and given the fact that this turtle bared little to no resemblance to Louis, and in fact had a large tail that was alarmingly similar to an alligator tail, I figured this was not a turtle to mess with.

Since the turtle was just chilling in my apartment complex, a good quarter mile from the nearest pond, I originally thought he was just a lawn decoration. Casey pranced up to the turtle with an "Oh, hello weird other living organism" expression. When the turtle hissed at her, I regained my senses and pulled her away from it. I then rushed home, took a picture on my cell phone (excuse the crappiness of the picture) and called the boy to ask what the heck sort of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle I had stumbled across.

Imagine my dismay to find out that it is a very ordinary snapping turtle. (Well, a very ordinary snapping turtle that could have taken Casey's nose off had I not removed her from striking distance.) Alas, all my dreams of having a new species of turtle named after Casey have been shattered. (I still think that alligator tail is freaky. You should have seen it in real life.) The boy went on and on (and on and on) about what he would have done with the turtle (put it on our enclosed porch) so that he could "rescue" it and return it to the nearest pond after work. Whatever. I wasn't picking up that thing. When my cat hisses at Casey, she gets scratched. When geese hiss at me, they charge me and are MEAN. I wasn't about to see what this mutant turtle did after hissing. No sir. I like having 10 fingers.

I have since decided that the mutant turtle will be called "Bob" and that we can just hope that Bob is still around when the boy and I get home. After all, think about how much fun the post will be when the boy attempts to move Bob and suffers Bob's wrath? I'll be right there taking pictures for you all...(when I'm not saving the bitten off piece of finger on ice so that the doctors in the ER can sew it back on.) We can only dream...

Do-It-Yourself for Daughters

"Hey Dad, how do you install a new door?"
"A new door?"
"Yes. Say I wanted to install a new front door. How do I do that?"
"You go to Lowe's and ask someone to help you. They have contractors that do that."
"Okay. And I also need to... Hey, hold on a sec. Is that the same answer that you would have given [insert little brother's name here] if he had asked you?"
"No."
"What would you have told him?"
"Doesn't matter. You're Emily. Go to Lowe's."
"Seriously?! C'mon. I can do things! I'm capable!"

This is the sort of thing I'm facing when asking about various fix-it issues I'm finding in my new home. Since having that conversation with my father, I found out that you don't need a whole new door to put in a doorknob. Live and learn, right? (originally there was no doorknob...just a handle - like a cabinet handle - and two deadbolts. There is now a doorknob and a deadbolt :-)

BTW - don't judge me on my household ignorance. I was/am content to rent for the rest of my life....spare me the lecture please. I would just as soon call someone to come and fix things and not have to worry about how my yard looks, or if my gutters are hanging, or if that crazy dog dug up the carpet and destroyed the door. (I've seen what crazy dogs can do to homes that people actually own. Yes, Ann, I'm looking at you.) Maybe that will change someday, but for now, I do not want the responsibility. Please. I have enough worries trying to get myself to school and to work and to pay my bills and to take care of my dogs. And my cat.

However, in this place I'm also (hold on to your seats everyone) painting various rooms and walls, as well as purchasing curtains. Why is this significant? Well, it's never been done before. Ever. In the various apartments I've inhabited, I've hung various items on the walls to give color, but I have never painted, and I've never purchased curtains - just left the miniblinds.

I got keys on Monday, so I've been through several times, and my list of to-dos looks like this:

1) Purchase and install three new light fixtures
2) Buy new stove things that go beneath the burners (what the hell are they called? You know...the metal things that catch the soup when I boil it over...)
3) Paint the trim in all rooms
4) Paint one wall in living room, entire kitchen and bedroom
5) Scrub everything
6) Replace various missing screws
7) Purchase some sort of bathroom caddy to hold various girl crap

Some of those things are covered by the landlord in a "you-fix-it-and-give-me-recipts" kind of way. Obviously the painting is all me. The cleaning is because I'm OCD.

This should be an interesting journey, no? I'll try to take before and after pictures, but I promise nothing...

Oh yes. I got lost on the way to volleyball from my new house last night. Theoretically, my commute to volleyball should be shortened by 20 minutes. In reality, it took me just as long as usual because I got lost. My house is 7 miles from volleyball and I got lost. It took me 30 minutes to get there. I'm awesome. And capable. Did I mention capable?

Dog Lovers...

...are a special breed. I'm a recently hooked YouTube addict and found this. I thought it was a great story so I wanted to share.

Too Many Words

Way way back in the day, when the boy adopted Tyson and we realized that he needed some training (little did we know then... our ignorance was almost cute in retrospect) we took him to doggy training classes at a great facility near our apartment. (K-9 First Friends, if you're interested. I can't recommend them enough. They did what they could.) It was my first experience "owning" a dog (even though he wasn't mine) and I was super interested in the whole "calm, assertive" leader thing. I quickly ascertained that owning dogs isn't much different than child rearing. Some parents are lawmakers, and some parents are just walked all over. Same goes for dog owners. After wrangling with the 80lb Tyson, and actually getting him to heel, I was immensely amused at the couple who couldn't get their 15lb cocker spaniel to walk. "He just doesn't want to" was their explanation when the trainer asked what was wrong.

The trainer gave them a look like they were insane, took the leash, and dragged the unwilling dog onto the track where everyone else was walking peacefully. Within 15 seconds, the dog realized that he could walk or be dragged, and hell, walking wasn't that bad... so he was walking along with the others. It was at this point that I realized that you can love your dog, but you can't LOVE your dog. Your dog should be part of your life, but he/she should never run it. I thought I completely understood.

Which is why I was slightly offended when the trainer said that men generally make better pack leaders and dog trainers than women. To be fair, I usually take umbrage with any "men are better than women at this because..." statement, but in this case, I thought it was particularly unfair. I could be just as hard nosed as any male dog owner. My dogs would most definitely learn to obey. If I wanted them to walk, they would walk.

Then the trainer explained, "Women talk too much. They use too many words, so the dog eventually tunes them out. A woman will use 10 words to say 'sit' and a man will just say 'sit.'" I considered this briefly, then thought about how I didn't ever (EVER) talk to Tyson unless it was to correct him. I certainly didn't find myself ever talking to him to tell him about my day or anything... (that was reserved for Laney) so I dismissed this as a stereotype founded in the trainer's own personal bias. Obviously I would be a great dog owner some day.

Now, while that statement may not be true all the time, I'm going to have to admit that apparently, that does apply to me. I'm faced with this reality after my walk with Casey and Blue this morning. This morning I did not wear my iPod. Usually I wear my iPod, so I can't hear myself say these things. I'm now worried that people who randomly pass me on my walks think I'm insane.

Upon finding goose droppings:
"Drop it! Blu-ue! If you don't drop that right now, I will abandon you right on this sidewalk. Then where will you be? You don't even have a tag with my phone number so you're not really adopted yet. We do NOT eat goose poop!"

Upon being scared of an upcoming trash can:
"Heel. Heel Casey! Would I lead you into danger? Seriously? You're supposed to stay right by me. Ignore the huge blue thing. If mom's not scared, you can't be scared either. Look at Blue! He's just fine."

Upon chasing the umpteenth bird on the walk:
"Ow! Blue! That hurt! You heel right now! You're never going to catch the birds! They FLY you dork!"

Upon ignoring the hyperactive lab going apeshit while walking with it's owner on the opposite side of the road:
"Good Dogs! Good heel. You guys are so awesome. I love when you guys prove that "pit bull" and "good dog" are not mutually exclusive."

Upon tripping over Casey:
"Damnit Case! Go! Not heeling is a gift. If you're going to lead, lead. Don't stop in the middle of the sidewalk."

Upon being bitten by another dog:
"No Blue. Do not bite back. Oh, poor baby. You're okay. C'mon buddy. It's not the dog's fault. It's the stupid owners who built a fence with two inch gaps between fenceposts. I'll take care of you when we get home, and then we'll laugh when they get sued by the parents of the neighborhood child who lost a couple of fingers..."

Along those lines, the last time we went to doggie day care (before the weather turned warmer) I forgot Casey's leash. When we were leaving there were two men in the waiting room, one with a hyperactive lab mix that was being dropped off for boarding, and the other awaiting their dog for pickup. Since I didn't have a leash, I was trying to get out of the waiting room as soon as possible. Casey followed me to the door, miraculously sat upon the first "sit" and then waited patiently while I opened the door and then gave her permission to exit. It was fabulous. There are now two people in Indianapolis who believe my dog is the most well trained dog EVER. So maybe I'm okay at being a dog owner.

Well, when when my dogs choose to listen, right?

Solar Powered

We had a couple of absolutely beautiful days mid-week this week, and I was going to write a post with the title above because I had so much energy and was in such a good mood!!!

And then today came with the rain, and it became even more apparent that I am most definitely solar powered. Rain sucks. Cloudy sucks. Can this day just hurry up and be over, please? Kthxbai.

This morning, I was doing my insubordinate surf-favorite-blogs-instead-of-starting-work-right-away-because-I-may-work-for-you-but-I-don't-have-to-be-happy-to-be-here thing (which only happens on days like today...promise!) and I found this post from one of my favorite bloggers. Um, that may be fundamentally her, but it's also an almost spot on perfect description of me. And since she said it better than I ever could, I'll just link to her blog and do the internet equivalent of "Yeah. What she said."

This weekend looks to be decent weather, and I'm so glad. I'm pretty against taking the dogs to daycare during the summer when I am perfectly capable of going on walks with them and wearing them out for free. However, this does require less sleeping and a general exercise of that "willpower" thing that, to be honest, has been pretty MIA lately. When it rains my plans are foiled (though I will admit that I enjoy the extra sleep in the mornings) and the dogs are nutso in the evening. So my grand aspirations for this long weekend are A) hike with the dogs, B) begin packing for the big move and C) go see Emily's most anticipated movie of the summer.

I hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend and it's as relaxing as I hope mine is.

It's my blog and I'll post what I want to

So, I finally got to the good part in Duma Key and couldn't put the book down last night. All Stephen King aficionados realize that his books start out slowly and gradually build until it's 2:00am and you have to get up in four hours but just want to read one more chapter... You would think I could have seen this coming and put the book down at 9:00pm like a good girl. In fact, I did set the alarm for 9:00pm. I just chose to read one more chapter.

Of course, I scared the hell out of myself and couldn't sleep after I turned the lights out. But then, that's what I have dogs for. Something tells me that they don't mind sleeping in the bed every now and then. In fact, I believe they would buy me more scary books if they could. And even though I know that Casey is a big wuss, I am confident that she would at least bark at any ghosts/scary strangers, and Blue would leap to my defense. They make a good team, those two. Between those two, and Laney who patrols the house for tiny threats (i.e. spiders, ants, random other creatures with more than four legs) I think I'm safe. It's a good thing since I've got about 100 more pages to read tonight.

< Side note >: my boss thinks it's HILARIOUS that I love to read scary books, watch scary movies, own pit bulls and am terrified of cockroaches. I tried to explain the definition of phobia to him, but he just kept saying, "If you know it's irrational, can't you just talk yourself out of it?" Well, at this moment, yes. When faced with a cockroach, not so much.

His wife then pointed out, "You know that when living in a house, you're going to have to deal with spiders, roaches, mice, etc. Right?" Hmmm... No, actually, I hadn't thought of that. Mice? Meh. Spiders? Well, Laney's getting older, but she is still the spider killer. (with the unfortunate tendency of leaving her conquests in my shoes....but still, dead spiders are better than live spiders.) But roaches? Um, no one signed me up for roaches. Yeesh. Can't wait until I see my first one of those. Anyone willing to be my emergency contact cockroach killer? < /Side Note >

After a rough period of adjustment, I think I'm okay with summer life sans school. For a while there, I was not doing a damn thing. My body seemed to think that if I didn't take advantage of the free time while I had it, I would never have it again. I think I've now convinced myself that I have a few months, and it's okay to move around some....I do not have to permanently affix myself to the couch. Oh, and I can read books that aren't school related. Yay for books! And movies! Now that I can do irresponsible things like read until 2:00am with no severe repercussions, I can surely go to the first showing of this movie. It's at 12:01am on Thursday, May 22nd. Who's with me?? (Oh, and if you're not super excited about that movie, we can no longer be friends...)

I do find myself more choosy with movies and books now, however. I never claimed that my taste in books was flawless, but I do have some relationships with authors that go way back and have stood the test of time... They're my tried-and-true-buy-the-hardcover-version-when-released relationships. Luckily, they don't demand exclusivity, and I've had the occasional casual dalliance with other authors in the past. If these new authors disappoint me, meh. It's not like we're exclusive. However now - while I am getting used to the free time, part of me also realizes that it's not forever. If I'm going to get involved with an author, it's got to be worth my time. So while I had a casual fling once with Emily Giffin, she burned me once, so now I'm not so sure I'm willing to spend time on her latest endeavor. Does anyone have any sure-fire suggestions that I can spend my precious free time on? I've already got the Chronicles of Narnia on my list (no, I never read them when I was young) as well as the Golden Compass series. I would also like to read the latest by Khaled Hosseini, The Other Boleyn Girl... The list goes on and on, but I'm always open for suggestions. Anyone? I've got this $25 gift certificate to amazon.com just burning a hole in my pocket.

Finally, to wrap up the randomness, it's confirmed that Blue is here to stay.
I can officially no longer foster, dogsit, adopt, or even LOOK at another dog. I am full. I am officially the crazy lady with all the animals. Sigh. But in my defense, here's a picture of Blue's "piggy face." This is how he looks when he's completely content and curled up on your lap. How could I resist?

Reality Bites

A couple of days ago, the head of the pit bull rescue that I work/volunteer for received an email that read like this (obviously, names have been removed to protect the innocent):

"I have a staffordshire terrier I need to go to a good home. We have a young child, new home and are unable to take good care of him. He is 6 years old, white with tan spots, one brown-one blue eye. Billy is energetic and loving.

Please let me konw what my next steps would be, or where I can take him."

The head of the rescue responded like this:

"I am sorry to say that your next step should be to ask yourself why you are considering getting rid of him. I am here to tell you that there is not a home for him, and his alternative to your keeping him is euthanasia. There are simply too many dogs flooding the shelters, 30% of them being Pit Bulls, and there are not enough people. People move and have kids every day and do not dispose of their animals because of it. Yes, the pets may get less attention, and yes, they may be a bit put out by it at times, but there are worse fates in life for a dog. Everyone I know who has kids say that their pets get less attention, but so what? They still have a great life compared to most dogs in the world, and surely better than dying in a shelter. That's certainly what will happen to him if taken to one. Most people who adopt from shelters want younger dogs so that they have more time with the dog. Besides, if taken to a shelter, Billy will more than likely be shellshocked because he has been in a home for so long. Won't you reconsider? Is there training help that you need? Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, but these are the cold hard facts, and I must believe that your situation can be remedied to provide a happy ending for everyone. Since we are currently full, the only other thing that I can offer is for my rescue to do a courtesy post for him online and see if we can find someone who wants to adopt an older dog. It does happen, but can sometimes take up to a year or more. Can you keep him while he's posted?

Again, sorry to be so blunt, but I have been doing Pit Bull rescue for 12 years, and this is the hard truth."

The response from Billy's owner was less than friendly:

"In no way did I read your entire email. I am unable to take Billy with us at this time and feel bad enough about it already. I AM A DOG/ANIMAL LOVER which is why I am seeking alternative means. I did not need a lecture on pet owning and responsibilities. In your and other's positions, it would be best to do what you do...HELP, not put on a guilt trip hoping situations would change.

Thanks for creating an even more anxiety ridden event."

Honestly, I'm torn on this one. If you had asked me six months ago, I would have 100% been on the dog's side, and thought the email from the rescue, while harsh, was absolutely true and necessary. I wouldn't have seen the owner's side at all. I would only see that the owner was trying to get rid of the dog in the easiest manner possible.

Now? Well, there are different levels of what people can handle, right? I've seen this firsthand. Maybe this person really couldn't handle a dog, a young child, and a new home, even though I can't imagine what they're thinking. Maybe they really do think that this is the only way out.

Then again, with the Humane Society no longer accepting strays, and only accepting surrenders after counseling (and even that is conditional), the reality really is that harsh. Maybe pet owners need to know that information instead of believing that Fluffy is going to find a great new home. Maybe she could do some searching on her own to see if someone she knows will take the dog. I've heard of plenty of people going that route instad of a shelter/rescue route. And the courtesy post? I mean, you've been housing the dog for this long....why not hold on to him a little longer if you think he might get adopted. It's certainly better than life at a shelter, right?

Thoughts?

Concept: Extraordinary, Implementation: Lackluster*

I hate mornings. I'm horrible at mornings. It's usually anger at the whole world that makes me a horrible person to be around first thing in the morning. I mean, why on earth would I want to be up, walking around, and on my way to work when I could be warm, snuggly and in bed? Hmmm??

So yesterday, when I was flipping through channels for background noise while getting ready, and I found this, I thought I had just stumbled upon the greatest invention ever. I seriously sat, mesmerized, in front of the TV for a good minute and a half before I made myself go take a shower. (My timetable in the mornings is tight enough as it is...I didn't need to be any later to work than I usually am.) Every time I came back into my room from the bathroom, I was greeted with tranquil views, crickets chirping, birds singing...the sun slowly rising. It was heaven. I had found my new favorite thing.

I did a little research, found out when it started, and last night, before going to sleep, I set the TV to Animal Planet and set the TV to turn on at 7:01am.

It was everything I had dreamed it would be. I awoke slowly to the sound of waves lapping on the shore, crickets and other insects chirping, the occasional bird call... It was fabulous. I was so happy. And then,

HEAD ON! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD! HEAD ON! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!

Um, yeah. So I forgot that there would be commercials. Not to mention commercials that would be at decibels TEN TIMES that of the programming they were interrupting. I almost threw my alarm clock at the TV. Actually, I DID throw my alarm clock at the TV. However, the alarm clock is plugged into the wall, and thus didn't really go where intended, which, now that I'm fully awake and not as angry, is a good thing.

So now there's this that has been added to my future Christmas/Birthday/Random Holiday wish list.

*Special thanks to bsj for the title of this post, and calling me out for watching reality TV. I believe he compared it to huffing glue...which is ironic, because that's exactly what I have to do to get through an episode with this man.

Wait, don't want to click the link? Okay. Here's the video for you.

Hello, my love

Now, I'm a recovered reality TV junkie. Let me just get that out of the way. Gone are days when I would just DIE if I missed the latest Survivor, or Amazing Race. Now, if it's on and I'm home - great! If not, meh. Part of that was school, part of that was the urge to get outside more often with my dogs... I even thought part of it was growing up.

I was wrong.

So, when things have been especially stressful lately with school and finals and moving and stuff, I have taken to catching up on my favorite TV shows during my lunch hour at work. (I need to say a quick 'thank you' to the Gods at NBC, CBS and ABC who stream entire episodes for me to watch when I've got a moment. I don't even mind the 30 second commercials. I can still watch the entire show and even have time left over to check my email. On the other hand, CW4? You suck. I'm not even going to link to you. Dropping the episode streaming because you think it will increase your ratings is backward thinking that should have gone out with the nineties. Welcome to the 21st century and way to take a step backwards. Not that I watch any of your shows anyway....especially not Gossip Girl. Ahem. I mean jeeze...even MTV streams the Hills for me! Um, not that I watch that either.)

But I digress.

I was bored one day and decided to catch up on an old favorite - Survivor. Survivor and I had broken up sometime around the time I left my last job from hell. I think that was...um....four years ago? Same ole' same ole', and I got bored. This season, well, it's online, I had free lunch hours when I could be studying. Done.

Ohmigod. Best. Season. Ever.

Seriously. I know reality TV is all about stereotypes. I get that. But I'm the kind of girl who watches Jerry Springer when she's home sick. It's just not that hard to entertain me. So this season? When there are evil women living up to every single stereotype about black widows that you can think of? Awesome. When they're preying on the innocent boys and ruthlessly backstabbing them while they continue o fall for the same plot over and over and over? Priceless. (Seriously, boys! You saw it happen to others, why would you be ANY different?!) Way to cast, CBS. Kudos to you. Even though I've watched every single episode online this season, I'll sure as hell be tuning into the finale on Sunday. I guess you get what you want after all.

So if you're interested in partaking a little Survivor drama, visit cbs.com and have fun. You only have to start at Episode 10 to enjoy the bulk of the drama.

PS. To all of you Lost fans, I've still not seen an episode. Not now, and not ever. They even have all the seasons up online. No thanks. It takes place on an island, people!! (ha ha...get the irony? no? nothing??)

PPS. I get no money from CBS for posting this. I just wanted to share my happiness with the Survivor brilliance this season. Even my happiness that Grey's Anatomy is back on the air can't equal my happiness about Survivor. (maybe it's because Grey's is slipping for me. Seriously. What's up with this McDreamy with another chick crap??)

Voting Blue in a Red State

So since the Indiana primary actually seems to matter this year, there was a really long line at my polling place yesterday morning. This lead me to decide to vote after work instead. I left work a little early, noted the beautiful weather, and decided that, since the polling place was only a little over a mile from my apartment, I would combine voting with walking the dogs.

I initially contemplated making a shirt for Blue that read "Vote for Hillary... or else" but then decided that A) I was the only one who would find that funny and B) Blue's too cute to be threatening.

(Side note: I received another request from someone about adopting Blue... and it would make sense if it's a good home. But then...I love Blue. So if you wouldn't mind, any reminders about why I'm not crazy to move into a teeny tiny house with two pit bulls would be appreciated...)

Right - so I go vote. (You should have seen those people with candidate signs scatter as I approached...tee hee hee...) Afterwards, noting the beautiful weather and the energy of my dogs, I decided to take a longer walk than usual. So I headed towards a neighborhood that I had never seen before near the polling place.

Two hours later, we got home.

I got lost.

For those of you who know me (and remember that I got lost on a circular path before) this is not a surprise. But, in an effort to highlight the absurdity of it all, let me point out here that the new neighborhood was MAYBE a mile away from where I live. Maybe. And it was off of a major street. (Which I could HEAR but COULD NOT GET BACK TO. It was all very stressful.) In my defense, I kept turning right in an effort to go in a big loop, but then I hit a dead end and my plan went to hell. Then it became, "well, this looks familiar...maybe this way?" and "I definitely recognize that house. Let's go that way."

Damn those curvy streets. Who deviates from the basic grid system when setting up a neighborhood?? And who puts PONDS in the middle of neighborhoods with no path to get around them?

(Let us all keep this little trait of Emily's in mind the next time she wants to live a block away from ghetto hell, shall we? Emily tends to forget little details like this when she is enamored with 2500 square feet and a finished basement.)

The walk was before dinner, so the dogs were understandably pissed when we got home - pulling me the entire way once they saw the apartment complex. (I think they got the most angry when I realized that I did not have my cell phone with me and could not call their dad...so I was on my own to get us home. Since I speak these random thoughts out loud, I'm sure they understood me.) The bonus was that everyone had a very relaxed evening on the couch with the Cubs game.

When it was time to walk this morning, Blue came out, had a nice big stretch, and looked at me as though to say, "Seriously?" He then proceeded to roll over to have his belly scratched instead of walking to the door. When I explained that he needed to go out and he would thank me later, he heaved a HUGE sigh and rolled onto his side with the most pathetic expression...until Casey walked over and bit his ear. Then he got up and came to the door with her. True story.

Anyway, the purpose of this post was to put a cute little story before actually stating the obvious that, yes, the boy and I are moving into separate residences in June, yes, it's a breakup, but yes we are on friendly terms, and yes, it was my decision. No, I'm not ruling out the idea of possibly dating once we live in separate residences, no, this is not an easy decision and no, I'm not 100% convinced I'm doing the right thing. For now, we won't call an end to the cohabitation experiment....just a hiatus. (Don't tell my mom.)

Things I worry about

Sleeping alone for the first time in two years
Whether or not I'm making a horrible mistake
How I'm going to pay off the nice little credit card debt I accumulated from Machu Picchu.
What grade I got in Chemistry this semester.
How I'm going to find it in my tired soul to play nice with my new sister-in-law at future family functions.
The divine Ms. Em.
How Casey hasn't had a seizure in almost three months, and how the move might trigger one.
Where I'm going to find the motivation to lose weight this year
How many times I'll have to visit my hometown this summer to make up for the semester when I didn't have to go once.
How I can go and see all of my friends and family in every corner of the US and still afford food.
What my parents think about the path my life is taking
What a B means to my future
Whether or not I'm making a horrible mistake. (yes, I know that's on there twice.)

Isn't it, like, Mexican Thanksgiving or Something?*

Oh my God I'm done with finals.

Oh my GOD I'm done with the semester.

I'm done with school for three and a half blessed months.

I couldn't be happier, obviously. I don't even have my final grades yet, and I don't even care. As my wise friend Jess stated, "It's in God's hands now." I agree. I am done. Done done.

So yesterday, I parked myself on the couch with MTV's usual ANTM marathon (season 7 which I actually hadn't seen yet - BONUS!) and a dog. It was a gorgeous day outside and I didn't see any of it. I've got the rest of the summer to enjoy the weather. Sunday was all about relaxing, cheese, bread and wine. Lots and lots of wine. (It would have been beer, but I didn't think ahead. Thanks Indiana. Your laws regarding alcoholic sales blow.)

Now I focus on finding a new abode. I believe that when I last touched on this subject, I had House #5 and #6 as possibilities. Of course, I'm moving into neither of them.

So when I went to see House #5 for real (as opposed to just pictures) I realized that the owner of House #5 really REALLY loved her house. I was with my friend Dave, and about 5 minutes into her tour of the house, I could have very easily said something along the lines of, "It's been nice meeting you, but I'm not interested. Thank you for your time." Her tour was all about crown moldings, carriage lights above the fireplace, the $10,000 she had just spent to put in new windows, or the "eight five zero zero - that's eighty five HUNDRED dollars" that her property taxes had risen in the last year. She was also quick to tell me about the trust fund babies who had rented her house in the past. The word "pretentious" comes to mind. The house WAS beautiful. And Dave did agree that it was $200 better than any house we had seen previously with the garage and the finished basement.... But still. All I could see were the future "surprise" stop bys when the house wouldn't be up to her levels of cleanliness. No thank you. It wasn't a problem though. When she asked about my dogs, and I said the words "pit bulls" she SHUT DOWN. Apparently those dogs do not fit into her framework for an ideal tenant. Meh. I definitely broke up with her first.

I was all set on House #6. I called the maintenance guy to find out exactly what date it would be available, and to confirm the final rent which was exactly what I budgeted to spend on rent.

And then one of my boss's tenants called and gave notice. He was going to be out at the end of May. The half double that he was renting is in an okay neighborhood (about a mile from my old sorority house, if you can believe it) and the rent was $265 less than House #6. Emily again has a dilemma. A dilemma she chose to put off until after finals. She failed.

I went to see it and it's small. SMALL. Much of my furniture (dining room table, bookcase, chest of drawers) will have to be put in the basement for storage since there's just not room for it on the main level. And it's an old house. OLD. Old with no air conditioning. But let's talk about the pros.

Um, I'm saving $265/month. That's the biggie. There's a fenced in yard. (Sure, the fence looks like it will blow over any minute, but my dogs won't charge it....it's more symbolic for them and me. I just need somewhere to throw a tennis ball sometimes.) It's got a garage. (Detached, sure, but a detached garage is better than no garage.) I can still ride my bike to work. (I don't know how much of a pro that will be about halfway into the summer...but for now, let's go with it.) I also happen to be well acquainted with the landlord. And with some TLC, it could go from an old house to a cute little house. We'll see what I can do.

When push came to shove, I just couldn't get over saving $265/month when tuition is costing me ~$200/credit hour. So even though I'm really bad at making places seem "homey" or "cozy" I've got great friends who are good at that kind of stuff, and they say they'll help me out. I may have to purchase curtains for the first time in my life. And maybe I'll even paint. For now, though - does anyone have any creative ideas for where to put the cat's litterbox? (No - there's not enough room in the bathroom, and the dogs are already going to have daytime residence in the basement.)

I'll post pictures eventually. Or maybe not. Depends on how well I do on the "homey" part.

*A friend of mine actually asked me that when I suggested we go get chips and queso (with a margarita) for lunch because it's Cinco de Mayo.

The Calm Before the Storm

So I went to McDonalds to get a small vanilla milkshake this afternoon, and left with a small vanilla milkshake...

and a Big Mac meal.

Thus begins finals week.

I spent over 8 hours this past weekend making flashcards for my Bio Lab practical. No joke. Over 8 hours cutting out color pictures and making flashcards. I'm thinking about selling them to the next crop of unsuspecting biology students.

Other than ingesting about 5000 calories per day for the last five days, I'm holding up pretty well. Though everything seems slightly surreal.

For example, let's talk about the friendly, chatty old man in the McDonald's drive through. (drive thru?) My friend Jill mentioned once how McDonald's Diet Coke seems to have actual coke in it - it's so good. Once you learn a little tidbit like that, and then find out that it's true, it's impossible to unlearn such information. So, in order to cut down on my Starbucks-a-day habit, I started in on McDonalds Diet Coke. Bigger, cheaper, not as healthy....what's not to love?

As a bonus, there's a chatty old guy with a slight New York accent who runs the drive through in the mornings. He always comments on the weather, or about how he just had the weekend off... harmless stuff like that. On the first day I wore my glasses, he commented that I looked much different with my hair down. Funny stuff like that. I had this image of him in my head as a grandfatherly type guy who probably buys his grandchildren candy on his way home from work. Mind you - I have nothing to substantiate this idea except for random discussions about the weather when I hand over my $2.00 for my large Diet Coke in the mornings.

Today he mentioned that he's had not one, but TWO weekends off in a row. I congratulate him and say that seems like the perfect relaxing set up. His face darkened for a second before he responded, "Yeah, well, until I ran into a cop."

At this point, Emily is inching away from the window in a desperate attempt to cling to the "grandfatherly" image she had in her mind. At the same time, her insane curiosity makes her open her mouth and ask, "What happened?"

Internet, let me give you a tip. When a "grandfatherly" type begins a story with, "I must have gotten confused driving home because of my medication. There's now way I would be drunk after two drinks," you should just leave. Leave or your perception of said "grandfatherly" type will never be the same.

I just kept a polite smile on my face as I inched away from the window. I didn't want to find out if that "ran into" was figurative or literal. Surreal. He seemed so....cute....so...grandfatherly. Sigh.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to get acquainted with some flashcards. Who knows? If they're nice, I might let them buy me a drink. More than likely, I'll have to see how well they help me on the test tonight before I start thinking about any sort of long term commitment.

Identity Crisis part Deux (or, Be Careful What You Wish For)

I walked out of my bedroom this morning in a half awake stupor and headed over to the door to walk the dogs. On the way to get the leashes, I stopped short in the middle of my living room. The recent changes have been so subtle, and I've been so stressed out, that they hit me all at once and left me feeling unsettled.

As I contemplated the gleaming (completely clutter free) table top and let my gaze roam around the room to the neatly folded blankets, freshly vaccumed carpet, and (the coup de grâce) the pillows arranged on the corners of the couch as pretty as a picture, a sense of unreality washed over me.

This vision is a stark contrast to my usual apartment norm of dog scattered pillows, heavily trafficked carpet, wrinkled blankets, and table top cluttered with everything from school books to empty coffee cups. Obviously, I'm not a clean freak by any means. I was raised with the mantra, "my house is clean enough to be healthy and messy enough to be happy" and that didn't change when I moved out on my own. (In fact, there was a noticable decline in cleanliness when I was in college, as my old roommates can probably attest.... Things have since improved slightly :-)

But the apartment before me was...clean! Neat! Orderly! What?!

In the last couple of weeks, something lit a fire under the boy's rear end, and he's really been helping out around the apartment. When before I used to have to beg and plead and yell to get anything done, it seems that he has now embraced my "Just do ONE little thing per day and it would help me out SO MUCH!" plea to the fullest extent. The apartment looks great!

And I feel bad. I feel guilty. I feel like I'm less of a woman.

How ridiculous is that?

It's all about gender roles, if you think about it. How many guys feel insecure when their girlfriend/wife/partner makes more money than they do? Guys feel all this pressure to be the provider, and when they don't play that role many feel emasculated. On some level I understand how they're feeling, but many times I just brushed it off with a "Welcome to the 21st century guys. Let's keep up with the times here."

And now, when I feel like a worthless female for not being able to handle my load of responsibilities AND keep a decent household, those words haunt me.

On one level, I know that I can't possibly handle classes, work, studying, sleeping, and volunteering, and still keep the apartment clean - not even to my previous level of "acceptable messy." I have enough trouble getting the dishes and the laundry done and those are the necessities. But I just can't accept that. On another (much deeper) level, I feel guilty that I can't do everything. I mean, there must be SOMEWHERE that I'm wasting time. It's gotten to the point where I feel guilty when I get home from class at 8:15pm and decide to read for 30 minutes before passing out cold. I wake up the next morning and think, "Darn. I could have dusted the living room last night. Do I really need to sleep for seven hours per night? I can probably get up earlier on Sunday and get some cleaning done before studying, right? I can do this." It's my responsibility to keep the apartment "visitor-ready" should anyone just happen to drop by. (Does this even happen anymore? And if friends dropped by, would they judge me on my apartment status??) I mean, I'm the female. I'm the homemaker. That's my job, right?

On the other hand, if we lived in a house and I knew the boy was super busy, I would have no problem mowing the lawn or taking out the trash or handling any of the variety of "boy chores" that he usually takes care of. If he was busier than I was, I would pitch in and help him out...which is why I was having such a fit when it didn't seem to work the other way in his mind. As the apartment got messier and messier, and I stressed out more and more, I would nag and nag and nag to get some help.

And now? Now that I'm getting the help I begged for? I feel guilty. I feel like a failure. Funny how that works, right?

It makes sense that he's helping me. And I'm (secretly) so relieved. The apartment looks great, and the fact that it was messy was weighing on me more than I cared to admit (as noted by the weight that slipped off my shoulders this morning.) There are two of us in the apartment making it messy - it makes sense that two should pitch in to clean it up. After all, when I'm on my own, the apartment will stay neater just because I'm not there very often, and the messes will be smaller and easier to handle on the weekends... but still - this guilt...

I've always thought of myself as atypical. I don't decorate my apartment with Pottery Barn, or Crate and Barrel...or even with any distinguishable color scheme. I don't hang curtains. I don't paint my walls. My home is the place that I sleep - if I feel comfortable there, who cares what others think? (Hence the slightly messy.) I spend my money on travel instead because that's important to me. I don't want a family - but I want to save the world. I can't cook and while I sometimes felt the urge to "take care of" my man, those times were more the exception than the rule. Basically, I refused to accept what I thought a woman "should be" and wanted to be who I am.

But maybe I'm not all that different. What is it that makes women think that we can handle everything? It's been discussed at length, but we want it all - a great career, a family, a beautiful home...and we feel like we should be able to handle it all, right? But let's face it - there just aren't enough hours in the day. I used to think that women were better equipped to ask for help (and receive it) than men, but I'm beginning to believe I need to rethink that.

I guess the best we can do is be happy with the choices we make and the lives we lead. For now, I'll gratefully accept the help around the house and thank the boy profusely. I'll accept that the choices I've made will not allow me to be who I want to be around the house - but remember that this is temporary. It's not a failure, it's a choice. And I'm lucky I have the support to continue with the choices I've made.

Maybe I'll cook him dinner or something to say thanks. But is it really a "thanks" if I won't have time to do the dishes afterwards? :-)

As Homelessness Looms...

So I woke up Monday morning to the news that there had been a fatal shooting at a gas station about a block and a half away from House #1. But that was just the final straw to take it off my list of possible homes. The actual death blow came on Saturday when I went to volunteer.

I was telling my co-worker at the clinic about House #1 in my usual jovial manner. In the same tone, I was joking about how I have pit bulls that would do me no good in that neighborhood as they would probably be eaten alive. I also mentioned that I do not have a permit to carry a gun because I'm anti-handgun on so many levels. She responded with,

"Well, the dogs would offer some protection. You just have to be careful. We get a lot of calls from people who live in shady neighborhoods and have their dogs stolen. People steal their dogs to use them as bait dogs for their dog fighting rings."

Oh HELL no. I don't think she meant to absolutely talk me out of House #1, but nothing could have been more effective in getting me to cross the shady house off the list. Steal my dog? Seriously friends, if you hear that this ever happened, you need to come to where ever I am and restrain me because I am the fool that would be going door to door with a shotgun until I found my baby. And in a shady neighborhood, that would mean I would be dead.

So House #1 was crossed off the list. House #2 was put on "maybe" status as I continued to look and House #3...well, bsj said it best when he said "Who wants 'meh'?"

So it was back to the drawing board. On Sunday, I went to see House #4.

House #4 was okay. Half a double in a neighborhood that was just north of House #3, and still just meh. It had two bedrooms, and wasn't in horrible shape...it even had a garage and a fenced in yard. I think the dealbreaker for this house was that both bedrooms were on the second floor, and the only bathroom for the house was on the first floor....though the kitchen. Like, about as far away from the bedrooms as you could get. It was most definitely a "boy" house.

I drove around some more and made some more calls*. Yesterday, I stumbled upon House #5 and House #6.

House #5 is outside my budget. Like $200 outside my budget. But, (and I sigh inside when I say this) it's not unfeasible. I took a part time job for the summer (starting after finals finish next week) to save up some money for tuition next year. It could go towards the rent for this awesome house. And I could start getting student loans a bit earlier than anticipated. But honestly? Is the house awesome enough to be worth all that?

When I called about House #5, the owner (a lady in her sixties) was very friendly and funny on the phone. We talked for a while. She spoke about this house like it was her lover. I believe her husband actually built or remodeled it. It's half a double, two bedrooms, and about .4 miles away from where I work. Seriously. The neighborhood is great, it has a driveway, a garage... I mean, it's a really really nice house. But it's pretty expensive. The only thing it's lacking is a fenced in yard, but it's only about half a mile from the Monon Trail... (and we all know how much I love the Monon.) As a bonus, the owner of the house loved me. I seem like a "very responsible young lady." (A: it was nice to be called young, and B: can I say that I'm an adult now that I've been called 'responsible?') She was hesitant about the two dogs, but I'm a very responsible pet owner and apparently I say all the right things to back that up. She didn't ask what type of dogs that I have, but I did allude to it when I told her that "I'm a responsible pet owner - I have to be." We'll see if she still loves me after she sees my dogs.

House #6 is just over a mile away from where I work. The neighborhood is still decent, and it's also half a double. However, this house has three bedrooms, vs the two in House #5. House #6 doesn't have a fenced in yard either (but it's the same distance from my beloved Monon) and it also doesn't have a garage. The biggest selling point for House #6 (which I haven't seen yet) is that the rent is within my budget.

Now, I know you're thinking, "Wait...three bedrooms in pretty much the same neighborhood as House #5 for $200 less? What's the catch?" Well, the biggest drawback to house #6 is that it doesn't have air conditioning.

Whew, right? I mean, I'm sold. It's not a drawback on the same scale as "living in the ghetto where your dog could get stolen." It's not even a drawback on the same scale as "okay neighborhood with run down abandoned buildings," or "teeny bathroom far away from the bedroom." In fact, when I told my friend Dave (the guy who, along with jaclyn, seems the most adamant that I can't live in the ghetto) about the house, I prefaced it with "It has a drawback that we can both agree on." When I told him about the A/C, he said, "DONE!"

So I go see House #6 today. Dave's coming with me to keep me from saying "IN!" and ignoring huge red flags. There still could be some, you know... Cross your fingers for me. And your toes. And think happy, positive thoughts. I realize that Curvy will have to sleep on the street, but after the last two weeks of stressful house hunting combined with the stress of upcoming finals...well, I'm okay with that. It's not ideal, but it's the best I can do under the circumstances. I'm sorry Curvy...

*In all, I've called over 40 rental properties. Dear God I need a beer.

Casey's Impact

I heard about this "policy change" at the Humane Society of Indianapolis earlier this year and immediately stopped donations and canceled plans to participate in Mutt Strutt. I know that pulling my donations is exactly the opposite of what the HSI needs, but I just can't support this change. Here's a great article about what the strays of Indianapolis are facing.

Saving the Strays

Everyone should be concerned about this. I mean sure, yes, call me a bleeding heart liberal... but "a society is judged by how it treats its weakest members.*" There are so many homeless animals who make great pets and just need a good home... Even Oprah has come to this realization. Yes, I know it's a personal decision, but I just don't know how anyone would chose to go to a breeder (or, God forbid, a pet store) for a "pure bred" dog of any kind (*cough-new-sister-in-law-cough*) when there are so many beautiful animals for much less money and probably better health...

*Yes, I know the original quote by Dostoevsky. I just like this one better.

House Hunting...

Since I don't like anything to be easy, it's like I've set myself up to fail in this whole "finding a new place to live" adventure. Finding a home between work and school (an area that admittedly doesn't encompass the nicest neighborhoods ever) combined with having a lifestyle that combines the word "pit" with the word "bulls"...well, it's like I'm looking for a needle in a haystack.

Here's the status for today:

House #1 - I love it. Unfortunately, I don't love the neighborhood. In fact, when I mentioned it to the guy who does yard work at my office, he said, "Well, it's okay. You have a permit to carry a gun, right?" (Um, no.) When I mentioned the neighborhood to a close friend, she said, "Absolutely not. I'll kill you myself (if someone else doesn't do it first.")

Still - I'm not one to judge based on reputation. If I was, I wouldn't have a pit bull, right? Everyone/thing deserves a chance. So I did a drive by of the house in the daylight and at night.

What I found is that the block itself that the house is on is okay. The houses are shabby, but well kept. The house itself is immaculately kept. Unfortunately, it's an okay block surrounded by the depths of ghetto hell. But did I mention that the house is awesome? And it's RIGHT between work and school? And it's got a fenced in yard AND a garage? And a FULLY FINISHED BASEMENT?! (I never thought the words "fully finished basement" were orgasmic, but lo and behold...) Seriously. In my price range and 2500 square feet? Seriously? Seriously?!

When I mentioned this to my mother, she thought about it and then said, "Well, that's why you have a dog, right?" (Note that I have not yet broken the news about Blue...) I didn't have the heart to tell her that the pit bulls in this neighborhood could kick my pit bulls' asses. Casey and Blue wouldn't have a chance. Hell, they wouldn't even seem scary. They would be like kittens. The other dogs would look at them and laugh. The only thing they've got going for them is that Casey barks her fool head off at strangers, and Blue sounds like a hound from hell when he sees another dog that he doesn't know. (of course, when the other dog approaches him, he runs and hides behind me.)

When I did my night time drive by, I came at the address from a different direction and of course ended up lost. The first street that I came across and thought I had to turn onto was scary. SCARY! I literally became terrified that I had to drive onto that street...and then breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed that the street I actually needed was one block north. (ONE BLOCK!!!) When I turned onto the street where the house is, I was pleasantly surprised. Well lit, well kept, quiet... It was a nice little street... but then I passed a cross street and looked one block south again. Um - ghetto hell. I was on the phone with a friend and kept her on the phone the whole time...just in case. (I then proceeded to get lost in ghetto hell on my way home, but that's a whole other blog. I escaped with my life and no one shot at me, so I think the neighborhood is okay, right? RIGHT?!)

House #2 - I love it too, just less. It's smaller, very cute, and with an unfinshed basement. Same number of bedrooms and bathrooms as house #1, just smaller. No garage and no fenced in yard. Very safe neighborhood. Unfortunately, it's in the middle of "bohemian chic" and is about $200 higher than I'm willing to spend in rent per month. The main pros for this house are the safe neighborhood, and the fact that I could actually walk my dogs for more than one block in either direction. Oh, and it's SO cute. It's a place that I would love to have my friends over for some wine and board games.

House #3 - Meh. It was a house that was "meh" in a neighborhood that was "meh." The house was also huge, but not as nice as house #1...older and more run down. It did, however, have a full length screened in porch that Laney would love. (Yes, Laney. You thought I had forgotten all about her, right? Shame on you. I love, um...what was her name? Oh yes, Laney.)

However, the bathroom in house #3 was tiny. TINY tiny. Not that I spend much time in the bathroom...but, this was tiny. It also did not have a garage, and cars park on both sides of the street. As an owner of a car that is less than a year old (wait, what's that? You haven't met my car yet? Friends, meet Curvy. Curvy, meet friends.) I would prefer not to park her on the street. Oh, and there was no yard. None. Not a hint of a fence. However, there is the added bonus that if I walked the dogs north, I would get into a really cute neighborhood in under three blocks. I could have friends over here...but they would have to park about three blocks away.

(Am I crazy because I actually prefer a great house in a shady neighborhood over a meh house in a meh neighborhood?)

I'm seeing house #4 today. Decent neighborhood, but it's half of a duplex. I don't have really high hopes, but maybe this one will save me from the great house in the shady neighborhood where I'll live gun free. (But I have baseball bats and pit bulls!! :-)

Movin' on....um....up?

As alluded to previously, I won't be renewing my lease at the apartment complex I've called home for the past 5 years. New management has taken over and I dislike them, but to be honest, I probably dislike massive change more. If pressed, I would probably admit that honestly, going to school downtown makes living in a northern suburb a bit inconvenient.

So the apartment/house search begins, and along with it comes the stress. I wish I could wait until after finals (May 3rd) to do this, but I'm afraid that if I do that, my head would literally explode. As a planner, if I got to less than a month before I was moving out with nowhere to move in to...well, it wouldn't be pretty.

I'm looking for a little house this time. There are some parameters for this move that make the search more...um...interesting.

#1) The area in which I work is a pretty expensive area. Not "la di dah" expensive...more "bohemian chic" expensive. Whatever. All that translates into for me is "can't afford to live near work." However, if I'm going to be able to take care of my dog(s) AND take night classes, I need to live somewhere between where I work and where I go to school so that they can have a brief potty break before my classes (or maybe at lunch.) (In a perfect world, I would also be able to walk the dogs in my new neighborhood when I get home around 9:00pm...)

#2) The neighborhood in which I live currently is safe. Like, leave-your-door-unlocked-during-a-two-hour-walk-and-nothing-is-touched safe. It's even accidentally-leave-the-garage-door-open-while-you're-at-work-all-day-and-nothing-happens-other-than-getting-yelled-at-by-the-boyfriend safe. I don't really want to downgrade to a less safe neighborhood...but some of the areas surrounding all this "bohemian chic" are a little on the left of shady. The areas surrounding the areas surrounding the "bohemian chic" are most definitely shady. I mean, I'm tough...but I'm also realistic - and somehow a single female measuring all of five feet no inches tall doesn't strike fear into the hearts of potential attackers, no? I'd like to be able to walk my dogs without mace. But then, I have pit bulls, right? Ummm....

#3) I have dog(s). Not just any dogs. I have pit bulls. Now, I don't know who decided that all pit bulls are dangerous (when it's so obviously the owner and not the dog...I mean, look at these faces...are you scared of these faces?) but for some reason, apartment complexes don't seem to be in any rush to rent apartments to me. Or, to be more specific, they would LOVE to rent to me - just not my "dangerous" dogs. So basically, my "dangerous" dogs don't provide protection, but keep me from renting most apartments. Fabulous. Maybe I should make them look meaner? Is that even possible?

Oh, and don't give me crap about keeping Blue. I still haven't decided completely if he stays or gets adopted. Shut it. He's adorable and I'm just looking for the perfect home for him. If that's with me, well then, who am I to argue?

So the search is on. Due to the aforementioned pit bull issue, I'm focusing more on rental homes, so that will be fun, right? I've never lived in a house by myself before. Any suggestions for what to look for/what to ask while looking?

Growing up

Sometimes I feel like I'm an adult. Lord knows it's about time. At these moments I feel like I'm in control of my life, it's heading in a direction I'm comfortable with, and I'm making an impact in all the ways that are important to me. I'm paying my bills on time. I'm not staying out drinking the night before some huge responsibility. I'm making good decisions. You know - all the things I didn't do in my early twenties.

And then there are times when I'm driving back to work with my fingers in a tub of cookie dough that I literally couldn't resist buying for lunch and I think that perhaps I haven't come as far as I think.

I mean, buying cookie dough to deal with difficult situations in life is one thing. Eating said cookie dough in the car is quite another. There was no spoon. There were no napkins. I couldn't even wait until I got back to the office. I may as well have been wearing a bib.

Yes, difficult times have befallen the life of Emily, my friends. And instead of ignoring the sage advice of my cousin that "Ben and Jerry go straight to the hips," I opted for cookie dough that, in my mind, is little more than some flour, eggs, water, brown sugar.... it can't be that bad, right? Not when it's SO so good.

I guess I can just look at it as an adult decision to drown myself in cookie dough, though, right? I mean, at least it's not alcoholic beverages. Or drugs. Yep. This is responsible. I'm being responsible.

Even with my fingers in my mouth to get every last bit of the cookie dough off.

iPod magic

Okay, so putting your iPod on shuffle and having it dig up a song you love but have totally forgotten (BNL - When I Fall) is the best kind of pick-me-up ever.

Like a mole, I tell you.

There was a graduation song that had the advise "Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone." After my issues with knee pain brought on by a golfer running late, I understood.

Now, I think it should be edited to read, "Be kind to your eyes. You'll be blind as a bat if you don't. Oh, and wear your damn glasses."

After about a week of studying during every free minute (with a brief hiatus to celebrate my brother's birthday - Happy 25th, little bro - and to have the best dinner out EVER with old friends) I officially can't see. I mean, the can't-read-street-signs-until-I'm-on-top-of-them, bright-lights-have-halos, forget-about-the-projector-in-the-lecture-hall kind of can't see.

Yes, I have glasses. Yes, they're prescription for distance. No I do not wear them regularly. It's not completely vanity. It's more that I lose things that are not attached to me, and I flat out refuse to wear those hang-your-glasses-around-your-neck things. It's amazing to me that I still have a cell phone. I don't even carry a purse because I don't like keeping track of things. So no, I don't wear my glasses.

And yet, today I have no choice. (Note: my favorite Starbucks guy says they make me look intellectual. Then I proceeded to order the wrong thing and he commented that looks aren't everything. Such is my life.) So I'm out in my glasses, and, oh yes, my brain is fried. Fried. Like using-the-wrong-word-to-describe-things fried. I needed stamps and sent the boyfriend to the post office for a sheet of paper. (Luckily he's fluent in Emily speak and knew what I was getting at.)

Both of these maladies are directly tied to the fact that I had three tests in the last 48 hours. One was officially called a quiz, but it was an hour long, so I'm calling it a test.

And people? I took a beating on these tests. I mean, I don't know that I did really well on any of them. That hurt. I like to think that I'm pretty intelligent if I do say so myself, but this whole school and work thing is killing me. I keep thinking that I'm not using every spare minute efficiently (which I'm not) but there has to be some downtime to myself, right? Or is that just a luxury that I can't afford right now? Luckily I have no more assignments/tests due this week. Just a presentation, test, and quiz next week. I wish I were kidding.

But the point of this is that, while I realize that in the grand scheme of things - 30 is the new um....30, I don't see any 18-year-olds complaining that they can't see the writing on the gigantic projection screens that line the front wall of the lecture hall. All of a sudden, I feel old. And tired.

May 3rd can't come soon enough.

To be fair, I never said I was nice...

I haven't pulled an April Fools Day prank in years. I was afraid I was getting rusty. It turns out that as long as you remember the basics, it's like riding a bicycle...

The Basics:
1) You can either go for a surprise, or a lie.

The surprise is obvious. A fake roach in the sink, a pop up monster in the toilet, you with a mask jumping out of the dark yelling "April Fools Day!" Meh. Those are fun, but I think I stopped with those when I was in school.

The lie is more fun for me these days. It's taking a set of details about a person, and weaving them into an elaborate hoax that the person completely believes...before you come out with the standard "April Fools Day" line. Sometimes you can pull these off on your own, and sometimes you need a cast of characters.

2) With the lie, it has to be believable.

I find that boys are usually worse at this than women. (Surprise, right?) Boys want the immediate reaction when they realize at the last minute that "Hold up! It's April Fools Day. I've gotta do something!" Women are more methodical and can lay a believable foundation to achieve the final reaction. For a really good April Fools joke, you either have to play on circumstances in the past that work with your scenario, or start laying the groundwork really early. Don't get me wrong, I've met some great male pranksters...but on April Fools Day? Has a woman ever forgotten what date it is?

3) Joking about death is never funny.

Enough said, right? Calling me in tears because you just ran over my dog, having me ready to rush over there and freak out, then saying "April Fools Day" isn't going to be funny.

4) Joke about something with a "freak out" factor of 5 or below.

"I'm pregnant" would be a freak out factor of 10 for a guy you've only been seeing a few months. Or just cruel to a guy who really wants to be a dad. But to a guy you've been dating a while when you're not ready for children? It could be fun if played right.

If played right, the April Fools Joke has no lasting repercussions, leaves the subject of the joke chagrined that they were fooled, and (best of all) can't be repaid for at least a year. (Who's silly enough to fall for an April Fools Day joke on the same day you just played one??)

So, this year, with those guidelines in mind, I set out to play a joke on the boyfriend. It was sheer genius, if I do say so myself. To be fair, a lot of things worked in my favor to have this be a successful prank. Let me explain...

Fact #1 - I handle the household finances. I make sure all bills are paid each month, and then have the boyfriend write me a check for half the utilities. This includes paying the boyfriend's cell phone bill and car payment. I'm better at this sort of organization, and it's sort of soothing for me to balance everything each month...so the task just became mine when we moved in together. (I know. I'm weird.)

Fact #2 - Our mailbox is in a really inconvenient location. It's sort of close to the garage, but not really. Usually the person who gets to park in the garage that month is in charge of checking the mail. However, since the boyfriend "lost" his mail key, this too has become my responsibility.

Fact #3 - We just got new phone lines installed at my office. With caller ID. These are Vonage phone lines, and mainly used for long distance. Since the boyfriend's cell phone is local, I've never called him from those numbers.

Given these facts, plus the fact that I hadn't even mentioned the upcoming date, I figured I could probably pull off a fabulous prank.

So I put together this letter:

I pulled information from the Chase website to make it believable, and once I had it written, had my boss sign it. Then I called the boyfriend, and had a great conversation where I explained that I hadn't been checking the mail regularly due to classes (I keep forgetting) and about the letter that I had found. Much to my satisfaction, he freaked out and reacted as I had predicted, saying that he would handle it this evening. I then dropped the bombshell about the repossession today if payment is not received. (Note: I put that in there specifically because I knew he would put off dealing with the situation. I'm a genius :-)

While he freaked out some more, (Repossession?! I'm at work! How would I get home? Do I need to hide my car?! We've been paying the bill!!!) I offered to fax the letter to his office so that he could see it and deal with it immediately. Maybe there was still time to avoid losing his car... He agreed, and asked that I write the last three payment dates on there for him to reference when he called.

Done!

So I sent the fax and waited. Not two minutes later, my cell phone rang. I literally could not keep a straight face at this point, so I let the call go to voicemail. Another minute passes, and the office line rings. At this point, I was about to pee my pants, I was so excited.

My boss answered the phone (with the most ridiculous fake accent ever) and put the boyfriend on speakerphone. The boyfriend's tense voice filled the room with his anger barely in check. A conversation filled with "I've been making online payments" and "I'll look into this, but it might be too late to stop the repossession order that's been issued" ensued. Finally my boss said,

"Mr. Boyfriend, can you please tell me today's date?" (Obviously, his real name was used.)
There was a brief silence while the boyfriend digested this and slowly responded, "April 1st."

I'm sure that if he hadn't realized what was going on in that moment, the cackles of laughter that filled his ears clued him in.

He was definitely amused and definitely bummed that he fell for it. About thirty minutes later I get a text message that read,

"I don't know when and I don't know how, but YOU ARE A DEAD WOMAN WALKING."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to decline the third call from "No Name" that I've gotten on my cell phone since. Apparently the boyfriend doesn't know the part about how you have to wait a year for retaliation...

Silly boys.