For the love of dog

We had to put Buddy to rest today--he was getting sicker and didn't want to eat much anymore. Sure, he ate the steak we fed him last night, but otherwise hadn't been interested in the usual kibble for a few days. We could have given him more pills to help with the pain, but I think that it would have been torturous for us to keep him going just for our sakes.

I haven't posted in a while because the story I've been posting has a basset hound as one of the main characters--I wrote the story years ago, but because of the subject matter (the dog dies--OK, I killed the plot here), I haven't been able to keep on editing it.

I guess I'd been living in denial, but tonight I'm forced to face the facts: Buddy was a great dog with whom we had some great times--we went to the summit of Mt. Evans with him, traveled across several dozen states with him, and thoroughly enjoyed walking with him along the Greenway here in Grand Forks.

Last night, Emerson, Craig and I took him for a walk--I snapped a few black-n-white images of Emerson walking him (she threw a fit and insisted that she walk him). It was a lot of fun, and one of my former co-workers from the Herald drove past us and commented on how the scene was "just gorgeous".

I'm feeling terrible about having to be responsible and make such a "humane" decision, but I know that I couldn't bear to see him struggle to breathe anymore (he'd been doing this for the past few days). I'll miss him.

When I have the gumption, I'll post some more...

Part 2

The department store was busy with people. Jillian found her way to the juniors’ section—dodging a few little old ladies and a mother with a small child. She hit the clearance section first, and realizing that the remaining deals were ugly enough for society’s outcasts, she headed for the dress section.

“Something sexy,” she whispered as she fingered leather and cashmere. When she found a cute little skirt with a matching top, she headed for the checkout, whispering to herself, “This better fit—I don’t have the time to try it on!”

*

James pulled into Ithaca and headed toward the nearest floral shop. “Tootsie, it may be my birthday, but I can’t imagine not bringing her flowers.” As he pulled into the small parking lot he noted, “I sure hope you don’t mind the wait.”

Tootsie grumbled and began to lick her paws. James hopped out of the car, entered the shop, and found the nearest sales clerk. She was busying herself by dusting off one of the floral cases. “Excuse me, I need two dozen roses—with a nice vase.”

“Red?” The lady turned to face him.

“Sure—or some combination—whatever you’d think she’d like.”

“Is she your wife?” The lady smiled.

“Girlfriend—but hopefully, after tonight, fiancée.”

“Then you’d better get her red.”

*

When James pulled into Jillian’s parking lot outside her apartment, he noticed that her car wasn’t there. “I wonder where she ran off to.” He let Tootsie out of the car, and she ran over to the dumpster and sniffed a dirty diaper on the ground nearby. Just as James was unloading his suitcase and bags, Jillian pulled up.

Recognizing the car, Tootsie ran over to greet her. “Well hello, Tootsie! Enjoy the drive?” Jillian rubbed behind her long ears, and she plopped down on the pavement, rolled onto her back, expecting a belly rub.

James slammed the trunk shut and walked over to her car, smiling. “I think she’s had it with me—I’m afraid the drive was a long one for her.”

“Not longer than usual—I hope.”

“No, but since my car’s been in the shop, Dave was nice enough to lend me his.”

“Oh, so that’s Dave’s car—”

“Yeah—it’s a real junker. It doesn’t even have heat. I nearly froze on the way up here.”

Taking some of his bags, Jillian asked, “Why don’t you move up here? The drive is so long.”

“I’d love to, but where can I find a job around here?”

Jillian nodded and looked at the pavement. “Well, Happy Birthday.” She looked up and smiled—hiding her slight disappointment.

“Thanks.” James reached into the front seat of the old car and grabbed the roses. “Here, these are for you.”

“Flowers? How sweet! But it’s your birthday—really, you didn’t have to!” She smiled and hugged him firmly. He smells like clove and soap, she thought. “Come inside—let me show you what I bought.”

James and Tootsie followed her up the stairs to her apartment, which smelled wonderful. The shrimp fettuccini casserole and the bread baking in the bread machine, filled the apartment with its inviting aroma. Jillian led James over to the kitchen table where there was a large wrapped box.

“You really didn’t have to—”

“Shut up and open it!” She smiled, and James ran his fingers through her long red hair. He opened the box, carefully tearing at the overtly masculine wrapping. Pushing tissue paper aside, he found a rust-red hand-knit wool sweater.

“Wow—thank you. I love it.”

“Thanks. I made it myself. I’ve been taking these classes lately—remember?”

“Yeah—you were talking about that the other day—”

She kissed him passionately on the neck. “I had planned on changing into this outfit that I just bought—want to give me a minute? I’ll be right back—then we can eat.”

“Sure, honey—whatever you want.”

She slipped into the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. “This is my chance,” he whispered to Tootsie, who was sniffing a partially eaten cookie which was hiding under the couch. He quietly went over to the foyer, opened his suitcase, and pulled out a small, black box. He opened it to reveal a large princess-cut diamond on a platinum band. Walking over to the table, he thought, this is it—this is everything. What if she says no? Too late now—I guess. James placed the ring in the middle of the chocolate frosting and decided to join Jillian in the bedroom. A little spontaneity?

Jillian's Gift (a short story)

A soft snow fell on the outskirts of Ithaca, where Jillian waited patiently, peeling and de-veining shrimp. Her soft, smooth hands worked quickly, as she hummed a few bars of “Lonely Girls” along with the stereo, until the phone rang.

“I don't have the time!” Jillian dropped the shrimp she was working on, rinsed her fingers in the sink and snatched the phone of the receiver. “Yes—ah hello?”

“Jillian dear, it's you're mother.”

Jillian nodded and paused for a moment as her mother continued, “Are you eating well? I know how bad things can be when you’re in grad school—”

“Mom, I’m fine—look, I don’t have time for these things.”

“No time for your own mother?”

“Mom, you know James? It's his birthday—”

“Now James is the one you've been dating for how long?”

“A year—I brought him home with me for Janie's baby shower?” Jillian twirled a strand of her long auburn hair around her finger and rolled her eyes.

“Oh yes, he's the one with those gorgeous green eyes and that cute little dog with the short legs—say, did I tell you? I talked to your sister yesterday—she says that Katie finally fits into the cute little jumper the two of you gave her.”

“Oh that's nice—but Mom, really now, I have to run.”

“What's the big deal? You aren't cooking for him are you?”

“Mom!” Jillian cleared her throat and calmly “It's his birthday—either I cook, or I spend a small fortune buying dinner at one of the restaurants downtown.”

“But you know what they say about men—when you cook a nice meal for them too soon in the relationship, they'll expect you to cook for them the rest of your life!”

“The rest of my life? Why can't you just ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

Jillian sighed and plunked down on the couch. “I don't know what you're talking about!”

“Ah Mom—you know—” Jillian wrapped the phone cord around her fingers until the tips were a tingling dark purple, and then released the pressure slowly, until her fingertips returned to their natural, soft pink color.

“Okay honey—your father wants to talk to you—are your finances okay?”

Jillian listened to her mother drone on about finances and the importance of yearly pap smears until her eyes wandered over to the clock. 6:30.

“He’ll be here any minute!” Jillian told her mother she had to run and quickly hung up—though her mother was still scolding her for swearing. Then she rushed around her apartment grabbing heaping handfuls of shirts and skirts, panties and pants.

Running back into her bedroom with arms stuffed with month’s worth of clothing, she opened the closet door with her foot and shoved the dirty laundry inside. After repeating this a few times, she found it hard to get the closet door closed, but after a few strong tugs she forced the closet shut. “Now to get ready—make-up. . . hair. . .what to wear?”

After fighting with the closet again, trying to pry it open to find her skimpy little black dress—Jillian gave up. “It’s 7:00—he’s supposed to be here in an hour—” Finding her purse on the coffee table, Jillian grabbed her coat. “To hell with it—he has a key—I’m going shopping.”

*

Day off...the time to chat.

Well, based on the lack of my blog entries, one could easily presume that I have re-entered the work force. Normally, I would be up to my elbows in UND Aerospace flight manuals right now, fine-tuning the verbiage, checking for grammar and ensuring the design is consistent with other manuals. I also started working for Ntractive yesterday evening--a contract position that has me reviewing their CRM software content and helping them market it. I did an interview with them about a year ago for Prairie Business Magazine--since then their company has grown and has a number of friendly, fun people to work with....so I basically am working about 50 hours a week (give or take).

But I took today off because my foot is terribly sore. I went to see Dr. Lo yesterday, who told me that my foot was healing well and that he wasn't concerned, but that the 5th metatarsal bone (where I had my tailor bunion) had shifted slightly. Thankfully, the bone abuts the joint well, so no surgery is needed, but I am to take it easy and not put my weight on it. I can walk, but I'm not to stand with my weight on it....if I don't obey I could be back on crutches. Yikes.

Buddy isn't faring much better either. About a week and a half ago, while my husband Craig was in Portland for a conference his company held, I found out that Buddy has lymphoma. The vet said that we could expect him to live for about 2-3 months with treatment. He's on prednisone and has responded well to it--he's eating again and regained the 9 pounds he'd lost.

If I have the chance, I'll edit a short story and post it later today...

Ciao!

Mason Jennings is a genius

"Black panther defy the power;fight the violence with nonviolence
"What good is justice if the scales are bent, by a criminal government?"--Mason Jennings

***

Craig found a Mason Jennings album that I'd lost years ago--listening to it, and it's funny to hear the sentiments he held then when we now have an African American president. He's a musical genius in my book if he can make the clarinet sound cool. I get giddy reminiscent every time I hear this album because I equate it with the start of my relationship with Craig back in 2000. I went to see Jennings in a bar in Fargo with a friend (Brooks West) and was pleasantly surprised. Then again, Brooks usually had good taste in music (there's another story there, but I'll go into that later).




I hated playing the clarinet during junior high--but our teacher (Mr. Schmidt) promised us the trip of a lifetime to Valley Fair in Shokapee, Minn. By the time I was 13 and in the eighth grade, I didn't care anymore.

We sold the Metro for a fair price on Saturday. Sometime, when I'm feeling more vocal, I'll tell you the whole story.

Anyway, I gotta run. I might have landed myself a job today...have a meeting at 11 a.m.

Kitchen sink is full, would like to pitch it

I can't say that I've had the chance to be a happy homemaker while I've been out of work. I did manage to clean the entire house last week, but somehow, within two days time it's a disaster again. I need to get to the dishes in the sink, but haven't because I've been so busy this morning/afternoon.

Buddy is sick again with something--I think it's his teeth, but whatever it is, he's sleeping far too often, hasn't been his cheerful self, and won't eat. Not even treats. So, he's seeing the vet this afternoon....

Also, I am grateful to be walking (limping) around, though I'd like my normal mobility back. Recently, I ran into a few people and they asked me what I'd done to my foot, or whether I simply had been wearing uncomfortable shoes and whatnot. Physical therapy is going well, but it isn't moving along as quickly as I'd like it too--but if my therapist (Craig Hahn) pushes me even harder, the chance of me even having the ability to limp becomes scarce.

Going to try and sell our Metro... 2001 Chevy with 163,000 miles if anyone is interested. We're getting a Honda Passport in about a month from my in-laws who just bought a new minivan and didn't want to bother with selling it. They knew we needed a car that has the room to transport the kiddo, a few suitcases and the dog, so they were quite thoughtful. If we don't sell the Metro, we'll have 4 cars. We have no use for 4 cars. Heck, I don't think we need 3 cars, but Craig really wanted his truck.

Forget the party hats, uncork the Champagne!

I have a reason to celebrate today: I am finally off my crutches and walking! While I am still hobbling about, the feeling of ditching the crutches is liberating. What's more, after an intriguing interview today, I'm feeling fairly confident about the job market's crystal ball.

Another reason to celebrate? Well yesterday, when I went to put on one of my favorite suits for an interview, I couldn't help but notice how loose my pants were. So I tried on an old pair of skinny jeans (Calvin Kleins) that I've had for about six years but haven't been able to wear for about a year...they fit perfectly!

So tell me, why does my bathroom scale read the same weight? Did I actually build muscle while I commandeered those wretched metal "aids"?

Regardless, I'm fixing to gain a couple of pounds tonight. I told Craig he had to take me (and Emerson) out for dinner, and I think my stomach is craving a nice, juicy steak. As my vegetarian friends would say, "That's just because you're lacking iron and/or are addicted to the opiates found in meat."

Crazy as it may sound, from what I understand, that could be true--casein, found in dairy products apparently breaks down into an opiate similar to heroine--which thereby affects the brain once it enters the blood stream. So, sure there's a reason to be vegan too. But what would I savor with my wine?

:)