Something to Remember

Sometimes I really do love my boss. He has been really understanding about my anxiety issues and stomach problems. (Also it is nice to have a doctor, albeit for animals, because if I have any questions about my meds then I just ask him!)

He has also given me some great advice. When I start to panic about choosing a career and work and my stomach he just reminds me that my health and school are the most important things right now, and that what I do right now will not ruin my life.

He said that there are a million things that I can do and still have a happy life. There are lots of careers that I can choose and be happy in. He said that there are a million ways to make money so don't worry about that, and that the important thing is that I am happy and healthy.

I'm an Adult, I Swear!

This morning my mom left for work with the parting words of "Clean the house!"

Troy and Quentin and I promptly . . . did not.

This evening I received a call from our general contractor who told me that he would be running a little late for his meeting at our house with my mom tonight. I had no idea he was coming over but told him okie-dokie. Then I called mom to tell her, she said great, and then she said that she would talk to me soon because she was about 15 minutes from home.

Enter Panic Mode.

I bolted down the stairs, screaming "TROY!" in a way that suggested two burglars had just jumped through my window with knives, rather than to tell him that mom was on her way. (You'll understand in a minute).

He jumps off the couch from watching "How I Met Your Mother" and demands to know what has me so upset.

"Mom has a meeting with Mr. Contractor tonight and she'll be home in fifteen minutes!"

Our eyes met with clear, frantic understanding. Troy sums it up perfectly.

"Oh, shit!"

We both bolt in opposite directions and start grabbing things that need to be put away and tripping over the dogs and cats who had come running at my shrieks. The next fifteen minutes were both amusing and full of panic, as anyone who has met my mother would understand. If you haven't met my mother, just let me tell you that if she told you to clean the house and gave you a whole day during which you had nothing going on, yet still didn't clean the house? You are a dead man. (Or you would wish to be a dead man after the yelling petered out).

Luckily, Troy and I both are masters in the art of "Hide-Crap-So-Nobody-Sees-What-Slobs-We-Really-Are-And-So-We-Don't-Get-In-Trouble" school of baloney-noodles.

The house was passably clean by the time Mom came home. I even decorated some more for Christmas.

(Yes. True Story. I am nearly 21 years old, yet I am scared of my mom coming home to a dirty house. At least my nearly-18 year-old brother joins me in that fear!)

Dawg

I picked up a stray dog today after I nearly ran her over--but it's probable she would have damaged my car more than I damaged her. This is a picture of her breed--I think she was mixed with maybe St. Bernard too.



She was the sweetest thing and came right on over when I called her, and she got into my car and I drove her to my house and called the cell number on her collar--no answer, so we left a message. An hour later there was no call back, and our poor dogs were tired of being yelled at for barking at the strange dog in the backyard.

Sage and Kali


Just when we were beginning to panic that we might have this moose in our backyard all night--and would she freeze outside? where will we put her inside? if she sleeps in the guest bedroom will she tear it to pieces?--we got a call from a quavery voice, a sweet elderly woman who lived not one mile from us.

This dog, Dixie, evidently went to the same dog training school that ours did--the Dig-And-Dig-Until-You-Are-Free-Under-The-Fence School. She had already escaped once today and the sweet lady was so happy we had found her! Reminds us that even when we're exasperated and mad at our dogs for escaping, we're happy to find them too.

All's well that ends well.