Flooded Lizard Kingdom

This post sounds incredibly hostile. It's really not intended that way.

Dog Two went back to the rescue today. I post this not because I am terribly interested in discussing it, but because it's an easy way to notify a bunch of people who may ask.

If you feel the need to tell me I'm part of the problem, I don't understand what commitment is, etc., please be advised that I agree with you. So if you still want to tell me, you should probably figure out why you feel the need to tell me before you go to the trouble. Also, for those who let me know (either before or after I admitted it) that bringing her into the household at that time was a bad idea, please be advised that "I told you so" is a phrase I got thoroughly tired of after my first marriage ended.

You can spend $1000 and still have no idea why your dog is throwing up blood.

However, when they did the ultrasound, they did not discover a tumor, a swallowed baby toy, or a massive hemorrhage - which doesn't mean we can rule out any of those, somehow, but which meant that she got to come home and we're treating it like it's an ulcer to see if that fixes it.

Since she kept digging out the IV anyway, I'm more than happy to have her back here with me.

• An 11 year old dog who is vomiting blood and dehydrated. She is staying at the vet overnight for IV fluids and anti-nausea medication. They don't know what's causing it without referring her for an ultrasound. It could be a tumor, or an ulcer, or just a pancreas with an attitude problem.
• A baby who made it through over two hours at the vet without anyone deciding he was a snack.
• A big fucking headache.

1. Leftover Mexican food from Matt's El Rancho, where we ate last night. The baby came with us, he was quite well-behaved.
2. Dog Two, on her way to the vet to be spayed. They're done already, she's fine, and we're hoping it helps with some of her more annoying behaviors. We don't know why it would, but we can hope.
3. A mouse in a trap in a box, on its way to be released in a field near C-Man's work. I don't know if the same mouse we caught and released last time somehow found its way back, or if it was a new mouse, but either way I've been doing a lot of cleaning. Eccchhh.

1. The Dog makes sure the bed has plenty of dog hair on it, so when the baby lies on the bed he can be marked as a member of the household.
2. Dog Two has dug up some of the grass that comes up to our back porch, which means I don't have to edge as much.
3. Both dogs bark loudly and often to ensure that no sneaky squirrels, pedestrians, or plastic bags breach the perimeter.
4. Dog Two caught and pulverized the broccoli that fell on the floor last night to make sure we didn't run it down the garbage disposal in too large of a piece and end up having to call the plumber.
5. The Dog shakes when there is a thunderstorm so we know to keep the baby inside, protected from rain.
6. Dog Two eats The Dog's food if there any any leftovers, preventing insect infestation.
7. Both dogs failed to catch the mouse several weeks ago, correctly assuming that I wouldn't want to deal with the consequences.

Y'all,

I'm very sorry my dogs tracked all the mud in the universe into my house. I know this means there won't be any mud left for your dogs to track into your houses, and I am aware that this is quite inconsiderate. However, I cannot promise that it will not happen again. Around dinnertime, would be my guess.

Thanks for understanding,
The Princess

The Princess: How are you?

Dog Two: Fine.

The Princess: I ask because we've been outside for a while, and the mosquitoes are kind of biting the fuck out of me, and you haven't yet gone to the bathroom.

Dog Two: I'm eating a leaf right now.

The Princess: I can see that.

Dog Two: Can we go in?

The Princess: I don't think so. Remember yesterday when you went inside and then we had to clean up after you?

Dog Two: Hey, there's a bird!

The Princess: Yes, it's very nice. Do you need to do anything out here?

Dog Two: What's this on the pavement?

The Princess: A dead bug, and you don't need any.

Dog Two: Hey, I have to pee!

Today when we woke up, we had one dog.

Tonight when we go to bed, we have two dogs.

Please welcome Dog Two, who was thrown out of a moving car's window when she was bitty. Luckily she is an Action Dog and rolled with it. She also did a great job growing her hair back once she got treated for mange. Now she is four months old and has come to live with us.

If only...

Photo from Vidiot on Flickr, found via Push for free cheese on History of the Button.

C-Man: We got a big bed so the dog could spread out, right?

The Princess: No.

C-Man: I didn't think so.

Glenn explains why dogs don't rule the world.

A dog can catch Hepatitis from eating a toad.

(To clarify, I just read about that. The Dog is not allowed to eat toads, so she is fine. As far as I know. But she's at home alone unsupervised, so who knows what she's up to?)

Dear The Dog,

Please don't act so excited to see the man wearing the Hooters t-shirt. I know you're a dog and y'all don't really have feminism, but work with me here.

Thanks,
The Princess

Dear The Dog,

I believe you're a person and a member of this household, and as such your preferences should be considered. I reserve the right to override your preferences if fulfilling them would overly jeopardize your well-being. And obviously, I think you're on the short end of the stick when it comes to getting your recreational needs met. If I walked the talk, I would put more of my own activities on hold to make sure you got more playtime. But I don't make your wear hats or clothes because I know you hate them, I don't bang jars on counters to coax sticky lids because I know it frightens you, and I try to minimize the number of pills I shove down your throat because you don't seem to like that very much at all.

That said, I'm not sure what to do about your new door-scratching practice. When I go to sleep early and you're in the room with me and you want to go into the living room to hang out with C-Man, you scratch on the door. When I'm in the bathroom and you want to come in, you scratch on the door.

I want you to have a vote, and truth be told I don't care what side of what door you're on most of the time so it's not hurting me much to let you in/out. You don't have any words with which to indicate your preferences, so this is as good as it gets. But should I really be encouraging you to scratch at doors?

Bemused,
Your Mom

Dear The Dog,

I thought I would check your horoscope and see what you can expect in the near future, especially since we are going out of town for the weekend and leaving you here. Lilysea checks her baby's horoscope, so why shouldn't I do it for you? And her choice of Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology seems as good a choice as any.

You are an Aquarius, and this is your horoscope for the week of June 29th (weeks start on Thursdays, apparently):

When you obsess on your adversaries, you risk becoming like them. The more you shape your life through your responses to things you don't like, you invite them to define your destiny. You'll have to be on guard against falling prey to this mistake in the coming weeks, Aquarius. While I don't suggest that you totally ignore the forces that oppose you, neither do I recommend that you regularly wake up in the middle of the night and spend hours plotting your next ten moves against them. Confine your scheming to a circumscribed period--say every Saturday between 11:30 a.m. and noon--and devote the rest of your time to creating what you love.

I'm a bit frightened now...

Love,
Your Mom (a.k.a. the force that often opposes you)

In the past few days I've gone back through my blog and sorted all the dog-related posts into the Dogs(s) category. I was shocked, SHOCKED, by how many posts on this site are about dogs. With this post, it will be 41. In four years. Which I guess isn't really that many. It's not called Flooded Dog Kingdom, after all.

But I am working on yet ANOTHER dog-related post, which is an attempt to list out all the names of The Dog. You may not see this post until 2007 given how many there are and how C-Man loves to make up more on a daily basis, but I'm just giving you a heads-up. In case you are developing an allergy to dogs from all of the dog-related posts on this blog.

Dear The Dog,

You are a very good dog. You don't bite or jump. You are 100% housebroken. You don't chew up our clothes or shoes, and you don't dig in the trash. I appreciate all of this.

However, if you continue waking me up repeatedly between 3:30 and 5:00 a.m., you better be ready to throw down.

Respectfully,
The Person Who Pays For Your Food, Shelter, Toys, and Medical Care

In case the previous post is not enough artistic endeavor for you, I give you the results of a performance piece by The Dog, entitled "How I Feel About Thunderstorms."

I suspect it doesn't have as much impact as seeing the piece in person, but neither C-Man nor I had that privilege since it happened while we were at work. The laundry began its day innocently stored in the basket, which was stored upright in the cabinet. C-Man came home to find The Dog trapped in the bathroom with the upended version. There were muddy paw prints in the bathtub as well. He had to disturb her creation by shoving the door open to allow her to escape, but she seemed glad of the trade-off.

Come to think of it, perhaps it was not art, but actually a pitched battle between mighty foes?

Dear The Dog,

I really meant to be on time in writing a post about your birthday. But then I couldn't remember if it was January 6th or 13th, so I wanted to look it up in your file, but I keep your file with your food instead of in the file box so the dogsitters know where it is, and then I got engaged, and now it's the end of the month. So I'm sorry.

That's what a lot of my relationship with you seems to boil down to: I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I don't walk you enough, I'm sorry that I don't brush your teeth enough, I'm sorry that when I do brush your teeth we have to use vanilla-mint toothpaste that you don't like because of your food allergies, I'm sorry that I'm on the computer right now typing this instead of playing with you as you would like me to. I'm sorry you're in the apartment for 10 hours a day by yourself right now. (Hey, I'm trying, but the Dog Fairy hasn't brought us another dog yet. I'm working on it.)

We've been together for nine years and I still don't feel like I have the hang of not being selfish when it comes to taking care of you. To be fair, you can be excruciatingly annoying. To be fair, I should have trained you better not to be. I often feel like we're in a war, and I lose more often than not because I'm the grownup and I just have to get over it. But you've never wanted for food, water, medical care, shelter, or toys. And I think you've gotten a decent amount of love even if you'd be better off if more of that love manifested in playtime.

Hopefully you agree with me that's not too bad.

Happy Birthday. As soon as I'm convinced you're over your latest round of trying to itch off all your skin, we'll have a little party and try out those new dog treats your Auntie C. bought for you.

Love,
your mom

All is not well in the land of cheap apartments.

First, there's the rats. They have moved into the walls. I was here for over two years with no rats. Why have the rats moved in?

Second, there is the Unruly Dog. The Unruly Dog's owners do not seem fond of the leash concept, so often when I leave the apartment the Unruly Dog comes flying across the courtyard, barking and lunging at Layla. Truthfully, this is the same behavior that The Dog would exhibit if I opened the door and she saw another dog outside, which is why I keep her on a leash. Which is, incidentally, the law in the City of Austin.

Today the Unruly Dog decided to block our entrance back into the apartment's courtyard, and I could see no humans about. So I did what I usually do when confronted with an uncontrolled dog that is moving towards mine. I yelled.

Two humans appeared. One said "She just wants to play." The other said "Go on, yell at her one more time. Fucking bitch! She's not doing anything to you."

I avoided eye contact and dragged The Dog back to the apartment. I have heard people describe the experience of adrenaline: shaking, heart pounding. I had never felt that until today.

Now I don't know what to do. I am not a bitch for trying to face down a potentially threatening dog with my voice. But now I am in a hostile situation with a neighbor that could recur any time I step outside my front door. I can't seem to remember what the threatening person looks like, so I may not even be able to avoid going into the laundry room if she's in there.

Do I complain to the management and possibly get them evicted or forced to give up their dog if they're living there without paying a pet deposit? Is that ethical?

Dear The Dog,

You know this picture is a lie.

You look aloof here, unconcerned. But we both know what really happens. Around 8:00 in the evening, you pick up the duck (the same duck that you are so casual about in this photo!) and run around the apartment. Around and around. Again and again. Whining continuously.

What IS that ABOUT?

Love,
The Princess

One of the things I am thankful for is that I bought 4 cases of macaroni and cheese and one case of spaghettios from Annie's Homegrown a few months ago, so I have something for dinner tonight even though I refuse to socialize today and C-Man is at his dad's which means there is no one to cook for me.

My friend B. had challenged me to create furniture out of the boxes if I couldn't find enough cabinet space. So I built tiered extensions onto the coffee table and took a picture for her, then completely forgot about it for quite some time. But here it is:

You can see how the spaghettios in particular made a nice platform for the remotes. However, I did eventually store all of the cases, so I am also thankful that I have more cabinet space than I think I do.

The Dog and I wish everyone a good Thanksgiving. I made pumpkin muffins, so we are celebrating by not letting her have any.

And not to leave out The Dog:

Make your own.

Dear The Dog,

Last week when we found a toad on the front porch, I thought we had an understanding. You froze, I said "NO!" and we went on our merry way. You came with me when I asked you to, so I said "Good dog!" The toad even did its part by vacating the premises while you and I were on our walk.

So your behavior this morning was disappointing. Props for realizing it was a toad, and not, as I thought, a leaf. (Hey, it's dark at 6:45 in the morning.) But then you moved towards it with your ears up like you were hunting! What was that about? And I sensed a little resistance when I walked away from the scene, your leash in my hand.

Please don't let this happen again. If you caught a toad I would scream.

With love,
The Princess

The Dog will not lick sesame-garlic salad dressing off the floor, no matter how much of it C-Man spills by shaking the bottle even though the cap isn't really screwed on.

The list of potential dog names I found while cleaning up my hard drive also had Maya. Since I now know someone's child with that name, I'm removing that one.

• Tasha
• Tage
• Dulcie
• Ruby

My ability to use these names will probably be limited, as I expect any new dogs will come from Blue Dog Rescue or similar groups. Those dogs already have names. But heck, I posted my list of what I would name cats - even though I hope to avoid ever owning a cat again!

My wonderful friends Grace and Mark have just lost their dog Chance. Since I don't know what to say to them that could be of any help, I just wanted to acknowledge publicly that Chance was a great dog, and this is a sad day. I would say half of Chance's greatness was his innate personality, and half was the hard work that Grace and Mark did to make sure that Chance could be a happy participant in our society with friends and toys and fun. They saw his potential and did everything they could to bring it out. I wish more dogs were as lucky as Chance for adoptive parents, and I wish he could have stayed longer to enjoy it all.

I often wish that The Dog would earn her keep. Loudly. However, my friend has C. pointed out that it's often difficult to secure gainful employment without a resume. I realize now that my complaints have been far greater than my investment in The Dog's future. Even such a small task as a resume is difficult for a creature with no verbal skills or opposable thumbs - and yet, I have not stepped in to assist her.

So I have created a draft as a jumping-off point, and I invite constructive comments.

CONTACT: thedog at lizardkingdom dot org

OBJECTIVE: Cheese. Lots of cheese. Or possibly yogurt. Willing to negotiate.

CHARACTERISTICS and SKILLS:

• Strong sense of curiosity and willingness to explore single topics in detail.
• Proven ability to focus on repetitive tasks.
• Alert to changes in environment which might influence normal course of business.
• Really, really, really good at pulling things.

EXPERIENCE:

• early 1997, supporting participant in low-income community service project
• 1997-2000, social benefit delivery and textile remodeling in a team environment
• 2000-present, responsible for individual projects, including sanitation

SCENE 1

Setting: C-Man and I are lounging on the couch watching Farscape. One disc ends, and he turns to The Dog - who is skulking about, lamenting the bad luck that brought her, 8 years ago, to a home with free food, clean water, medical care, toys, and treats.

C-Man: Dog, change the DVD!
The Princess: If you can teach her to do that, I'll make my parents give you a dowry.
C-Man: Cool. (pause) But hey, is the dowry going to be a cow?

SCENE 2

Setting: C-Man and I are lounging (which we apparently do a lot judging from this writeup).

C-Man, with a serious look: I need to tell you something important.
The Princess: What?
C-Man: I love you.
The Princess: Oh. Good.
C-Man: What?
The Princess: You looked so serious. I thought you were going to say something scary.
C-Man: Like I've been lying to you all this time and I'm actually a high seas pirate?

Dear The Dog,

You will not fit under my pillow when my head is lying on it. I know you're scared of the storms, but please stop trying to make that your refuge.

Thanks,
The Princess

Dear The Dog,

This is an intervention. We are all concerned about your drug-seeking behavior - to wit, chewing off so much of your hair that I have to take you to the vet.

I don't know how you knew he would give you steroids. I don't really care. What concerns me is your belief that we won't love you anymore if you don't bring home a gold medal in leash-pulling from the 2006 Olympic Games.

Please get help now.

With love,
The Princess

Dear My Neighbors,

I love your dogs. I really do. Especially the one that shakes the deflated basketball as if he wants to break its neck. This happens every single time The Dog and I walk by his yard, and while we can't tell if it's a threat or an invitation to play, it's damn funny and we love him for it.

But here's the thing: I leave my bedroom window open at night so I don't have to run the AC, and your dogs bark all night. All of them. I think they even invite other dogs over at night to bark with them. And despite the wonderful opportunity this provides researchers in 78757 to track the frequency and pitch of a variety of dog barks, it's not doing my lifelong sleep issues one bit of good. (Unless you think of it from the point of view of the sleep issues, who want nothing more than to grow strong and prosper.)

So please bring your dogs inside for the night. That's where most of them should be anyway, since they're pack animals and you're their pack. It will do us all a world of good. And then I won't have to leave a basketball corpse on your pillow.

Thanks ever so,
The Princess

On Saturday, two of my neighbors received letters from our new property management company. The company had apparently noticed that my neighbors were living without leases and paying the same rent they were paying in summer 2003.

Since The Dog and I are living without a lease and paying the same rent as in 2003...wait, let's be clear. We are living without a lease, and the canine charitable foundation known as The Princess is paying the same rent as she was in 2003. So is The Dog, but her share is a big zero. Just to be clear.

We expect that it is only a matter of time before The Man catches up with us. We think The Man should be happy that we are quiet tenants who pay the rent and never get the cops called on us, unlike one of our former neighbors. But we suspect that the new property management company is going to feel that we should be paying more than $375 for a one bedroom apartment in north central Austin.

Any escape has been blocked by the fact that I am currently unemployed and therefore unlikely to secure lodging elsewhere. Also, we like living here. We pondered joining forces with our Libertarian neighbor to hold off the bill collectors at gunpoint, but then we remembered we don't like Libertarianism. Or guns. Or having a criminal record.

I think the only answer is for The Dog to get a job.

If it weren't for the Pennsylvania Attorney General's Office, The Dog could have gotten her MBA!

CNN: University that awarded MBA to cat sued

The Pennsylvania attorney general's office Monday sued an online university for allegedly selling bogus academic degrees -- including an MBA awarded to a cat.

[...]

Investigators paid $299 for a bachelor's degree for Colby Nolan -- a deputy attorney general's 6-year-old black cat -- claiming he had experience including baby-sitting and retail management.

The school, which offers no classes, allegedly determined Colby Nolan's resume entitled him to a master of business administration degree; a transcript listed the cat's course work and 3.5 grade-point average.

Dear The Dog,

No, you do not need any desiccated pigeon feet.

Also, I know it is confusing that I have slept on different sides of the bed in the seven and a half years we've been together. I was rather startled when I realized that was the case, because as we know I hate change, so why am I side-swapping? But for the last year it's been stable, so you cannot simply decide that my side of the bed is your bed. You just can't. Especially when I'm already sleeping there. Got it?

Thanks Ever So,
The Princess

Five women in my social circle having babies this year wasn't enough.

Now there are six.

(whimper)

Do I need another dog?

[Update, 12:18 pm: The more I think about how tired I am today and how much I would like to get done between now and Friday, the less this is bothering me. And I so do not need another dog, unless I build an addition onto my apartment.]

[Update, 2:35 pm: Or I could get a trained monkey to walk the dogs while I'm gone. Or a trained miniature pony. That would be awesome. I'd probably still need the addition, though.]

Surprise #1: I just got a Mother's Day card from The Dog.

Surprise #2: She buys recycled. Apparently role modeling works.

Dear girl with the puppy at the Pecan Street Festival,
Yes, you're right, I was getting all up in your business. But no amount of eye-rolling from you changes the fact that your puppy was being slow because she was trying to DRINK OUT OF THE GUTTER BECAUSE SHE WAS THIRSTY! If this simple need is too difficult for you to meet, then you better not be having sex because no birth control is 100% effective and I PROMISE you that babies would be much more disruptive to your lifestyle.
Thanks,
The Princess

Dear man hanging his entire torso out the window of a red pickup truck driving north on Burnet Road,
Though I did not catch the exact wording of your suggestion, I feel fairly sure that I understood the gist. I regret to inform you that I am not available for any such activities this month, but please check back when I have no self-esteem. (Also, please know that no matter what my friend D. said, your behavior is all about power - I proffer as evidence that I have never been spoken to like that by any man who was stationary and within a five foot radius.)
Sincerely,
The Princess

Dear fireflies,
Thanks for moving back into my neighborhood. It's like tiny Christmas lights are flying around in everyone's front yards, and it's the closest f*&ing thing to magic that I've ever seen. Keep up the good work.
Love and kisses,
The Princess

Dear The Dog,
OK, new plan. I pledge to check out a lot of books from the library this year. I further pledge to return each one as I finish it so that you can walk with me to the library and I can throw it in the bookdrop. That way, I get more books, you get more walks, and everyone's happier. Sound good?
Devoted but slightly exasperated by your suddenly increased desire to smell everything in the entire neighborhood one leaf at a time,
The Princess

Yesterday, while waiting for a bus, after buying a beautiful shirt for $5, on my way to see a movie at the Alamo Drafthouse downtown, I saw a very growly looking tattooed shaved-headed man with a very goofy looking big brown pit bull mix dog on a leash.

The growly man carefully walked the goofy dog to his car, opened the door, made a little encouraging gesture, and the dog jumped into the back seat. I smiled at the goofy dog roaming around in the back seat, and I smiled at the care with which the growly man tucked in the leash and made sure the dog didn't get anywhere near the door while he was closing it.

The growly man looked up and saw me smiling at him and the goofy dog, and he smiled back, and suddenly growly man didn't look growly at all. He was instead friendly and beautiful and I was thoroughly pleased with the universe for providing me with the opportunity to see the growly man smile and love his goofy dog.

It confirmed my basic assumption that the universe is never far from showing me something good. The goodness quite often involves people, because as much as people can annoy me, they really are one of the coolest things going.

Now off to listen to some bagpipes...

The Dog is paying no attention whatsoever to the infomercial about becoming a qualified automotive technician. I fear that she will never pursue a career.

I suppose I can't blame The Dog for flinching away from my hand today, since earlier I dropped a tupperware container full of cheese on her back.

But I would like to point out that if the container had come open, she would have regarded it as a mozzarella miracle and begun worshipping something. Me, or possibly tupperware. Something.

A Broken Glass Magnet.

Dog feet everywhere would rejoice. Also, people who walk next to dog feet everywhere would rejoice, since it's not like dogs are particularly clever and so it's our job to keep them from walking on broken glass and it can be a lot of work.

...if I didn't have a dog:

• Please leave that dead snail alone.
• Don't lick my eye!
• Must you lie right on my ribcage?
• I'd like it if you wouldn't claw my neck so much.

However, I would probably still have to say them if I had kids instead of a dog.

If only I'd known six years ago that a cheap welcome mat from Target, placed in the bottom of the bathtub, would keep The Dog from trying to walk around while I'm trying to give her a bath...

I can't remember which of my friends thought of this, but whoever you are, thanks very much.

The Dog does not eat raw yellow squash.

The Princess should not eat 12 Starburst at one time on a virtually empty stomach, no matter how vegetarian they are.

Robots and Spiders

Witches and Dogs

• Squash doesn't keep as long in the fridge as do brussels sprouts.
• I don't have quite enough tupperware to support the strategy of doing all the prep work for three cooking projects ahead of time.
• Corollary: my water bottle holds exactly 1 pound of cubed tofu.
• I hate raw carrots.
• So does The Dog.

Dear The Dog,

There is a reason I keep dragging you away from the big poles with the wires on them. It's called electricity.

Also, thank you for licking up the spilled canola oil off the kitchen floor while I was cleaning the rest of it off the counter and out of the phone's handset.

Love,
The Princess

If anyone knows a humane method for convincing a dog that big fat juicy snails are Not Interesting, please drop me a line. I don't mind her smelling them, and if she licks one I can always brush her teeth, but I would hate for her to eat one. It's just too French. I mean Freedom.

So on Friday, The Dog smacked her skull into my forehead as she jumped off the couch to catch a tennis ball that was still in my hand.

Now I have an invisible but painful bruise and swelling just above my right eye. More interesting is the palm-of-my-hand-sized area just above my temple that feels like it had a Novocaine shot several hours ago, and the entire-hand-sized area behind that in my scalp that feels (when I touch it or brush my hair) like it fell asleep several hours ago and is almost done waking back up.

I'm not sure when to start worrying about this, but if I decide that it's time to seek professional help, I have to tell someone how it happened. It's not that I fear dark consequences. It's the part where I have to admit that I have an injury from a dog running into my head.

Excerpt of dog's activities for the day:

1. Thrash violently at any movement by girl while dog and girl are on couch, as if afraid to be crushed.
2. Lie placidly in bathroom doorway as girl steps over dog repeatedly to get in and out of bathroom.
3. Pretend to find food on kitchen floor and lick linoleum.

Excerpt of girl's activities for the day:

1. Look at precariously balanced, delicate object perched on ledge in home.
2. Conclude that there is insufficient space on ledge for additional object.
3. Place additional object on ledge.
4. Yell "Oh f&*k g@dammit!" as delicate object falls over onto computer monitor, throwing small metal objects across desk and onto floor.
5. Retrieve and replace small metal objects in delicate object and delicate object on ledge.
6. Retrieve small plastic bust of Darth Maul and replace on top of monitor.

I think The Dog is winning.

Fear was all from The Dog. A fly came into the apartment, and she hid in the bedroom because flies mean I'm going to roll up a magazine and try to swat them. That makes a loud noise, so it's scary.

I can't tell you the reasoning behind hiding from the plastic bag of frozen hash browns, though.

Triumph was mastering a new survival skill. Today, for the first time in my entire 28 years of life, I drove a car up to a drive-through window. The owner of the car* wanted a cherry limeade, and we were in a mall parking lot that had a Sonic. I got to be the one that ordered and handed in the money. It was fantastic. I'm such a good American.

(*I don't yet have a driver's license, so The Man says I have to have someone with me when I drive. Bah.)

Curiosity came in two guises:

First, what would George Bush and the Vatican folks be like if there had never been any religion? Are they intrinsically hateful of people who are different and this is just a crutch, or do they oppress gay people just because the Church tells them it's dirty?

Second, if we're going to privatize the national park system, why don't we also go ahead and, well, privatize major corporations? Eliminate their tax breaks, subsidies, exemptions, etc.

Just a thought. Now I must go consume more Bollywood products.

If you want to, you can read the best explanation I've ever seen of why I'm a vegetarian. There are a bunch of other facts that I can pull up to add credence, but it's essentially because of how my dog looks at me when she first wakes up in the morning. I knew it before I got her, but now I really know it.

Eating vegetables for possibly the first time in a week. Unless you count the roma tomato I had yesterday, but everybody knows tomatoes are fruits. Don't they?

Got some fab pix of my niece A. being the most adorable baby in the universe. In a hat, no less. I think I will steal her at the family reunion and raise her as my own. If I had a scanner, I would share these pictures with you, but for now you will just have to be jealous.

There's a doodlebug crawling across my office. Had to tell The Dog to leave it alone. Don't want her to inhale it by accident as she attempts to reconstruct the entire insect kingdom's history and life experience by sniffing the hell out of it.

Enough with the blogging. Back to work! Or take the doodlebug outside.