OK, I admit it.. I’m a nervous wreck. Yesterday was the first time the hounds have been left alone all day.
I have various options to “store” the hounds during the day such as the basement or the crates, but I don’t want to have them confined for such a long period of time. Before Cy, we used to crate Karson and Mickey when we left the house, but this was never for extended periods. Neither Mickey nor Karson mind the crates at all, and often insisted on being in the XXL crate together. Once Cy arrived and got a taste of free roam, he started to really dislike the confines of the crate, so we quit crating all together thinking it was not fair to crate some and not others.
Yesterday it was up at 6, walk the hounds, FOOD, ice shower, and walk again. I was torn with what to do with the pups, and decided that they would be left with free roam of the house. All day I was a wreck worrying about the dogs, the stuff, and the hardwood floors. Cy barks at anything that moves which gets the other two excited. I had thoughts of Cy running around the house, barking and growling at the leaves blowing in the yard, and agitating the others into a seek and destroy mission.
At noon, I struggled with taking a trip home to check on the pups and turn them out, but I resisted the temptation. By 4:00pm I was totally locked in a worst case thoughts loop. I couldn’t concentrate on anything and still had an hour’s work left to go. By 4:30pm I couldn’t take it anymore and left for home.
Traffic was unusually horrendous even for Birmingham which is 2nd only to Mexico City for traffic nightmares. On the way home, I hit every red light on the route as well as every construction zone, school zone, and traffic collision. There were lines of traffic stopped for no apparent reason what so ever, and at one point, the line I was in started to move backwards. Adonkey pulling a cart actually passed me while I was stranded behind the circus caravan from which two monkeys and a llama had escaped, and the guy driving the cart shook his fist in my general direction in the most ironic case of roadrage ever encountered.
Finally, I turned on to our street and could see our house in the distance. It was still standing, and not surrounded by fire trucks as I thought it surely would be. I pulled into the garage and could hear the happy dance of twelve paws tapping excitedly on the floors above. I rushed up the stairs fully expecting to find the place in shambles, blood everywhere from some nasty wound caused by climbing into the kitchen cupboards, and piles and puddles of horror all over the floors.. Nothing.. Perfect, happy, excited hounds at the door..Whew.. Relief.. Good Pups.. What Good Doggys!!
Today, I let them roam free again.. It’s just before noon now, I’m going to go and check on them for my sanity, they couldn’t care less.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
The Fickle Finger of Sleep
When you share your life with someone for an extended period of time, you get used to that person being there all the time and slowly, very subtly,you stop making decisions on your own. The Boss’s departure has given me certain freedom that I didn’t even realize had been missing.
Honestly, deep down inside, a part of me was looking forward to The Boss’s departure. There were many things I was looking forward to such as having control of the TV, eating what and when I wanted to, wearing the same shirt two days in a row, not making the bed if I didn’t feel like it, and staying up as late as I wanted.. Someday soon, I might even have a beer before noon. But the biggest thing I was looking forward to was having more bed space.
Our two Greyhounds insist on sleeping with us. Mickey sleeps on top of my legs every night, pinning them hopelessly to the mattress. Effectively trapping me in one position from dusk until dawn, and ensuring the loss of all feeling below my knees until 11:00am every morning. Cy will only sleep in between The Boss and I, stretched out like another full grown person, head, and Greyhound drool, on pillow. Every night I will be awakened multiple times by Cy’s nails scraping down my back as he runs barking and growling after what ever it is Greyhounds chase in their dreams. Even though there is a large comfy dog crate and a full sized loveseat in our room, which both dogs love to lounge in during the day, turning out the lights for the evening is a signal in doggy code that it is time to make the humans as uncomfortable as possible for the next eight hours.
Last night, as I prepared to retire for the evening, both dogs had already picked out their spot on the bed. Mickey, miraculously, was at the foot on what is traditionally The Boss’s side, and Cy was curled up on her pillows. A tear came to my eye, and I could barely choke back maniacal laughter as I realized that I would be getting a sound and restful sleep for the first time in what seems like ever. As I folded back the covers to climb in to this new and surely remarkably comfortable bed space, both dogs jumped down. Cy went into the crate, and Mickey took a position on the loveseat. Now overjoyed, I did let out a crazy little laugh and climbed in to the big, glorious, and empty bed.
I laid in the bed for what seemed like an eternity. Tossing this way, tossing that way, fluffing pillows, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not get comfortable and sleep would not come. The bed’s comfyness was foreign and hostile. Cold, sterile, lonely. “Cy Boy” I say, patting the bed covers, “Come up… Here Boy”…. Nothing.. “Mickey Girl, come to Daddy Baby Girl”… Nothing... Traitors! Fine.. Sleep somewhere else then, see if I care.. How the heck is a guy supposed to get any sleep with out his legs pinned to the mattress and deep bleeding wounds to the back?
Honestly, deep down inside, a part of me was looking forward to The Boss’s departure. There were many things I was looking forward to such as having control of the TV, eating what and when I wanted to, wearing the same shirt two days in a row, not making the bed if I didn’t feel like it, and staying up as late as I wanted.. Someday soon, I might even have a beer before noon. But the biggest thing I was looking forward to was having more bed space.
Our two Greyhounds insist on sleeping with us. Mickey sleeps on top of my legs every night, pinning them hopelessly to the mattress. Effectively trapping me in one position from dusk until dawn, and ensuring the loss of all feeling below my knees until 11:00am every morning. Cy will only sleep in between The Boss and I, stretched out like another full grown person, head, and Greyhound drool, on pillow. Every night I will be awakened multiple times by Cy’s nails scraping down my back as he runs barking and growling after what ever it is Greyhounds chase in their dreams. Even though there is a large comfy dog crate and a full sized loveseat in our room, which both dogs love to lounge in during the day, turning out the lights for the evening is a signal in doggy code that it is time to make the humans as uncomfortable as possible for the next eight hours.
Last night, as I prepared to retire for the evening, both dogs had already picked out their spot on the bed. Mickey, miraculously, was at the foot on what is traditionally The Boss’s side, and Cy was curled up on her pillows. A tear came to my eye, and I could barely choke back maniacal laughter as I realized that I would be getting a sound and restful sleep for the first time in what seems like ever. As I folded back the covers to climb in to this new and surely remarkably comfortable bed space, both dogs jumped down. Cy went into the crate, and Mickey took a position on the loveseat. Now overjoyed, I did let out a crazy little laugh and climbed in to the big, glorious, and empty bed.
I laid in the bed for what seemed like an eternity. Tossing this way, tossing that way, fluffing pillows, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not get comfortable and sleep would not come. The bed’s comfyness was foreign and hostile. Cold, sterile, lonely. “Cy Boy” I say, patting the bed covers, “Come up… Here Boy”…. Nothing.. “Mickey Girl, come to Daddy Baby Girl”… Nothing... Traitors! Fine.. Sleep somewhere else then, see if I care.. How the heck is a guy supposed to get any sleep with out his legs pinned to the mattress and deep bleeding wounds to the back?
A Promotion
Long before dawn's crack had even begun to peek above the belt-line of life, The Boss boarded the plane that would take her North, mere inches from the arctic circle on our desk globe. With a wave, a tear, and the roar of a jet engine, I was instantly promoted from a laborer in Grounds and Facilities Maintenance to Interim Managing Director and Acting CFO. For the first time in a long while I returned from the airport to an empty home. Empty that is except for the three bouncy hounds, as happy to see me after an hour's absence as they would be had I been gone for days..
Managing Director has many responsibilities and is not a job to be taken lightly. There are many important decisions that need to be made, and the chore now rests squarely on my shoulders. This is my chance to shine, or, an impending disaster so great the story will be passed down through the family tree for generations to come. Each decision has an affect on the next, so all options are to be weighed carefully prior to action..
First order of business.. rearrange the furniture. While it may LOOK comfortable, the livingroom furniture is arranged to allow easy conversation between parties, my easy chair is not planted perfectly square to the TV, and this definitely needs remedy. Couch, loveseat, wingback chair and ottoman all to the garage along with various tables and nick nacks. The living room furnishings now consist of my recliner (planted squarely in front of the big screen), three dog beds, my prized work of art which depicts dogs playing poker I had to retrieve from the attic, and the fully stocked bar fridge from the basement used as an end table to rest the lamp on. Perfect..
Making these important decisions alone is going to take some getting used to. While I was carrying out various pieces of The Boss's livingroom suite, I half expected her to walk in and catch me in the act. This, I can assure you would not have been a pleasant experience and the actions were carried out nervously, but once done and quite proud of the results, I settled in for a long day of relaxation and sports viewing.
As I opened my first beer from the fridge/table, locked the recliner into full sloth mode, and fired up the big screen, the quiet of the house started to creep in. "So Mickey, what should we watch today?" I ask our old Grey girl. BLINK.. BLINK.. "Cy, what do you think? Nascar? ESPN?" BLINK.. HEADTILT.. HEADTILT.. GROAN..
I can see these dogs are going to be absolutely no help with the decisions around here. Hopefully later, I can catch some of The Princess's trolls and pass a few ideas off of them.
Managing Director has many responsibilities and is not a job to be taken lightly. There are many important decisions that need to be made, and the chore now rests squarely on my shoulders. This is my chance to shine, or, an impending disaster so great the story will be passed down through the family tree for generations to come. Each decision has an affect on the next, so all options are to be weighed carefully prior to action..
First order of business.. rearrange the furniture. While it may LOOK comfortable, the livingroom furniture is arranged to allow easy conversation between parties, my easy chair is not planted perfectly square to the TV, and this definitely needs remedy. Couch, loveseat, wingback chair and ottoman all to the garage along with various tables and nick nacks. The living room furnishings now consist of my recliner (planted squarely in front of the big screen), three dog beds, my prized work of art which depicts dogs playing poker I had to retrieve from the attic, and the fully stocked bar fridge from the basement used as an end table to rest the lamp on. Perfect..
Making these important decisions alone is going to take some getting used to. While I was carrying out various pieces of The Boss's livingroom suite, I half expected her to walk in and catch me in the act. This, I can assure you would not have been a pleasant experience and the actions were carried out nervously, but once done and quite proud of the results, I settled in for a long day of relaxation and sports viewing.
As I opened my first beer from the fridge/table, locked the recliner into full sloth mode, and fired up the big screen, the quiet of the house started to creep in. "So Mickey, what should we watch today?" I ask our old Grey girl. BLINK.. BLINK.. "Cy, what do you think? Nascar? ESPN?" BLINK.. HEADTILT.. HEADTILT.. GROAN..
I can see these dogs are going to be absolutely no help with the decisions around here. Hopefully later, I can catch some of The Princess's trolls and pass a few ideas off of them.
The last Supper
The Boss's plane departs tomorrow morning at a mind numbingly early hour, and since it's an international flight, we need to be at the airport at a time I didn't even know existed. The only people that should be allowed to be up at this time of the morning are night watchmen and milk delivery guys. Since she will be traveling over Easter, she decided that tonight I should cook a nice dinner, take a long walk with the hounds, and get to bed early..
We live in the biggest county in Alabama, in the dead center of this county is an awe inspiring force. A force so powerful, so terrible, and so evil, that it is poised to take over the world.. Walmart. Walmart is a place like no other on planet earth. Walmart pretends to be a simple store that you enter under your own free will, pick items you freely choose from the ample selection on the rows upon rows of merchandise, speedily pay for these items using a convenient variety of methods, and depart on your merry way. All the while, saving great piles of money by paying the lowest prices available. But, Walmart is much more then that. Much more..
There is a special device buried deep under each and every Walmart store. This device was invented by Sam Walton under very secret circumstances. No one else knows this device exists, but I have figured it out. Once started, the device takes over your mind, and you find it impossible to avoid entering the store. You don't even realize that it's happening, but you leave your house with full intentions of doing something fun and exciting, and suddenly find yourself in the center of a Walmart store. I know this to be true, as it happened to me again today..
Apart from almost magically teleporting you into the nearest store, Sam Walton's special secret device also makes you loose all rational thought and monetary judgment, and you walk through the isles zombie like, shoveling unneeded and unwanted items into your over-sized cart. This force is so powerful that the stores never close, as anyone traveling within a 23 mile radius, no matter what the time of day, is magically sucked in. If they closed the stores through the night hours, all the truckers in America would be piled up at their jumbo doors in the morning and freight delivery would come to a standstill. As proof, just think about the distance between each store in your area, and their relative locations to Interstates and major thoroughfares.
Sam Walton's device has some negative side effects that he didn't count on however.. It turns normally well behaved children into screaming, whaling banshees. This is because the device does not work on the young. They are aware of what is happening, and somehow understand that there will never be a collage fund due to the everyday low prices. The device also somehow brings long lost best friends together who insist on catching up on the past 15 years in the center of the soup isle, blocking your ability to load 32 cans of Cream of Mushroom Soup into your buggy. There is also something going on with way too tight clothes and bad hygiene, but I haven't quite figured that part out yet.
Since The Boss demanded a dinner, I had it in the back of my mind that we needed to pick up a few things. I made the mental list; potatoes, butter, milk, and a desert. A few simple items I could pick up at our corner inconvenience store after spending the afternoon at the golf course. The Boss and I put on our plaid knickers, striped shirts, sweater vests and knee-high stockings, load the clubs into the hound mobile and head out to the links. The next thing I remember, I am standing next to a screaming child, in a line of glass eyed shoppers holding a cart filled to over flowing with a nonsensical assortment of items. There is a TV, one car tire, 63 cans of stewed tomatoes, 4 gallons of frozen strawberries, two fish swimming in a clear plastic bag, and a police issue megaphone. The cashier is saying "Sir? Sir? I said that was $1,463.26. Is that cash or would you like to use your Walmart card?".
After I put all the items away, and cleared 15 pounds of white plastic bags from the kitchen floor I started to make dinner. It would have been good, but we were out of potatoes, butter, and milk..
We live in the biggest county in Alabama, in the dead center of this county is an awe inspiring force. A force so powerful, so terrible, and so evil, that it is poised to take over the world.. Walmart. Walmart is a place like no other on planet earth. Walmart pretends to be a simple store that you enter under your own free will, pick items you freely choose from the ample selection on the rows upon rows of merchandise, speedily pay for these items using a convenient variety of methods, and depart on your merry way. All the while, saving great piles of money by paying the lowest prices available. But, Walmart is much more then that. Much more..
There is a special device buried deep under each and every Walmart store. This device was invented by Sam Walton under very secret circumstances. No one else knows this device exists, but I have figured it out. Once started, the device takes over your mind, and you find it impossible to avoid entering the store. You don't even realize that it's happening, but you leave your house with full intentions of doing something fun and exciting, and suddenly find yourself in the center of a Walmart store. I know this to be true, as it happened to me again today..
Apart from almost magically teleporting you into the nearest store, Sam Walton's special secret device also makes you loose all rational thought and monetary judgment, and you walk through the isles zombie like, shoveling unneeded and unwanted items into your over-sized cart. This force is so powerful that the stores never close, as anyone traveling within a 23 mile radius, no matter what the time of day, is magically sucked in. If they closed the stores through the night hours, all the truckers in America would be piled up at their jumbo doors in the morning and freight delivery would come to a standstill. As proof, just think about the distance between each store in your area, and their relative locations to Interstates and major thoroughfares.
Sam Walton's device has some negative side effects that he didn't count on however.. It turns normally well behaved children into screaming, whaling banshees. This is because the device does not work on the young. They are aware of what is happening, and somehow understand that there will never be a collage fund due to the everyday low prices. The device also somehow brings long lost best friends together who insist on catching up on the past 15 years in the center of the soup isle, blocking your ability to load 32 cans of Cream of Mushroom Soup into your buggy. There is also something going on with way too tight clothes and bad hygiene, but I haven't quite figured that part out yet.
Since The Boss demanded a dinner, I had it in the back of my mind that we needed to pick up a few things. I made the mental list; potatoes, butter, milk, and a desert. A few simple items I could pick up at our corner inconvenience store after spending the afternoon at the golf course. The Boss and I put on our plaid knickers, striped shirts, sweater vests and knee-high stockings, load the clubs into the hound mobile and head out to the links. The next thing I remember, I am standing next to a screaming child, in a line of glass eyed shoppers holding a cart filled to over flowing with a nonsensical assortment of items. There is a TV, one car tire, 63 cans of stewed tomatoes, 4 gallons of frozen strawberries, two fish swimming in a clear plastic bag, and a police issue megaphone. The cashier is saying "Sir? Sir? I said that was $1,463.26. Is that cash or would you like to use your Walmart card?".
After I put all the items away, and cleared 15 pounds of white plastic bags from the kitchen floor I started to make dinner. It would have been good, but we were out of potatoes, butter, and milk..
What's a Vacation
In honor of The Boss's impending departure and inevitable battle against the Great Northern Canadian Mosquito, I did something I have seldom ever done before. I TOOK A DAY OFF.
I can't remember the last time I TOOK A DAY OFF. I may have missed work once in the 80's, but honestly, thanks to youthful substance abuse, that entire decade is pretty much lost to me. I recall something about bad music, big hair, spandex, and shoulder pads, but really the whole mess is just a blissfully blurry blank spot between the Hippies and Grunge.
I have heard guys around the office that TOOK A DAY OFF talking about it, and it seems that this function is always associated with golf, beer, travel, or some other fun and exciting activity. Since The Boss will be gone for quite some time, a fun and exciting activity is exactly how we should spend some time together, and TAKING A DAY OFF is the way that seems to be done.
The DAY OFF started like any other, up at 6:00am, life bringing delicious coffee, take the hounds for the morning walk, FOOD, and an ice cold shower thanks to The Princess's hot water stealing trolls. After the uncontrollable shiver spasms subsided and I was able to get out of the fetal position, I cautiously approached The Boss. I have learned over the years that you must never confront The Boss directly, cautiously and from the side is the best option, but really, when one TAKES A DAY OFF, there is no telling what the reaction will be.
"So, what are we going to do today?" I ask with out making direct eye contact, secretly hoping that the answer includes beer and golf. "Well," The Boss replied, "I thought I should show you a few things you will need to know." At this point, I knew that the Golf Gods would not be smiling on me this day, but thoughts of beer where still close and not yet dashed.
"This is a DISHWASHER", The Boss was pointing at an oddly shaped metal contraption under the kitchen counter. "You place dirty dishes in here, add soap to here, close the door and press this button." I was stunned.. All this time I had never even noticed this weird and wonderful invention. "Once the DISHWASHER has completed it's cycle, the dishes will be clean and dry, and you can put them here." The Boss was pointing at one of the doors in the kitchen. I had often wondered where clean dishes come from.. I had always assumed that the Trolls and the missing hot water were somehow involved.
This process was repeated over and over. Apparently we have a WASHER where dirty clothes go separated carefully by color and texture, a DRYER which turns wet, clean clothes into piles of unidentifiable lumps of wrinkled fabric, and some mysterious unseen force takes away our trash if we place it by the curb every Monday and Thursday morning!! The dog run gets cleaned daily, plants in the house need water (which I am thinking the Trolls can handle), and bills come in the mail and need to be paid ON LINE.. Dogs get heart-worm medicine on the days circled in red on the calendar and flea treatment on the days in blue. Behind another door, near The Princess Suite, there is a doggy torture device that strikes fear and panic in our spook Cy, but removes all the dog hair from the area rugs and furniture. Cy needs to be tormented at least twice a week. Wow.. OK I think I've got it.
The rest of THE DAY OFF followed this pattern, The Boss introducing me to new and scary functions that go on behind the scenes in the household, and me trying desperately to figure out how to include beer in these activities. Whenever The Boss noticed my eyes glazing over and drool running from the jaw opened in amazement she would punctuate the lesson with a stern "Got It?!" Which would snap me back from the 16th green and surely have made me spill my beer had I had been allowed to have one.
Today I have learned many valuable lessons. The biggest of which are that running a home is big work, and one should never, ever, TAKE A DAY OFF..
April's Fools
So, for our first trick, the alarm failed to go off this morning. April Fools!! It is 15 minutes before I need to be at work. As I dash out of the bedroom, I trip over Cy who was lying in wait to pounce on the human, twist my ankle, and jamb my out stretched arm through the shoulder blade and far past the physical limits of the collar bone. I rush to the Princess Suite with Mickey, Cy and Karson in tow, 4 pathetic parade members who desperately need to potty.
At the entrance to the Princess Suite I am stopped dead in my tracks, and the other three members of the need to potty parade pile up into my hind end. I actually find a person in bed, April Fools!! Either the alarm in the Princess Suite also failed to go off this morning, or I’ve actually caught one of the trolls The Princess sends to fool us into thinking she still lives here. I call out to the person in the bed that it is now 7:48 and she had better get up. I am answered with a muffled unintelligible response and a single bleary eye that looks vaguely familiar. “Look” I say, “You may or may not be my daughter, but no matter who you are, I need to be at work in 12 minutes, you need to get up and use all the hot water.”
Great.. Late for work. My throbbing arm is still out stretched, and I notice something hideously wrong. The hand on the end is not wrapped around a hot cup of coffee! The parade members know that coffee is the first step in the next chain of events that eventually leads to FOOD, and get excited when I move towards the kitchen. Cy jumps up and down and Mickey attacks Karson the beagle. “Mickey! Get the Beagle Out Of Your Mouth!” I say as I head towards the most glorious machine ever invented.. the timed coffee maker. My throbbing out stretched arm which now does hold an empty coffee mug presses the cup against the dispenser and I wait for the hot, black, delicious, lifeblood to pour into the mug… Nothing… April Fools!!! The coffee maker has also failed to go off.. It is then with great horror that I realize that every device we own with a time display is flashing…There has been a power outage in the night.. Great.. NO COFFEE..
In desperation I shovel a tablespoon of dry coffee grounds into my mouth and open the back door to leash the hounds for the morning walk. As I am tugged down the stairs from the back deck by three bloated and urgent hounds, I notice my next door neighbor hopping out to his car on one shoe, his briefcase in hand while trying desperately to get the other shoe on, button his shirt and tie his tie, all the while coughing and hacking up dry coffee grounds.. “Moonfning Bobf” I manage to choke out through the dry coffee I am chewing as I wiggle a hello from the fingers on my still out stretched and throbbing arm. “April Fools!!” says Bob while gasping for air.. Yup.. April Fools..
We sure are..
At the entrance to the Princess Suite I am stopped dead in my tracks, and the other three members of the need to potty parade pile up into my hind end. I actually find a person in bed, April Fools!! Either the alarm in the Princess Suite also failed to go off this morning, or I’ve actually caught one of the trolls The Princess sends to fool us into thinking she still lives here. I call out to the person in the bed that it is now 7:48 and she had better get up. I am answered with a muffled unintelligible response and a single bleary eye that looks vaguely familiar. “Look” I say, “You may or may not be my daughter, but no matter who you are, I need to be at work in 12 minutes, you need to get up and use all the hot water.”
Great.. Late for work. My throbbing arm is still out stretched, and I notice something hideously wrong. The hand on the end is not wrapped around a hot cup of coffee! The parade members know that coffee is the first step in the next chain of events that eventually leads to FOOD, and get excited when I move towards the kitchen. Cy jumps up and down and Mickey attacks Karson the beagle. “Mickey! Get the Beagle Out Of Your Mouth!” I say as I head towards the most glorious machine ever invented.. the timed coffee maker. My throbbing out stretched arm which now does hold an empty coffee mug presses the cup against the dispenser and I wait for the hot, black, delicious, lifeblood to pour into the mug… Nothing… April Fools!!! The coffee maker has also failed to go off.. It is then with great horror that I realize that every device we own with a time display is flashing…There has been a power outage in the night.. Great.. NO COFFEE..
In desperation I shovel a tablespoon of dry coffee grounds into my mouth and open the back door to leash the hounds for the morning walk. As I am tugged down the stairs from the back deck by three bloated and urgent hounds, I notice my next door neighbor hopping out to his car on one shoe, his briefcase in hand while trying desperately to get the other shoe on, button his shirt and tie his tie, all the while coughing and hacking up dry coffee grounds.. “Moonfning Bobf” I manage to choke out through the dry coffee I am chewing as I wiggle a hello from the fingers on my still out stretched and throbbing arm. “April Fools!!” says Bob while gasping for air.. Yup.. April Fools..
Bye Bye Dear Wife
The Boss leaves Sunday for back home. Right now she plans to be gone until the end of July or early August. So, for the next 4 to 5 months, it's just me and the dogs.. and Daughter #1, our 17 year old princess who, although she claims to live here, I never see. I actually think she sends trolls in during the night to tousle her bed covers and use all the hot water..
Back home is Northern Manitoba Canada, so while I am here in the deep south hiding from the near perfect vertical alignment to the sun, she will be doing battle with Manitoba's Provincial Bird.. The Mosquito..
Back home is a small fishing town on the shores of Lake Winnipeg. 2,500 residents live there year round, and thanks to Facebook, each of them are looking forward to her visit. Facebook polls is 96% positive on her return. Only 23% are willing to have me back any time soon.. Those that voted in favor were two bar owners, the gas station guy, the liquor control commission manager, and Crazy Louie who used to steal my empty beer cans from the porch.. I kinda miss the place, so hopefully I can make it up there this summer for a week or two.
The Boss's youngest son is graduating this year. Along with the Genius, Daughter #2, Boss's oldest Boy, and both our ex-spouses are eagerly awaiting her return. Daughter #2 and the Genius were with us here until two years ago, but both wanted to return to Canada to finish school. The ex-spouses are looking forward to the visit with high hopes that the kids will be returning to the U.S. with us at the end of summer..
I asked the Boss yesterday if she was going to miss us while she is gone. She mumbled something as she walked towards The Princess suite to make the bed the trolls messed up. Later, she came back into the room with a tear in her eye and her arms out stretched in a hug-me pose. I stood up to comfort her, but she passed right by on the way to the couch where she proceeded to love on the hounds.. "OH..My dogs!! I'm going to miss you sooo much.. Be good for Daddy!"
I'm going to miss her.. but, we have been apart before for long periods due to the transient nature of my work. I AM looking forward to having 2 or 3 more inches of bed space, since the hounds allow us both to sleep with them at night.
Back home is Northern Manitoba Canada, so while I am here in the deep south hiding from the near perfect vertical alignment to the sun, she will be doing battle with Manitoba's Provincial Bird.. The Mosquito..
Back home is a small fishing town on the shores of Lake Winnipeg. 2,500 residents live there year round, and thanks to Facebook, each of them are looking forward to her visit. Facebook polls is 96% positive on her return. Only 23% are willing to have me back any time soon.. Those that voted in favor were two bar owners, the gas station guy, the liquor control commission manager, and Crazy Louie who used to steal my empty beer cans from the porch.. I kinda miss the place, so hopefully I can make it up there this summer for a week or two.
The Boss's youngest son is graduating this year. Along with the Genius, Daughter #2, Boss's oldest Boy, and both our ex-spouses are eagerly awaiting her return. Daughter #2 and the Genius were with us here until two years ago, but both wanted to return to Canada to finish school. The ex-spouses are looking forward to the visit with high hopes that the kids will be returning to the U.S. with us at the end of summer..
I asked the Boss yesterday if she was going to miss us while she is gone. She mumbled something as she walked towards The Princess suite to make the bed the trolls messed up. Later, she came back into the room with a tear in her eye and her arms out stretched in a hug-me pose. I stood up to comfort her, but she passed right by on the way to the couch where she proceeded to love on the hounds.. "OH..My dogs!! I'm going to miss you sooo much.. Be good for Daddy!"
I'm going to miss her.. but, we have been apart before for long periods due to the transient nature of my work. I AM looking forward to having 2 or 3 more inches of bed space, since the hounds allow us both to sleep with them at night.
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