A Finely Woven Mat of dog hair

According to dachshund experts, the breed is blessed with a lack of shedding. This is mostly true, I've always thought, because altough Zu sheds a bit, her black hair stands out and it's not a lot.

Well, Bodie proves me, and those damn experts, wrong.

My sweet, sweet boy is a Piebald doxie. I think the 'bald' part is because he sheds so fucking much it's a miracle he has any hair left. His soft, white hair is on EVERYTHING. Our rugs and floors look like we haven't vacuumed in years, not the seven days it's really been. My brown comforter appears to have flecks of white splattered on it. And the couches and recliner feature a thin coating of his silky as snow hair. When he rides along to take me to work, I have to de-fur with the sticky roller before going inside. I tend to wear dark colors, and they nearly always feature a little extra white somethin'-somethin'.

My only wish is that his dog hair were worth about $10 a metric ton. Because we'd be MILLIONAIRES tomorrow. He is so soft and sweet, I mentioned I'd like a Bodie blanket. A friend laughed and said we could skin him but really, it would just be a matter of weaving together all his leftovers covering my house. Gross.

As I've vacuumed, swept and washed all the linens and clothes today, I've become ever more aware of just what a problem we have on our hands. He doesn't have a thick coat, so how the hell can he spare so much hair? Craig says our only options are to shave him, spray him down with a fine mist of lacquer, or deal. I guess I'll deal, but don't expect me to like it. White just doesn't look that good on me.

PS I bitch, but Bo is the greatest little boy. I love him and his damn fur a whole lot.

When Hubbie's Away ....

Wooo! Bachelorette weekend!

That's right. Craig was away for the weekend, joining the North Richland Hills Class of 88 to celebrate that they haven't seen each other for 20 years. Par-tay! He got to see his family, too. I'm nearly certain his mom wanted to hold him on her lap the whole time.

So, since back in the day I was quite the wild child, I reinstated the tradition for my weekend of singledom. I got home around 430 on Friday and ... stripped! And right into bed I went. About 10 minutes into my reading session, old friend AnnDee called me. And we talked for two hours, updating each other about our lives. Since by then the dogs were done with sleep and wanted to pee, I got dressed for the occasion and began planning out the night ahead.

Clad in my 07 MT Womens Run shirt and the running pants I've had on for three days now, the dogs and I rebelled against The Man and sat in his chair. ALL NIGHT. I couldn't find anyone to go have sushi with me, and Wendy's doesn't deliver. We were out of milk so cereal couldn't be my dinner. So with a bowl of popcorn (preceded by WW frozen lasagna) the dogs and I switched back and forth between chick flicks on our too-many-channels-to-choose-from cable. ESPN? Not tonight, baby!

Saturday I slept in. Til 8. Got all spruced up and took my pancake griddle to the Obama HQ for a breakfast. At which I was the youngest eligible voter there. I sat with some old people, and left quietly since I didn't know a soul and no one was actually talking about Obama. I can wax poetic about Biden's Planned Parenthood rating and Obama's vet policy. But gumbo and PTA? Clueless.

I figured since Craig was out caurosing, shelling out $22 for three drinks (why, back in Montaana, that'd just cost 8 bucks!), I should throw around a little dough too. I went down the street to the Academy of Skin, Hair and Nails (white trash beauty school) and had my eyelashes and eyebrows colored. Since my face looks featureless without brow crayon and mascara, I thought this would be a quick fix. Well, it wasn't quick. An hour after my arrival, I was finally finished and flourished my checkbook to assess the damage - All Ten Dollars of it. Quite the wild weekend, eh?

I bailed out on registering voters at the park (rain. icky) and grabbed a latte to head out to Miles City. Mom, Dad and I were meeting for lunch (four hours of driving for a BBQ pork sandwich. I recognize the foolishness) at 2 and I was ready to hit the road. So I did exactly what I wanted to the whole way and alternated between listening to NPR and singing Dolly and Cher at the top of my lungs. No Joe Pernice on this trip, no sir! Plus, I even went to WalMart in Miles City, where I saw the most amazing mullet since 1982. Cowboy hats and mullets go hand in hand apparently. Who knew?

When I got back to town, I got the ok from Pops to keep the pups while I went out with the girls. I meet RaeLeigh and Marlene at the pottery shop and went to town! I painted a plate for a friend and picked out a project for my next visit. Girls gone wild, I tell you!

We followed up the session at Chameleon with a trip to Barnes and Noble, where I had my first pumpkin spice latte of the season. Full sugar even! No stopping me now!

Either I've transitioned to the point where I sweat while reading or it was really hot in there, so I just stayed a little more than an hour. I bought lots of books, mostly on the clearance table. All sorts of supposed gems, including "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". See? I haven't read that yet and its supposedly required reading for the Liberal Set. Talk about rule breaker!

Hefting my sack of books outside, I had to pat myself on the back. I was ready for several weekends to come of reading, armed with 60-dollars worth of books. Girls gotta party, y'know?! I came home, took the dogs out, and popped my nightly bag of popcorn (94% fat free is key, although I will admit to gleefully pouring butter and salt on). The dogs and I watched Instant Beauty Pageant (trash) and Legally Blonde (classic) before hitting the hay with four of the new books. After three whole minutes of reading, I was conked.

This morning I woke up at 630 or so. Yuck. I started the day's chores, since Craig will be home around midnight tonite. Our relationship features a healthy dose of fear. Mine, mostly regarding his lectures about cleaning, so I started the day with making a bigger mess. Pumpkin bread was on the morning menu, but I didn't have baking soda or spices, so I went to the store and then back to City Brew for ANOTHER pumpkin pie latte. I'm a lush, what can I say?

After feeding Pops and starting laundry and doing dishes, I decided to take a break and nap for a couple hours. I woke up to the bang of a BB gun and checked my messages. I had one from old friend Mike, and we gossiped and commiserated like the old biddies we are. I love that man and even admitted to him that - gasp! - I have a scent. So if Craig asks, yes, I did spend a considerable amount of time with another man. It just so happened we were separated by 1800 miles. God Bless the Towers of Verizon.

I'm currently almost caught up on laundry, the kitchen is acceptable, the bathroom mostly sanitary. I figure if I can sweep and vacuum, I'll have more than met my responsibilities. Because you know I'm a rebel, but even a rebel's gotta have clean digs.

Whiny Week

I've had sort of a rough week. I interviewed for a job that I didn't get (I should be used to it, right?), and pretty tired, and have not felt good a single day (cold/cough, headache, stuffy). So I gave myself a pass from the gym and haven't graced its elliptical machines all week.

So now there's something else to feel guilty about.

I continue to search for the balance between work and life. It's one that I've never mastered very well. So while it's not a surprise that this is something I'm struggling with, I am disappointed with myself that my personal health is the first thing to go.

Here's to next week.

Just a little tickle

We are sick.

Craig has been coughing for days. (he is currently narrating over my shoulder so he may soon be screaming for his life) It's one of those deep rattly coughs that they BEGGED him to produce in the hospital, but noooo. He's having no trouble with it now, doc.

I was all concerned-wifey, making sure he had Robitussin (even going to WalMart to get it, dear God!), sharing my Mucinex, and doling out Ambien nightly.

But now that I'm sick, bitch is on his own.

I got up this morning (after listening to him cough ALL NIGHT) and noticed a bit of a tickle in my throat. I took the dogs out, put on my workout clothes ... and went back to bed. The tickle moved into my chest, producing a patented Ang-cough, the likes of which causes coworkers to run and movie patrons to offer me cough drops.

At one point - 9ish, we'll say - Craig came in to the bedroom (he's taken to sleeping in the chair again. It's like his crib, little baby) and said he didn't know I was home until I started coughing.

"Oh baby, I got you sick," he said.
"Mmphmmfft," I replied.
"Do you still love me?" he asked.
"A little bit," I answered.

Because dammit he got me sick! And in each of our winters together, this is what happens: he gets sick, and is over it in three days. I get sick and cough for the next six weeks. Seems a little unfair.

Anyway, I didn't go to the gym because it is the second to last place I need to be, what with all the people and germs. The very last place I need to be is work, what with all its people and killer germs (I live for a squirt of hand sanitizer after each client). Alas, I shall go. Because I can guarantee it's only going to get worse.

In other news: wah wah wah.

THINGS CRAIG IS TEACHING HIS PRODIGY (AKA BODIE and ZULA): If you can have a steak first thing in the morning, you should.

Craig was making a zerbert noise to entertain the dogs. Rather than entertain, Zu was immensely bored (as is her way) and Bodie freaked the fuck out. Jumping, barking, I think he even deepened his bark in an effort to get Craig to stop. Which he did. 10 minutes later.

Hey Big Spender!

There is a plus to being a subscriber to a plus-size store's website: $10 PANTS!

This order will likely arrive before the $150 order I purchased a couple weeks ago. I spend more on a week's worth of lattes! Hurrah!

In other news ... football season - or as I like to refer to it, Barnes and Noble season - started yesterday. Craig had two of our friends over. The female of the pair brought the MOST FANTASTIC FOOD. Her twice-baked potatoes are scrumptious. That's why I am having my second right now.

Must go parent ... The dogs spent the day in their rooms. Which may be why Bo just pooped on the floor. Never piss off a weiner dog.

Boy Gets Girl

There's this really crappy feeling I get sometimes when, walking along, I meet a member of the opposite sex.

Fear.

It's something that I try to avoid as often as I can, and not just by refusing to leave the house. I generally refuse to believe that every single man walking in my vicinity is plotting a way to rape, maim and/or kill me. After all, I've got my weiner dogs.

But today, the fear reared. And won. I walking through Coulson Park near the river. Pretty desolate, not a lot of traffic. The husband - or anyone - didnt know where I was. And there are LOTS of great places to hide bodies around there (yes I have thought about it).

I was about 500 feet from the third bridge on the way back to the car. I had the dogs in tight and they didn't even so much as sniff toward this passerby. But the man just sorta creeped me out. I felt sexist, or classist, or something about it after, but his semi-ratty clothes, mullet, 'stache and baseball cap just didn't sit right. I hate judging people by their appearance, but I hate even more having to look over my shoulder to make sure that he's not following me.

This isn't a feeling that men can understand. But as a woman, one of the liabilities of my gender is always being ultra-aware of my surroundings and the people in them, an escape route or having a way to protect myself. I bought Mace about a month ago, and though I rarely remember to carry it I've had several instances I wished I had it.

I'm hoping that as this world becomes more of equality and respect and less about taking what you want from whom you want it as you want it ... that I won't have to feel this way. But even moreso, that my daughters won't.

Yes I Am/Yes We Can

I am a community organizer.

I have spent months in the sun and rain, waiting for someone new to walk by. I have spent hours talking about childrens' health insurance, and why it's important. I have give brochures to women and men who can't afford the $25 co-pay to immunize their children, and even more who make just a little too much to qualify for assistance.

So their children go without.

I have spent days counting signatures, sending emails, making phone calls. I have been positive when the battle looked bleak, and celebrated every new supporter. I have explained the difference in levels of poverty and argued that $50,000 a year isn't enough to support a family of four.

I have gone without.

The morning after my honeymoon I worked a crowd at the political rally of a presidential candidate. Without sleep, without energy, I energized others to support our initiative. And thanked everyone who stood up for what is right.

I have argued and lost, and changed minds that were closed. I have joined forces with others of my kind, fighting for their causes as hard as they fight for mine. I have worried about getting on the ballot, it's always about getting on the ballot.

I have talked a million miles a minute, drove thousands of miles and been parched to a lisp. I have sacrificed family time, study time and personal time.

And it is not about me.
It is not about you.

It is about the 30,000 Montana kids without health insurance. It is about each of those that will be covered by the passage of the Healthy Montana Kids campaign. It is about Montana being among the last in the country for providing health care covereage for our children, and believing we can do better. It is about making sure our next generation is healthier, to make up for our own mistakes.

It is about children.
It is about women.
It is about the GLBT community.
It is about Blacks, Hispanics, Asians and Native Americans.
It is about immigrants.
It is about people living in poverty, without affordable housing or healthcare.

It is about believing America can be better.
It is about believing we can be better.