Cruelty is in the eye of the puppy holder

This is part confession, part catharsis, and of course, a little bit of whining.
Jack has been here for 5 days. It's too cold and icy to take him out and begin official house-breaking (our driveway is practically impassable on foot) so we're using disposable training pads until the weather improves...or for eternity...yet to be determined. The pads supposedly have a natural scent that attracts the puppy to relieve himself on them. These work somewhat; for pee mostly. Jack is an equal opportunity soiler.

I've had two major dog experiences in my life, but never dealt with a puppy and all the joys that go with one. When my parents got their loco pooch, Ninja (named by my brothers...hey, they were 'tweens at the time), I was in college already. I adopted Tim's dog, Tobey, but he was already a couple of years old by that time, and very well trained. I grew to love Tobey, more than I thought I could ever love a dog, he was wonderful.

So let's cut to the point - Jack is damn lucky he's as cute as he is, because I'm not really enjoying this puppy crap - literally and figuratively. His cuteness keeps me guilt-ridden and trapped in resent and dissonance. I admitted to Tim, in a tirade that could essentially be labeled hysteria, that after saying "OK" to the puppy, I may be having regrets. We've talked about it, compromised a little, and we'll probably end up keeping him - but there's a list of IFs and BUTs that still need to be addressed. I should have just gone with my instinct (wow, if I'd only followed my instinct about a million times before) and said, "No - at least not NOW." As a friend pointed out, this puppy situation was just not on my terms, whatsoever.

So my solution for now is to keep him crated and with the door shut (his crate is in the bathroom) as much as possible without being overwhelmed by my bad parent feelings. I have plenty of those from just being a hack mom, I don't need more. I realize it's not the puppy's fault that he's here, clearly - but it's simply how I have to deal with this for a while.
I pretend puppy is simply here part time. Cruel? Big fat "Meh" with a shrug. He sleeps a lot anyway, and doesn't seem to mind. Yes, I hold him and pet him, and feed him and whatever - but it's totally overrated. At least, for me, right now, in this moment, it's overrated.
I feel a little like someone forced an infant on me - without giving me 9 months to grow accustomed to the idea. Leaving him somewhere in a picnic basket has crossed my mind - but we spent money on him, so I'd have to follow up with a bill, and clearly, that just wouldn't go my way.

I'm keeping my emotions in check, for the most part. Today, when I got home from work, and the house smelled like puppy shit, I held it together. It was not easy. Maybe if I hold it together for a while longer, I'll get used to the idea and Jack will be house broken, and a great addition to the family. Awesome. Looking forward to a fantastic Spring!
You know what another of my instincts was? I wanted to look into local shelters and adopt a dog that was already house broken. I even started to. That suggestion didn't go very far because Tim was picky about the breed. I wasn't. It's a dog. Dogs are good. I like dogs. No, I really love dogs. I just didn't know everything that was involved in getting a puppy, and I feel duped, because, generally speaking, Tim did know.

So as if I wasn't feeling depressed and trapped enough from winter, from never getting a break from Sam (I schlep the kid with me to try and buy a bra, for F's sake), from being alone most nights of the week - I dumbly approve another stressor, one that happens to pee and shit on the floor, just for fun. Yippie.

As far as Sam goes, he seems to like Jack, but again, overrated - he'll play with him a little each day, but generally he doesn't really care that much, and why should he? He's barely three, he's got better stuff to do. That was another ignored instinct on my part - I've seen Sam interact with other dogs, and he's just not that into them, at least not yet.

Jack has been in the bathroom for about an hour and a half now. I suppose it's time to feed him and let him play for a while. Tim is napping in preparation for his shift tonight, so after he leaves, and Sam is in bed, it will be just Jack and me. I'll pet him because I'm not cruel, but he'll be shut in the bathroom by 9pm, and I can just be myself. Selfish, selfish me.

Jack

Quick fix

I just got these -- delicious, right? $90 shoes for $26 and change. That's right. Stick with me and I'll teach you a thing or two about shoe nirvana. It is so good.

Cheers

Give three cheers for all of the good things that have transpired in my life over the past week, starting with the most important first.

1. My new position at work was approved to be full time! If you didn't know, I had been half time for well over a year (our decision). We knew that eventually, once the financial reality of it hit us, I'd have to go back to full time, but figured whatever extra time I could have at home with Sam was worth the short term strains. This past November, my position was essentially cut due to the state's budget crisis, but thankfully, in the same breath, I was asked to take another half time position that was expected to be fully funded within six months - and it has in just 2 months!

I feel fortunate because it's still an 11 month out of the year position, I actually LIKE it a lot and am a real official Academic Advisor, which I had been working toward. I like the department chair (my new boss), and considering the current economic climate, I'm darn lucky to have what I have.

Besides all that, this enables Tim to finally quit his silly part time job, which had become a complete nuisance to us all. While I will deeply miss spending all that time with Sam, we'll have more time together as a family, and we'll be making more money. I'd call that a good shift.

2. I found 2 pairs of fabulous, butt-tastic (to me this means butt-minimizing) jeans in one brief shopping trip! Can you imagine?? I can finally retire the shredded, stained pairs I'd been sporting.

3. Our new coffeemaker - top rated on Consumer Reports (you know I do my homework). Sells for between 80 and 100, we got it for $64. Our old one was just a wreck. Isn't our new one all classy and fine?

4. We decided to finally buy the mother of all small kitchen appliances - the Kitchen Aid stand mixer. It was always on the fringes of my cooking consciousness, and it remained there because of the $300+ price tag and the fact that I don't bake very much. When trusty cooking types told me that it was oh-so-much-more than a baking tool, I paid more attention.

Tim was always a fan, I'm guessing because it's got wattage being cranked out by like an engine or something, so he didn't need convincing. I also suspect that he's thinking he'll get more home made desserts this way. Maybe, but more importantly, I'm fascinated by the dough hook for my pizza and bread.

But you know me, I can't spend the typical going rate. To do so would probably make me break out in hives. So we started watching. The 325-watt Artisan series seemed to suit our needs and is very well rated, and occasionally, Amazon runs specials for $249 or even as low as $229, but only on the basic colors - black, red, white. So we kept on. At the moment, my favorite color is Boysenberry, but that never goes on sale. Sigh. Note that a nice color is important to me because it would have to sit out on our counter top - I have no convenient place to store it. Black would be ok, but just ok, not sassy and sexy. You know? Yea.

Yesterday we were in Binghamton. We went to Kohls (were I found the jeans, by the way), and they were having a CLOSEOUT on the Kitchen Aid Artisan series mixer in Cobalt. I like Cobalt, but it wasn't my favorite, but the closeout price of $179 was making it my total fave. Then, to our disappointment, they didn't have any left. We offered to take the floor model (for an additional 10% off), but when they couldn't find the box and the paddle and whisk, we said never mind.

After we got home, we decided to find out if they could check other stores for the same deal. The Kohls in Horseheads has one sealed in a box, and they are shipping it to Binghamton. When it arrives, it is being set aside for us and we'll be able to pick it up for $179...but there's more good news...Kitchen Aid is offering a $30 manufacturer rebate until March. Yep. ONE FITTY is my final price. I love it. Like Jill would say, "I win."

So when I get the thing, I'll post a pic of it in its new home, and I'll tell you all about my first experiments with it.

Line me deep brown

About once a year, I de-clutter my makeup collection, tossing out the shadow that was all wrong, the cheap eyeliner that performed like cheap eyeliner, dried out mascaras (I always have at least one waterproof and a regular formula on hand - each has its merits), and the lipsticks that are starting to break down. During this time I also start browsing overpriced makeup lines like Smashbox and Shu Uemura and Nars - then I get real and do my best to duplicate what I can at the drugstore. Wheeee. Did you know Revlon now carries a natural mineral pigment for eyes? Very blendable, long lasting, and under $8. Recommend.

I hate spending much on makeup, but I like makeup. Actually, I kind of secretly love makeup. Sometimes if I'm bored, I'll put on heavy makeup and walk around the house blinking all slow and dramatic. Weird?

As a child, I'd beg my mom, grandmas, aunts, and later my little brothers to let me make them up. I would even take before and after pictures. And yes, my little macho brothers usually let me do it, full on, down to the mascara. They are real men.

Despite my wanting makeup for cheap, I will willingly splurge on Clinique a couple of times a year. So while I was getting inspired on the high end sites, I noticed that black liner is missing lately. At first I was alarmed, because it has been a staple for me. When I'm feeling saucy, I like to draw a gradually thickening, upward sweeping thingie on my top eyelid (you know what I mean). It's very hot. Especially on me, obviously. I always thought that having dark brown eyes meant going for black liner. Apparently when you're in your thirties, this is no longer recommended because it can look too harsh. Hmmm. Go on...

I decided if I was going to try a whole new shade of liner, I would go for a good quality, no nonsense eyeliner. I almost clicked and purchased Smashbox's cream liner, but then I remembered that we were going to an actual mall the following day, so I did a quick comparison on Clinique.com - their cream liner touted similar fabulous promises, and cost less ($7.50 less to be exact). Sweet.

Let me back up - why cream liner? Well, I did the research for you, lucky dogs: Unlike a pencil, cream liner goes on silky smooth, it never needs sharpening, and it dries in place, so no smudging. Unlike a liquid liner, it's more precise to put on (cause it's thick, not drippy) and easier to control. SOLD!

The Clinique consultant confirmed that I should go for a dark brown shade. She was attractive and had good makeup on, so I trusted her. She also showed me the difference between the brush that comes with the product (crappy) and their fancier, longer brush - I had to get the better brush, and the difference is indeed undeniable. I tossed the little crappy one.

So I'm feeling all swanky and Audrey Hepburn-y with my new liner, expertly applied and so brownie brown. I'm blinking slow. I may have to put on my pearls.

Sometimes, even I don't get it

It may be shocking to learn, but there are a few things in the world I can't quite explain (don't worry though, I'm sure I can still form an opinion). Fortunately, most of them are far beyond my control and far beyond my little piece of reality, so I don't have to offer any explanations.
Then there's the things that I can control, but for reasons beyond my understanding, I'm completely fascinated and can't look away, even knowing that I should. I really, really should. Take for instance, my being mysteriously drawn to the Vh1 show Real Chance of Love.

It's downright horrible, make no mistake. But there's something really funny about these two, namely, Real and Chance. They are brothers, raised on a horse ranch. I guess that's supposed to explain the Cowboy in Compton get-ups.

Apparently they first appeared on Vh1's earlier train wreck, I Love New York, where the bodacious Miss New York sent them packing. Of course now they have their own spin-off where they are searching for love among a group of uh...ladies - ladies whose number of genital warts outnumber the brain cells they share, and are only rivaled by Flava Flav's cast (where New York first reared her head). I know I'm digressing, but you might remember that Flava's show came out of his affair with Brigitte Nielsen on Strange Love, an unfortunate by-product of the series The Surreal Life. I guess you could say Real and Chance are the descendants of The Surreal Life. We've come such a long way.

I haven't gone so far as to find out when the show actually airs, but I admit that if I'm channel surfing and it's on, I have to stop and stare. Maybe it's Real's soft, flowing locks or Chance's - nah, I think it's Real. He's just fun to look at with the glamazon hair and the cowboy boots and, did you notice that the set is like a dude ranch? It can't get any better.

On the surface, I really want to hate these two, but I can't. I think they are just naturals on camera, and no matter how ridiculous the content is, when someone is just born to entertain, it's hard to deny. I'll offer yet another possible explanation: I think that these guys are aware of how ridiculous they look and they're running with it, subtly mocking the entire show. Maybe I'm giving the show too much credit? Possibly - but it makes me feel better about finding it amusing. And to the naysayers? Clearly, you just don't get it.

I spit on football

There's not that many things I would change about Tim, but if I could change a few things, liking football would be one. He plays fantasy football (he won in his 'league' or whatever it's called) and coincidentally, he was neck in neck for first place with none other than Angie's husband, Graig. To make things fair, he'll have to use his winnings to take me out.
But really, that's not a big deal, except that he wouldn't be playing fantasy football if he didn't follow the moronic game in the first place. In reality, Tim will turn off the game if I complain enough (I can't even stand the sound of it in the background), and I suppose that in comparison to some men, he's not fanatical. So you see, I actually have an opportunity to slowly destroy his inclination toward following it - at least at home. I don't care if he reads the scores somewhere on his own time.

College ball doesn't annoy me that much - it's really the NFL and professional football. So what's my big problem with it? To start, there's the images the sport brings up for me:

-skanky cheerleaders that pretend to like the game, when really, they just like the attention from the guys

-chicks that wear football jerseys to sports bars and act like they're one of the guys and hi-five and actually follow the plays like they have an intimate understanding. i guess they just weren't pretty enough to be cheerleaders

-commercials suggesting that if you're not at or throwing a super bowl party, you're not American

-it makes guys in groups act like morons. testosterone stinking morons.

-lumpy, frumpy Midwesterners

-mustaches and belching

-pizza hut

So that's the main imagery that ruins it for me. From an ethical standpoint, being a fan of professional football (and other professional sports) wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feed into the disgusting amounts of money these people make - from the athletes to the investors and owners, to the advertisers, and on. I'm not innocent here - I like watching basketball (but I prefer college bball), and I while I don't exactly enjoy watching baseball, I don't mind it because it's classic to me - the REAL Americana sport. It's dignified, really. Because it's on during the summer, the background sound of baseball is soothing to me. In contrast, pro football is peaking during the harshest winter months, adding to its awfulness, with its screaming drunk fans and noise and ugliness. Sometimes I think everyone is pretending to like it. Even the guys.

Royal Dork

Happy 2009!

Tim and I had a quiet eve on the 31st. Sam was in bed by 8, and we watched M. Knight Shyamalan's The Happening. Though it was a little rough around the edges (mostly in dialogue), it had a good sense of creepiness and a unique plot, so we liked it. Plus, you know, Mark Wahlberg. I realize that's a fragment.

We had planned to stay up to watch the ball drop, so we tuned into CNN around 10. They stuck Anderson Cooper with Kathy Griffin in Times Square. It was funny to watch him squirm at her dumb jokes. It also looks like she's gradually morphing into Joan Rivers. Anyhow, they cut to their correspondent in Las Vegas, who talked about the events planned for the strip, and mentioned that Coolio and Fergie would be there soon.

I turned to Tim and said, "Fergie? And Coolio? That's odd." Tim just looked at me blankly. "I mean, why would the Dutchess of York turn up with Coolio in Las Vegas?" Another blank stare, then he said, "What are you talking about? Who's this Dutchess of York?" I said, "Um, you know, Sarah Ferguson! Fergie? The Dutchess of York? Oh, wait, maybe she's there to promote Weight Watchers for New Year's resolutions!"

Then I saw the look. I've talked about the look before: Mockery and a little pity, with a good dose of omg. He chuckled, "You're an idiot. Not that Fergie. The other Fergie. You know!" I had no idea still, and he said, "From the Black Eyed Peas!" Ohhhhh. OK. Now that makes more sense.

Personally, I'd rather see the Dutchess, so, whatevs. But we had a good laugh at my out-of-touch expense. At precisely 11:08, I called it a night and we went to bed. I asked him to give me a New Year's kiss first thing in the morning, but a little after midnight, he remembered and kissed me (awww).