Updates and ramblings.

It's a Wednesday morning, and I have just finished cleaning my house. I do this serious cleaning at least once a week. In a house with two busy people and two very energetic dogs, I have almost not choice in the matter. There are dishes and clutter and furballs (oh, my) and something has to be done about it. Whenever I complain about the state of the house, Joe laughs and says "This is what happens when you have kids." (referring to the dogs) I cant help but think, however, that human children wouldn't poop in the dining room, or leave large wads of hair on the couch. In any case the dogs aren't my real problem. I decided earlier that I would love nothing more than to round up all the previous tenants of this house and give them a lengthy lecture about basic housekeeping practices. Apparently, I am the first person to ever live here who is in possession of a broom and mop. The floors, being cleaned thoroughly every five days as they are, should be gleaming and beautiful, but as it is they are so damaged and were left dirty so long that they look dusty ang dull as soon as they dry. Also, there are stains in the toilet that (after a month of strenuous effort) are finally beginning to fade. I'm not certain what the original cause of these stains might have been but I'll venture a guess and say that two of the ingredients were laziness and human shit. Yes, it's as awesome as it sounds. Fortunately, Joe is extremely helpful. He doesnt generally do the deep cleaning that I do on my days off, but he does the dishes and I never come home to a lot of mess or clutter.

Our new puppy, Fisher is gaining weight and growing big and strong. He made it halfway up the stairs yesterday, which is a big accomplishment for someone with such short legs. Also, Rico is home with us now, and aside from his tendency to poop in the house, he's adjusting well. We're a big, happy, floor-poopin' family now. More later.

I'll manage...

I work in the food service industry. It's not the best job in the world, but neither is it unbearable. Due to the nature of the work, and the fact that it doesn't really pay all that well, we have a high employee turnover, and the people we manage to retain aren't always the best and brightest. I've been thinking a lot about the work I do and the people I'm surrounded by and I'm left with a burning question; What the hell, man?
Seriously though. I've always been of the opinion that whatever you dedicate your time to, be it sculpture or medicine or ditch digging, if you put your heart into it, and strive to do your absolute best, then you're creating something admirable, maybe even something beautiful. I realize that on the surface that sounds like cheesy motivational poster b.s. but I've found it to be true. A great many of my co-workers plod along every day, doing the bare minimum with a frown on their face and a chip on their shoulder. I can't live my life that way. I won't be a manager at a low-quality restaurant forever, but right now that's exactly what I am, and I take pride in being good at it. My job is only meaningless if I allow it to be. I stubbornly insist on finding the good in every day, and when I do, it flows over into the rest of my daily life and fills me up. I'm finding wisdom in rice cakes and inspiration on the soles of my shoes, and right now, at this point in my journey, I wouldn't have it any other way.

What are these animals?!?

I live in an non-smoking house, so out of necessity, I smoke outside. The weather being what it is, I don't go out frequently, so when I do, I'm in serious need of a cigarette. I have to bundle up, (sweater, coat, usually an amusing hat) and stand on my front porch shivering. This is a price I'm willing to pay for my habit. I am not, however, okay with being threatened by random neighborhood dogs. You see, this is a dead-end street, and because there is so little traffic, my neighbors allow their various pets to roam freely outside. Again, something I have no problem with, in and of itself. I even have nicknames for all the pets I encounter on the street. There's Homeless Kitty (he's not, actually), who begs to be let inside and has a weird eye, Sausage Dog, who is some sort of lab/beagle concoction and is morbidly obese, and Lack of Discipline Retriever, who comes over to say hello at every opportunity, disregarding her owner's calls. All of them are friendly enough and pose no problem.
So I was outside about 5 minutes ago, enjoying my first cigarette in several hours, when I was startled by a jingling noise behind me. I turned, and, to my horror, there stood Angry Dog. Angry Dog is the antithesis of the lovable neighborhood mutt. He/she/the dark lord of misery is a small, black dog, of no particular discernible breed. I have encountered this hell hound many time before, but usually he barks at me from a safe distance and then quietly goes away when I fail to react. Not so tonight. Angry Dog watched me for a moment and then began to growl and circle me (semi-circle, really). At first I was only annoyed and said casually "Fuck off, Kujo." Apparently Angry Dog took offense to the lame Stephen King reference, and advanced on me. I looked deep into Angry Dog's eyes, and the message there was clear; "Listen lady, I know you're on your porch, but as far as I'm concerned it's really my porch. So you have two options: go inside and my limited attention span will force me to forget you, or stay out here, and let me chew one of your extremities off. Your choice."
I threw my cigarette out and went inside. I wonder what to do next. Should I confront my neighbors about their evil dog, ignore the problem until it presents itself again, or....do I have to fight Angry Dog to the death, cage match style? Updates to follow...