Walk with Katie Pt. 1: Dog Whisperer, Naked Man Ass, etc.

I went on a walk with a good friend last night. It was 8PM and getting dark. We decided to walk to the Big Rock by Reed’s Lake. I totally didn’t want to go as I was aching for fuzzy pajamas, a glass of wine, and a little personal time with my TV and futon. (Not THAT kind of personal time, people. Just, you know, vegging time.) But I went on the walk anyway. I’m glad I did.

There’s something great about getting your body moving especially when you’ve been sitting all day. I’m convinced that as you sit, your ass begins to spread. It’s like the Blob. If you don’t stand up and control it, your ass will take over everything. BECAUSE IT CAN. So, it felt good to control the beast a bit. I’m pretty sure walking helps make it shrink. Or at least look perkier.

What was I talking about?

Oh! Asses.

(Side note: Naked Man Ass makes me laugh. I’ve never seen a Naked Man Ass that wasn’t in a magazine or on a romance novel that looks the least bit sexy.)

Back to the story.

I got Katie and we walked from her house. I immediately pressed the timer on my watch. She said: “I thought you weren’t wearing your watch anymore. I thought you promised in your blog you weren’t going to wear it.” I dropped to my knees in a Charleton Heston-esque pose and screamed to the gods: Damn you blog!! On the other hand, I was super excited that she reads my blog.

We walked. Talked about our kids. Katie has been watching the Dog Whisperer. She has seven cats. (She’s fostering five of them. Anyone need a cute kitten?) “Uh, are you going to get a dog?” I asked.

She looked at me like I was insane. “No! I’m using it to train my son. See, I have this theory that boys are like pack animals and if I use the same techniques as the Dog Whisperer, maybe I’ll stop stressing out so much.”

I stopped walking for a second. I couldn’t breathe. It was bloody brilliant! We started walking again. She went on to give me examples. “See, the Dog Whisperer says dogs need Exercise, Discipline then Encouragement.” Actually I forget the last one, but it was something like that.

We talked about this. My own son has been giving me lots of attitude. Last weekend he screamed that I was a horrible mother, he wanted to run away, and I was fat. Why? Well, he has trouble transitioning between houses. And he was mad that his dad house has a Wii and his stepbrother. And maybe because I have gained a little weight. But then after Louis had some exercise, a time out, some affection and a good nap, then I was back to being The Best Mom Ever! Maybe there was something to this Dog Whisperer thing. Katie said she’s just trying to be calm and consistent. I get that. I like it. I’m going to try it out. If I press the timer on my watch, I’ll know just how long I can do it for. Blast! I’m not supposed to wear the watch!

Ahem.

Then we talked about relationships. Which I’ll put in my next post, because, well, I love my left hand and it’s getting awfully tired from typing. (My right hand is pretty strong from lots of use.)

Wait a minute! That sounds dirty. It’s not. I’m a Righty.

To Be Continued….

Me. Throwing a Tantrum.

Has it really been ten days without blogging? Really? Well, no wonder I’m crabby. It’s certainly not for lack of topics. I could blog about any number of things, which is why I haven’t blogged about anything. I’ve been too busy curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. I do this when I’m stressed.

Actually, that’s not an accurate description. A more accurate description is I put on an old pair of pajamas, put my hair up, take off my makeup and then I schlep around my house, open the refrigerator and just stare—trying to will food to appear. That’s how I handle stress, by general schlepping and staring. I’m like a Tennessee Williams heroine that way.

Here’s what’s got me acting like a crazy lady: (AKA stuff on my mind.)

1.

Last week I couldn’t walk in Kendall’s graduation. Even though they cashed my rental check for the gown, somehow it didn’t appear. One of the professors said, “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s not personal.” Today I got an email saying that I wasn’t qualified to be interviewed for the full-time teaching position. I can teach there full-time and fill in where they need me, but for a sustained job with benefits, I’m not good enough. Talk about a blow to the ego. Beyond a blow to the ego. That’s a karate chop to the groin.

2.

I’ve been narrating for two weeks straight. Three books. This means driving an hour there and back every day, through crazy construction, while trying to take care of my two kids and cook decent food and make sure I’m there for them. It’s sucked up entire days and brain cells. This isn’t a complaint exactly. I love narrating and being inside a book…I just wish that the timing had been different.

3.

Went mushroom hunting this weekend. It was great, but sucked up my entire weekend from book prep and prepping for the next class that (apparently) I’m not qualified to teach. It took 3 ½ hours to get up there and another 3 ½ back. On the plus side, I had a great time with the kids and remembered why I love my family and the woods and the lake.

4.

Just had a conversation with Biff. We’re having a mini-vacation this weekend. Basically, I need to get away before I explode, Monty Python character style. Then he asked (half-jokingly) if I were his girlfriend. He doesn’t really like the term girlfriend because it sounds teenage-y. But then, what do you say? “Here’s the person I’m involved with”? That sounds medical. “Here’s the girl I’m seeing”? No soul to that. “Here’s the person I have fantasies about and occasionally sleep with”? Hmmm. That’s nice, but doesn’t quite cover it, and it leaves too much interpretation as a booty-call only. I told him to think about it and see what he comes with. Translation: Yes. I’d like to be his girlfriend but only if it’s because he wants, specifically, me…and not because I’m currently the only option. If that’s the case, if he’s got feelings for, specifically, me…then I’m just fine with the teenage term. Let other people be uncomfortable with it. I’d be too busy giggling to care.

5.

I have three grants to write for nonprofits that I support and no time to do it.

6.

I can’t feel my toes. This isn’t a medical concern. It’s because I remember the scene in Die Hard where Bruce Willis walks on his toes to give himself a massage and I tried that to relax, but then my foot cramped. Further proof that I’m old…maybe even too old to be a girlfriend.

7.

I left my cell phone charger up north. I'm about to lose power in 3, 2, 1....

8.

And did I mention I didn’t get interviewed for the dream job I’m currently in? You know, the one I’m doing but am not qualified for? Oh. Yeah. I did mention it.

Sorry for the bitch fest here, but seriously, sometimes a girl gets so overwhelmed she can’t even breathe. And by girl, I mean me. I mean I’m overwhelmed. And now entirely freaked out about this mini-vacation I’ve planned.

Breathe breathe breathe.

I think I’ll walk around talking in Southern accent for a while. That always helps Tennessee Williams characters. That and saying “I am so hot. Boy, is it hot in here.”

Harrumph.