WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE
When the day starts off, I mean literally starts off with something out of the ordinary, the rest of the day feels a little bit off. Like when you wake up and find there's severe thunderstorm warning going on around you; immediately you have to acknowledge this and you don't get that usual gradual reawakening. Today was like that. I woke up today, got up to use the bathroom, then flushed away and the bowl fills and then it all stops. That is most definitely wrong. Now if you don't know this about me, I have phobic issues about plumbing problems that border on the pathological. So as long as the floor wasn't covered in water I was mostly okay, but still concerned. Turned on the sink -- nothing but a gurgle and air. I sprint to the utility room and see that the floor isn't covered with water from the main feed leaking everywhere, so I breathe a little easier. But I'm still kind of freaked. I dig out an old water bill, call the city and discover that my neighborhood to a surprisingly specific degree has been affected by a broken water main. So now I'm sitting here slowly realizing how many times I use water in the morning. And feeling kind of gross, and waiting to hear the sound of my toilet refilling sometime in the near future. I hope.
SEAMUS & BUTCH
Excluding the breeders, the list goes like this: Lady, Arthur, Molly, Milo, Spencer (woo hoo!), Jake, Willow, Mac, and now Seamus and Butch. These are the family dogs we've had throughout a lifetime, leaving out the many other Corgis besides Lady that my dad had in my childhood when he was a puppy breeder. Lady was the one we kept after the breeding stopped, so she was the family dog. And now, thirty-four years later we have two new puppies in the mix after Grandma and Grandpa went and picked up Seamus and Butch. They're cute little guys, but they are 9 and 11 weeks old so they don't do much more than sleep, pee, whine, and bite shoelaces. And get my left eye all red and irritated and swollen if I'm not vigilant about hand-washing after playing with them, I discovered yesterday. Seeing these two made me think about Spencer's days as a puppy, when he was this little thing the size of my shoe who wasn't big enough to run through the grass and had to hop over it. Eleven years now for me and my pup. It makes me wonder about the numbers: how many miles walked, how many Snausages eaten, how many trips to the vet, how many stomach aches he's had, how many environmentally friendly newspaper bags have accompanied us on walks. How did that double tongue click I do evolve into something we both understood? How old was he when he first felt comfortable enough with me to climb up on the couch and fall asleep on my chest? Eleven years is a long time. I see Mac and Willow at my sister's and see how happy they are to have each other. I know Seamus and Butch will likely develop the same kind of dog brotherhood. I honestly think that Spencer and I have way more of a bond because it's always been the two of us.
BLAZIN'
Nephew #1 and his neighborhood bud victoriously completed the Buffalo Wild Wings Blazin' Challenge yesterday, where they had to eat 12 wings coated in the hottest sauce available in six minutes or less. I had little doubt they'd pull it off since they both like unreasonably hot food and are eating machines. These are the two who could give you a minor dissertation on the Scoville Scale. Nephew #1 actually brought a bottle of hot sauce to his high school to use at lunch that another kid overdosed on and wound up in the hospital that night so he could have his stomach pumped. They didn't walk through the challenge, and afterward looked a little beaten up, but they have their new t-shirts to wear proudly that tell the world they survived the challenge. I was there. Survived is the right word.
RELAY
The Relay for Life is tonight. I hope it's more fun than depressing. There will be some fun people there, so that should help. But cancer is pretty good at negating fun, so we'll see.
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