Dog Story

This one time, on Craigslist...

So, from time to time, I browse the help wanted section. Ok, I check missed connections too, but only because I like that the guy posting "Blond girl at the gas station on this date at this time-you changed my life!" postings! But I digress..

Someone wanted their dog shaved. They were willing to pay 50 dollars for this task, which my hairdressing butt knew would only take an hour, tops. Since I already had the dog clippers, I emailed the guy and told him he had a deal.

Fifteen minutes later, Francis was dropped off at my apartment.

Francis is...holy shit. Huge. Francis is a dude golden retriever, maybe? All I know is that when I thought "shave my dog", I saw...well, Charlie, my dog. My 12 pound dog. Francis is *not* 12 pounds. Francis is...like, 100 pounds. Probably more. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm allergic to dogs?!?!?!


This is not the most interesting part of the story by any means.

Francis (aka Frank) and I bond for a minute over peanut butter dog treats, and we talk about what is going to go down here. I ask him to cooperate. He shows me that he understands by batting at me with his behemoth dog arm. On the right track.

Off to the shaving, which is going well, except the dog apparently does not like to be touched. Anywhere. By anything. He whimpers and scatters away like you are trying to kill him. No matter. I'm as scrappy as the next chick! We work it out.

Frank's human was supposed to be back in an hour.

Frank's human was not answering his phone at an hour and a half. Mind you, this is after I found the fleas.

These are the scenarios that ran through my mind: Cydney gets a dog she's allergic to! Cydney runs around frantically trying to track down owner! Cydney takes dog to pound before picking her son up from school!

There I sat, middle of my kitchen floor, surrounded by mounds of dog hair, tethered to a giant Lion of a dog with domestic violence issues.

I only cried on the inside.

You see, I am a woman of action! Not much common sense, but definitely a lot of action! I got out the flea shampoo and gave Frank a flea bath. Then I combed him. Then I let him rest while I cleaned up all of the dog hair that had gone...like...everywhere. Frank and I chatted a few more minutes, mostly about his swatting and how that needs to stop, it's just poor form. Frank and I half bonded.

And then the human showed up, 2 hours, 45 minutes after the original pick up time!

And that's how I made 65.00 today.

Frank says, "Hi!"

Too blessed to be stressed...

Tomorrow...is a big day.

About 280 Million Turkeys have been purchased just for tomorrow. I, for one, will be bringing some cheesecake cups in really fancy wrappers to my wonderful boyfriend's parent's home. And, I will also be bringing...

My son!

Hmmm.

Ok. I should state at this point that my boyfriend and son are still kinda figuring each other out. I've been very careful to keep them somewhat segregated. I kinda have to. They get along well enough, but my track record with men has been...well, not so great. I don't want my little guy getting attached to anyone before I know it's safe to.  Plus, boyfriend is not really looking to be anybody's surrogate father right now-which is ok, since my son has an amazing dad...and also, at seven, my son doesn't need another father. We've pretty much left it at the fact that they should be friendly, but not super involved. I think, at five months, that's very fair.

And whoa, do they get along...

But let's face it. The last time my son met a boyfriend's 'rents was...well, my ex husband's. Yeah. Add to the fact that M's father and I have always had a more...well,... liberal (?) way of raising our son? And...well,...Kevin was raised pretty conservatively.

Case in point: my son not only knows swear words, he corrects other kids on their spelling of them.

See where I'm going with this?

Trust me. If there's one thing I have more confidence in than my parenting ability, it's my son's ability to overcome it! He's an amazing person with great manners and a wonderful intuitive part of him that seems to make him adapt to different and new situations better than I do. He will be just fine.

It's me. I will probably have hives by the time we arrive! And I don't know if it's because I feel like I've failed him by raising him to be in situations less formal, or that I wish I could just sit back and go with it. Have faith that between my son and I, we will get through this.

I know this will all be ok. I'm excited to see M interact with the boyfriend's nephews-whom he has so much in common with! I'm excited that the boyfriends family thought to invite my son and I to this very special holiday celebration. I'm grateful for so much, I need to stop worrying about everything else!

But...Just in case... I went out and bought M a new sweater :)  Hey, can't hurt!

Pride

Pride is a funny thing.

If left unattended, it will cost you a lot. Maybe friends, lovers, money...a job...even family.

I think if anger is bad, pride is even worse.

Don't get me wrong, I think that everyone has the right to be pleased with their achievements and accomplishments. I truly believe that if you work really hard for something and earn it with your blood, sweat and tears, you have every right to be proud of it-well, actually maybe proud of your work ethic. That is not a bad kind of pride.

I think the worst kind of pride happens when something falls into your lap and you herald it as a personal triumph. Or maybe when you know you're wrong, but refuse to admit it. I think pride in a boastful manner is definitely a turn off on a karmic level.

My car was a point of pride for me.

I worked for it, paid for it, but struggled to do it. And for what? So many vehicles will get you from point A to point B safely and without incident. But this car? It was *pretty*! It was black and shiny and fast and-gasp-had a moon roof! Oh, how I loved that car! It was the first vehicle I had ever received compliments on! It was sexy, and felt like it fit me!

The things it didn't fit: My credit score. As in, I needed a co-signer to get this car, and I picked a pretty un-savory choice (an ex-boyfriend). It didn't fit my income and goals ratio-I want a house, even if it's a run down fixer upper tinky trailer. But there was no way I could save money driving a car with that high of a car and insurance payment. I was maxed out and stressed out. I knew the car was going to need maintenance things like, tires. I also knew that unless I didn't eat for a month, tires were not happening!

What ended up getting me in the end was the ties to the ex. Was the pride of driving the car worth the payment? Meh. I'd figure something out. But I could definitely not live with having someone who could still control me, and would continue to do so, as long as I was driving around my shiny, awesome, black car.

So! Dad to the rescue! Now I'm driving around Bertha! She's a Buick so large, I've had smaller apartments! And luxurious! And rides like a cloud! And has low miles! And gets around the same gas mileage!

I guess this came to a head when I was getting gas yesterday, and the gas station attendant (at the station I usually use) asked me if I was driving my grandma around. Cute! "Nope, this is my new car." "What happened to the black car?!" "Meh, our time together came to an end." "Accident?" "Nope." "Lease?" "Sort of." "How can it 'sort of' be a least?" "Let's just say...a change in goals."

This is puzzling a lot of people. So I'll spell it out here, once. Pride is a dangerous thing. It influences us to make decisions that can be detrimental and bad for us in the long run. It can mess with our bigger picture, our best life. It can promote entanglements that are toxic or separations that are poorly thought out. The trick is to find out which one it is and then go the other way.

Right now I don't have time for pride. I'm too busy trying to make a life for my son and I. And also, figuring out exactly which Elizabeth Taylor fragrance blows out of Bertha's hot air vents!