Thursday, September 29, 2005

The daytime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, stuffy head, headache so you can get through your day medicine

Here I am in this state of severe congestion, and still I blog. Why? Because I don't need to be able to hear myself or anyone else in order to blog. My mucus levels have risen so high that my head officially weighs more than my body. My sinuses and ears are lousy with the stuff. These liquid-filled orange pills are my only friends.

But everything has an upside, right? I stayed home sick yesterday, and caught up Law and Order and all of it's various juicy spin-offs: Special Victims Unit, Criminal Intent, Special Elevator Unit... All that TNT and USA have to offer. I want to name my children "Dun Dun," after the drama-inducing noise played at each scene break. It really is the best series of shows ever. At least in the non-Canadian-teenage-drama category.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Dog Days of Summer

I had another footless dog dream last night. See, I don't have recurring dreams, but I have recurring dream themes. My generic anxiety dreams come in the form of missing the airplane: I'm late for my flight and don't make it to the airport in time, or I make it in time, but realize I left my suitcase somewhere. These are horrible, horrible dreams, characterized by increased sweating and a general feeling of discomfort the entire day following the dream, often in combination with unexplained bouts of crying.

The footless dog dreams are far less worrisome, as well as far less upsetting than they sound. There's never any gore or anything like that. It's usually more cartoon-ish, even claymation-ish. It started in 1997 when I was an exchange student in Sweden. Nanna was just about a year old, and I went to spend 4 months living in Uppsala to studying Swedish. Of course I felt guilty leaving my best friend and companion behind, and I had this dream where some random friend decided to make me feel better by mailing Nanna to me--only, to fit her into the box, they had to cut her feet off, kind of at the doggie elbow/knee joint. So my extreme joy and surprise that my puppy had been sent to me was instantly transformed into disappointment--not as in "Oh no! She's dead!" (the footless dogs of my dreams are never dead), but more like, "Aw, it's broken. I'll never get these legs back on right." A general sense of unpleasantness and mild anxiety.

In last night's footless dog dream, I was driving my Subaru with a friend, and Ozzy and Nanna were in the back like normal. We stopped at the top of a grassy hill where there was a field full of dogs for adoption. We decided to adopt 2 border collies and put them in the car. We drove to town (it was Eugene, OR where I attended college), and left all of the dogs in my car while we went for a walk. When we returned, one of the newly adopted dogs--which were now golden retrievers--had somehow gotten out of the car, but had cut (perhaps chewed) its foot off in the process. I called a few vets around town to see if anyone could sew it back on without an appointment, but nobody was able to help.

I don't know what kind of anxiety the footless dog dreams represent. I feel fine today, a little tired maybe. If anyone out there has any dream expertise, I love to know your interpretation of these footless dog dreams. For an illustration from last night's footless dog dream, click here.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Cesspool, part II

What a beautiful San Francisco weekend. The weather was perfect, and I spent Saturday doing perfect things with the perfect person. I went to the hairdresser to have those pesky roots taken care of. Then MEH and I strolled around Valencia and got pedicures. Perfect!

Sunday, on the other hand, was less perfect. There was pleasant strolling, and there was Swedish comfort food . But first, there was the cesspool in the park. Again.

cesspool n. 2. A filthy, disgusting, or morally corrupt place.

ozzy n. 2. A filthy, disgusting, or morally corrupt dog.

All in all, a fantastic weekend, despite Ozzy's best efforts.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Filthy, filthy boy

Behold my dog: he answers to nobody. Least of all me. For your enjoyment, I now present, "Ozzy: A Dog in Three Acts."

Act I: The Time: Late afternoon. The Place: Duboce Park. The sun in shining, dogs are running around and generally being dogs.
Ozzy: (Internal monologue) Look at that huge puddle full of unidentifiable, nasty smelling sludge! I will go roll vigorously in it. (Rolls vigorously in puddle)

Act II: The Time: Immediately after the events of Act I.
Deborah: Ozzy! Get out of there!! (Runs, as if in slow motion, toward the stinky puddle. Realizing that it is way too late to stop the process of dog stinkification, stops, shoulders slumped, and sighs. Ozzy continues vigorous rolling.)
Deborah: Damn you, Ozzy.

Act III: The Time: Immediately after the events of Act II.
(Ozzy trots over to where Deborah stands, and obediently sits down in front of her, blinks.)
Ozzy: (Internal monologue) That was the most fun I've had all week.


Seriously, that one made the top 3 of nasty Ozzy-rolling-in-something-gross smells. Worse than horse poop, not as bad as dead seal. These pictures don't do it justice, but try to imagine my horror and dismay anyway:

Still, every cloud has a silver lining, and now he smells like Aveda Rosemary Mint shampoo.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

The pursuit of happyness leads to a warehouse on the Embarcadero

By 10 o'clock last night, they had packed up every last retro car and every last taxi cab ad for Barney Miller and Life Savers candy (new!) and loaded them onto trucks. Then, as noisily an disturbingly as they had appeared, the movie folk were gone. (Not the fake BART station, though. That's still there.) And now there's a warehouse on the Embarcadero, and it's full of vintage cars from America's golden age of automotive design. And that warehouse happens to be right across from my friend Manny's office (no, that's not her real name).

Seriously! Look!

Now Manny is a part of movie history, too. What more could one want from a Thursday? Movie history ain't half bad.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

I Heart the Eighties

By the time I woke up this morning, all of the cars on the street had been replaced by cars from the 70's and 80's. Totally surreal. Check out this taxi across the street:

With all of the extras in place, the fake BART station looks less, well, fake. Totally 1980. Except for the guy on the left with the Crate & Barrel Bag. Someone call security.

After reveling in my own little Hollywood, I took my minions to the Vet to get Microchipped. Yes, I am building bionic pets, one grain-of-rice-sized piece at a time. Ozzy was the first to get chipped, and the only one to cry about it.

Nanna, as always, was trusting--and simultaneously hiding under the exam table.

Neither cat is speaking to me right now.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Pursuit of Happyness

I swear, it feels like the President is coming to my neighborhood. Or at least the Governator. After much anticipation by local residents, Will Smith will be filming his new movie in the park across the street from my house tomorrow. It's super, especially the part where the production company pays me $50 to use my driveway. In preparation for the day of filming, the production company built a fake BART station in the park (right next to the real Muni station). Apparently, the day of filming involves Will Smith walking in and/or out of a BART station, and they decided to build a fake one for this sole purpose. Fake? You'd never know by looking at it!

Keep in mind that the "escalator" only goes about 4 feet down into the grass. Amazing!

So when you go to see Pursuit of Happyness, think of me. Think of my driveway. Think of my park being taken over by movie folk, and the four block radius around my house being taken over by "No Parking from 5 pm Tuesday 9/20 to 10 pm Wednesday 9/21" signs.

And think of the cool stuff I'll buy with my 50 bucks!

Friday, September 16, 2005

If I had a Nanna, I'd hug her in morning

Oh! Wait! I do have a Nanna!

Yup, this weekend's going to be chock full dog belly. CHOCK FULL.

Don't fret, I will involve Ozzy's belly as well. But girl belly is just so much nicer.

And all of this supposed cuddling and dog belly will take place assuming that there's room for me on the bed. which is questionable.

Other parts of the coming week will be spent with this lovely creature:

Mammas, don't let your best friends from high school grow up to be cowgirls!

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Turn Around, Bright Eyes

Nanna has been extra super cute lately. Last night, as I was serenading her with "Total Eclipse of the Heart," she turned around and looked at me with such an expression of love. Such adoration, respect, awe, and more than a little codependency. Thank goodness cell phones are equipped with cameras to capture these loving moments of tenderness.

By the way, if you're looking for a good cover of Total Eclipse of the Heart (and you know how I feel about covers), check out this one. Warning: contains partial (and--I'm guessing--unintentional) nudity. And kitchen appliances. Those crazy Norwegians! And here's a link to some Total Eclipse of the Heart trivia for good measure. Why not.

And I dare you to get this song out of your head by tomorrow morning.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Home Sweet Home

I'm back, and glad to be home. I had a great vacation-slash-business trip, but nothing says lovin' like coming home to a house full of animals. Still, I'm not sure I appreciate the language of cat, even if they're saying nice things. Miru will compassionately take the time out of his busy schedule (which includes, but is not limited to, sunning, licking, and sleeping) to tell me that he misses me, and wishes I'd come home by throwing up at the foot of the stairs. Sweet guy. And he graciously welcomes me home by sticking his tail in my face. Lovely. Really.

Cat behavior aside, it was great to spend the weekend puttering, knitting and laundering. And Nanna is always pretty clingy the first few days after I come back from traveling, so I get a couple nights of super cuddle dog extreme, before she reverts back to her normal teenage girl-esque self ("God, Mother I hate you! You are so embarrassing! I can't "wait to move out!").

At least I'll always have Ozzy, the Gomer Pyle of dogs.

By the way, this was my view from the plane on the way to Portland--that's the one and only Sutro Tower peeking out above the fog. I love 6 am flights out of SFO!

Thursday, September 08, 2005

It's not a pedicure in a taxi

Rhonda and I rode home from Camden Yards last night in a pedicab!

This guy was so fast. Yes, we raced the pedicab next to us, which was also carrying ASBDC conference attendees. Yes, we beat them. Yes, we totally rock.

We even had a Baltimore Police car pull up beside and tell the biker to slow down. The biker didn't seem to agree with the policeman's suggestion. Rhonda and I were too busy taking pictures of the scenery to be scared.

I have a feeling that if I'm ever rich and eccentric, I will have a full-time pedicab in my employ. Or two. Of course, I'd have to train the dogs to ride in the cab with me.

Sweatin' To The Oldies

That's right, friends and well wishers, I am officially super cool. Not only did Rhonda and I fly first class from Dallas to Baltimore, we met Richard Simmons in the lounge at the Dallas airport! And he put my hand on his tush! Seriously! Look!

And here's me in first class, full from a tasty supper and free beer, comfy in my huge leather seat, watching "Kicking and Screaming" with Will Farrel. Talk about first class. (Keep in mind that between driving home from Montana, flying home from Portland, and flying to Baltimore, I had been traveling for nearly 48 hours at this point. I've looked better.)

But it's not all first class and hyperactive fitness gurus. Mostly, but not all. There's also work. Really! Allow Rhonda to demonstrate:

And speaking of work, I've got to go do some more of that. Join us next time for pictures of our trip to Camden Yards last night to see the Orioles play, and our thrilling ride home in a pedicab! Seriously!

Friday, September 02, 2005