Yesterday we celebrated Barkley’s tenth birthday – a whole decade of extreme fuzziness.
To celebrate, he received freeze-dried chicken, a long walk at the off-leash, and even more attention than usual. He is not allowed on the furniture, but he has figured out that he will never get scolded if he slyly puts his front paws on people who are sitting on the furniture, in order to obtain extra attention. People who are not me, I should clarify, because he knows that I won’t allow it. Everyone else who sits down in my living room must be prepared to get attacked by fuzzy cuteness.
I know there is a lot of disparagement out there for people who talk about pets in a certain cloying way, but Barkley is indeed our “fuzzy baby” and we treat him as such. Dogs are such amazing animals; so smart and wonderful and – in the words of Agnes Gru – so fluffy I could die. Well, Barkley is, anyway. Wouldn’t it be nice to live like a dog? Wouldn’t it be nice to be excited about everything – food, leaving the house, coming back to the house, seeing people you know? OMG breakfast, I LOVE breakfast, OMG we are going to take the boys to school I LOVE taking the boys to school, OMG we are going for a walk I LOVE going for a walk, OMG you’re home I LOVE YOU.
We should be more like dogs, is what I’m saying. Except for the unfortunate characteristic of staring a person straight in the eye while defecating.
Yesterday I read “This Messy Magnificent Life” in one delicious sitting. My favourite part is when the author discusses “the way you spend your days is the way you spend your life.”
“It all comes down to one breath and then another, one step and then the next. And when you get to the end of your life…All that will matter is whether you flowered here in earth school.”
Earth school! I’m going to use that as often as possible. What did you do today in earth school? Well, I taught a class and baked muffins and emptied the filter on my Roomba.
Of course, if the way I spend my days is the way I spend my life, then much of my life is, as you know, defined by shopping for groceries. On Monday I was at Costco and for the first time ever, there was no spinach available. My husband suggested that it was due to the holiday in the US, but all I know is that I stood in the refrigerated section, stocked up on strawberries and asparagus and mushrooms, staring blankly into space. There’s no spinach.
Luckily I had enough spinach to get me through until yesterday, when I planned to go to Superstore. Superstore, happily, did not have a shortage of spinach. Superstore also has coin-operated shopping carts which makes the parking lot much more zen than that at Costco.
Stray carts as far as the eye can see, people, as far as the eye can see. If you look closely, you can see two Costco cart collecting employees in their neon-green vests, probably saying to each other “WTAF PEOPLE, the cart corral is RIGHT THERE. Okay, where do we start?” with an air of exhausted resignation.
Do I complain about this too much? Probably. In This Messy Magnificent Life, the author compares complaining about things that have already happened to eating rat poison and waiting for the rat to die. Complaining IS lame, and I’m going to try to do it less. But won’t someone think of the cart collectors?
Anyway. NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN.
You guys, tomorrow is JUNE. JUNE IS TOMORROW. I have barely registered that it is May and now it is JUNE TOMORROW. It’s funny, when the kids were younger, June was such a gong show of activities and busyness and crazytown, and now…nothing. I am literally not feeling stressed or pressed for time or anything this June which is a novel feeling. Of course, things could change at any time. I do have a few orthodontist appointments for the boys on my schedule and if one goes the way I think it’s going to, that will mean that another set of braces is imminent. But for now I will enjoy my fairly relaxed schedule and I will NOT COMPLAIN. Well, I’ll try not to. xo