Don’t bring me down

Yesterday I woke up around 9, worked with the doggie on her leash, ate an English muffin and fell asleep on the couch watching home improvement shows.

Rob came in at 12:30 or so, to ask me to help him take some measurements outside and says he stood there calling my name for a long time before I woke up.

After I helped him, I returned to my spot on the couch and napped ’til about 4 p.m.

I showered, got dressed, tried to get Isis to heel on a leash instead of run ahead of me, got frustrated and went back in the house. Rob and I ran some errands and returned at about 7.

I popped a documentary about Iraq in the DVD player and watched about 40 minutes before, guess what? I fell asleep. I woke up in time to watch Rob go to bed, finished the movie by midnight, got in bed and slept ’til 7 a.m. And would have gone back to bed if I could’ve.

It would be funny, except it’s not. I think it means I’m depressed.

Quiet on the Northwest Front

All alone at the office today. Shoulda brought Isis with me. Although she can be a little distracting, it woulda been a good opportunity to practice her first obedience lesson. She started school last week and I’m sposedta take her around on a 20-foot lead some places with a lot of distractions, to teach her to keep her eyes on me and her body near me at all times.

So far we’ve done this only at class and at home, but our front yard can provide the distraction of passing cars, joggers and bicycles. As well as the barking of our next-door neighbor dogs.

Yesterday I drove around to practice picture-taking. The goal was to capture movement, which would have been easier with a slow shutter speed if I’d remembered to bring a tripod. But anyway, what struck me about the whole valley was the utter lack of movement. Very still.

Until I happened upon a field of a bajillion snow geese.

Unrelated, but here’s a preview of my tiling handiwork. Picture was taken with my phone, so it’s a little grainy. The larger tiles are leftover from my mom’s kitchen and the smaller ones are in her pool.

The vanity is in and fabulous. Now I just have to remove the remainder of the gold tile around the rest of the bathroom, replace it seamlessly with white, and paint three walls Indigo and the wall around the window and above the shower Camel.

Dead Pets Society

I get a funny sort of depressed, nostalgic feeling watching the YouTube my brother made of Barney’s Last Day. It’s not that I feel sad for Barney…he had a great, long life in which he was adored. I feel sad for those of us that have to feel the emptiness of the furry little void he leaves behind, but that’s not entirely it either.

It’s like this picture, here.

That’s how I think of my mom’s house, on a sunny day, sitting on the blue-and-white striped chair with Barney at my feet. Emerald’s in the picture too, but he was only stationed there while I was in Prague.

Barney’s Last Day looked like that. It was sunny and he had a lovely time, sitting on his rugs, having a bite to eat, wiping his ear on the couch, ambling out to the edge of the driveway…

What makes me sad is the passage of time and the knowledge that it won’t ever be like that again. Things come to an end and life goes on.

I have a new house (occasionally sunny) and a new dog and a new iguana. Perhaps one day I can read with Isis on the floor while Stew lounges on the back of the couch. And maybe it will be just as cozy.

But it won’t be the same.

My last weekend with Barney

I’m feeling a little better now. Have been able to watch the video of Barney, with the music on, and smile. Good old Barney.

When we picked him up from the groomer on the morning of our Christmas party, the groomer said he was losing a lot of weight and his ears needed cleaning. I took him to the vet and sat with him on my lap for close to an hour before the vet could see him. I enjoyed seeing all kinds of people come in with all kinds of dogs. Puppies mostly, getting their shots.

Barney lay peacefully on my lap, allowing me to pet him. As opposed to the treatment he sometimes gave me during my visits, in which he would get up and move to another spot on the floor if I disturbed his slumber by sitting down next to him to shower him with affection.

Some cat lady said to me as she left the waiting room, “I hope your dog feels better.”

I was sort of offended. Like she could tell by looking that the pile of white fur on my lap wasn’t feeling well?

After he got his ears cleaned, Barney did seem to be in better spirits. I worried that he’d be overwhelmed by the party, but he worked the room as usual.

Here’s a picture I took with my camera phone two days later, on Christmas, the last day I saw him. The stuffed iguana represents Stew, and is a squeak toy that belongs to Q&A’s dog, Zoe.

Handling it

So I’m crying at work, because my brother made a couple of YouTubes of Barney (may he rest in peace. Barney, not my brother). Mostly it’s the Cyndi Lauper song that made me cry, so I had to turn off the sound.

I go into the ladies room to pull myself together and thought I’d feel better, less like a closeted emotional wreck, if I told my coworker why I was crying. She probably overheard me talking about it to my mom yesterday anyway. So I steel myself and walk out. She’s coming back in from her cigarette break and she’s got her husband with her. She introduces him and like a total weirdo I say, “Nice to meet you. I’m a little teary because my mom put her dog to sleep last night and my brother made a video on YouTube and played Time After Time with it.”

Way professional.

My transparent unconscious

After learning that we’d be putting Barney to sleep today, here’s what I dreamed last night:

I befriended an inmate at juvenile detention, where Rob works, the day before he was to be executed. So Dead Man Walking. I planned to see him the day of the execution and to be there when they put him in the chair. I didn’t think I’d be able to take it, and braced myself for the flicker of the lights, like you see in the movies.

How do I know this dream was about Barney? He was next.

Excitingly photographed

The marketers for “Children of Men” were touting “The most excitingly photographed movie of the year” in its ads, which I found intriguing, because you don’t hear that a lot, so I thought the cinematography must really be something.

I kept hearing “The most excitingly photographed movie of the year” in my head as we watched the flick on Saturday, and I thought, “You know, you generally don’t want to draw attention to the photography,” but anyway, I didn’t notice anything unusually exciting about it.

Bleak little movie, but I liked it.

Afterward, without being prompted by the “The most excitingly photographed movie of the year” review (which I must be paraphrasing, because I can’t find it on the internet), Rob commented that there was some fancy camera work in one of the stunt scenes. Don’t know if he found it excitingly photographed, though.

He also insisted that I told him the movie was about a future where men bear the babies. Uh, no, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.

Our other pop culture experience this past week was “Rollergirls,” which Rob inexplicably became preoccupied with after buying the whole season on DVD from a pawn shop. It was strangely engrossing.

Quite a few punches were thrown, so I can see how kickboxing skills would come in handy. I would like to say that I’m tough enough to take a hit like those broads, especially since I’ve already got my Roller Derby name picked out: Helen Wheels. I can’t believe none of the girls on the show were already using it.