super-strength? er, not so much...
Rascal is on steroids this week, part of our ongoing effort to stop him from incessantly biting at his tale. So far the medication seems to being doing its job reasonably well, but I had assumed that there would be, you know, some evidence of increased strength or better-than-usual speed in our little pup. It's steroids, right?! No such luck, however (although I suppose I'm glad he isn't any faster than he is regularly, which is plenty fast thank you very much). Instead, he's just been drinking alot more and—a natural consequence—peeing a great deal more as well.
Now, they warned us that that would be a side effect we could expect, but man! I never would have imagined the effect those tiny little pills could have. Poor Rascal has to go out at least every two hours, and if we delay at all in letting him out when he makes his request he's almost visibly hopping from foot to foot (to foot to foot) with the effort of being a Good Dog in the house.
On the plus side, though, when he does get outside there's no more wandering about aimlessly before getting down to business. Nope, he goes right at it as soon as he can, and his relief is all too clear.
We wonder if he notices the difference, or if it's all the same to him.
visiting the nerds in the burbs
Oona and Janet stopped by yesterday, on their whirlwind trip of the east coast that they are documenting here. Like I told Rascal, "Oona and Janet are some ladies that your mommy knew in college before you were born." And if we lived in a cartoon strip, Rascal would have rolled his eyes and thought-bubbled, "Like when, mom, the STONE AGE???!!!"
For several days Dan and I wondered how we would show up my peers in hospitality. Well, mostly I wondered aloud and Dan pretended like his wife wasn't turning into an insane person. How on earth, I moaned, could we compete with other friends who live in the city and take them out to chic martini bars and tapings of the Daily Show??? How can I show then that my life is infused with interest and excitement? And Dan was like, we'll make pancakes and hang out; they're not the pope.
Anyway, we ended up having a marvelous time, mostly because Dan hosted everything, making delicious brunch and dinner, and leading a historical tour of our environs, and generally being the brilliant and charming prince I know him to be. I don't know why I got so freaked out that they wouldn't have a good time. Sometimes I worry that the peers I grew up with are so different from me, so cosmopolitan, so career minded, so unconcerned with things like church and quilting and parenting.
However, were I to list my post-college accomplishments in preparation for a five-year newsletter, my new job and MBA would not be high on my list. Instead, I would pride myself as follows:
1) I married a good cook who is incredibly sexy and does funny stuff like hangs the thermometer and then carries the hammer around the house saying, "this looks like a nail... this looks like a nail..."
2) I am mommy to the cutest puppy in the entire universe.
3) I can run a marathon, so suck on that bitches.
All these things make me feel less bad about turning out less cool.