a day off

i got a day off today. how thrilling. granted, i had other meetings to attend to, but it made me realize just how horribly easy it is to squander time away from work when you are unemployed. of course, i knew it in theory, but after two weeks of full time work...unemployment isn't so bad.

my little pooch is still healing from her acl surgery. i let her do too much yesterday and she looked like she was in more pain today. i feel like i must be the worst pet owner in the world because i can't keep her still. she just wants to play so badly and i just want her to be happy. but more importantly, her damn leg needs to heal. so, no playing for her. and i get to look at those sad eyes. thank god i have a meeting today. at least then she can't spend the entire day staring at me!

Addictions

So I've struggled with plenty an addiction. And the latest one is incredibly harmless. For the most part, I'm not smoking cigarettes anymore. That's a big step in the right direction. But as my consumption of nicotine has waned, my consumption of music has increased. I've always been a huge music-lover, probably because deep down I really wish that I could have my own rock and roll band. But since I lost all ability to play music and my singing is limited to my car, the rock band is highly unlikely.

Instead, I blast tunes as loud as I can stand it. I drop B off at work and begin my thirty minute commute to an utterly boring temp job in Maple Grove. Thirty minutes is a enough time to get in some good music listening. The thing is, I'm stuck on Dave Matthews. And when I say stuck, I mean, obsessively stuck. Yes, I just bought a membership to the Warehouse. And I keep at least one of his CDs within a foot radius of me at all times. I don't know what it is. My only consolation was talking with a friend who said she has the same problem. With Dave. So I guess it's not just me. Although maybe I wish it was.

His new album is beautiful. It seems that every song is about being madly in love, heartbroken or drunk. And somehow, I think that is a beautiful slice of life.

tomorrow

after six months of freelancing, job hunting and collecting unemployment, i am starting a contract job tomorrow. eight to five every day for six weeks. should be interesting. and it's a whopping forty minute drive from my house. ugh! luckily i can drop my hubby off at work on the way which means we can continue to get by with only one car for another six weeks.

all of my money will pay for my dog's surgeries. at least i have a way to pay for her surgeries. cancer and a torn acl. it just doesn't get much crazier than that. all within a month. ridiculous. the moral of the story is....take your pet to the vet once a year and if you notice anything weird (lumps or limps), ask your vet about it right away.

someone actually asked my hubby why we don't just put her to sleep. too bad i wasn't there to claw her eyes out. i suppose if my dog was 12 years old and in ill health, or if i was completely dead broke, or if she wasn't a good dog in the first place (and i was drunk all the time), i might consider it. but she's healthy. in fact, she could continue to walk around on three legs for the rest of her life. i just can't bear to watch her do it, because she still brings me the ball when we go outside. she still wants to run around. she thinks she can. and dammit, i want her to be able to.

pets don't ask for much. you feed them, you love them and they give you everything they have. they always love you. even if you are an asshole, they love you. put her to sleep? where is that woman. i'd like to claw her eyes out.

The Good and the Bad

The good:
1) the dog is finally cancer-free!
2) here are pictures from Bonnaroo. See all the mud? Yes, it made my shoes smell like cow shit.

The bad:
the dog and i played fetch when we got home from getting her stitches out. she tore her anterior cruciate and will need more surgery. now, my dog has a huge scar across her belly and can't walk on her back right leg. i obviously suffer from feelings of guilt and anguish. i thought it would heal on its own, but that is not going to happen. at least i love and trust the vets at the U.

Dirty Stinky Hippies on the Farm

Bonnaroo. That is one crazy place. Once we got back, we heard a couple of people died from drug overdoses. Not surprising. It was overflowing with everything you could imagine. Made me feel old, actually. The music rocked though. Dave Matthews is still my favorite and will continue to be. I had some annoying dude talking to me during most of Dave's show and I was drunk enough that I didn't think to ask him to shut up. It's that Minnesota "I'll pretend I care what you are saying because I don't want to mean to you and tell you to shut the hell up." I really need to get over that.

We got torrentally rained on...soaked to the bone. Many of the things I worried about (conditions of the bathrooms, etc.) were not a problem. The biggest problem is that we arrived at noon on Friday (the campsite opened at nine am on Thursday) and after waiting in line for three hours, we ended up in a campsite that was a forty minute walk from the shows. ugh! needless-to-say, when we went back to our car to get rain gear before the dead, we didn't make it back. We saw tons of great bands and walked around holding hands and drinking beers. It was a welcome break from reality, something I encourage everyone to take.

All in all, it was a ton of fun and I could see going again. But next time we will arrive early and leave late and make sure to bring our rain gear to the show!

Leaving Town

So my dog is on the road to recovery. And I'm torn about my upcoming vacation. We bought tickets to see Bonnaroo months ago and I've been looking forward to it for months, literally. I've always wanted to check out a show with thousands of people milling about, stages full of great music and a few days of exhausing relaxation. I've spent the past few days home helping Mackenzie (my sweet dog) recover from her surgery. Dogs are remarkable creatures. They heal very quickly. I'm amazed really. It is still difficult.

The thing is, she loves my brother as much as she loves Bryan and I and I know he will take good care of her. Really, she's easier to take care of now than usual, because she can't do anything but lay around. I have to feed her antibiotics, but that's the worst of it. She's been good about wearing a t-shirt and not biting at her stitches, so all in all, I think it will be fine.

This vacation just seems like one that won't come again soon. Life changes so quickly and I don't know if I will be able to pick up and drive to Tennessee next summer. I'd love to think I could, but it's so doubtful. So I'm going to go to Target and gather the supplies necessary for spending four days camping on a 600-acre farm in Tennessee with a bunch of hippies. It will be fun. I just wish that my dog was healthy. I wish life didn't have so many damn obstacles. And thankfully, Bry and I are going together. I just have to remember how to light the camping stove....it's been a few years.

The Vet

Not to harp on a topic or anything, but we went to the University Vet Hospital today. That's where pets go when they have no other options. It didn't have that dreary feeling, but deep down, you kind of knew that everyone in the waiting room had bad shit going on. Of course, Mackenzie had no idea what was going on. She was into the crazy smells and wanted to greet and attack the other dogs in the waiting room. Since I wasn't going to let her do that, she finally submitted to sitting and whining under my legs. It was endearing in its own way.

We finally went back to meet with the vet student who took her vitals and checked her out. She gave us info on mast cells and oncology. When she handed us the information, she warned us that the costs listed are higher than what is on that sheet. Isn't that comforting? That procedures will cost more money than what they put before you. Plus, when you are sitting there, looking at your dog, knowing she has cancer, you don't care how much it costs. You want them to remove whatever foreign thing is inside her, fix her up and give her back, like she's a brand new dog.

Once the vet came in and gave us our options, we had trouble deciding what to do, but it wasn't even possible for us to decide to do nothing. Nothing wasn't an option. And now, my mind can barely grasp the idea that if this second surgery doesn't turn out 100% clear that she will have to go through chemotherapy. I can't fathom putting her through it. Yet I can't fathom not doing it either. See, there is nothing rational about how I feel about my dog. In fact, I find myself talking to her constantly. I tell her about what is going on and how we're going to take care of it. And then she looks at me with this expression that says, "Are you going to be okay? Do you need a hug?" It just slays me.