new year mash-up. part 2.

To recall...

March 2011
We had always discussed getting a dog... trying to plan out the "when" and the "what kind" to the last detail.  The one thing that was non-negotiable was the fact that, if we DID get a dog, we would do so in the summer time, so that I could stay home and train it properly.

Well now... the heart wants what the heart wants, doesn't it? I had this nasty habit of perusing the Inland Valley Humane Society's website... with all the pictures of the sweet, homeless pups looking back at me. Masochistic in a way? Perhaps. Setting myself up for trouble? Well, I guess so. But I had been in this habit for months, never once being in danger of actually adopting a dog. Sure it was sad to see all those sweet little faces asking me for a home, but I knew our plan... plus I didn't really feel a "pull" to any particular dog... and I just knew there HAD to be some kind of "pull," right?  And I knew I definitely wasn't going to be pulled toward a chihuahua or a pitbull. I considered myself safe.

Until I saw her. A sweet little round fluff of a dog. A puppy's puppy. More a teddy bear than a puppy. This was her. She was mine and I was hers. I envisioned her toddling and tumbling around our small condo. Only a few weeks old (much younger than I had planned on), but no big deal. I checked her adoption date... it was the next day. I worked. Shoot. Wellllll... scribbled down her ID number and kennel... I would call after work... just to see... and if she was still there...well, it would just be plain fated to be.  3 o'clock arrived. She was still there! I flew down to the shelter where she awaited me. When she saw me, the whole world paused as she bounded into my arms and licked my face with her tiny pink tongue.  Okay, okay. In a perfect world, right? So 3 o'clock arrived. I called. She had been adopted earlier that day. Heartbreak. Probably a good thing though... seeing as how I had yet to even discuss with my husband the idea of suddenly getting a dog in March rather than the agreed upon June.

Told the Mr. about our close call with dog ownership. You did what? Reeelllaaaxxxx... see?... no dog... no worries............. but while we are on the subject.... what do you think about getting a dog now?  HAha. But I had the bug... the itch... the "disease" of (literal) puppy love.  The Where the Red Fern Grows Ch. 2 kind of disease. Yeah, that bad. And so it goes.... I pushed... he resisted... I pushed... he resis-- I pushed... and pushed... he?... I pushed. I can rationalize my way into or out of almost any situation. It is a flawed gift. A paradox. In this case, I rationalized us both right into owning a dog 3 months premature of that plan (what plan?) we once had.

To the pound! There were a few cute ones on the website (no "pull" though... but I didn't let that stop me! Nothing could stop me!)... so we decided to see what would come of it. We walked along the kennels... hearts breaking at every little face that looked our way. We made it to the very end of one long row of kennels and stopped to have a looksie. All the little terrier mix girl doggies went a little nutty at the sight of us... several barked to assert themselves... all eventually chilled out and scattered, paying us no attention... but only ONE quietly walked through the mass of wriggling pups, never losing eye contact with us, straight up to the chain-link fence, and put her little bearded snout through the gate that separated us, like she was just waiting patiently for us to get her the h____ out of there and take her home already. It was over. Even noble and wise Sir Steven couldn't ignore that illusive "pull."

We checked on her status... two weeks until she would be up for adoption. Mannnn. Oh well, we were a couple in love with a dog... so we did what we had to do and waited.. and hoped and prayed no one else would be there to claim or adopt her that day. We planned names (the pound had named her Zoe.. no thanks, not for me)... and decided upon the most perfect name for an 11-months old, blond-haired, floppy-eared, bearded terrier-- Bonnie Brae.  And she has been ours ever since.

Some things we have come to discover about our little Bonnie (or Bon-Bon as we have lovingly come to call her):
-Sometimes I think she is more human than dog.
-She has the best beard (for a girl).
-She has the softest ears. I want to eat them.
-She sheds like nobody's business. Seriously. We are talking covers-the-floor, covers-your-clothes, appears-in-your-food kind of shedding. All. the. time. I do not know how this little dog is not bald. Steven always says, "If I had known about this, we would not have this dog." Sure, sure.
-She is absolutely retarded when it comes to socializing with other dogs. Think high pitched screaming that sounds like she's being murdered every time she meets an untrustworthy dog (99.9% of the dog population in Bonnie's eyes). Yeah, she has issues. But we love her just the same.
-She has a serious case of "fishy butt" (anal gland problems). Luckily it only happens about once a month. But, again, we love her just the same.
-She dismantles and obliterates stuffed toys faster than you can buy them.
-We are pretty sure she has a bad case of separation anxiety.
-Bless her heart, she has the most durable bladder I have ever known a dog to have.
-She loves stealing Steven's socks.. and CDs when the opportunity presents itself.
-She used to have THEE worst eating habits. Up until a couple months ago, I didn't think I would survive her fickle eating.
-She used to be (and hopefully still is?) the best crate-trained little dog. Went (goes?) right in every night for bed and every day for work. It took us a while to get to that point, but I'm still proud.
-She uses reverse psychology techniques (in ways I will explain later).
-She is a lover. But she can be a hater (when it comes to other dogs).
-Her nose used to be black, but turned brownish-pinkish in August/September...? I miss that little black sniffer.
-Her first real doggie friend was a rottweiler, also named Bonnie, from puppy training class. Go figure (on both those facts).
-Her genetic composition perplexes me. I so very badly want to do a DNA test on her.
-I could kiss her all day long (except on fishy butt days).



And presently...
I am approaching a 3 day weekend. Been looking forward to this since Christmas break ended.
One of my students cheated on a test today. So sick sick sick of the cheeeeatinnnng.
My mother is taking me to see the musical, Wicked, tomorrow night. Hope it's a good one.
Going 2 weeks strong with NO TV. Not voluntarily. Not fun. Not love (=hate).
Going 2 months strong weak with no grocery store trips. We are dying here. In a literal sense, I'm pretty sure. Time to go order a pizza.... :-(
But to end on a brighter note... I've got my Bonnie bundle by side :-)

sweetness.

new year mash-up. part 1.

To begin...
I want to start with part of a post I made in August 2010:

2012... please hurry up.  Scratch that.  I don't want to be two years older and who-knows-where just yet.  How about this: science... please hurry up and invent a time machine so I can go ahead to 2012, buy the book, then bring it back to 2010 and read it.  There. Much better. 

So hey-- it's 2012. Whaddayaknow. Just looking at my blog, one might actually wonder if I did indeed end up getting my hands on a time machine. Although use of a time machine would have been rather nice for some parts of 2011... and would have been a nice excuse for the lapse of time between posts... alas, this was not the case. Poor 2011. It didn't even get one measly post.

So I've decided to pick out some of the highlights of 2011 to "catch-up on 2011" over the next few days. Addressing my fears of being "who-knows-where" in 2012... well, my work situation is exactly the same... and my living situation is completely different. All to be elaborated upon at a later date(s).  I'm gonna go with good old-fashioned chronological order on this task.

To recall...
January 2011
I turned 26. Two days later, Steven turned 24. Big whoop, right? Although, I'm a little jealous that he will pretty much always be one stage behind me within each age bracket.  While I am currently entering my "late-twenties," he is barely scratching the surface of his "mid-twenties." I surmise this "little" jealousy will only grow more pronounced in my 30s, 40s, 50s... and after 60 hits (God-willing I make it that far), well, I think it's probable that I will finally just stop caring.  Let's pause and have a moment of silence for 26. Just as it is finally getting the recognition due to it, 27 follows closely at its heels, preparing to take its place. Sneaky 27.

February 2011
I guess it's best to get the most painful month of 2011 over with... just rip it off like a band-aide,  hiss at the sting, then be grateful that the wound is healing pretty nicely, albeit slowly.

On February 14, good old Valentine's Day, I had pulled off the works when it comes to a home-cooked meal.  My first attempt at cooking steak was a tremendous success... and said steak was accompanied by roasted potatoes and asparagus. And the dessert... the dessert. Sweets are always what I consider to be my specialty, if I can even rightfully claim any kind of "specialty" within the culinary realm. I had managed to make these perfectly crisp pastry cups dusted with cinnamon and sugar... filled with banana ice cream.. and topped with chocolate shavings and chocolate drizzle. It was almost too pretty to eat. Almost. A pretty swell spread, if I do say so myself... candles, flowers, a pleasantly surprised and proud-of-his-wife husband walking through the door after a hard day's work... and I don't think I shall ever pull of such a V-Day dinner again. Not to sound dramatic, but I think Valentine's Day will henceforth be tinged with sadness for me. Luckily, this falls under one of those commercial holidays that Steven won't terribly miss celebrating to its fullest capacity (actually, I suppose we never really do go "all out" on V-Day).  After the 2011 dinner, the remainder of the night was a blur that fell under the shadow of a tearful phone call from my mother, who explained that my Aunt Cathy, my mom's only sister and best friend, had been struck and instantly killed by a car while walking along a road near her home. I will leave out all the sad (and, well, to put it bluntly, more private) details and events of the days that followed.  It was a devastating shock and a terrible loss to our family. Even today, it is so unreal to me. It's one of those events that you hear about the news.. always happening to someone else... but there's no way it could possibly ever happen to you or someone you love. Until it does. And it did. And it is just so... sad.

My Aunt Cathy passed away, but in her wake she blessed the the world with two amazing young men, her sons, and I am so proud to even be related to people of such high caliber.  She and her husband raised them well.  They are strong. They are kind. They will love her forever and tell their children stories about her. She will not easily be forgotten.

Below are two pictures that I find to be so very beautiful. The first is a group photo that I randomly came across but completely love. It's so happy... and in such a tragic circumstance, it's nice to see the happy that was there and still is there, only a little different now. The second is a picture of the memorial cross my uncle and their boys made together. It's still there. Sitting quietly, but beautifully, beside that narrow stretch of lazy country road... stirring memories of a shy, quiet woman who loved infinitely.

To conclude...
Fast forward to today... Thursday evening, the first Thursday of 2012. Today I taught some of my kids about Chapter 9 of The Great Gatsby.  One of them blurted out, "This is the saddest chapter." I agreed. Nick comes to the realization that he is the only one interested in finding Gatsby a peaceful rest... and Gatsby's father mourns the loss of the son he obviously did not know at all.  Among other things.

I taught some of my kids about a forgotten door and forgetting yourself, literally and figuratively.  One student begged me to re-read Ch. 1 because the substitute read too fast yesterday.  "Sorry," I said, "welcome to the end of the semester" (in other words, no time).  He got over it.

Some of my kids told me about their fears. Reluctantly at first, until I told them some of mine. I told them how I will not step one foot into a body of water of which I cannot see the bottom.  Lakes? Rivers? Oceans? All of the above. I told them I rudely shove my husband (or any other unfortunate soul who happens to be accompanying me at the moment) between myself and a bee or wasp that comes within a 10-foot radius of me.  And, finally, they told me they feared spiders, spiders, and more spiders. But also heights. And drowning. And at least 4 of them honestly admitted that their biggest fear was their mothers. Apparently Chinese mothers can be pretty terrifying? Interesting.

I sigh in relief as I remember oceans separate me from these women.
Parent-teacher conferences stand protected. For now.



P.S. Just minutes ago, my husband was laying on the carpet, quoting dialogue from Return of the Jedi, waiting patiently for me to finish this blog. This one-person conversation quickly petered out to silence, and has officially been replaced by snores. Poor, cute, tired husband. 

it's been how long? ::slaps forehead::

Too long.  That's how long.
No more using "there's nothing interesting to write about" as an excuse.
New Year's resolution... we're getting this baby back on track... if it ever was really "on track" in the first place?
I think I need to write.  My grandmother always tells me I need to.  Just write.  Even if no one ever reads it.  Especially if no one ever reads it.  It's time I listened to that smart lady.

Okay, okay... so not to make self-defeating excuses (already), but it IS my bedtime.  So rather than play catch-up in one glorious, multi-hour spew of information, I am going to break it up into manageable chunks (as teacher does for students, so teacher does for herself).  For tonight, I changed my header to match my domain name (seemed logical) and updated my "Reads" a bit. I shall return at a more reasonable hour.

Let's do this.
More later.  Promise.