Midas Turns 3

In two days my baby boy will be three years old. I can't believe it. It seems like just yesterday he was a fat, little, puffball whose back end would raise up into the air when he ate out of his little food bowl. It had to have been just yesterday that I would take him to class with me and he would amuse everyone with his carpet humping antics before retreating to his pile of crunchy leaves for a game of tag with himself.





So this Saturday he will turn the big O-3. In people years that makes him old enough to drink! After close to three years of living with us, he probably deserves one. He has been resident to five different homes since becoming a member of our family and what a trooper he's been about it because they were not all so dog friendly.

First, in the Tuscany Apartments of Sarasota, he began his time with us on the third floor of a three bedroom apartment. His vet, worried about his back knees being weak, suggested that we give him lots of excercise. So, he swam several nights a week in our bathtub, followed by a maniacle jaunt through the apartment, soaking everything in sight. He loved to race around the square courtyard and have us chase him until he realized he had outgrown our running abilities and had to be confined to a leash. So much for chasing the turkey vultures. At least in this apartment Midas could always fall back on his favorite hobby. Discovering peanuts. We're still not sure where they came from or how he found them, but he would randomly bring us peanuts when we lived here...



Our next apartment was a one bedroom in Lake Mary. Midas had his own grassy area here where he didn't have to worry about cars or strangers. He could go outside and play or poop or dig holes. Whatever his little heart wanted. We had great walks here. There were lots of great paths to take and he never.... NEVER got tired. By now he wasn't a fat, puffball anymore. He was a muscular, little athlete and he lived for Saturday and Sunday mornings when we would take him to the "dog park." It was a good life here in Lake Mary. This is also where he was living when his little diva sister, Maya, stolled into his life. But he loved her from the start-- letting her out of her safe and secure puppy cage while we were at work, I often came home to them both smiling at me from the top of the stairs. He was always the goody two shoes of the pair, telling Maya that she was going to get in trouble for ripping open that trash bag. He refrained from Maya's trash buffet but stored a chicken wing away in his toy basket for use later. I'll never forget sitting on the couch when Midas came and dropped a chicken wing into my lap.







The next domicile was a three bedroom delight in Maitland, shared with Aunt Lissy. Since this AC challenged hell hole was located on the third floor, going outside was a bit of a hassle, especially given the lack of green grass. So putting our heads together, we brilliantly came up with a wooden plot of balcony grass for the purpose of turning twice and shitting. The dynamic duo of Midas and Maya was formed. They are officially the best of buddies. Maya has learned all sorts of bad habbits from Midas such as barking when someone enters or leaves a room and swatting a little paw at you should you dare eat in front of her.





Same complex, new apartment. On our own again, we had a two bedroom with a view. A view of the parking lot. For the 9 months we lived here, Midas and Maya barked at every single passerby in a 2 mile radius thanks to the sliding glass door that faced a sidewalk and many parked cars. Before we left, Midas met a black pug named Ebony. He is considering getting another sister who looks just like her. The great thing about this place was the circular area of grass behind the pool. It was great for a good run and sometimes when no one was looking he would go for a little swim. But don't tell anyone-- we wouldn't want to upset the trolls that ride around in the golf-carts.









So here we are in Texas now. As I write this, he is sharing a bed and a nap with his beautiful sister Maya-- who snores like a mack truck. Halloween is over and his costume was great. They are now dreaming of their favorite holiday, Turkey day, which lingers right around the corner. In two more days he will turn three... and yet he is still my little puppy.

Life After Halloween

So Halloween came and went. It was a good year for family... unlike last years gay streaker at the blood and gorefest that was the pinnacle of Halloween celebrations. There were no strange women with armpit hair and I didn't see a single random naked guy. That's okay. We had our spot staked out at Mike's parents house where we roasted marshmallows and had burgers right there in the driveway. We listened to spooky music and awaited the trick-or-treaters...

But what happened to Halloween? Not only were there so few trick-or-treaters that we had more than half our candy left, but the trick or treaters that came were lazy bums for the most part. About half the kids didn't even bother to dress up at all! Parents didn't walk their kids around the block, they drove them from house to house (approximately ten steps) in their cars. No one said trick or treat... or thank you... what the crap?! Have I seriously gotten that old and crusty that this bothers me?

I feel bad for those kids, though. Sure, they went and got free candy from suckers and didn't have to do an ounce of work for it, but when I was a kid, my mom made our costumes and they didn't look like those cheap, crappy store bought ones. They were awesome. Time was spent. Details were added. We spent time each year figuring out just what we wanted to be (except the one year that I just HAD to go as Punky Brewster for a second time.) This wasn't all in my head, either. I look back at pictures of my friends and I at Halloween and we looked damn good. My mom made my sister a cowgirl outfit that was exquisite! AND each year we would go out and WALK from house to house in our neighborhoods with a group of friends and a parent or two. No cars. No wagons unless you were really young. We said "trick or treat" and "thank you." And (incase I wasn't already sounding like an old fart) to top it all off, we did it in freezing cold weather and our parents never complained because we LIVED for Halloween and we loved every minute of it.

Kids now'a'days SUCK.

I don't think I saw one home-made or creative costume this year. I saw about a dozen spider man suits, and kids in jerseys with helmets. Ooooh. Good one. I was really dissappointed.

But... it is what it is. Now that Halloween is past, I guess its time for me to sink back into a gym routine. Not that we had any candy, just that I am at a new gym now. I actually checked out four gyms before deciding on 24 hour fitness. The guy at the counter assured me that despite the fact that they only have a two lane pool-- its never full. We'll just see about that.

I have to say, it is intimidating somehow to go to the new gym. Not to mention, I am not off to the best start. I had a free session with a personal trainer, and I slept through it. Niiiiice. Who does that. Oh, I do.

So I haven't had the guts to actually show my face there yet. As if alarm bells and sirens will go off as soon as I swipe my card. I realllly need to get going. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. I'm actually more sure that I'm going to get lunch at the Vietnamese place by Mike's work than I am that I'll actually go to the gym. How sad. Its not for lack of wanting to get back into a workout. Its for lack of... common sense and confidence.

In other news, for those keeping track. I got the job at the marketing department in San Marcos. I'm trying to decide whether or not to take it. My reasoning is that if I take this time and concentrate on finishing my webmaster certification, I can get a job making much more money. Not only that but San Marcos is going to be over an hour commute each way until we move out of the duplex and that will not be for awhile. Oh the decisions I must make. Starting with egg rolls or spring rolls at the Vietnamese place tomorrow. Egg rolls orrrrr spring rolls.....

World's Worst Job Interview

I am a person who gets nervous when I get mail from an address that I don't recognize, yet somehow, the prospect of going on a life-altering job interview doesn't phase me at all. I have never been nervous. I don't worry about them, I just go in there with what I've got, assume its deserving of a high paying salary and then continue on with my day. If I get it, great, if not, oh well. That's always been my amazingly non-Jennyesque attitude on the subject. I'm hoping my experience today doesn't change this---
Being new to Austin, and quite frankly, new to their crazy ass road system, I gave myself an extra half hour to arrive at my interview. How did I end up 40 minutes late? Well, that started a short while after I got on I-35 and realized that exit 250 (State Road 1325) didn't exist. It all went downhill from there. I had to call them twice to tell them I was lost and if it hadn't been for the peppy secretary's "can-do" attitude, I probably would have quit after the thirty minute mark. Needless to say, looking like a grand ol' tard, I made it there 40 minutes late. Naturally everyone assured me that it was no problem and they were so sorry I was lost but I'm pretty sure that deep down they were wondering if I was going to be able to turn on a computer if they hired me.
Visibly shaken by my near two hour Texas excursion, we sat down to begin the actual interview which started with a conversation that pretty much promised that there wasn't the slightest chance in the farthest corner of hell that I would get this job. The lady that interviewed me said: "Well, we've just been so excited to meet you. Denise is one of our favorite gals and she's just certain that you'll be perfect for this position!"

Huh? Who in the crap is Denise?

While I tried to politely say just that, it must have been clear by the look on my face that I had no clue what she was talking about because the lady went on to say:

"Oh... you are Denise Smith's friend, right? You know Denise?"

Me: "Uhhhhh... no. I'm sorry."

Yep, I apologized for not knowing Denise. So from that point on, things continued like any other interview, but I'm pretty sure that Denise's friend is probably the one getting this job. Hopefully she'll show up on time. Best of luck to her. If you need me, I'll be watching daytime television.

The Move Heard 'Round The World

I thought the hardest part about leaving the 150% humidity of Florida behind would be quitting my job and saying good-bye to my friends. I had no idea that the hardest part of leaving Florida would actually be leaving Florida.
We packed and moved everything ourselves. We sold off our furniture to make this move as light and airy as a bag of Reddenbocker's finest. You can imagine our surprise when we filled our 6x12 trailer to the brim. Jammed with boxes of books and movies for the most part, we filled every square inch of the trailer, the back of the truck, the inside of the truck, and the trunk and backseat of my car with crap all with about three cubic inches to spare. We did a less than half assed job of cleaning the apartment, turned in our keys and prepared to hitch up the trailer....

That's when the clouds rolled in as if watching it on a video in fast forward. Thunder clapped and in seconds we were left DRENCHED trying to back the truck up in perfect sync with the hitch in a space the neither really fit in, as quickly as possible. Some sort of colorful swirling oil was leaking out from somewhere mixing with the rain and making us pray to God that it had nothing to do with either of the vehicles we were stuck dealing with. After a good fifteen minutes of time in which I realized I could cross airline guide person off my list of career possibilities, we finally got it hitched up. It should have been a moment of joy and elation, but this thing did NOT look stable. We determined that the thing must be a few THOUSAND pounds over its weight limit and the front end of it and the back end of the truck were sunk low to the ground. We did a test drive around our apartment complex and I shoved the dogs into the passenger seat and we were on our way-- to rush hour on I-4.

The whole experience was extremely nerve racking. I was soaked and freezing and terrified that Mike wouldn't be safe hauling that thing but we made it to our first stop for gas with minimal problems. I fed the dogs and got caught in another surprise mini flood... convinced I was never going to be dry again.

At this stop Mike told me to go on ahead since he felt like he would be fine, but he couldn't accelerate past 55. This was good news for me because people are much less forgiving of a cavalier crawling along without anything attached to it. So I went on ahead and we agreed to meet up at the next stop for gas.

After what felt like an eternity I was out of Florida, through Alabama and almost to the border of Mississippi when I got a terrible call from Mike.

He had stopped for gas and trying to get out of the parking lot he had bottomed out on a slight incline and the trailer had come off. Of course I said I would come back and get him and when I told him I was on the Alabama/Mississippi border, I was shocked to find out that he hadn't even made it out of Florida yet. He was more than an hour behind me.
To make a longer story short, he was able to get the hitch back on himself (thank GOD it was him because I wouldn't have been able to)and set out on the road again agreeing to meet me at the Mississippi welcome center. I sat there for an hour trying to sleep, but sleep didn't come. The only thing welling up in me was the urge to vomit.....

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the continuous flow of caffeine. Maybe it was food poisoning. Either way we decided to stay overnight in some dive Mississippi motel where we each took turns being sick until the wee hours of the morning when we decided, after some deliberation, to continue on to our destination. We weren't the only ones who had it bad, either. There was a ten gallon fish tank strapped into my backseat with traumatized fish displaced from their comfortable 55 gallon home to a cramped little box of splashing water and changing temperatures. They went from the car being off while we were hooking up the hitch and steaming condensation oozing from the glass, to a crisp air conditioned vessel right for two panting dogs, fighting for the best spot on the passenger seat pillow. They were now stuck overnight in the boggy, humid temperature and I couldn't even concentrate on the continued change of temperature, the heat of their water, and the volatile situation within when I had to worry about whether the toilet would flush after I got sick so that Mike would have a fresh start for his throwing up.

Ahhh. That will be one for the ol' memory box.

The rest of the trip went pretty smooth. We made it into Houston pretty quickly and I was really excited. According to my maps and my memory, Houston was a measly three hours from our new digs. ha.

It took us six. I don't know why or how, but it was the longest part of the drive. My only sense of solace was calling Mike and screaming obscenities at him. Amazingly enough, though, we made it here, and we're still married.

Neither of us threw up after that.
None of the fish died.
Most of our crap made it okay.
Both cars seem to still be in working condition... though Mike's truck needs to visit a repair shop.
The dogs still like going for rides in the car.

Austin has been great so far. Its beautiful here and there is so much to do! I loved getting to hang out with my friends after so long.

Its good to be home.