we shall not flag or fail

I can’t escape the Thanksgiving battle plans checklists … this is the biggest Thanksgiving we’ve ever had & I’d be lost without my lists.

  • Recipes: Printed.
  • Schedule: Triple-checked.
  • Turkeys: Defrosting.
  • Prep: About 75% complete..
  • Cleaning: Nearly there.
  • Mind: More or less intact, yay.
  • Body: Still not completely destroyed, hurrah!

I’ve got tomorrow off work, and I’m hoping I can knock out the last of the prep, and get a good night’s sleep, so I can be ready to kick ass on Thursday.

Oh, and relax with our guests. That’d be nice, too.

I really have to stop thinking of this meal in terms of a battlefield that must be conquered. It’s just dinner, right? No beaches or landing grounds to fight on, just 40 pounds of turkey and enough sides to make the sideboard groan.

Onward to victory!

not quite drowning

Yep, I blew NaBloPoMo, once again. Bad, bad me.

Moving on!

Thanksgiving, y’all. It’s now nine days away.

Our house is a disaster area of biblical proportions, complete with dessicated palm fronds dragged in by the dogs; muddy paw prints on the tile, courtesy of the dogs; a fridge I still haven’t cleared out to make room for the incoming piles of food; a spare room that’s full of stuff from the studio (did I mention we are re-arranging the studio for better functionality? We are. Well, mainly my sweetie. It’s a Major Project.); and an office you can barely walk into?

Let us not speak of the library, dining room or buffet, all covered with extraneous Stuff, nor of the two rugs, unvacuumed for lo these many weeks.

I’d like to blame this whole deal on the new pupperina, but aside from needing to put her outside (or clean up after her) about every 45 minutes, she’s settled in pretty well. Once her stitches heal and her Bordatella clears up, she and Fenris will wear each other out every day, as per our Grand Plan, and we can get on with things. That day is too long in coming, though.

(Also? Freya is painfully cute. Her habit of half-closing her eyes and prancing around with her ears back every time she sees us after ten minutes’ absence is a thing of almost unbearable adorability.)

So I’ve got nine days to prepare for 14-15 people to dine in our house: cleaning, advance prep, shopping, more cleaning. My schedule is packed to the gills. Let’s hope I don’t collapse and leave all the cooking to my mom and the cats.

Fingers crossed!


Y’know how, when you’re about to ask for or be considered for a raise, you’re supposed to justify it? You’re supposed to make lists of accomplishments, tot up all the ways you’ve saved The Company money, prepare a spreadsheet of all the revenue you’ve generated?

Well, I’m not going to do that.

Instead, my plan (for the unscheduled day on which this performance review might happen in the unspecified future) is to say, “My contribution? I’ll tell you what my contribution was: I did not argue with my boss on Those Days In November when I learned that, not only were we not getting rid of the Bad Customer that was responsible for my losing the coveted Spam-Fighter Silver Star of Righteousness, but we were, in fact, giving them more network space and probably generating even more work for me. Remember that? Remember how I calmly said “ok” and went back to work, how I didn’t start shedding tears of rage and or throwing things? That’s gotta be worth ten percent, right there.”

I fully expect to be laughed at, but I’m well gonna say it.

this is going to be great

Our little Freya (yep, we decided) is now much happier with her situation.

Once the surgery drugs wore off, she decided Fenris was awesome (as long as he didn’t violate her personal space when she wanted some alone-time with a rawhide) and it took all our energy to stop them playing — her surgery wound won’t be healed for another week or so, and we’re meant to keep her calm until then. Hah, I say. May as well try to hold back the sea with a sieve.

I’ll post some more pics soon, in between refereeing.

I assure you, we have not lost our minds

Well, maybe a little.

See, Loki thought Fenris needed a doggie friend — someone to play with during the day, since daycamp was first to go when we re-budgeted to line up with our new financial reality. And we were thinking of adopting from the rescue that comes to our PetSmart, but they weren’t there on Saturday.

Then I thought, well, the rescue is awesome, but they probably keep dogs until they’re adopted out, whereas the puppy prison … doesn’t. If we rescued a dog from the pound, we’d be actually saving an actual life. So we went.

And oh, gods, was that a hard, hard thing. So many sad dogs. So many dogs that were shaking with fear. So many dogs that you know won’t be adopted, and will die. I cried the entire time we were there.

Choosing was painful. There was a Husky with ice-blue eyes; a German Shorthaired Pointer mix like the dog I grew up with, so bouncy and happy; an American Foxhound mix, all gangly legs and wagging tail; and this wee German Shepherd mix, calm and perky-eared and wagging her little nub of a tail.

We went back and forth, and dithered, and went back to look at this one or that one. A nice-looking couple were playing with the Pointer through the cage bars, and I tried to encourage them. “Pointers are great. This dog would be awesome for you!” They tried not to make eye contact with me; I’m sure they thought I was nuts.

Finally, we decided to meet the Shepherd, so they brought her out and we took her to the big, enclosed pens they’ve set up so you can get acquainted. And she was awesome! Alternately spazzy and content to just lie on your feet.

So we filled in some paperwork and handed over some money and arranged to pick her up yesterday after her spay surgery. Loki drove her home, and she made it the nearly whole way home before yacking on his seats.

Now she’s installed in the house, and she’s got to be sort-of quarantined for a week or so, so we got her a big crate to hang out in. She doesn’t seem to mind, much, although she likes the outdoors better. But it’s just until her surgery wound heals, and then she and Fenris can start down the path to BFF-hood.

We still need a name for her. We’re considering Spike (Adora Belle or Speigel, doesn’t matter), or Freya/Freyja, or Sabine, but nothing’s stuck yet.

And now I think we’re done adopting new animals for a good long while, because oh, man, are the first few days rough, and I’m not going through that again anytime soon.

But I’m glad we’ve adopted this one!