You, I, We

My jeep is in the shop. My driveway is a vast wasteland of emptiness. This makes me nervous and blue. What if it doesn't make it back this time?

I needed perking up. It's a terribly windy day, but the dogs needed walking and they don't care about wind. I put on something cheery and a bit silly, a bit  Dr. Seuss-ish. I just needed it. The dogs scurried in circles, their bright orange leashes all a tangle. I grabbed my white floppy hat and away we went.

Oh, D. Really? *Sigh*

And, 5 minutes later I ran into the cutest man, leaning against the barber shop, staring at me. So while the dogs were busy, I smiled back. I even said, hello. (Insert applause here).

He smiled, said hi, stared at the dogs, then smiled back at me. I tried again, "Windy day. Should have grabbed a scarf." (Yay, D! Keep going!). He agreed, said something else. I don't remember what.

The barber showed up--I wave at him every day. And since I didn't want to leave I told them about Trooper (since they were looking) his deafness, blah, blah, blah. And then I said the absolute wrong words all single women universally over, never, ever use, "WE found him this winter...."

This didn't hit me until later, after I said, Well we should go...(Go??? Why go?? STAY HERE. SAY SOMETHING ELSE. SAY, GETTING A HAIR CUT? BUT IT ALREADY LOOKS NICE, COME HERE OFTEN? EVER? HAVE YOU BEEN TO COFFEE AROUND THE CORNER? WOULD YOU LIKE TO...?)

Sit, stay, please.

Nope. I said, have a good day, and left. Then I spent my walk berating myself for my inability to stand still and flirt like a good woman would. For god's sake! I was raised by the biggest flirt in 70's history: my father, the king of flirt-and-get-a-date. You'd think I would have learned something, but no I said "WE..." and blithered on about Trooper, then left. Bravo, well, done.

"WE" as any smart woman knows, refers to "US"--a pair, a couple, dating, engaged, married. It means "I have someone. I am unavailable. I should be walking onward, he is taking me to dinner and you aren't invited. But I hate saying "I". I means: I am single, I am alone, I have no one and no one has me. I do not have a dinner date, I am eating Lean Cuisine alone, not going dancing, but watching reruns of Antique's Roadshow." I hate "I".

A good, kind man



Men know, quite well, what "WE" means, as well. Men never ever use "we" unless they are good married men. In a man's mind it is survival of the fittest "I" (My father has been with the same woman for 25+ years. They are not married. His man cave is her pool house. He only uses "we" sometimes. Whatever).

Contrarily, when I say "we" I mean me--and the dogs. The dogs and me are a "we" until further notice, but he didn't know that. And...perhaps he really didn't care. He could have been smiling at the dogs, the crazy mess of leashes, my silly floppy hat, my ridiculously circus-like striped shirt. Why would HE--handsome, roguish man, in proper charcoal gray attire, wavy salty dark hair and a clean handsome beard, smile at me.

I walked--we walked, they walked--we/I came back around the barber shop, but our/my handsome rogue was gone. I teared up just a bit. We/I came home, ate quiche and wrote here instead.

Oh, D...(insert self-hug).


d, xo

Dog Park

I'm getting nowhere with the whole transfer dog posts from Snowflower Street to here. Why? Because it's supposed to be simple. And my experience with anything that's supposed to be simple, is fricking complicated. Will leave it for now.

Meanwhile, I took the critters to a new dog park today, completely fenced, no escape routes! You'd think I would have drank my coffee and chilled, but no. I ran around following Trooper, fearing he would look up and feel lost, abandoned, then freak out--projection, projection, projection. In reality, he cruised around, sniffing and peeing, trot, trot, trot. I don't think he gave a hooey where I was.

In my defense, Zephyr does do that--look up and freak out because he can't find me. It's a horrible look, even for a second, before I wave him down. Panic is no one's friend and we do enough of it in this house already. Oye.

Anyway, all went well. the dogs roamed. I managed to drink most of my coffee hot, and Trooper even sniffed a very large pit bull that drooled bigger than he. My heart lurched in those waiting moments as the dog, his jaw the width of Trooper's length, checked him out, but it was all good. Hail Mary...

Now it's late and it's time for the troops to go out, before they get tucked in. It's a tough life being a dog in this house.

d, xo