“Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.”
~ Albert Einstein
What a weekend! I’m still getting over this cold, and therefore still a bit fuzzy in the head, but here’s some news for you: Margot and Wrench, and Drill and Trixie got engaged this weekend.
To one another respectively, not collectively. We’re not that weird a family.
While we’re on the subject, one of my dearest guy friends Flyboy also recently popped the question to his longtime love. Love is clearly in the air. Congratulations everyone! It’s going to be another filled up summer for me, weddings and J.’s graduation, and trips, and life. It may be the winter doldrums (and it certainly could be the fact that it’s a groggy Monday), but I’m anxious for the summer to come. It’s going to be a busy one and I can’t wait because for all I complain, I really love being busy!
“So, was it [the movie ‘The Woman in Black’] good?” “Well, yes, in that I refuse to go outside to do the laundry now because it’s dark.” – J. and C.
I have remembered why I don’t regularly watch scary films. Quite enjoyable, but the reviewers who said it wasn’t creepy are lying. Also, surely we can all agree on a few basic truths when confronted with the paranormal? Angel and Margot, with whom I saw the film, and I all came to some suggestions:
If the house is supposed to be empty and someone (or something) is in it, leave.
If there are banging and screaming sounds coming from upstairs, don’t go up. And certainly don’t keep going up over and over again. (Idiot.)
You can’t fix crazy, in this world or the next.
Children never, ever do frightening/dangerous things in unison, it’s a bad sign (have you seen ‘The Shining?’). Avoid such young’ins.
If all the locals warn you not to go somewhere, burst into weeping at the sight of you, cross themselves, etc., listen to their Cassandra-like croakings and don’t go to the creepy house. Locals know things like that: best restaurants, good inns, places that could lead to a loss of soul or life. You know.
Dilapidated manor houses where multiple deaths have occurred, surrounded by unwelcoming family graveyards, on virtually unreachable islands with no hope of rescue are bad news. Pick a different vacation spot.
“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee” – John Donne
Life can get a bit overwhelming, darlings, even when you’re a few degrees removed, so please indulge.
Sav lost her brother over the Christmas holiday.
Lizzie is getting divorced.
Marie’s health is still shaky from her pancreatic attacks and other car accident health residue, plus a few family issues, and separation from her own husband for 3 months as he goes through job training. She’s looking at another surgery soon.
Worst of all, one of Margot’s dear friends ended her life Saturday night. We’ve tried to help as best we can, Margot in particular has been feeding people, soothing, and being a true lady of mercy, but she’s hurting too.
Troubles do not play favorites, and no one is immune. Please keep these friends of mine, as well as your own in your thoughts, my dears, and take them time to help a friend out today. We all know someone who’s hurting or needs just a bit of encouragement (and we very well may be that person!), so let’s do a bit extra to take care of one another.
“New Year’s Day – now is the accepted time to make your annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.” – Mark Twain
Hello and Happy New Year, kittens! I have missed our little chats, and I’m sure I should be sorry for neglecting you, but the truth is, I’m not. Not in the slightest. I spent nearly two weeks in Virginia with all my siblings (for once!), my parents, Marie and her husband (who spent Christmas with us, aren’t I lucky?), and my husband. Marie took pictures, and thank goodness because I never remember to, go check them out. There was shameless amounts of cuddling, lots of games, and way too much food. Perfect.
The boys went shooting, J. and I spent a couple of days helping Dad clear the land (our “estate” is looking more impressive all the time) and playing with the dogs, and the girls baked up a storm. We watched movies, slept late, and dined when we damn well pleased. The Christmas Eve roast was perfect, as were the pies. J. was conscripted for some heavy labor in moving some furniture around for my parents, whose collection of Asian antiques still is Not Quite Right, even after two years of shuffling it all around (to say nothing of that tiny little earthquake a while back), and helping Dad hang the two deer he and Buddy bagged from the rafters of the garage. It was lovely.
On New Year’s Day Gio drove us to D.C. and we had a lovely evening out on the town with Peregrine, who graciously put us up for the night and took us to the airport the next morning. Seeing her always does me good. She’s a city girl extraordinaire who took us to one of José Andrés’ amazing restaurants, who she claimed spiritually “communes with Brussels sprouts,” and as usual, she was right. If ever you get the pleasure of dining there, try them roasted. Trust me.
Now I’m back at home, again husbandless but still happy. You know it’s been a good vacation when going back to work after a day spent in the airports doesn’t seem entirely like drudgery. I have a refrigerator to stock, friends to see, and things to do. My life, for all that I complain about it is very, very good and I’m lucky to have it.
So, here’s to good holidays, good friends, good times, and hopefully a good year in 2012. And here’s to you, ducklings. Better, cleverer, funnier, lovelier minions there never were. Small Dog and Co. wish you all the best. Let’s keep up the adventures in 2012.
“A charming woman is a busy woman.” – Loretta Young (boy, I hope this is true…)
My kittens, my ducklings, my belovedest of beloved possums! I’ so busy these days I could gleefully indulge in a tiny breakdown…but I haven’t the time. Last Friday I helped coordinate a small baby shower for Hennessy, two weekends ago was consumed with preparations for Pieter and Sadie’s wedding, last Saturday was an evening with J.’s family, Trixie and I are throwing Sadie’s bacherlorette party this coming Saturday, there are two birthdays within my godfamily this week, a dermatology appointment, a dentist appointment, and there’s a wedding next week the day before I fly home for Christmas. And somehow, I still need to find time to get the oil changed for the car, finish up place cards for the wedding luncheon, and pack. Woof.
Here’s a sneaky fact about one’s husband going off abroad for grad school that no one tells you: going back to taking care of everything for oneself, without someone to share the chores, is rough. Bone tired, constantly frazzled, get home and all one wants to do is curl up on your sofa and refuse to acknowledge the rest of the evening, rough. But one can’t do that, because one has to shop for brie and baguettes, continue the fight against one’s ancient flat’s march towards decay, and eat every once and a while.
I’m no ingrate, busyness is a boon: it keeps me from being lonely or bored. All I’m saying is, I could stand being a little less busy. Luckily the Christmas vacation looms, wherein I plan on doing very little, in very good company. How are you holding up, darlings?
“When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It’s a whole different way of thinking.”
~Elayne Boosler
Shopping for men is rough, kittens, and believe me, I know. Most of my friends growing up were boys, my major was mostly made up of men, I preferred hanging out with J.’s roommates to my own when we were dating, the list goes on. I have two brothers and one sister, two godbrothers and one godsister, three brothers-in-law and two sisters-in-law (not counting respective spouses)… the girls are outnumbered. But that’s okay, because most of the ladies I know are pretty lucky in their male chums, significant others, and family members, so we should dig in and get them cool (fake) presents anyway. Any to add to the list?
For your all American brother-in-law who spends the summer either on the green or at the grill.For the guy friend who almost blew a snyapse when he found out they were making a new Muppets movie.For your British mystery loving in-law.For the guy you met in your major who now teaches English in Korea, even though he studied Medieval French Literature, and is an unrepentant nerd.For your nephews who have never seen it - shame!For you guy pal who thinks he's Don Draper, and who you care about too much to disillusion.For you friend who just got his first Real Job and needs to dress the part.For the slightly wacky but nice gun enthusiast neighbor of your parents.
“I love awards, especially if I get them.” – Ben Gazzara
Leila, a fellow admin assistant and writer and cyber pal, gave me the Liebster Blog award! Thanks, darling!
In time honored tradition, I must now pass it on to other deserving people I follow religiously on Google Reader, who I think you should know too!
Janssen at Everyday Reading. Book reviewer, librarian, mother, and (as far as I can tell) gourmet chef. We met at university long ago and reconnected over the internet years later; I’ve been bowled over by her awesomeness ever since.
Sarah at Mattawa Mum. Just your average English girl living on the West Coast. Sarah is another university mate and insanely talented woman who shares recipes for (among other things) English favorites like meat pies and Yorkshire puddings.
Lauren of Little Farmhouse in the Big City. Lauren, who I met over a summer program in Washington DC and New York, and has since worked in all sorts of digital media, including a magazine. And still, in spite of this, found time to buy a house and now renovates it to her heart’s content. Her adventures with home, food, and friends, make decorating my Someday House seem much less intimidating.
Tori from The Ramblings. A girl I have never met but for online, but who has been known to make me fall out of my chair laughing at work. Much to the confusion of my comrades.
Jooj from Paris Is Always A Good Idea. Though I also don’t know this one personally, she is a friend of Peregrine, so I feel some sort of affinity. She and her German husband are pursuing (more) degrees at Oxford, after working with underprivileged women in Brazil for some time.
Thanks again for the shoutout, Leila. Now, readers, go forth. Minions, meet impressive bloggers and friends. Friends, minions. Charmed!
“Seriously. I had to schedule a breakdown, and then I had to cut it short!” – C.
Minions, I have neglected you. But last Friday the world sort of stopped. I was stressed, I was tired, I was anxious, I was overwhelmed, and I literally worried myself sick. I went home early on Friday and spent some time in bed.
Of course, I had only a limited amount of time to recover from the vapors because I had stuff to do. Saturday I had a wedding (in addition to Venice’s birthday) and errands to run, Sunday was dinner at my godparents’ house (a 4 hour event at least) after which I had to dash home and make appetizers for… Monday after work, Sadie and Pieter had a Honey Do couples shower. Classic me, I made it all the way to GS’s house before I realized I’d forgotten the food in my fridge.
But health, good-humor, and cheerfulness have begun to return, and so, updates. Margot landed a full time teaching job (no small prize in this economy), Marie’s husband also got a job back East, Hambone had her baby boy, my sister-in-law had a dry run for her future lung transplant and got an emergency plan in place (still scary, but less so now), Dad, Venice, and J. all got older, and J. is going to Les Miserables tonight, staring Alfie Boe.
You know, the one who managed to stand out among these guys:
“It’s hilarious how tied up [our niece] was in the idea of having a sister, I think little boys are cute. Watch, God will give us triplet girls for that…” “As long as they don’t act like the girls I live with. If they do, I’m sending them back.” “Come on, darling, they’ll be half me.“ – C. and J.
Readjusting to having flatmates after living with a spouse is quite interesting. I’m lucky, because Margot’s a great flatmate. She’s funny, driven, seemingly indestructible, and unfailingly clever, one of those people who you just like being around because you’re practically guaranteed a good time, even if you’re doing nothing. But that doesn’t mean it’s not an adjustment. She is, after all, not my husband.
Our recreation is totally different, for one thing.
Hey, baby, you single? No? Pfft, wasted my best moves on you, then...
For example, Margot goes dancing and when she invites me along I decline, because where we live is a notorious marriage market, and frankly, I’m glad I’m out of all that! Nights out dancing are no longer fun: firmly not flirting with the overeager boys, disclaiming my taken status when asked to dance (in the interest of full disclosure) and trying to hide a grin when they back off hurriedly, as if they are complicit in adultery. I went dancing once or twice with girlfriends when J. and I were dating or engaged, but it was distinctly not as fun as it was as a Singleton. A good chunk of the dancers were hunting (aggressively) for a mate and the rest of us, only there for a good time, were in the way of that mission. Now I’m married, mission complete, and I’m a false start which they will resent should I wander into their path. It’s all frightfully funny, but not necessarily the way you want to spend an evening.
And for another thing, we’re at very different points in our lives – she’s recently graduated and job hunting, I’m (relatively) settled. She’s constantly putting in applications for a full time teaching job, and I admire her for it, but I’ve got a job. I’m all sympathy and willing to ponder the mysteries of our generation’s day and age…but my trials and concerns are different from hers. I am, in short, an old woman. I must be the most boring flatmate ever, but she puts up with me, and we get along great!
J., on the other hand, lives with two women who are daily growing in seeming hatred towards one another. That too must be the oddest feeling, living with two feuding females, neither of whom he’s related to as he tries desperately to stay out of it. It’s a foreign experience for him, he’s only ever roomed with other men and people he was obligated to love (me or his siblings). I’ve taken to calling his updates on the battle “Dispatches From the Front.”
This attitude, hilariously masquerading as "maturity," allows one to rise above most arguments.
I never got into a fight with any of the girls I lived with, it never seemed worth the energy. If you didn’t get on well, in six months one of you could move out and never see the other person if you so desired. There was no need for impoliteness or other unfortunate behavior in the meantime. I was the flatmate baffled when another girl would suddenly collapse weeping on my shoulder demanding if she’d done something wrong because I hadn’t spoken to her in an hour. I was the girl who unintentionally sparked a civil war in one flat because I put the newly washed silverware into the drawer in the wrong order (forks, knives, spoons, instead of the other proper way around), who was oblivious to the growing rage until the girl I’d offended demanded if I’d been raised in a zoo, flung all the cutlery across the counter, and promptly burst into tears. I patted her awkwardly, “there there-ed” a while, and promised never to put the forks on the left hand side again.
Margot’s gloriously sane by comparison. I like her lots.
“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” – C.S. Lewis
Actual photo of the elusive Margot in the wild...
Kittens, I have failed. I told you all long ago that I had exciting news regarding the unfailingly awesome Margot…and then neglected utterly to tell you want it is. Here it is: she moved in with me!
With J. off in London and me with this two bedroom flat all by my lonesome, and she with this horrid student apartment she was splitting with five other people, and a probable job starting in February that would make it hard to sell her housing contract (since she would have to move out of the country)… we figured she should just take up residence at chez Small Dog. And lucky me, she said yes.
Margot is a busy girl holding down multiple jobs including teaching, tutoring, volunteering, and applying for yet more jobs. She’s taught all over the Pacific (mostly in New Zealand), she also grew up partly in Japan as the daughter of a US Air Force officer, she is sister to Pinto (now living and teaching herself in Germany with her husband), and Margot is planning on an educational administrative job in South America next year – unless a cooler offer presents itself. Yeah, if she weren’t my friend, she’d make me sick too.
In the interest of getting to know someone who will most likely feature at Small Dog Humor and Snark Inc., here’s a brief interview:
So, your computer dies spectacularly sending your life’s work into the screaming void. Reaction? Weeping.
Favorite flowers, just so your admirers know what to send (as we at Small Dog Social Commentating are awash in such things)? I like stargazer lilies, red roses and (new discovery) baby’s breath. But it has to be all baby’s breath. Mix any of these and you die.
You are a box of pudding just waiting to be made, what flavor are you? I am sugar free chocolate pudding.
The one author you would deny your students forever if you got the chance? As a taste issue, you understand, no banned books here. Ooh…Stephanie Meyer’s too cliche, there’s got to be someone I hate more… I’m going to say Glenn Beck?
You have to wear one outfit for the rest of you life, make it good! Black slacks, white frilly button up, black blazer, scarf, red lipstick. Oh! And fake big rimmed glasses and stilettos. I’ll look like I’m going to a very corporate funeral. “He was a good man…of business…”
Care to say hello to the minions? You people are fabulous. Carry on.
Small Dog Syndrome 