It's beginning to look alot like... winter.

It's been 10 days since my last post and I feel an obligation to say something. I don't really have much to offer though folks, I've been too busy shoveling to come up with witty banter for you! It's okay though because I'm really starting to get in shape for the winter season. My back no longer aches or spasms at the slightest movements, and I have to say that my biceps are getting quite ripped!

As of 1 week ago, Syracuse was falling behind on our annual snowfall accumulation. But like they say, if you don't like CNY weather, wait a few minutes and it'll change! And it did, much to my disgust I might add. 17 inches in one day... and what seems like 4 feet for the next 5-6 days there after that. We have piles of snow all around the driveway and house that are so tall it looks like we've created our own little snow fort! And all of this in less than a week. Madness I tell you.

Even the dog is getting annoyed. Gone are the days of running and playing in the side yard. Now the snow's so deep that he gets stuck with the first step into unchartered territory. He's not the brightest dog either (as you read before!). He hasn't quite figured out how to run over the snow piles, so he just tries to run through them. I'm going to feel really bad when those piles freeze up and he goes headlong into and knocks himself unconscious! Ah, who the hell amI kidding? I won't feel bad. I'll probably be too busy laughing my ass off.

Well anyways... that's where I've been. Up to my freakin' eyeballs in snow. I can't wait for that mid-winter Florida break. It can't come soon enough.

I hate the flu.

I rarely get sick. I can't remember the last time I had a real "sick" day from work. Oh sure, I've taken Sick Days, but never was I actually sick. I think I know why now. My body isn't programmed to get sick on weekdays. Rather, it bottles up all my germs from Monday to Friday, letting them sleep peacefully, resting up for the weekend.

This really sucks for me. I start to feel like caca sometime around mid-afternoon on Friday, and by Saturday morning I'm nothing but a pile of wet sticky tissues wrapped in old sweatpants and a wool blanket. I devote the whole day to the battle, hoping that maybe I can fight it off enough to at least salvage Sunday. Afterall, the weekend is my only reprieve from the freakshow I call work.

So I send Brian off to the store with the following instructions... find me some drugs for nasal congestion, cough suppressant, sore throat, aches & pains... and get lots of it. Oh yeah, and above all else make sure it has alot of the decongestant! He comes back with all sorts of options, including a couple of mangos? He says that if I eat a whole mango I'll feel better in no time. I'm a little skeptical of his intentions though, I've seen that Seinfeld episode! But I'll try anything, I need my weekends!

I spend the whole day sleeping, taking medicine, eating mango, drinking plenty of fluids, and more sleeping. Come Sunday morning, I'm no better off than I was the day before. This sucks. Another day of feeling like crap. And another day that I'm not enjoying the freedom from work-hell. By Sunday evening, the sniffles are starting to subside and the cough has faded away. I go to bed knowing that in the morning I'm probably going to feel better... just in time to go to work.

It's like the whole weekend never happened.

Can your dog do tricks?

See we've got this new dog, a golden retriever to be specific. His name is Cooper, or Pooper, or Coop-Doggy-Dogg (if he's feeling the funk, mostly he's not though, but Bill and Jo-Jo seem to bring out the best CDD I've ever seen!). He's a joy, terror and endless love all wrapped up in a big ball of 7-month old puppy fur. When we got him, we naively thought "How hard could this be? We have a cat, so we're good with animals." (though don't ask the Dewitt Animal Hospital, 'cuz I'm sure those bitches would tell you different. F-them. That's a whole 'nother Blog!) So where was I? Oh yeah, we picked him up and brought him home. We were so happy because we were 'parents' now. (Everyone says get a dog to see if you're really ready for kids. I thought they were full of shit, I was wrong. There I admitted it Brian, I said I was "wrong"!) We got our little bundle of joy home and quickly found out... he was the most un-housebroken dog we'd ever met! And he crapped enough for 10 dogs! WTF?!?!

So we embarked on our crusade... to not only house train our dog, but to make him the smartest dog ever! Okay so he may not be the smartest dog ever, but it'd be nice to have him know that our house is not his toilet... and maybe he could learn to sit, lay down, stay, and shake too?!?!

Being the nerd that I am, I got on the internet and Googled away! I checked everything from "crate training", "house training", "dog obedience". I read anything and everything I could get my paws on! (nyuck-nyuck!) I had learned about all sorts of theories of the right and wrong ways to teach Cooper how to "act right!" The unfortunate thing is a lot of the things I read fell on both lists!?!?

We settled on rewarding the "good", saying a firm "NO!" when we witness the "bad", and doing nothing when we learn about the bad after the fact (ie. walk into a room and find a steaming pile of poo with Cooper no where to be found! Gross I know, but it happens and there's nothing you can do because he's already forgotten about it. I wish I had an "out" like that!) Our method seems to be working. He now sits at the backdoor when he hears "nature's call" and it's been almost 2 weeks since our last "accident!" (Knock on wood!)

He seemed to catch on pretty quickly so I thought I'd work on a few more obedience skills. He has to take medicine twice a day because the poor guy has allergies (he fits right in at our house!). I figured that was a perfect teaching opportunity. I have his attention, I have something I need him to eat, it's wrapped up in something yummy... why not make him work for it, right!?!?

We started out with "sit", which he's an old pro at now! He sits for everything... his stick, his toys, whatever. He knows if he "parks it" (like Brian says!) he's gonna get something good! So with that under our belt, we worked on "lay down", which he gets, most of the time. Sometimes he's so damn eager for the treat though that he pops right back up and I still haven't figured out how to get him down without putting my hand on the floor. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!

"Shake" has always been one of my favorites, and our dogs when I was growing were the Master's of Shake! They were ambidextrous shakers, if there is such a thing for dogs. Medicine time quickly became "Let's learn shake time" for me and Cooper. For almost 2 weeks straight, I would say "Shake, Cooper" and he would look at me and hear, "Mughesr, Cooper." So I'd grab his paw and shake it, all the while repeating "shake!" It started to seem ridiculous. There I was grabbing his paw and repeating the word shake like some sort of Rainman. And like I said, this went on for weeks. I felt like giving up. I was a failure, and Cooper was destined to be the dumb dog on the block. And then it happened...

I remember it vividly. It was Sunday, January 7th, 2005... around 8:00am, medicine time. I looked at Cooper and said, "Sit. Good Boy. Shake?" And he did it! He very gingerly pulled his paw up, trying very hard to keep his balance... and he shook my hand! I freaked out! I was so excited! I started shouting "he did it! He's so smart! he's the smartest dog EVER!" I gave him a big hug and treats, of course! It's one of the proudest moments I've ever felt. Brian didn't believe me (he's my doubting Thomas, and I love him for it!). So I said, "Fine! Here's a treat. Ask him!" And he did... and Cooper shook his hand too! Now we both were super proud! This was a huge day for us! He's been in the family less than a month and he's not defecating all over our house and he's shaking hands, baby!!!

We did what any proud 'parents' would do. We packed him up and took him out to Babci and Dziadzi's house. (They're his Polish 'grandparents', for those of you who aren't familiar with the terms!) We were so happy to show off his new talents! He shook away! They were so proud too! We all sat around talking about how he was the smartest dog ever....

and then he peed on their new living room carpet!! So maybe he hasn't figured out that their house isn't his toilet, but with a couple of weeks and 10 pounds of doggie treats we can conquer that too!

Why can't I be perfect?

Food for thought - 60 Percent... is better than the Senate Majority of 51%.

Okay, maybe that was a lame ass comment, but it's still the truth.

Fact is no one is perfect. Especially not me, you know that. Though somehow I did ace the Spanish Regents. I honestly think that was the only perfect moment in my life, but I digress. I struggle ferociously with my own ideologies. I'm never going to be the perfect engineer, sister, daughter, or even wife, though I really wish I could be. I beat myself up when I have no clue how to do something at work, or worse yet, I feel like an ass when I actually do fuck something up. Hell, I once crapped my pants I was so scared of taking a test. I get embarrassed when I make mistakes. I hide my anxieties behind my "tough girl" exterior. I want to be the best, but I fail to accept that my best maybe not always be The Best. We all do it, it's human nature.

I worry that I'm not the best wife I could be. I say things I shouldn't. I encroach when I should be backing off. And lords knows I piss him off (Sometimes I even do it intentionally!!) But I love him, and I respect him. The truth is though that I don't love 100% of him. There are definitely things I don't like, but I accept them, as that is who is he is. Because of that, I know I can't be responsible for making him 100% happy. There will always be times when he needs something to satisfy that part of him that I may not like... and when that times comes, I have to be able to give him the space to do that. Part of making him happy is knowing that sometimes he's the one who has to make himself happy. It hurts sometimes, knowing that he's happy doing something without me (gasp!), but there's comfort in knowing that he's at least happy. Same goes for me. There are things that I like that he could give a rat's ass about. Things that I need to do to find my own peace and happiness, and he in turn has to give me the time, space, and support to pursue that. And I have to admit, he does a better job at all of this than I do (but don't tell him I said that.)

So how do I do at it? Hmmm, I'd say I get it right about 50-60% of the time, seriously. But that's way better than where I was a year, or even two years ago. I still feel let down when he's not home when I wish his was, but now I make a better effort to appreciate him when he does get home. I still get annoyed with those parts of him that I don't like and haven't quite learned how to accept. I'm not the best wife in the world... but I'm the best wife I can be right now.... and I'm getting better every day.

He makes an effort to hear me when I'm sharing my feelings. He's still working on simply accepting my feelings versus invalidating them and telling me I'm wrong for feeling the way I do. He struggles with accepting that "feelings" are never wrong, but how you deal with them can be. He's not the best husband in the world either(though he'd probably be mad I said that!)... but he's the best husband I could have ever hoped for, and he too is getting better every day.

We strive for 100% happiness, but we're not there... and we'll probably never be there. We're not perfect, and we'll still make mistakes and hurt each other. So for now, I'm content with my "less than perfect" life. I work on my own happiness by dealing with the things I have control over (and he's not one of them, even as hard I as I try!). With that, I also give him responsibility for his own happiness. There is quite a bit that I can do to help make him happy, but ultimately he has control. If he's not completely happy, I want to help, but I accept that there's only so much I can do... sometimes I just need to let him work it out.

I can't do it all... I'm not perfect.