The Way Things Are






Dog Vomit
2003-12-18, 10:23 a.m.

I suck, I'm just so negligent. Stuff happens, and long conversations with myself, in my head, ensue, and I never ever write it down. I will get an award for the most boring and incomplete online diary ever. Just to catch y'all up, the camping trip was wonderfully rainy, cold, sleepless, and a helluva lot of fun.

I'm already preparing for my 40th birthday next year by buying myself presents now. DW (DishWasher) and I agreed no gifts to each other this year, NO gift, not even token gifts, although I will get him some stuff from Lil Guy and for his stocking...where was I? Oh yeah, no presents. I really really want a pink Kitchenaid stand mixer. Since I cannot wrangle that for Christmas, I decided it's DW's 40th b-day gift to me. Early. 8 months early.

And since we're getting it at a discount through a connection at large kitchen outfitter's store, he's going to owe me some money. So I have decided that I need to finally order the Bean duck boots that I feel I need for camping, walking in the mud at the land, hanging out at the farm, possibly skiing or wearing in snow, and hiking. I'll get right on that.

Work has been progressively more productive and filled with satisfaction. Seems every piece of bad news is tempered with a bit of good.

What else? What else? I stepped in fresh dog vomit barefooted yesterday. Penny horked up bright yellow stomach juice mixed with pecan shells and sticks, and I walked through it in the dark on my way to start my coffee. It was gross and sooo funny. I hauled her ass promptly outside, where she commenced a' howlin'. So I told her to shut her ass up and she did.

And I guess that's the extent of my so-called vomit. It's a happy, goofy, harmless, and interesting place.

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