Is this a typical Sunday?
Want to sleep till 9 a.m. Tristan the Australian blue heeler pup, (nicknamed “the Devil Dog) wakes up at 7 a.m. Tyler, the adult Aussie, barks at Tristan in his crate until I get up. Throw Tyler and Zeus the German Shepherd, out, lay down on couch and try to sleep.
The dogs scratch at the door and bark. I get up and take them out to play.
Breakfast at 11 a.m.
Spend 45 minutes making cabbage soup, one of my favorite recipes. Someday I’ll share it.
Take dogs on long walk to creek. Tristan poops once and Zeus poops twice (you’ll see the importance of this lateer) Get some neat shots of Tristan. Back at house, Eat some leftovers. Take Marianne with me for errands. Stop at Dunkin Donuts for eclair for her and coffee for me. Then to grocery store. I push her in her wheelchair around Tops. She hold basket while I load things.
People are always very polite with old people in wheelchairs, even if they’re in a hurry or pissed off at the world. They know it’ll be their turn too soon and they’re after good karma. Run to Petco to pick up dog and cat food, all of which are too expensive.
Over to Barnes & Nobel to pick up new Mac Life magazine and Newton book on Life Between Lives.
Come home to check emails and websites. Tristan’s suddenly energized and lives up to his nickname. He scampers into the studio, out into the hallway, stops long enough to rip wrapping paper to shreds. Comes in and pulls out my computer magazines. I say “no” about 150 times. He bites my hand. I slap his nose. We go back and forth: he tests; I discipline. He gets mad and tests some more. I discipline.
I win . . . for the moment.
Home. Produce two radio spots. Eat supper. Leigh and I clean up kitchen. Go downstairs wanting nothing more than to read and nap. As soon as I sit down the infernal dryer buzzer goes off. I swear the moment we paid for the dryer, someone programmed the damned thing to always go off either at supper or when I’m trying to read and nap. Take care of dryer.
Tristan comes down and bends his body into a hump. That means he’s getting ready to poop. By the time you see a dog hump, the poop is already being delivered. Grab him and toss him out, then spend 10 minutes cleaning up. As soon as I sit down again, I see a spot where he’s peed. . . a lot. Clean up pee.
Sit down to read Mac Life. Ten minutes later, dozing off. It is bliss. I’m in that half dream state that I crave. Images flow around lazily and my whole body is relaxed.
Upstairs a dog drops a really large bone on the tile floor which sounds like a test bomb. I jump high enough that there is space between me and the chair. Every nerve is on “fight or flight” mode.
Give up. Work on Mac to try to figure it out after 20 years of working solely on PCs.
Marianne wants to go to bed. We watch a Lucy Show. She goes to bed.
Toby the cat comes in and eats. Leigh comments on how well he’s eating these days after being sick. She leaves to work on a TV commercial. Toby comes out to where I’m sitting with the Mac and throws up everything he’s eaten.
I clean it up, fix a drink and say farewell to Sunday. . . and write this post.