miscellany

After a valiant attempt to be superwoman, i have come to realize that i am...well...NOT superwoman.

meaning, i am going to quit my part-time job. i started it (or re-started, as i have worked for this employer in the not-so-distant past) approximately 3 weeks ago. i started it because my full-time job does not pay me enough. i don't mean that in a sense-of-entitlement sort of way. i mean it in a cost-of-living sort of way. my monthly bills (god bless student loans...) dominate my paychecks. my employer literally cannot give raises. my employer literally could be shut down at any given moment to the surprise of literally no one. literally.

i am going to meet with a credit counselor this week. hooray for proactivity!

my best friend is in similar financial straits. lily allen has a song that is quite applicable. except the beaurocrats won't give me a mortgage because of my bad credit...but it's not so funny because i don't have their effing money.

have i mentioned that i despise money?

yet i love stuff. 'tis an uncomfortable quandry.

time to count the blessings. i am surrounded with good people. a number which increases weekly. i have a loving family. i have my passions, which i can indulge in freely. i have freedoms. and i get to go to new zealand in 18 days. THAT, my dearies, is phenomenal.

my wish list may be long...but my have list is long, too.

funny story time.
i am the proud "owner" of an 11 year old nova scotian duck tolling retriever, penny. she is definitively spoiled. she is also definitively precious and sweet and loving and adorable. yesterday she was in the bedroom while the rest of the family was in the living room. I decided the old girl should join the party. as i entered the room, she looked up at me with her gentle eyes. "come on, penny, up we go," i said as i slid my right arm beneath her furry, 35 pound frame.
"YELP!" she exclaimed. of course i was worried. although dogs in general, and my dog in particular, tend to play the 'wounded pet' act when simply bothered, i never can tell. i pulled her up, to see if indeed i had pinched a nerve.
that's when the wrestling match began. "Here's my opportunity to escape!" thought penny. "i can't let you go, my arm is entangled in your front legs!" i said. she thrashed about, a blur of reddish orange fur. i followed suit (although my hair is reddish brown). our heads hit. nails were bared. she had the benefit of the aforementioned fur to protect her skin. i, however, do not. after a blow to the face, to the upper right cheek-near-the-eye region, the clash of the red-heads was ended with me lifting a hand to the afflicted area and her snorting her indignation over the indignity of our little tussle. i took my hand down; no blood. looked in the mirror, definite swollen red mark. i went and grabbed an ice bag from the freezer. then returned to the bedroom to see what madam penny had to say for herself. like a possum playing dead, she flipped from laying on her stomach to her back, legs in the air, throat bared, the proverbial pose of submission. "yeah, you better be sorry!" i said with a bite of bitterness. however, i couldn't resist approaching my dog. cut to 30 seconds later. once again my dog is in my arms. but this time, it's cuddling.
moral of the story? my dog is spoiled. she might injure, but she will always be my baby.