thebeckybug

 This is a prompt from plinky. Thank you plinky, for helping me write some more.

I like to make things. Well, I like to create, and plan and start making things. I usually come up with a huge elaborate plan full of details, armed with endless inspiration. I like the newness of possibility. Most recently it’s been turning the ivy pit in my front yard into a lovely garden, and making invitations to fun events, and refinishing my kitchen cabinets, quilting! That’s a lot to do, right? I agree. I like having options when it comes to my vice, I guess. I like having a variety to choose from. If I have a lot going on at once, it’s easier to justify pausing the one that is boring me. Problem is, sometimes the pause is more of a full stop.

Case and point, my cabinets have been without doors since January. I knew it would be a lot of work, that’s not the problem. I love the work, I can’t wait to begin the work! But the endless sanding part… oye boy. There is only so much endless sanding I can handle until my whole body becomes numb from all the rotating and vibrating of the electric sander. It always starts in the fingers and over about 40 minutes travels until it reaches the brain and toes. And the sweat, and all the work, it’s a lot of work. Maybe I don’t like the work part so much.

So I go and garden for a while. But then it got hot, and the ground got all hard, and the rain, it just stopped coming, and do you know you’re supposed to wait and plant shrubs until the fall? Ok. I’ll wait. While I wait, I will need a project….

So I ask my sister if she needs someone to do her wedding invitations. That would be fun, right? It turned out to be a whole lot of fun and a whole lot of pretty things and messing with fonts and proportions and colors and a lot of staring at the computer.  And all that staring at the computer got tiresome. I needed go outside or run some errands for a few days instead.

And I saw that oh look, plants were on sale! And the whole cycle starts again. Somtimes projects don’t survive the second cycle and I end up with unfinished cabinets, unfinished quilts (2), unfinished crocheted scarves (12), unfinished window treatments (1), unwatered plants (9), unfinished house full of unfinished projects (150). I don’t think I’ll ever stop this business of making things.

You know, I always start making things when something else ends. I started quilting when I broke up with a boyfriend. I started gardening when my job went down in hours. I started refinishing my cabinets when life took a turn. Guess beginning projects is my vice for dealing with loss. Maybe abandoning projects is my way of moving on.

You may recall I used to have a zoo and could account for every acceptable household pet category.

Canine: Shade and Kerbey. Check and check.
Went with the ex. Uncheck.
Feline: Madge the cat. Check.
Went with Amanda to California. Uncheck.
Rodent: Shanda the hampster. Check.
Went with the Lord. Uncheck.
Aquatic: assorted fish, starfish, and crabs. Check, check, check.
Sold to the fish store. Uncheck.
Avian: Assorted songbirds visiting my outside feeders. Check.
Scared away from neighbor feline huntress. Uncheck.

When I broke up with my boyfriend he got the dogs. Both of them. I’m over it now, mostly. Mostly, because I found a new delicious puppy to fill my painful pet-less existence.

I found Muffin after searching local rescue organizations for a few months. She was by far, the most beautiful, most friendly dog at the shelter that day. She is a little huge-er and hound-doggier than I had planned to go with, but it’s hard to walk away from The Dog when she is staring you with big beautiful blue eyes that say, “puhhhleeeaaasse taaake meeeh!’ So the spotted goliath came home with me. And slept for two days straight.

Now, speaking from experience, two days of sleepy puppy may convince you that you have rescued the most obliging, well behaved dog on the planet. However, she will eventually perk up and act like a puppy. A puppy that whines and barks and digs and darts out the front door. She will be a puppy that doesn’t yet know her name or what “comehererightnow” actually entails, not even when you yell it.

My puppy, in particular, is a puppy that moves random objects around the house in a stealthy-like manner. So that when you are looking for your other shoe, the shoe that is not where you left it; the shoe will be hidden smack dab in the middle of the room you’ve been searching for the past 20 minutes.

Muffin, despite the fact she’s a puppy, is the bestest big giant puppy I could have ever wanted.

It would behoove you to straighten the papers in the file before handing it over to me.

After going through a box of papers from my childhood, I found the following chart. It’s a list of commonly used inappropriate words, and the penalty for uttering such obscenities within our home.

Looking back now, I’d pay the $2.00 price to hear:

My youngest brother at age 3, storm up the stairs as much as any toddler can muster. We hear him scream, “F _ _ _ _ T! F _ _ _ _ T! F _ _ _ _ T!” because his turn with the nintendo was over.

My older brother tell me, “Stop being such a WUGGET.” Feeling totally degraded, I find that I cannot locate “wugget” in the dictionary. I finally confront him about the true meaning of his put-down. He is less than informative.

What exactly is it about picking a tick off the dog that makes me impulsively shudder and slough imaginary bugs off my neck for the next few hours?

Changed the transmission fluid (mostly) by myself.

Saved enough money for a good down payment on a new car (in case the transmission fluid fix doesn’t work.)

Started volunteering with RFB&D. (Here’s to #31)

Found this awesome dude who’s helping me with this website. (Get excited!)

Two poops on the potty without screaming from her (or me.)

Big stuff, people, big stuff!

When driving home from the doctor’s office, sniffling, antibiotics and tissues in tow, I take one look at my house and think:

Wow, the house looks so cute in the daylight.

As if there weren’t enough grease in the two tacos for 99 cents, I had to add on some curly fries.

P.S. Since when does medium translate to styrofoam vat?

Things that seem to work but really don’t when trying to entice potty training:

1. Candy as a reward for trying

2. Small child-sized potty in the middle of the living room floor

3. TV while trying to potty

4. Constant constipation

5. Toys as a reward

6. A bathroom door that doesn’t work properly

7. Begging, pleading, demanding, making fun of, yelling, peer pressure, being overly frustrated

8. Asking nicely

9. Pull-ups

10. New baby sister, replacing role of youngest beloved child

Next steps:

1. Making her change her own diaper

2. Endless supply of panties, detergent and garbage bags

3. Prunes, prunes and more prunes

4. Telling her that if she wants privacy, she can move to the potty in the actual bathroom, where there’s a door that shuts … and locks. If she can figure out how to lock it, I’m sure she’ll eventually get hungry enough to figure out how to unlock it. Plus, I could use a couple hours of quiet time with her new baby sister.

5. Therapy (for me)

The two of us walk out of Target and as we pass an ashtray the following conversation ensues:

Carolina (5yrs): What ARE those things?

Nanny Goat (that’s me): What do you think they are?

C: Pipes?

NG: Sorta. People smoke them. Do you know what they’re called?

C: Yeah, I can’t remember, though.

NG: They’re called CIGARETTES, Carolina.

C: Yeah, ugh, CIGARETTES.

NG: And what if someone asks you if you want a cigarette, what do you say?

C: NOOOOOOooo!

NG: Yeah … that’s right and what if they say “Come on Carolina, you should have one,” then what do you say?

C: NOOOOOOooo!

NG: And what if someone says “Hey, Carolina, try a cigarette, everyone here is smoking them.”

C: NOOOOOoooo!

NG: [casually] And what if I’m smoking a cigarette and I say “Carolina, you should really try this cigarette, it is good, it tastes like candy.”

C: [… long pause…] Um, sure?