Well, after months of planning, it’s finally here – the day I head to Orlando and meet my favorite Aunt at the Happiest Place on Earth. Yep, I’m going to Disneyworld!
First, I have to thank Christopher and Mary for getting married next weekend. You see, their wedding is in Palm Beach, which is only a 2 hour drive from Orlando. Oh, darn, go to the wedding and be that close to the mouse house – gotta visit Mickey and friends. Yippee.
An Early Start
When you fly from California to Florida, it’s an all day affair. I decided to fly out early – 6:00 am., which puts me in Orlando at 4:00 p.m. Not a bad time to arrive.
But, that meant getting picked up by SuperShuttle at 0 dark o’clock. Aero thought I was nuts when the alarm clock started buzzing at 2:30 and I hopped out of bed to take a shower. Yep, did the whole routine, including blow drier and curling iron. I was dressed, coiffed and packed by 3:35. Took the dog out for a walk, then waited for the shuttle. The reservation time was 3:55 a.m., with a 15 minute window of arrival. Promptly at 3:50, I turned on the front porch light and moved my bags onto the front porch so that I’d be ready when the van got there. At 4:10, I kissed Aero goodbye (he’s waiting for my friend Angela to come by later and pick him up) and started waiting on the curb for the van. Of course, they never seem to be able to find my house even though I give them explicit instructions AND live on a corner…. 4:15, no shuttle, but my cell phone rings. Yep, automated message from SuperShuttle saying the driver will be there in 10 minutes. Great. I’m freezing my tootsies off while hiding between 2 cars from the crazy homeless guy who’s wandering the neighborhood screaming at the trees….
At 4:25, I spot headlights coming up the street going very slowly – has to be SuperShuttle – so I step out into the middle of the street to flag him down. Now, I’m not hard to miss, even at 4:30 in the morning. When he finally spotted me, he gunned the engine and nearly ran me over. I had a bad feeling about the upcoming ride.
I was right. This guy drove like a maniac! On the circular entrance to the freeway, he hit the top of the curve at about 45mph and I thought for sure the van was going to flip. The rest of the trip (less than 10 minutes) I just kept telling myself that this was like being on the Tower of Terror, only not as safe.
At the Airport
After a safe arrival, SFO was pretty uneventful. I checked my bags curbside, then proceeded to the dreaded security line. I must have gotten there right at the right time – there were only about 10 people in line behind me with 1 security line open. They were slow as molasses! It took 30 minutes to get through the checkpoint, and the line behind me kept growing and growing. I was thankful to be at the front part of that line.
I’m flying US Airways down to Orlando. This is my first experience with them. As a matter of fact, I’m composing this at 37,000 feet, being wedged between the window and a nice lady who’s returning home from a visit with her daughter in Arizona. My first flight was GREAT! For the first time in a long time, I had a row of seats all to myself! It was so nice not to have to squeeze in and share space. Too bad the flight was only 90 minutes.
This flight is 4-1/2 hours long and is packed. My guess is that every flight to Orlando, no matter what day or time, is packed with Mouseketeers like me. This particular flight has 3 cheerleading squads on it I guess this week is the national cheerleading championship at WDW. Oh boy, happy, hyper smiling cheerleaders all week. It could be worse.
So, with less than 2 hours to go, I’m looking forward to landing. I can’t get up – the lady next to me had leg surgery and is still recovering, so I’d feel bad asking her to get up. I don’t use the bathroom on the plane anyway, but after a Starbuck’s at the airport, a bottle of water and a Diet Coke, my bladder is rebelling a bit. I hope I can hold it……
More to come from the Happiest Place on Earth!
Kel
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Things That Go Bump in the Night
I had lived in apartments for about 15 years when I moved into the duplex I'm living in now. One of the things I noticed about myself (and Aero, the 3 pound watch dog) is that we had grown immune to noises that are heard in the middle of the night.
Apartments are noisy places, especially if there are kids living in the surrounding units. After the first few months of living in my last aprtment, Aero pretty much settled in for the evening and slept most of the night without having a barking attack when the kid next door would run up and down the hall at 2:30 a.m. or the bed in the apartment above us would start squeaking at 0-dark-thirty....
So, this immunity to noise followed both of us to the duplex. And, in all honesty, other than the occasional noise from cars whizzing up and down the street, the place is pretty quiet at night. There are the occasional creaks and groans and cracks when all is quiet, but we pretty much sleep through them. Until last Thursday morning at around 3:00 a.m.
That's when I first heard it. The bump in the night coming from the back yard. I was in the bathroom (of course, getting older, I make lots of trips to that room during the night) when I heard some rustling that I thought might be Aero getting comfortable on his pillow. After washing my hands, I headed back to the bedroom and heard the dog in the house behind ours start barking and growling wildly as he was jumping against the wooden fence. Of course this woke up and excited the tiny watch dog, who felt the need to join in the chorus of scary dog noises.
I picked him up and shuffled to the kitchen door to flip on the back yard light and see what the heck was going on. As I flipped the switch, my first thought was "what the hell am I going to do if there's a person out there?" I was so relieved when my yard was empty.
But Aero and the other dog (I think his name is Apollo and he's a real dog who weighs in at about 50 pounds) thought differently, and kept barking at the invisible creature. I could still hear some shuffling about, and every once in a while, the sound of a can or two being moved around. Aha! Must be a raccoon on my duplex-mate's back porch - that's where they keep their recycling and the little (or probably big!) guy was looking for a tasty snack.
So, I trudged off to bed with my little friend, assuring him that the critter wasn't going to bother us. Of course, for the rest of the night, he was on sentry duty, marching up and down the length of our queen-sized bed, letting out the occasional growl and moan to show his imaginary size and strength.
I didn't get much sleep that night, so I was crabby at work all day, but the little dog slept all day to make up for his guard dog duty the night before.
Friday night rolls around, and I'm in a dead sleep, not hearing anything. I was startled when the 3-pound guard landed on my side in a thud and barking his head off, looking in the direction of the bedroom door. Umm, yeah, Aero, thanks for being a watch dog but did you have stand on top of me to guard me?
I listen and hear rustling in the yard again, then the sounds of clinking cans and Apollo's nightly symphony of barking and jumping at the fence. We get up, turn on the light, don't see the critter, and go back to bed, where the little dog walks his line again.
This has gone on for 4 days now.
And the thing that I can't figure out is how my duplex-mates/neighbors haven't heard any of the commotion! I spoke with them over the weekend and asked about it, but they've slept through it all. They were surprised at my description and when they checked their recycling bin, sure enough, there are several cans on the ground near the bin.
I guess they must have lived in noisier apartments than I ever had! I think I'm going out to buy some ear plugs for myself and Aero....
Kel
Apartments are noisy places, especially if there are kids living in the surrounding units. After the first few months of living in my last aprtment, Aero pretty much settled in for the evening and slept most of the night without having a barking attack when the kid next door would run up and down the hall at 2:30 a.m. or the bed in the apartment above us would start squeaking at 0-dark-thirty....
So, this immunity to noise followed both of us to the duplex. And, in all honesty, other than the occasional noise from cars whizzing up and down the street, the place is pretty quiet at night. There are the occasional creaks and groans and cracks when all is quiet, but we pretty much sleep through them. Until last Thursday morning at around 3:00 a.m.
That's when I first heard it. The bump in the night coming from the back yard. I was in the bathroom (of course, getting older, I make lots of trips to that room during the night) when I heard some rustling that I thought might be Aero getting comfortable on his pillow. After washing my hands, I headed back to the bedroom and heard the dog in the house behind ours start barking and growling wildly as he was jumping against the wooden fence. Of course this woke up and excited the tiny watch dog, who felt the need to join in the chorus of scary dog noises.
I picked him up and shuffled to the kitchen door to flip on the back yard light and see what the heck was going on. As I flipped the switch, my first thought was "what the hell am I going to do if there's a person out there?" I was so relieved when my yard was empty.
But Aero and the other dog (I think his name is Apollo and he's a real dog who weighs in at about 50 pounds) thought differently, and kept barking at the invisible creature. I could still hear some shuffling about, and every once in a while, the sound of a can or two being moved around. Aha! Must be a raccoon on my duplex-mate's back porch - that's where they keep their recycling and the little (or probably big!) guy was looking for a tasty snack.
So, I trudged off to bed with my little friend, assuring him that the critter wasn't going to bother us. Of course, for the rest of the night, he was on sentry duty, marching up and down the length of our queen-sized bed, letting out the occasional growl and moan to show his imaginary size and strength.
I didn't get much sleep that night, so I was crabby at work all day, but the little dog slept all day to make up for his guard dog duty the night before.
Friday night rolls around, and I'm in a dead sleep, not hearing anything. I was startled when the 3-pound guard landed on my side in a thud and barking his head off, looking in the direction of the bedroom door. Umm, yeah, Aero, thanks for being a watch dog but did you have stand on top of me to guard me?
I listen and hear rustling in the yard again, then the sounds of clinking cans and Apollo's nightly symphony of barking and jumping at the fence. We get up, turn on the light, don't see the critter, and go back to bed, where the little dog walks his line again.
This has gone on for 4 days now.
And the thing that I can't figure out is how my duplex-mates/neighbors haven't heard any of the commotion! I spoke with them over the weekend and asked about it, but they've slept through it all. They were surprised at my description and when they checked their recycling bin, sure enough, there are several cans on the ground near the bin.
I guess they must have lived in noisier apartments than I ever had! I think I'm going out to buy some ear plugs for myself and Aero....
Kel
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Halloween!
I wish I were still a kid today. I used to enjoy Halloween so much!
Now, don't get me wrong. As an adult, I still love Halloween, but for different reasons. I love decorating my house with all the orange and black goofiness I can find. I enjoy sending cards to my nephews and niece and my friends. I have a great time handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters that come to my door.
But, when I was a kid, Halloween in my neighborhood was the best.
I grew up in a tract home subdivision of about 120 houses and only one way in and one way out. Only 2 blocks long and one block wide, the streets formed an oval that pretty much resembles a speech balloon in a cartoon. There were more kids in the neighborhood than you can imagine. After all, the subdivision was built in the early sixties and the homes were pretty much bought up by young married couples who were starting families. All of us kids were around the same age.
For me, I had friends in the houses on both sides of ours. On one side were Mabel and Amelia, the other was Pam and Melinda. The five of us grew up together and played together and for many years, trick-or-treated together. When my sister Jamie was born and was old enough, she joined us in our trek around the neighborhood.
Back then, you could go out as a group of 5 young girls without a parent tagging along and be safe. Of course, we had to wait until Mabel and Pam, the older girls in our group, were at least 9 or 10 before they were "in charge" of the rest of us. But we didn't get into any trouble.
And there were the boys from our block who hung out together and did their own version of the group trick-or-treat. And torment us girls, naturally.
For me and Jamie, we never had store-bought costumes or goofy-looking home made ones. Because we both danced, each Halloween, we'd wear one of the costumes from the previous year's dance revues. At the time, we felt stupid, but looking back, we really did have the best costumes because we didn't look like all the other kids.
The 'loot' we'd come home with was awesome, too, because everybody knew everybody. And not only did we get candy, but we got fresh fruit, popcorn balls, toys....
Yeah, I miss the good ol' days.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Now, don't get me wrong. As an adult, I still love Halloween, but for different reasons. I love decorating my house with all the orange and black goofiness I can find. I enjoy sending cards to my nephews and niece and my friends. I have a great time handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters that come to my door.
But, when I was a kid, Halloween in my neighborhood was the best.
I grew up in a tract home subdivision of about 120 houses and only one way in and one way out. Only 2 blocks long and one block wide, the streets formed an oval that pretty much resembles a speech balloon in a cartoon. There were more kids in the neighborhood than you can imagine. After all, the subdivision was built in the early sixties and the homes were pretty much bought up by young married couples who were starting families. All of us kids were around the same age.
For me, I had friends in the houses on both sides of ours. On one side were Mabel and Amelia, the other was Pam and Melinda. The five of us grew up together and played together and for many years, trick-or-treated together. When my sister Jamie was born and was old enough, she joined us in our trek around the neighborhood.
Back then, you could go out as a group of 5 young girls without a parent tagging along and be safe. Of course, we had to wait until Mabel and Pam, the older girls in our group, were at least 9 or 10 before they were "in charge" of the rest of us. But we didn't get into any trouble.
And there were the boys from our block who hung out together and did their own version of the group trick-or-treat. And torment us girls, naturally.
For me and Jamie, we never had store-bought costumes or goofy-looking home made ones. Because we both danced, each Halloween, we'd wear one of the costumes from the previous year's dance revues. At the time, we felt stupid, but looking back, we really did have the best costumes because we didn't look like all the other kids.
The 'loot' we'd come home with was awesome, too, because everybody knew everybody. And not only did we get candy, but we got fresh fruit, popcorn balls, toys....
Yeah, I miss the good ol' days.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Waiting for PIzza...
It's Saturday night and there's not a lot going on in our household. We're channel surfing, but mostly have watched college football. Right now it's the Ohio State game - the Buckeyes are kicking Penn State's butt.
A quick check of the fridge reveals that there's not a whole lot to work with to cook dinner - some zucchini, a still-frozen pork tenderloin (taken out of the freezer in a moment of crazed ambition), milk, butter, diet coke. The pantry isn't much better with a few canned goods. It's getting late and dinner needs to be served - but what?
Aha! Papa John's Pizza just moved to the neighborhood and what a good neighbor he has become! I can wear my worst-looking, most comfortable attire, not comb my hair and PJ doesn't care. He'll come to the house within 30 minutes bearing a hot, bubbly pizza and other goodies to satisfy any culinary urges. And the best part is that I don't have to talk to anyone until the delivery guy (or girl) shows up - with a few clicks of the mouse dinner is ordered and on the way.
The funniest part of ordering pizza for delivery is Aero. He must hear the delivery guy's car pull up, or maybe his sense of smell is way better than even I thought. At least 2 minutes before the doorbell rings, he starts barking and running toward the front door, then back to me (where ever I might be in the house), then back to the front door. This ritual continues until suddenly, the sound of the doorbell is heard throughout the house and all hell breaks loose with that crazy little dog. His frenzied barking and constant circle-turning are enough to make you dizzy. As I open the door, he lunges at the delivery person in the happiest of dog body language. You'd swear the driver was this dog's best friend. Only one driver has ever been freaked out by the little dog's greeting. I'm just glad he's only 3 pounds and not 30!
So, tonight's ritual was no different. Frenzied barking, circle-turning, delivery person greeting, followed by sharing pieces of pizza crust with my tiny friend. And now that dinner is over, he's curled up on his favorite blanket in a pizza-induced coma. He'll be out for a while.
Kel
A quick check of the fridge reveals that there's not a whole lot to work with to cook dinner - some zucchini, a still-frozen pork tenderloin (taken out of the freezer in a moment of crazed ambition), milk, butter, diet coke. The pantry isn't much better with a few canned goods. It's getting late and dinner needs to be served - but what?
Aha! Papa John's Pizza just moved to the neighborhood and what a good neighbor he has become! I can wear my worst-looking, most comfortable attire, not comb my hair and PJ doesn't care. He'll come to the house within 30 minutes bearing a hot, bubbly pizza and other goodies to satisfy any culinary urges. And the best part is that I don't have to talk to anyone until the delivery guy (or girl) shows up - with a few clicks of the mouse dinner is ordered and on the way.
The funniest part of ordering pizza for delivery is Aero. He must hear the delivery guy's car pull up, or maybe his sense of smell is way better than even I thought. At least 2 minutes before the doorbell rings, he starts barking and running toward the front door, then back to me (where ever I might be in the house), then back to the front door. This ritual continues until suddenly, the sound of the doorbell is heard throughout the house and all hell breaks loose with that crazy little dog. His frenzied barking and constant circle-turning are enough to make you dizzy. As I open the door, he lunges at the delivery person in the happiest of dog body language. You'd swear the driver was this dog's best friend. Only one driver has ever been freaked out by the little dog's greeting. I'm just glad he's only 3 pounds and not 30!
So, tonight's ritual was no different. Frenzied barking, circle-turning, delivery person greeting, followed by sharing pieces of pizza crust with my tiny friend. And now that dinner is over, he's curled up on his favorite blanket in a pizza-induced coma. He'll be out for a while.
Kel
Monday, October 22, 2007
Don't Call Me "Ma'am"
Okay, I'll admit it: I'm getting old. This summer I had the privilege of celebrating the day I entered the world 4-1/2 decades ago. I think that makes me officially middle-aged. Yikes. I certainly don't act my age and sometimes, people who know me are surprised when they find out that I'm not in my early 30's. Yay for me.
I've got enough gray hair these days that I go to my hairdresser religiously every 4-5 weeks to buy new hair color. This week, I went with a dark brown and reddish-highlights. And there are other wonderful signs of this aging fest that my body has started: stiffness in the joints; can't read up close so I need bi-focals; and, my all-time favorite, hot flashes.
I can live with all of that. The thing that bugs me most is when someone calls me "ma'am."
Yep, that's right, one simple word uttered by a well-mannered young person is enough to make me want to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.
Last Monday, a young woman, probably no older than 25 (if that), joined our office services team. She's a very lovely, well-spoken girl who seems to have her head on straight and a direction set for her life. Her first day in the office, I welcomed her, and her response was "thank you ma'am." I heard fingernails on the chalkboard.
"That's very sweet, but please don't call me 'ma'am' because I'm really not that old. My Mom's a ma'am. My Grandmothers are ma'am. But not me!" Bless her little heart - her response was "yes ma'am, I'll try to remember that."
Granted, there are worse things that this young woman could be doing. Having experienced the attitudes and language of a lot of young twenty-somethings lately, all I can say is I'd like to thank her mother for raising such a polite, well-mannered daughter. After all, I'm from the South and really do appreciate her 'southern belleness.'
But it's been 8 working days of ma'am and I can't take it any more! So, I've devised a plan - when I see her and answer one of her questions, I'm going to call her 'ma'am.' Ha. How'd you like that, Missy?
It's no wonder I've got so much gray hair. I worry about the silliest things....
Kel
I've got enough gray hair these days that I go to my hairdresser religiously every 4-5 weeks to buy new hair color. This week, I went with a dark brown and reddish-highlights. And there are other wonderful signs of this aging fest that my body has started: stiffness in the joints; can't read up close so I need bi-focals; and, my all-time favorite, hot flashes.
I can live with all of that. The thing that bugs me most is when someone calls me "ma'am."
Yep, that's right, one simple word uttered by a well-mannered young person is enough to make me want to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.
Last Monday, a young woman, probably no older than 25 (if that), joined our office services team. She's a very lovely, well-spoken girl who seems to have her head on straight and a direction set for her life. Her first day in the office, I welcomed her, and her response was "thank you ma'am." I heard fingernails on the chalkboard.
"That's very sweet, but please don't call me 'ma'am' because I'm really not that old. My Mom's a ma'am. My Grandmothers are ma'am. But not me!" Bless her little heart - her response was "yes ma'am, I'll try to remember that."
Granted, there are worse things that this young woman could be doing. Having experienced the attitudes and language of a lot of young twenty-somethings lately, all I can say is I'd like to thank her mother for raising such a polite, well-mannered daughter. After all, I'm from the South and really do appreciate her 'southern belleness.'
But it's been 8 working days of ma'am and I can't take it any more! So, I've devised a plan - when I see her and answer one of her questions, I'm going to call her 'ma'am.' Ha. How'd you like that, Missy?
It's no wonder I've got so much gray hair. I worry about the silliest things....
Kel
Sunday, October 21, 2007
A Winning Weekend
Growing up in the Deep South, fall has always meant one thing: football. Friday night, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, all we could think about was football. At least in my family.
Even though I'm no longer in the South, I still do follow my favorite 3 teams: the New Orleans Saints (pro), the LSU Tigers (college) and the Shaw Eagles (high school).
Yes, I still bleed black and gold every Sunday. After 35+ years of chanting "wait till next year," last year's season was nearly the next year that every Saints fan had been waiting for. They made it to the NFC Championship, the best showing of any Saints team in history. And that was after a really bad season during the Katrina aftermath. But this year, everybody was on the Saints bandwagon, thinking they were the Cinderella team of the NFL. Unfortunatetly, my boys in black-n-gold got off to a slow 0-4 start in the '07 season, and I felt like putting my bag over my head again. But, in the last 2 weeks, the Saints have posted wins. And today it was against the "Dirty Birds" of Atlanta, which made the victory even sweeter.
Now LSU has been my college team of choice ever since I was a little kid. Maybe it's because my Dad is a big Tulane fan, and in our neighborhood, you're either a Tiger or a Greenie, and you live to taunt your family members who pull for the wrong team. I did spend some time at LSU, and there was nothing like the electricity of Tiger Stadium on a Saturday night. I was feeling the electricity last night when watching that miraculous touchdown catch with :01 left on the clock. I decided I'm too old for those college antics.
Then, there's the Eagles. No, I didn't go to Shaw, but went to one if its sister schools, Immaculata (Shaw is all boys and IHS was all girls). I was part of the Pep Squad back then, so I wore my green and white uniform with pride each Friday night. These days, I'm following Shaw's undefeated season because my godson is a Freshman at Shaw and plays on varsity. He's second string varsity and first string junior varsity, and is quite the linebacker. I had the pleasure of stopping in New Orleans a few weekends ago to see him play in a Saturday afternoon match. I got all choked up going into the stadium, realizing that not only was I going to see him play but it had been 25+ years since I had been there for a Shaw game - I'm getting old!
This weekend the Eagles knocked off division rival Vandebilt of Houma, who were also undefeated going into the game. Go Eagles!!
So, for my football weekend, it was a winning one. Having all three of my teams win on the same weekend hasn't happened in a long time - I'm just glad it happened again and hope to see it for the next few weeks!
Until next time,
GO SAINTS!
GO TIGERS!
GO EAGLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kel
Even though I'm no longer in the South, I still do follow my favorite 3 teams: the New Orleans Saints (pro), the LSU Tigers (college) and the Shaw Eagles (high school).
Yes, I still bleed black and gold every Sunday. After 35+ years of chanting "wait till next year," last year's season was nearly the next year that every Saints fan had been waiting for. They made it to the NFC Championship, the best showing of any Saints team in history. And that was after a really bad season during the Katrina aftermath. But this year, everybody was on the Saints bandwagon, thinking they were the Cinderella team of the NFL. Unfortunatetly, my boys in black-n-gold got off to a slow 0-4 start in the '07 season, and I felt like putting my bag over my head again. But, in the last 2 weeks, the Saints have posted wins. And today it was against the "Dirty Birds" of Atlanta, which made the victory even sweeter.
Now LSU has been my college team of choice ever since I was a little kid. Maybe it's because my Dad is a big Tulane fan, and in our neighborhood, you're either a Tiger or a Greenie, and you live to taunt your family members who pull for the wrong team. I did spend some time at LSU, and there was nothing like the electricity of Tiger Stadium on a Saturday night. I was feeling the electricity last night when watching that miraculous touchdown catch with :01 left on the clock. I decided I'm too old for those college antics.
Then, there's the Eagles. No, I didn't go to Shaw, but went to one if its sister schools, Immaculata (Shaw is all boys and IHS was all girls). I was part of the Pep Squad back then, so I wore my green and white uniform with pride each Friday night. These days, I'm following Shaw's undefeated season because my godson is a Freshman at Shaw and plays on varsity. He's second string varsity and first string junior varsity, and is quite the linebacker. I had the pleasure of stopping in New Orleans a few weekends ago to see him play in a Saturday afternoon match. I got all choked up going into the stadium, realizing that not only was I going to see him play but it had been 25+ years since I had been there for a Shaw game - I'm getting old!
This weekend the Eagles knocked off division rival Vandebilt of Houma, who were also undefeated going into the game. Go Eagles!!
So, for my football weekend, it was a winning one. Having all three of my teams win on the same weekend hasn't happened in a long time - I'm just glad it happened again and hope to see it for the next few weeks!
Until next time,
GO SAINTS!
GO TIGERS!
GO EAGLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kel
Friday, October 19, 2007
The Insomniac Dog
We've all had it at some time in our lives. The dreaded night (or nights) with a bout of insomnia.
My most recent battle was in late August, about a week before my parents were to visit me for three weeks. It was purely stress induced, thinking about how clean my house needed to be and how neat everything should look and did I have the right foods in the house and what will happen at work while I'm on vacation with them . . . the list was incredibly long and for about a week, I spent most of my nights staring at the ceiling fan hoping the dullness of watching the blades rotate would send me off into a peaceful slumber.
This week, there has been insomnia in the house, but it's not me staying awake. It's the dog. Yep, Aero, the 3-1/2 pound Yorkie hasn't been sleeping much this week. And when the dog doesn't sleep, guess who else doesn't sleep?
I can't figure it out. Why would a dog have insomnia? What kind of stress, angst, worry or neurosis can a dog have? He doesn't have to get up and commute to and from work everyday. As a matter of fact, he doesn't have to work! No bills to pay. No house cleaning to be done. No grocery shopping. No laundry.
Aero leads quite the charmed life. He's an only dog and as such, has run of the household. He thinks he's the alpha male, but I don't let that bother me. Hey, he's only 3-1/2 pounds so he's not that hard to control. He sleeps on his special pillow (on the bed, of course) until about 7:15 each morning, has a leisurely stroll through the yard, then is left on the couch for the day. I'm sure he only gets up to move to another spot that has sunshine, and spends most of his day sleeping. His evenings are quite relaxed as well; several visits to the yard, sharing dinner with me, maybe some play time. And then off to bed.
It all starts about 1:00 a.m., with puppy whining, which turns into growling; if I don't respond, he starts barking. If I keep my eyes closed and try to ignore him, he resorts to more physical means of aggravation: the paw tapping my head or the cold wet nose in my ear. My favorite is the jumping and hitting my back with all 4 paws until I finally open my eyes and start asking questions like "what's wrong?" or "what do you need?" or "are you kidding me?" Like he can answer me.
I guess somehow in his little doggy world he has some stress that's keeping him up at night, and short of going to the doggy therapist, he's going to try to share his problems with me. Sigh. It's a good thing I love the little guy.
Kel
My most recent battle was in late August, about a week before my parents were to visit me for three weeks. It was purely stress induced, thinking about how clean my house needed to be and how neat everything should look and did I have the right foods in the house and what will happen at work while I'm on vacation with them . . . the list was incredibly long and for about a week, I spent most of my nights staring at the ceiling fan hoping the dullness of watching the blades rotate would send me off into a peaceful slumber.
This week, there has been insomnia in the house, but it's not me staying awake. It's the dog. Yep, Aero, the 3-1/2 pound Yorkie hasn't been sleeping much this week. And when the dog doesn't sleep, guess who else doesn't sleep?
I can't figure it out. Why would a dog have insomnia? What kind of stress, angst, worry or neurosis can a dog have? He doesn't have to get up and commute to and from work everyday. As a matter of fact, he doesn't have to work! No bills to pay. No house cleaning to be done. No grocery shopping. No laundry.
Aero leads quite the charmed life. He's an only dog and as such, has run of the household. He thinks he's the alpha male, but I don't let that bother me. Hey, he's only 3-1/2 pounds so he's not that hard to control. He sleeps on his special pillow (on the bed, of course) until about 7:15 each morning, has a leisurely stroll through the yard, then is left on the couch for the day. I'm sure he only gets up to move to another spot that has sunshine, and spends most of his day sleeping. His evenings are quite relaxed as well; several visits to the yard, sharing dinner with me, maybe some play time. And then off to bed.
It all starts about 1:00 a.m., with puppy whining, which turns into growling; if I don't respond, he starts barking. If I keep my eyes closed and try to ignore him, he resorts to more physical means of aggravation: the paw tapping my head or the cold wet nose in my ear. My favorite is the jumping and hitting my back with all 4 paws until I finally open my eyes and start asking questions like "what's wrong?" or "what do you need?" or "are you kidding me?" Like he can answer me.
I guess somehow in his little doggy world he has some stress that's keeping him up at night, and short of going to the doggy therapist, he's going to try to share his problems with me. Sigh. It's a good thing I love the little guy.
Kel
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Here We Go!!
Hello, and welcome!
I've always enjoyed writing and with the recent explosion of blogs, my friends have encouraged me to start my own blog, so here we go!
Me? I'm Kel and I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. I've been living here for nearly 19 years; before that, I grew up and lived in the New Orleans area. Yep, I'm definitely a displaced Cajun, but I do love it here.
By day, I'm a computer nerd. I'm the local tech for a worldwide law firm. My job keeps me hopping and I work with a great group of people - even the lawyers! I devote a lot of my spare time to my favorite hobby - scrapbooking. I'm even a consultant with a direct sales company, whose name I can't mention here because they've got a bug up their shorts about internet advertising. But that's another whole story.
I've got a 3-1/2 pound Yorkie named Aero, who thinks he's a 133-1/2 pound Great Dane. In his 12 years, he hasn't learned that he's not as big as the other dogs on the block.
Thanks for stopping by!
Kel
I've always enjoyed writing and with the recent explosion of blogs, my friends have encouraged me to start my own blog, so here we go!
Me? I'm Kel and I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. I've been living here for nearly 19 years; before that, I grew up and lived in the New Orleans area. Yep, I'm definitely a displaced Cajun, but I do love it here.
By day, I'm a computer nerd. I'm the local tech for a worldwide law firm. My job keeps me hopping and I work with a great group of people - even the lawyers! I devote a lot of my spare time to my favorite hobby - scrapbooking. I'm even a consultant with a direct sales company, whose name I can't mention here because they've got a bug up their shorts about internet advertising. But that's another whole story.
I've got a 3-1/2 pound Yorkie named Aero, who thinks he's a 133-1/2 pound Great Dane. In his 12 years, he hasn't learned that he's not as big as the other dogs on the block.
Thanks for stopping by!
Kel
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