Step 101: Deep Breaths

It seems like so much has been going on around here recently, but now that I'm sitting here, ready to type it all out, every detail seems to have left me, and I'm left with the simplest of them to say: We got a puppy.

I suppose that's a good place to start. On Friday, after days of searching for a dog, I stumbled across a link to a dog that seemed to be what everyone in the family wanted.

My mom wanted a bichon frise (WHICH I feel obligated to point out is pronounced BEE-shawn free-ZAY, but is more fun to pronounce as bitchin' frizzy). My sister wanted a schnauzer. Nephew wanted a boy dog he could name. Eldest Niece wanted a small dog (she's not a fan of large animals). Youngest niece was just excited about getting an animal that would love her back (the cats do NOT). Brother-in-law didn't care one way or another, so long as he didn't have to be responsible for it.

Me? I didn't really want a dog at all, as I've got Toes, but whatever we got, I knew I'd be in charge of grooming, so I wanted something young that I could mold into a model groom dog. (Coincedentally, if you get a puppy, get thee to the groomer post haste. None of this waiting until it's a year or six months nonsense. POST. HASTE.)

Enter Beethoven. He's a boy, 11 weeks old, a schnauzer/bichon mix that will top out around 20 pounds, if he makes that. Perfect. So now, he's here, and currently snuggled down in his crate until The Pooping Hour, which I'm told is around 3 am. I volunteered to take him for the night, since my sister didn't get much sleep last night.

He's cute, I'll admit, and so far a good fit for us, as he's slightly submissive and therefore eager to please, and therefore nearly housebroken after only being here three days.

Anyway, beyond the new dog, I suppose the "a lot" that's been going on is mainly introspection and reading. Since Butch came home, I've read three books and started a fourth the first two were my niece's, from her book fair. I read them because they were there.) Smile, My Life in Pink and Green, A Great and Terrible Beauty, and now I'm working on Wicked. The introspection is a direct result of this renewed interest in reading, as I always think about the books I've just read, and what I can take away from them.

So far I've learned that I belong in my own apartment with Toes and a published novel or five under my belt to pay the bills. I know it doesn't show here, but I am a rather accomplished novelist when I want to be. The trouble is in wanting to be. I've determined that when I don't have a job, I feel guilty for writing. ANd I don't think that's a bad thing. I'm not sitting here right now thinking "I need to stop feeling guilty." because no, I don't. I DO need a job. Once I have one, I'll begin writing in earnest. In the meantime, however, I'll keep a sporadic blog and sneak in a few paragraphs while the household sleeps.

10, 0, 0.