Tag Archives: dogs


Now that the dogs are feeling better and have figured out what to do with their tongues— Brigadoon especially. “I have no teeth. How do I hold this damn thing in my mouth now?!”— they’re doing their normal dog things. They’re still on pain meds, but they’re seeming super normal and happy again.

Now that they’re feeling normal, I’m feeling better.

sleepy dogs in sunshine

Now just waiting for my productivity to catch up again 🙂

Thoughts on Pokemon Go:

That’s right. I caught a Pokemon off my dog’s ass


It’s fun.

The servers are shit.

When I try to interact with the app after walking and swinging my arm with my phone in my hand, it freezes up and I have to close and restart.


Walking to catch Pokemon is terrible for my writing brain because I’m busy thinking about Pokemon and I’m not thinking about my WIP.

and finally, the Pokemon GPS messes with the fitbit GPS so my walks aren’t logged and it doesn’t count towards my days exercised.

See! It’s working! And I’m halfwayish to my weight goal!

All in all, it’s a fun game and it’s a good way to get me out walking, especially when I’ve had a massive writing day (almost 7k words!) and I feel like being a lazy bastard. BUT I miss the time I spend with my dogs and I miss the time I spend with myself. In any case, it’s kind of fun to be part of the fun, new trendy thing.

I’ll do a proper update on my Donald Trump donation challenge in a day or two, but it’s going super well too.

It’s funny. All of the things I’ve been doing lately have been working in conjunction to get my brain real excited about writing. (well, except this pokemon nonsense). My food changes are working great with waking up early. Everything is just coming together so well.

I graduated in 99 and Weezer was so fun and cool and awesome. There’s one line from the Sweater song that pops in my head now and then. Right at the beginning, someone goes, “Life’s so rad.” Every now and then it pops into my head.

I gotta say, it’s nice for my brain to say, “Life’s so rad.” and not

In any case, I’ll be playing Pokemon when I need the extra nudge out the door and I’ll be dwelling in the jungle gym of my mind the rest of the time. Heh. Enough of my tangential chatter adventures. Time to face the day.

Emotional Buckets

I don’t know if I’d say I throw a lot of my heart into my writing. I mean, certainly, I get very attached to some characters. Well, maybe. I don’t know actually. Here is an aside. I was taking an Intro to Philosophy class and on the final, I think we had to discuss some version of the trolley problem and I wrote this whole thing out then, at the end, I reread my answer, then wrote, “You know, I think that is all actually support for [the opposing view] so I think my answer is [the opposing view].” Maybe this whole word vomit is going to be an exercise in that. You can and should stop reading if this is not your cup of tea. 😉

Anyway. So, we had a cancer scare with my dog. We went to the vet’s office today and the vet who saw him had a huge “cytology is so awesome!” boner and she went crazy with the slides. I trust her a bit more than the vet we saw the other day. And not just because she said, “I don’t think your dog has cancer.” Looks like my little jerk face is gonna be ok!! We’ll know for sure in two weeks at his follow up visit.

It took us a long time to get pregnant with the Entropy Machine. The time between, “Ok, let’s have a baby!” and “Hey, honey. Come look at this.” was long and hard. The thing with infertility, it’s one of those hurry up and wait. You wait two weeks, you wait two more weeks. If you’re going to a clinic, it’s come in day 3 and day 7 and then we’ll do another ultrasound and… It’s not like practicing three pointers. You shoot and swish or you shoot and you miss. It’s not an immediate thing. In all that time between events, your mind does whatever it can to stay entertained and/or sane. Infertility is a long, hard slog. Sure, there’s stuff that’s harder. But, for a middle class white lady, it’s pretty tough.

It was in this time, probably about a year into trying that we got the puppies. All my parental needs got thrown onto these dogs. They were so spoiled. I’d take Mr Spock to the office with me, he’d sleep in a chair, say hi to the UPS guy, play fetch down the hallway of my building, we’d take walks around campus (I worked on campus. Did I mention that?), I’d take him to class, it was just shenanigans all day long. He was the office dog. He became adept at car surfing. He’d put his back feet on the backseat and front feet on the middle console. We’d turn and I’d say, “Corner,” and he would crouch down like he was surfing. Just, good times. He was my constant pal. And, in those hard moments, the, “Oh, my period just started. I guess this month didn’t work.” I would have a pile of Italian Greyhounds laying on me. Brigadoon, the other dog would stay home with my father in law. He had a stroke and we’d moved in to save money in anticipation of fertility treatments and to help out. It was a good mix. Briggies would hang out and watch old movies and eat popcorn with grandpa and Spockies would sleep in a chair behind my desk. They were my crutch during a really hard time.

Here’s the best clip on YouTube from Up. I think it really did a bang up job. The music might be off, but hey, copyright stuffs. It was really worth watching in its entirety if you haven’t. I will say, once was enough for me. I didn’t know it had this beginning and I was legit ugly crying by the end of the flashback clip.

Which makes watching that little dog feel miserable so hard. I literally needed him during some of those days. And now, to not have him? I couldn’t bear to see him feel so bad, but thinking about not having him was similarly unbearable. (Did I mention I’m a middle class white lady and I have middle class white lady problems? I KNOW!! Which reminds me, have I written that post about privilege? I can’t remember.)

All my stores I had in my emotional bucket were dumped out this weekend worrying over my little dog. I have zero interest in writing romance novels, I have zero interest going through Just for Kicks for one last read through of the final proof. All I’ve really been able to do is read A Breath of Snow and Ashes because the ridiculous exploits of Claire and Jamie just get more ridiculous with each book. I’ve been short and snappy with the Entropy Machine. Brown dog (the two dogs got renamed brown dog and black dog at my old office and it kind of stuck) has been WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME AS MUCH AS YOU LOVE SPOCK!?

My bucket is empty. Toddlers are hard. I understand the toddler freaking out while everything is so wibbly wobbly right now. She is picking up on the holy shit! and needs her boundaries reinforced. She’s just doing what she’s supposed to do. But, being calm and understand is such a struggle. At least I am able to tell her that I’m feeling annoyed, that I’m sad, that I’m angry. I think emotions are healthy and tell her that too. “It’s ok to be angry, but it’s not ok to hurt people.”

I think this is the hardest part of being an indie author. I want this. But there’s no one else to really push me forward. There’s no one to call me and say, “Hey, it’s a work day. Where the hell are you?” I still have work to do. The EM was fussing and having a hell of a time going down for sleep tonight. I said, “Ok, momma has some work to do.” and left to write, then she started to cry again. Then I go back in and back out and more applesauce and just, ugh. I have 300 more words to write to stay on goal and I am just dragging. I want to get in bed with my dogs and crash. Or… maybe I use this towards my word count today. It’s writing, right?

I can at least relax knowing my dog isn’t in imminent peril. We’ll see how he does over the next couple days and hopefully, he will turn it around and I can get back to my wordmonkey adventures 🙂

Final thoughts: Emotional bucket. Once my Lord Spockington is not all broken, we’re going to hit the mountain and greet the dawn. Nothing like the morning’s first light to soothe my soul. And, LuLo4 just got a new folder named MUHFUKKIN HAX to put blog posts in 🙂 Writing’s writing. And thinking about my process is part of my process too. Look at my spin magical word webs. God, I’m tired!

Well shit

Took my little dog to the vet today. Vet thinks he has cancer. Biopsy on Monday.

dog on mountain
Hiking pal

We had some infertility issues trying to get pregnant with the Entropy Machine and these dogs were my literal babies for two years. Two hard, depressing, wheel spinning years. They’re so stupid and so great and just. ~sigh~

Cancer wasn’t even on my radar. Like, at all. But the vet stuck a draw on the slides and took a peek. So, I guess it’s legit. Still. 😦

awake dogs in sunshine
awake dogs in sunshine

They’re just such pretty dogs.

sleepy dogs in sunshine
sleepy dogs in sunshine

And mind numbingly, achingly stupid. Good luck getting them trained to not crap the floor. ESPECIALLY if it’s raining. They’ve done pretty well, but I am all over them like a hawk.

“You dumb, literal son of a bitch, you can’t read!”

In any case. They’re my babies and they’re such great dogs. Mr Spock, the little black and white, he’s such an asshole. His IDGAF far exceeds my own.

They’re such great little dogs. Stupid dogs are the best ones because they don’t get bored. “I don’t have anything to do. *shrug* Guess I’ll just go to sleep.” They don’t ruin stuff (except with their pooping, but just keep up on that and it’s not a problem), they’re the perfect size to bring with you, big enough to go camping, not so big as to eat a lot of food. They’re not great with little kids, but we’ve maintained peace in the house.

And, of course, this happens at the beginning of Week 2 of Camp NaNoWriMo. Why wouldn’t it happen right when the writing takes a traditional slump?

I’m so bummed out. My heart is sad. He’s my little pal. Hoping for good news on Monday.

Best WTF R U DOIN? face ever
Best WTF R U DOIN? face ever


Well, my husband has been out of town for two weeks and is coming home this afternoon. I haven’t wanted to declare to the internet at large that, “Hey, I’m home alone with a toddler and two worthless dogs!”

My writing has been in the toilet. My revising has been in the toilet. It’s hard enough to find balance between the burning desire I have to write and my little the rest of the time, but once I’m the one running the Responsible Adult show… well, the priorities shift and I am finding by the end of the day, all my mojo is used up. Continue reading Priorities