Penny is getting so big. She’s only 5 1/2 months old but she’s like Mega Puppy, all big paws and body and constantly in motion (which is why every picture I post has one blurry dog). She’s about as big as Gracie in every way.

Can you tell who is who?

Can you tell the difference?

This photo cracks me up because someone is pretending to be regal with the side view pose. This same someone eats her own poop.

This post is for sweet little Bean. xo

A few years ago I got into it with a co-worker/subordinate (I hate that word). There were issues with work performance and I was trying to handle them professionally with this person. Even though I was in a management position, I was trying to be nice and not hurt this person’s feelings and probably softened my criticisms too much.

I wasn’t direct.

Until the employee snapped at me and said I was being passive-aggressive.

“There is NOTHING passive about my aggression toward you,” I snapped right back. (Those right there are some spectacular management skillz, yo.)

That’s when I stopped beating around the bush and got specific about her performance issues. I unloaded on her. There was about 6 months of stuff built up and I laid it all out in front of her in one big dump.

Needless to say, that was not one of my finest moments.

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I never considered myself passive-aggressive.

Really.

Okay, you can stop laughing now.

I’ll wait. *taps foot*

I can be an asshole. But not passive-aggressive. I feel like I’m pretty honest with my feelings and deal with them as they come up.

*snort*

The other day I came across an article on passive-aggressive behavior. The article says it stems from an inability to express anger in a healthy way. In fact, passive-aggressive people don’t even realize they are angry or resentful.

Huh.

Other highlights of the article:

• The passive aggressive often can’t trust. Because of this, they guard themselves against becoming intimately attached to someone.

• The passive aggressive feels they are treated unfairly. He/she is always the innocent victim of your unreasonable expectations, an over-bearing boss or that slow clerk at the convenience store.

• They don’t communicate their needs and wishes in a clear manner, expecting their spouse to read their mind and meet their needs. After all, if their spouse truly loved them he/she would just naturally know what they needed or wanted. The passive aggressive withholds information about how he/she feels, their ego is fragile and can’t take the slightest criticism so why let you know what they are thinking or feeling? God forbid they disclose that information and you criticize them.

• The passive aggressive has a real desire to connect with you emotionally but their fear of such a connection causes them to be obstructive and engage in self-destructive habits. He/she will be covert in their actions and it will only move him/her further from his/her desired relationship with you.

And my favorite line:

• Beware, if you confront the passive aggressive he/she will most likely sulk, give you the silent treatment or completely walk away leaving you standing there to deal with the problem alone.

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Holy shit. Beware is right. I’m a professional sulker. I can sulk for days over the most minor things. Things that would be barely register as a blip on anyone else’s radar.

You just have to read a random post on this blog to realize just how passive-aggressive I really am.

Growing up I learned to stuff my feelings down and pretend everything is okay. I’m not sure how, when or why that started, though. But I was that quiet kid who was smaller than my classmates and I definitely displayed a really sensitive side that made me a target for kids in my class. I got picked on. A lot. Eventually, I realized that if I just shut my mouth and didn’t fight back (or God forbid—CRY), they’d lose interest in me and find another target.

But I guess I never really let that go. As I got older I developed a sharp tongue. Words are my weapons and my shield. I am a master at cutting someone down with a snarky comment, a sideways look, and then laughing it off like I’m joking. “Just kidding.”

Except I’m not.

Well, sometimes I am.

My passive-aggressiveness is a defense mechanism. I protect myself from getting hurt by keeping everyone at bay even when I desperately want them close to me.

There is definitely a lot of fear behind it. And insecurity. Lots of insecurity.

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For someone who makes her living communicating with people, my communication skills suck when it comes to my personal life. I am totally unable to tell people close to me that I’m upset about something. Even if it’s not at them. Bill is totally supposed to read my mind and my friends—if they really knew me—could figure out what’s wrong. And if you have feedback or criticism (no matter how constructive it is), I pretty much plug my ears with my fingers and sing “La, la, la, la.” ‘Cause I’m real mature like that.

Everything builds up until I can’t shove it down anymore and it just explodes.

And then I cry.

Crying is a big failure for me, yet I’ve pushed so much away for so long that I can’t hold a single conversation about things going on in my life without crying. Bill jokes that there isn’t a restaurant in L.A. that I haven’t cried in.

It’s not entirely true, but it’s not far off base.

*sigh*

It sucks.

**********

At almost 41 I feel like I’m coming into my own. Finally. And I’m more aware of my weaknesses, and I’m really trying hard to shore them up. I really am trying to work on it.

But I do think “There’s nothing passive about my aggression” was a good comeback.

*snort*

Yes, there are many things. Many, many things. In fact, this could probably become an ongoing series.

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My neighbor know THE EXACT second that I fall into the sweet spot of a nap on a quiet Saturday afternoon. Because that’s when he wanders over to our house and holds down the door bell (Dddddddddddddddiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing. Dong). And every. single. time. he asks “Did I wake you?”

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Men who wear white sunglasses. Need I say more?

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People who have no idea how to merge onto the freeway. Don’t zoom onto the on-ramp at 80 mph and expect me—the current occupier of the lane—to move out of YOUR way. YOU are merging with ME. On the flip side, please don’t drive onto the freeway at 20 mph and stop at the end of the ramp, waiting for traffic to clear.

*********

Without fail, every time I go to Jersey Mike’s for a sub, there’s a woman in line ahead of me who wants to order 10 sandwiches, but no, she doesn’t know what she wants. “What’s the #9? Uh-hu. And what’s that come with? Can I get ham instead? What about the #3? And the #4? Right. And what about that there wrap? What’s on that? How many people will that feed? Only 1? You should make bigger wraps. Now, what’s that Mike’s Way? Do I have to have it Mike’s way? Can I get it my way?”

Please grab a menu, step out of the line and make a list. Better yet, call from home. Because after 10 hours of your questions and customization I’ve passed out because my blood sugar dropped and I’ve gone into shock.

*********

Do you remember when you took driver’s education that they taught about safe distances between cars? Do they now teach that as an optional rule? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost been rear-ended by some asshole who races up to my rear bummer so he’s only about 3 inches off the back of my car and then decides to jerk the wheel into the next lane, almost taking my trunk with him. But if that’s not scary enough, the asshole tailgating HIM rarely anticipates this move, and once the car moves out of the lane in front of them they’re almost always stunned to see a car there. My car. It’s like a high-speed game of chicken and I’m going to be the one to get cooked.

**********

There are three stalls in the bathroom at work. The other day I was in one of them. The doors to the other two stalls were wide open, clearly indicating that they were available. I was in the third, finishing up, and flushing. At that moment a woman walks into the bathroom, and starts yanking on MY door. The closed door. The one with the flushing toilet. And for the life of her she does not understand why she can’t get in. She even asked. “Is anyone in here?” I see this woman in my building all the time. She is not blind. She is not hard of hearing. Clueless? Possibly. Because as I walked out of the stall, she was standing right in front of the door, ready to push her way in like it was a fucking elevator, totally annoyed that someone would be using that stall. Her stall apparently.

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Okay, your turn. What annoys you? (Besides this post?!)

We were spoiled with Gracie and didn’t really know it.

Gracie is fairly well trained (until she shows that stubborn Samoyed streak), so things were pretty smooth and easy. She’s almost 3, so she’s out of the puppy stage and started to settle down. We had a regular routine with her—even if Bill got up super early, Gracie slept in until I got up. She had her basket of toys and bones, but she’d pull out one at a time and even help me put them away when I cleaned up. She had her places in the house where she’s like to go to nap—and most of them were usually wherever I was.

Penny the puppy joined our family six weeks ago, and in that time she’s managed to completely turn our house upside down.

Penny entered our house like a bull in a china shop. She’s only 5 months old, but already she weighs as much as Gracie, she’s at tall as Gracie and she has these big meaty bear paws that she can’t quite coordinate yet. She has no sense of her size or the swath of destruction she can create simply walking through the room.

Gracie is sophisticated and elegant. She’s very clean, her hair is shiny and neat (even when she’s blowing her coat), she sort of glides when she walks and she eats and drinks like a little lady. She’s very quiet, except in the morning and when I get home from work, when she’s very chatty, but beyond that, she doesn’t bark. She’s got her places she likes to nap in, curled up in a tight ball, and she’s gentle and a total love bug, snuggling up to me constantly.

Penny, on the other hand, is like a drunken frat boy. She is constantly dirty, her hair is a mess and it’s always got food or leaves in it. Sometimes both. Or the occasional snail. Don’t ask. She lays around with her belly hanging out, her tongue falling from her mouth, drool pooling on the floor. She slurps when she drinks her water, and sloshes it all over the place before flipping the bowl over. She inhales her food like a cop on duty, and belches like an old man. It’s not unusual for her to come up to you, pretend she’s going to be affectionate and burp in your face. Loudly. She’s full of sloppy wet kisses that require you shower when she’s done with you. She snores like a freight train and she barks way too much.

Sometimes it’s like living with Felix and Oscar from The Odd Couple.

But as different as they are, they seem to have forged a bond. Penny follows Gracie everywhere. She nibbles on her and sucks on her neck and swats her big polar bear paws at her. She lays on top of her, under her and as close to her as she can manage with out actually being Gracie. The two of them wrestle for hours, grunting, whining and slamming their teeth together. They chase each other through the back yard, and have worn out a path in the grass. They dig out my flower bed in the back, but when I catch them at it, Penny is too dumb to stop and keeps digging while Gracie stands there like, “It wasn’t me.”

We’re trying to get Penny trained, but unless there’s the promise of food or treats, she’s having none of it. What’s worse is Gracie sees Penny’s behavior and mimics it. She sees that Penny won’t come when called, so when I call Gracie, she just stands there and stares at me.

Our house is chaotic and crazy and loud. I vacuum every day now, and I totally have to stay on top of keeping the yard clean. Some days it’s a lot to deal with.

But these faces are totally worth it.

two peas in a pod

When I met my husband I immediately knew he was THE ONE!!! (all caps and exclamation points).

There was a warmth and kindness that I was immediately drawn to. He lives for the now and enjoys life to the fullest. He is funny and extremely smart with the right amount of dorkiness. And he’s kind of sexy to boot with those deep blue eyes and easy smile.

Bill pushes me to be a better person (no small feat), and he’s my confidant, my best friend. He is my life and my love. And he puts up with my dogs.

Really, I couldn’t have asked for more.

To the world, he may be one person. But to me, he is the world.

Happy birthday, Bill!

xo

Happy Birthday, Bill!