Bits And Pieces

If you’re looking for a real post, this isn’t it. There’s been so much going on and I haven’t had the time or the focus to sit down to write. Hopefully, I’ll be back to my (ir)regularly scheduled blogging soon.

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I’ve had the same parking space at work for at least a year. There’s a cement post on the left-hand side of the spot but I have a small car and I usually get there before my boss parks in the space on the other side. Yet this morning I completely misjudged my turning radius and smacked the post. Like a dumb shit. There’s a deep scratch on the front driver’s side part of the bumper and most likely, that whole bumper piece will need to repainted.

This, of course, happens one week after I had to replace the front and rear brakes.

And as I’m typing this my husband told me the dishwasher is probably broken.

Sigh

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At one point I thought it would be fun to train dogs. But then I remembered how hard it is to train a puppy. It’s a test of my patience—which I’m not long on in the best of circumstances.

I’m the first to admit it—I’ve been a little lazy with teaching her new things and even worse about reinforcing them. But after the two dogs destroyed my yard I realized I’m not doing any of us any favors, so I’m really trying to be consistent.

But, damn, that bitch is stubborn. And she’s a total chow hound. I’ve been trying to train her with positive reinforcement and treats, but she spends her time doing every crafty thing she can think of to get the treat—everything except what I’m asking her to do.

I’ve signed up for classes at PetSmart but they don’t start until mid-July. It’s going to be a battle of wills between now and then.

This is what Penny thinks of puppy training

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Speaking of patience…

I discovered that the Gelson’s Market near my office has the most amazing salad bar. I’ve been bellying up the bar at least once a week for the past couple of months because they also have a great patio area to enjoy my lunch.

However, this Gelson’s is over-run with senior citizens who have nowhere else to be and couldn’t get there quickly if they did.

I swear to God, every time I go in there, there’s always an old couple in front of me building one salad in tandem and they can never agree on the ingredients. The bar has two kinds of hard-boiled eggs–with yolks and without. This afternoon the couple in front of me—which probably had a combined age of 200—argued over yolk v. no yolk. He wanted yolk and she didn’t. He put some eggs in the salad and she dumped them out to put what she wanted in. This went on for 5 minutes until they finally agreed to go completely egg-free.

Then they moved on to the shredded carrots. The wife grabbed the tongs and started picking through the carrots, choosing the exact pieces she wanted. One at a time. She’d grab one, lift the tongs up to her face, squint, put them up to her husband’s face, he’d squint, shrug and she’d put the carrot back. All this for about 6 shreds of carrot.

I was rapidly aging.

This went on the entire length of the salad bar. Cucumbers, cheese, tomatoes, tuna. Each topping was discussed thoroughly, each piece examined closely.

My lunch hour was over before I even loaded the lettuce into my container.

When they finally made it to the end of the salad bar and thanked me sweetly for waiting so patiently—apparently they’re too deaf to hear my full-body sighs—I felt like an asshole.