Old Yeller Didn't Live Inside

I was the recipient of some very sad news this evening. My sister's beloved dog (read "son") Tiny is losing his battle with lymphoma.
It was a few months ago that I received a text message from my sister describing a lump she found on her dog's neck. Her and her (now) husband had it checked out, and the test results were sobering. Tiny had stage four cancer, and my sister was told he had about six weeks to live.
Tiny has survived at least three months, now, blowing past the vet's deadline for his life. But my mother called me this evening to tell me he was losing weight quickly and hadn't eaten in days. It is clear Tiny does not have very long to live.
My sister and I have this one thing in common: we are both animal lovers, most specifically pet lovers. I began to cry. For Tiny, for my sister, for myself. I hate the thought of pets suffering and dying and I hate losing them even more.
Beardface was the good husband: he comforted and consoled me, but he did not understand. I knew he hadn't had a dog growing up, and stated this fact as proof that he could not possibly understand the love one can have for a loving dog. He cited his grandmother's dog, a fat, furry collie mix that roamed outdoors on his grandparents' farm, where he grew up. Naturally, I had to call shenanigans. Real dogs, I defined, do not live outside. To which Beardface replied:
Old Yeller never lived inside.
I married a smart allec.

Beans and Domesticity

I am about to admit a very dark and frightening secret from my past. Now all of you hold on to your seats, cover your children's ears, and prepare yourselves.
A long, long time ago in a state far, far away...
I was a vegetarian.
Yes, I was a tofu-loving, salad-munching, tree-hugging vegetarian. I will also be vulnerable enough to say that I do still enjoy tofu, I love salads, and I've been known to hug trees.
Now, as a vegetarian, I became a connoisseur of protein sources alternative to meat products. Beans were definitely my favorite. I love black beans, white beans, lima beans, refried beans, kidney beans. ALL OF THEM. I will carefully select my bean choice in foods to make the texture and taste perfect.
Why do I go into this detail you ask?
Yesterday, the hubby and I were out for lunch at a Mexican restaurant. I was ordering my burrito and blindly requested black beans. Beardface gave me a concerned look. "Why not pinto beans, Sweetie?" I thought for a moment. I'd never considered the idea. To me, Mexican food always means black beans. I mean practically every good southwestern or Mexican food chain or original restaurant serves the most beautiful salad you've ever seen, complete with sour cream, cheese, peppers, jalapenos, chicken, and black beans. Glorious black beans.
"I don't like black beans; they're crunchy. Wouldn't they taste weird in your burrito?" Beardface inquired. "No, not really. They have texture," I answered him in my best retort. "But the pinto beans would be softer. They're squishier."
And there you have it, folks. My husband's basis for all the foods he eats: texture.
But the crazy little bearded man is right. I feel the softer "squishier" pinto beans would offer my burrito a texture more similar to that of my favorite fast food burrito, Taco Bell.
I have learned this: sometimes when you look at things in too much detail, you're missing the simpler pleasures in life.

As for my goals:
Ran/exercised today.
Didn't bite nails.
Scripture to be read before bed.
Book in progress.
Herb garden started. :-)
Kissed husband. :-D

So we had one of those talks last night.
By we, I am referring to Beardface and I.
And by one of those talks, I mean a conversation in which you both tell the other how you've really been feeling.
My being on TDY (which is official government jargon for Tour of DutY, or just travel) has really had a strong effect on the two of us. We don't have children yet, neither do we have any real pets. Now for those of you paying attention you may think "Hey! You've got Leonard and Sheldon. What gives?!" I hardly consider two betta fish real pets. We cannot snuggle with them, nor do we have to somehow remove their waste products on a regular basis. Therefore, they are "sort of" pets.
Back to my point, though. Without pets or children, my husband and I have really come to rely on each other for company, for support, for love, etc. This is what a marriage should be; I understand that. The unfortunate part is that the both of us rely a lot on our physical connection. I am not simply talking about our sexual connection, though that is a lovely part of it ;) I am speaking more about the fact that we just feel safer and more at ease when our other half is around.
To give you a better idea of what I'm talking about, I'll give you an example. I've been staying at a hotel in the Boston area for nearly three weeks now, and I have not slept more than five hours a night any night I've been here, except for the weekend that Beardface came to visit. Is that a coincidence? I doubt it. I have grown accustomed to having my feet rest underneath his legs and my head on his chest with his arm around me. This is how I can fall asleep. Try as I might to recreate this position with the plethora of pillows given to me by the hotel, I still found myself waking up every few hours.
But tonight is my last night alone in the hotel.
Tonight is Beardface's last night alone in our bed.
There is only one run, one shower, one dinner, one breakfast, and two flights between me and my husband.
Goals Accomplished Today: successfully did not curse
successfully did not bite nails
blogged
read a news article
about to run

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.

Ok. I would like you to pay attention to something, and it's not the man behind the curtain. I've added a new list to the left portion of my log. Many of you have heard of this phenomenon in which a person creates a list of 101 goals they would like to complete in 1001 days. As I had stated in Goals and How to Manage Them (see hyperlink), I felt the need to create a goal for myself. I had mentioned attempting to run a faster mile. Although that is a noble goal, and one I should strive for, this 101 goals in 1001 days phenomenon made me squeal with joy.
I felt as though I was in college again. I had to make a list of goals, organize them by category select a start date, and now I have a deadline! My nerdy self is smiling.
I intend to start my 1001 days tomorrow, March 10, 2010. I realize this is an awkward day, but in the words of the great third president of the United States, Thomas Jefferson: "Never put off until tomorrow what you could do today." Or in my case, don't put off until next week, next month, or next year what you could start tomorrow.
So far:
Goals completed: 0
Days Left: 1001

Pick up the Pace, Grandma!

So many people make it a point to lecture others on timeliness. Being late for something is wasting everyone's time, they say. What I say to them is, where are these people, and can they please give their collective speech to those in charge of my training??
As a semi-military organization, I can't tell you how many times I have heard that it is essential to be on time for everything. And they mean EVERYTHING. I've heard horror stories that if you are late to conferences, the speaker will call you down to the front of the auditorium at the end of a particular lecture to inform you that you are to be on time to everything in our agency.
Now, given this lecture, I have been particularly on time to every little training session I've had. I have not been late for excuse of getting a drink, emptying my bladder. Nothing.
Now here is my beef:
We have had several "guest speakers" for different training sessions, and although all of them start their lectures on time, none of them have ended on time. Take, for example, yesterday. I was sitting in a class that was intended to last 1 hour, but instead went on for 2 1/2 hours. When did this become acceptable?? What if there was a meeting or another training session following this particular one? Luckily, there was not, but this woman cut into our precious cubicle time to get our weekly assignments done.
I began to think: why could all of these highly ranking employees in a semi-military organization not realize that they are exceeding their allotted time for a training session? The answer, I have decided, is that none of these people are qualified to teach or train. Although I have watched several computer training modules plauding the greatness of a quality training program, it seems as though this agency has decided to simply select knowledgeable individuals and ask them to convey their knowledge to new employees. Though this seems like it would be a great idea, in fact, it is not. Actually, a person completely ignorant of the topic but well-trained in teaching techniques would probably do a better job.
I find myself dozing off, playing with my pen, doodling, etc. during each class. And I am definitely not the only one. Just today I heard the beginnings of a snore in during our training session.
I am pleading with all companies who employ elaborate training programs: Train your instructors on how to train. Your future employees will thank you.

The Magic of Internet

As a member of the millenial generation (a useless term I learned today that is used to describe a group of people born within 20 years of each other), I am supposed to be attached to my technological devices and the internet. Am I? Probably. Do I think it is necessarily a bad thing? Not so much.
My small dilemma with traveling to see my family in New Jersey was resolved with the use of the internet. After several hours of researching flight and train ticket prices and times, using countless minutes of precious agency time while I should've been watching training videos, an idea hit me: I could drive to New Jersey. I've had enough encounters with rental car companies to know that whatever prices they advertise on their websites are very very low estimates of the actual cost of renting a vehicle. BUT with everything figured into the equation, including the under 25 fee, renting a car for the few days turned out to be less expensive than flying or taking a train. Plus, it is infinitely more fun.
So needless to say, with information at my fingertips, I was able to make a prudent decision.
Later in the evening, Beardface and I google-chatted with each other, and he was about to make dinner. The poor soul is still not yet confident in his pasta-making skills (a few more years of marriage to this Italian girl will cure that, hopefully), so I was able to instruct him on how to make epic macaroni and cheese. Via webcam.
Yes folks, my husband happily donned my apron and took instruction from me via webcam to whip up his supper.
As a side note: Ladies, if you have not seen your husband, boyfriend, fiance, etc in an apron, suggest he wear one sometime. It is truly amusing, most especially if he is particularly proud of his masculinity, as Beardface so often is. I would never, though, share pictures of this phenomena. I do want to still sleep in my own bed and receive flowers and things. Angering the Beardface would not be conducive to this.

Also, please note: Today is hump day. In oh so many respects. The middle of the week, and the middle of my training session in Boston. 8 days til I go home.

Nerves and Reality

I agreed to go to my parents' for this weekend. My sister's bridal shower is on Thursday, and I have to find a way to get down to New Jersey from Boston without the use of a car and spending less than $300.
This is a cause for some stress for me. I'd rather be spending the money to go home. My family can really make me nervous sometimes.
I love my sister, though. So I'm going. Wish me luck.