Year: 2013

Must Love Dogs?

/ jane in training / 4 Comments

I love dogs. But sometimes they hate me. Other times, they love me back. Some even want to hump me.

These were not my first waking thoughts this morning. Actually, I was thinking about men. Then for some reason, I starting going over my history with dogs:

The Barker
When I was young, my parents would take me to visit some family friends who had a barky, miniature Schnauzer. Oh, how I hated going to that house. I could hear that dog barking even as we got out of the car. And as soon as we entered the house, The Barker would single me out. I’d sit still as a statue on their sofa and that grandpa-faced dog would come up, look me in the eye and say, That’s right. This is my house…yes, I own this m*#!@#f$*!#$. Thinking about getting all crazy up in it? Oh? Do you think you’d like being dead, little girl?

I swear, that’s the word-for-word translation.

Devil Dog
One sunny day, I went out for a ride on my banana seat bike, wearing my brand new, glossy black, fake fur coat. Every seven year-old had one in the 70’s right? I pedaled out of our cul-de-sac, happy as a girl wearing a fancy fur coat can be. When I returned, Devil Dog appeared out of nowhere.

oh, shit.

I didn’t know that word at that age, but I’m sure I was thinking something close to it as soon as he started chasing after me. I pedaled for my life as he caught up to me and took a bite out of the back of my now not-so-brand-new, black, fake fur coat. Sensing victory, DD stopped his pursuit.

I experienced two things that day: sheer terror and my first heartbreak over fashion.

Schizo
When I first started dating my ex, his family had a toy fox terrier. Cute little dog, but you could never tell if it was in a good mood or if it was about to go loco on you until it was too late. Already see where this story is going?

The dog was secured by a leash in their front yard when I walked up to the house. When she saw me, she started running happily towards me. Awww…how adorable. Behind her, my ex appeared from the front door of the house, and I waved to him. The dog had a much longer lead line than I had anticipated and when she jumped up to greet me, she bit my calf.

Looking back, I think The Barker put out those two hits on me.

George
Last year, when I was still living in L.A., I discovered that my neighbor’s big, black Lab would howl and bark whenever his owner left the house. This would go on for hours in the middle of the night when the owner would leave for a fishing or hunting trip. I decided to go speak to him after he returned from one of these trips.

I explained the situation and the neighbor kindly apologized, unaware that his dog got into such a state during his absence. “Want to meet him?” Mr. Neighbor asked me. Sure, I said. I love dogs when they’re not howling or foaming at the mouth. He led an energetic George out to my driveway and I knew I didn’t want that dog jumping on me. He was huge. I am small.

George took off down the street and Mr. Neighbor ran after him. And then George came galloping back. Towards me.

oh, shit.

Before I could react properly, George jumped me from behind and wrapped his dog legs around me. I fell as I tried to pry him off of me, but his paws snapped back into place like furry bands of steel.

“Push him off!!” Mr. Neighbor shouted as he came running.

No…I want to be humped by your dog in the middle of my driveway. Of course I’m trying to push him off, you idiot!

Mr. Idiot Neighbor finally pulled him off of me. When I stood, I laughed the whole thing off and he had the nerve to suggest we have dinner together.

No, thanks. I don’t want to be humped by you, either.

Nikki the Wonder Dog
Nikki was the sweetest, most well-behaved dog I had ever and still, have ever met. The ex and I dogsat her for a whole summer while her owners were out of the country. She bonded with me. She would sleep on the floor by my side of the bed, follow me around the house, and whenever I came home, whether I was gone for five minutes or five hours, she would greet me with the extreme happiness that only dogs possess. She would never beg for food, and she wouldn’t steal anything off of your dinner plate even if you left it on the floor.

When the summer was over and we drove her back to her own house, we were on our way to meet friends for a road trip to Mexico. Nikki settled herself on top of all the gear we had packed into the little Nissan. Our timing was good – just as we pulled up, our friends arrived home from their long flight from Malaysia. At first confused, Nikki slowly remembered her true owners and then gave them one of her happy dog dances. When the ex and I said our goodbyes and headed to our car, Nikki followed me.

Heartbreak. I think I cried all the way to Mexico.

sigh.

I am now thinking about my next post about men. Since I’m kind of lazy, I might just borrow the opening from this one:

I love men. But sometimes they don’t love me. Other times, they love me back. Some even want to hump me.

It’s kind of scary how interchangeable it is, isn’t it?

And Your Mission is…

/ jane in training / 6 Comments

Every organization has a mission statement.

Why shouldn’t a couple have one, too?

I was emailing a friend the other night, and I told her I thought it would be a good idea for a couple to come up with a mission statement together. And since almost every idea has been done before, I’m sure there are situations where couples do this. If not, can I copyright this? Too late? You’re already stealing it? Damn you…I would come after you with my girl-machete, but I sense you aren’t threatened by me. I know. All bark, little bite.

As a couple, what do you stand for and how will you strive together into the future? This is what I will ask my future partner to send him screaming, running away from me. If he doesn’t run, well, then I know I’ve made the right choice. I know there are vows spoken during a ceremony and/or promises made, but a mission statement can be created together as a couple, as a united front, and be used as an anchor to toss over the side of the boat when the waters get choppy. Realistic? Idealistic? I like to think they are both, but you can decide for yourself.

And speaking of your self: I think it would benefit us as individuals to come up with our own statements – something to refer to and remember when life kicks us in the face or even worse, if we lose faith in ourselves. Who are you and what do you stand for, strive for? What do you say in commitment to your self?

I just felt something pop. This is a lot of thinking for me this early in the morning. I won’t have any brain juice left for work today.

Brain juice. Can I copyright this, too?

Lions and Tigers and Thighs, Oh My

/ jane in training / 7 Comments

Ever since I got back from Hawaii, my legs and I have seen the light. These burritos ‘o mine are now wearing running shorts. It’s somewhat liberating to make visible something I had intentionally kept invisible in the past. To let myself be seen. As is.

When I had it – at least I thought I had it at some point – I should have flaunted it. I took my young, firm skin for granted. But I was much more shy back then. Now? Yes, I’m still an introvert at heart, but I don’t look too bad for my age, so part of me wants to flaunt whatever it is I have left while gravity is still my friend. I have ab muscles. I don’t know where they came from, and they might look a little like a wrinkly four-pack of King’s Hawaiian rolls during the rising process, but they’re there. I believe that they’re a product of my intense overthinking. After all, something good should come of overworking my brain in circles. Problem is, I might look good for 48 – we Asians hold together well – but not so good for 38. Get my drift?

[I can’t believe I just outed my real age. Oh, what the hell. I will display my age proudly. I just won’t display photos of it here on my blog. I may be crazy, but I’m not insane. Yet.]

See, I live in a small, coastal town. It doesn’t get warm enough to wear shorts very often, so people don’t see a lot of skin around here. Hawaii? No problem. Young skin, aging skin – what does it matter? Everyone looks like bronzed demi-gods over there. But here? People pull on their t-shirts, light wash jeans, sneakers, and their Patagonia jackets to go out on the town. They might even wear that outfit to the beach.

The sun is out and it is unusually warm. I am tempted to go for a run wearing less clothing than I ever have before. I want to feel free to do this. If I didn’t have to wear my glasses, I would absolutely wear sunglasses. That way, I could feel anonymous. I might mistake a fire hydrant for a dog, but if it makes me more brave, I will trade clear vision for shades. I’m sure I’ll be able to determine whether or not that object coming towards me is a car, right? Maybe I need a sacrificial running buddy.

Suddenly, I’m not so concerned about my thighs anymore.

Lost and (Waiting to be) Found

/ jane in training / 4 Comments

To quote James Joyce, “Mistakes are the portals of discovery.” Oh? I’m on day two of trying to figure out how to redirect my old blog to this one. I haven’t discovered anything except that I have an incredible talent for getting lost. I told you the cybernetherworld would swirl me up. I’ve tried so many steps – I don’t even remember what I’ve done anymore. And then I discovered that it can take a few days for the redirect to take place. I’ll know in a few days?? I feel like I just found out that my microwave dinner is going to take three minutes to cook.  Three minutes?!? That’s an eternity!

I was ready for a little makeover. HumblePie just wasn’t doing it for me anymore. I feel some big changes in the air, so I thought I could use a new coat of paint and a newer alias. I feel refreshed. Same me inside, but a little more inspired. Ready to say yes.

I’ve been known to ramble, so I’ll cut you a break this time. If, for some reason, you miss my ramblings, take a look at my ‘About’ page where I reveal more than you ever wanted to know.

Dad vs. The Gopher

/ jane in training / 4 Comments

No, The Gopher isn’t one of my Match.com dates. I’m talking about that “Caddyshack” acting, scene-stealing, menacing, rabid rodent:

"How you doin'?" Caddyshack (1980), Orion Pictures/Warner Bros. Pictures

“How you doin’?”
Caddyshack (1980), Orion Pictures/Warner Bros. Pictures

Actually, he doesn’t look that rabid. If I remember correctly, he was a pretty good dancer. Hm – he’s kind of cute. Almost…attractive. And speaking of, whatever happened to Michael O’Keefe? I developed a crush on him when I first saw him in “The Great Santini”. But I don’t want to look him up. I’d probably end up adding him to my “Back in the Day, but Not Today” list of actors. Nick Nolte is on that list. I know what you’re thinking, but he was really hot in “The Deep”:

"How you doin'?" The Deep (1977), Columbia Pictures

“How you doin’?”
The Deep (1977), Columbia Pictures

He soo rocked that mustache. I must have had been going through a blonde, surfer-phase back then. I also crushed on a young Michael Biehn and John Baldwin, with whom I went to high school (Baldwin, not Biehn). He had white-blonde hair. Sigh.

Back to the furry animal. My dad is obsessed with gophers. Unlike me, he does not find them attractive. At all. They are eating the product of all his hard work in the garden.

About 10 years ago, Dad learned how to use a computer. Now at the age of 90, he finds himself trusting Google’s advice more than his own children’s: “It’s amazing how much Google knows!” He loves Amazon, too. When a 5-lb. bag of cayenne pepper arrived at our door, I thought he was losing it. Then he explained that the Internet told him it worked to keep garden pests away. Okay, but 5-lbs.? Why not buy a small sample and test it out first? Dad? Are you listening to me? Internet, you stupid favorite child. My mom and I were afraid he was going to accidentally inhale the stuff and then we’d discover him collapsed on top of all the fava beans.

The pepper didn’t work. At least not on the gophers. The jury is still out on keeping squirrels and pooping cats out of their yard.

“He must be dragging them home to his family.” Dad opines after telling us that half his planting of burdock root have completely disappeared, leaves and all.

I decide not to point out that it could be a female gopher bringing home the burdock bacon to her family.

“I bet the kids are thinking, ‘Burdock root again?! We’re tired of burdock root!’” I say in a high-pitched tone.

“‘Yah! We want something goodie!’” My mom chimes in in her broken English.

We both start laughing. But my dad is not amused. He is deep in thought, blocking us out like he has been doing it for the past 50 years. I guess that’s why he’s so good at it.

“Google also said that Juicyfruit gum works.” He says suddenly. “You have to find their main tunnel and drop the gum inside, still in its wrapper. They eat it and choke to death.”

The thought of those poor gophers meeting their deaths due to Juicyfruit was so strangely horrifying that I couldn’t come up with anything to say in response. If the  gum doesn’t work, he’ll be resorting to THE TRAP. I don’t want to know what this is – it sounds so final. At least with the gum, there’s a chance for the Heimlich maneuver to be applied in an emergency.

All I can say is, Gopher, give my dad a break. He’s paid his dues; his garden is his pride and joy. What could it hurt to go easy on the destruction and decimation of his veggies?

And, oh yeah – run for your lives.