Letter to my neighbor

Dear Neighbor,

I am normally a dog lover. I do not, however, so much love your dog.

I do not love the way that it growls and rushes at me every single time our paths happen to cross. I do not love the way that you, sitting up on your balcony smoking (which, by the way, appears to be the only thing that you do, in life, ever) just call down, "He won't hurt you!" Cuz guess what? Being barked at and growled at and hounded by a miniature doberman is actually annoying enough without actual pain. I'm just saying.

This morning it was snowing. So I carefully made my way down my slushy apartment stairs, balancing several items in my arms, and about 5 steps from the bottom I heard the tell-tale bark and growl of your nasty little alpha rat. That animal followed me from my steps out to my car, growling all the way and darting around like it was going to go for my ankle.

You might have heard me repeating aloud the words of "I will kick you in the face, I will kick you in the face, I will kick you in the face." When I got close enough to your balcony for you, smoking in a Slanket, to notice, you just called out "He won't hurt you . . . sorry."

Here's the thing. I almost wanted your dog to nip my ankle, because then I would have had the satisfaction of lashing out with my massive, prehistoric Danskos and possibly breaking something. And I'm a dog lover!!!

Also? This is the third time your dog has harassed me. I can only assume he does this to everyone, which would include children and people who have a legitimate fear of dogs. Clearly, your animal does not belong off a leash when there are people around (or even the possibility of people, which, in a large apartment complex, is pretty much a given). And you can hold a leash and a cigarette at the same time, lady.

Will be wearing heavy shoes from now on,

Nemesis

So, friends. Here's where I need the advice. Do I just accept that I'm having a cranky day and let it go? Do I call the office and make a complaint against her and her little dog too? Do I tell her that I'll be making a complaint if her dog bothers me again? Or, you know, that I'll be kicking her dog in the face?

What to do?

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Heh.

The other day we were in her neighborhood so we stopped by to visit GH's grandmother. As we walked up to her house, a woman called from across the street to a group of kids who were playing in the yard next door.

Woman: "Jaaaaay-deeeeen!! . . . "

. . . pause . . .

Little Boy: "Which Jaden?"

Awesome.

Note: we were in the neighborhood because we were visiting the (no lie) 5th person we've gone to in our quest to Fix GH's Butt. If you ever feel that you have too much money on your hands, I think a really good thing for you to do would be to 1) brag about your emergency fund and general fiscal dominance on your blog, 2) go file your taxes, and 3) have someone in your family come down with sciatic nerve troubles. That'll fix ya. And your little dog too. The good news is that, eleventy-bajillion dollars later, this latest chiropracter seems to be helping him. We hope.

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Forever a pale-face

Decided to take advantage of the spring-like sunshine by taking a walk today on my lunch break. Things I noticed during said walk:

1. Some people have more money than sense. Or taste. They buy these lots in well-established neighborhoods, tear down the charming 1940s-1950s homes that were sitting on them, and proceed to build flipping stone chateaus with towers like they think they're in France and it's the 1600s and they have serfs or something.

2. Crocuses are still my favorite.

3. Followed closely by daffodils.

The thing I did NOT notice during the walk was the part where the sun was burning me. I came back to work and the first person I helped was all, "Um . . . were you recently in the sun or something? Cuz, you're kinda bright red."

Great. Curse you, thin mountain air!

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Now that I can talk about Hawaii

Let's hope this doesn't send me into a decline, but here are some of the pictures I promised. They're all taken from my Dad's iPhone, since I haven't uploaded my camera photos. Oh, and also since my camera completely crapped out on the second day and refused to work because it is possessed by Satan and then as soon as I got home was all, "What? No, I totally work, see? This is me working."

Not seething.

Anyway, my trip was amazing. I knitted and listened to the Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society audiobook on my iPod the whole way there. Except I had to take the earbuds out near the end because I worried they might be changing the shape of my ear holes permanently.

After the long flight, I arrived on Kauai and made it outside the airport to see my sweet mom and dad waiting for me. The sun was out, the air was soft and fragrant, flowers were in bloom everywhere, and my dad was holding half a tray of shrimp cocktail from Kauai's Costco. I was home.


We drove straight to the condo in Poipu, changed into our swimming suits, and went down to the beach to watch the sunset. My dad bought me a beach mat and a coconut shave ice with macadamia-nut ice cream. It was heaven. I'm serious. Actual Heaven had better be like this. (And yes, "My dad bought me . . . " and "My mom bought me . . . " do feature heavily in this trip's narrative, so be forwarned.)

I took this pic and sent it to GH (since my parents have morphed into Millennials and both have iPhones now) so that he'd know I'd made it safely and oh so happily. He, laid up at home with sciatica even though he is not even a pregnant woman yet, appreciated it.


And yes, I did abandon a pain-riddled man to go cavort on a tropical island while being spoiled by my parents. I bought and set up a big-screen television to keep him company (two, actually, except do not even make me get into that here but it will suffice to say that I am DONE with the single-handed buying and returning and wedging into cars and packing and unpacking and carrying up and down stairs of big-screen televisions). I stocked the freezer with chemical-, sodium-, and fat-laden convenience foods like french fries and chicken nuggets and frozen lasagna. I alerted the complex staff in case someone should report a certain smell coming from my apartment, and I lit out of there like a bat out of you-know-where.

After the sun was down, we went back to the condo and ate dinner on the back patio--grilled steaks, grilled pineapple, salad, and more shrimp. For dessert we drove out to Lappert's. I had a double-scoop cone with coconut and chocolate-macademia-nut ice cream.

Blissful sighs on Day One: 37

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During the Oscars

(Upon hearing that Bradley Cooper and Gerard Butler would be presenting an award together.)

Me, perking right the heck up and actually looking up from my knitting: "Ooooh . . . It's like a Man-Candy Sandwich!"

And it was, cuz, behold:





At which point my husband turned to give me a look (read: glare).

Except whatever, dude. Let's see Natalie Portman and Zoey Deschanel come out together sometime to present an award. Then we can talk--after our living room finishes imploding, that is.

I also received looks and head-shakes every time I clapped and squealed "Heeeee, Colin Firth!" Which was pretty much every time the camera looked at him or somebody talked about him. But please do not ask me why they had Julianne "We Hung Out for Three Days That One Time" Moore be the one to talk about him. They should have hauled Jennifer Ehle out there for an impromptu P&P reunion. Then you woulda seen some imploding--and the only surprise of the evening.

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