I went to recycle the Christmas tree with Sara today. I needed to borrow Jake's truck, and S. needed to go to the library. At the tree drop-off, the guys running the chipper asked if Sara and I were twins. Huh? We've both got dark hair, and we both weigh about the same. We have completely different big noses.

We say, "Ha, ha. No. We're not even related."

The guy says, "No. Don't tell me that. Really?"

We're both thinking, "Are you on crack? Do all white girls look alike to you?" Okay, I'm thinking that. I don't know what Sara's thinking.

We get back in the truck and Sara says, "If that ever happens again I'm going to say, 'Wouldn't that make the sex really sick?'" Good one.

Then on the way to the library, Sara starts mocking me. Yes, MOCKING me, for not knowing the street names.

Here's the deal. I've been living in this little town for two years now, and I still haven't really explored it. It's just not in my nature. Jake lives to explore back streets. She's really good at it. I live in mortal fear of getting lost. Sara likes to point out ways I would be unsuitable as a cop. One of them is that I can't remember directions or street names. I cope. I use maps. I ask for directions. I find out where I'm going before I get in the car. Anyway, she was making fun of me. (And one of these days I'm going to remember that when she wants me to be Joe the cop during a scene.)

So I tell her flat-out that she just needs to deal with it because by the time I'm 55 I'm going to be just like my Alzheimer's Disease-riddled grandmother. My grandmother doesn't recognize her daughter, has conversations with people who aren't there, sings songs that were never written, and cusses like a sailor. So Sara and I simultaneously decide to start screaming examples of what I'll be like in my decrepitute.

Sara: "Fuck!"

Me: "Who are you? Bend over! Hah, hah, hah!" *we're talking really skanky laugh here*

If Sara had been drinking something, she would've totally spewed. She got her karma back for mocking me, though. The library lady scolded her for not having her card. Ha.

****

Bad news of the day: My photography instructor recommended the Kodak Technical Pan film that I used to shoot nude pictures of Sara. He failed to mention that nobody in town will develop it for you. Deb thinks she might know somebody from back in the day when she was married to a photographer (male) who could help me out. Yes, Deb partnered to a guy for six years. (In April, she and I will have been together for 10 years. *Gloating dance*)

Part of the reason I've been keeping a diary (particularly the paper sex diary I keep), is because I really do expect I'll forget all these fun times and need somebody to read it back to me one day.

*****

I washed Katie tonight, too. You know, there's just nothing like having a decrepit old, stinky, arthritic dog in your life. What makes it even better is that the older they get, the stinkier they get. So you have to wash them more often.

Now Kate and I have had our differences around bath time. I've lost my temper. I've lost it bad on occasion. It used to be that she would fight me in the tub and try to move to the furthest corner from where I wanted her. Now she moves to the furthest corner from where I want her and falls down. My dog spends a lot more time on her ass nowadays than she really intends to. She can be standing in the kitchen and I'll turn around and then hear a THUNK. I turn back around to see her struggling to get back up. She goes down the back steps on her ass half the time. Her back half is not really on the same page with her front half, if you know what I mean.

She used to be on Etogesic and Cosequin for her arthritis. Then she had a terrifying episode of all blood and clots anal expressions that scared the shit out of me. During the long night at the emergency vet clinic, I kept thinking, "I'm going to have to put a dollar value on my dog. And then take some off for depreciation. She's 14 or 15. How much am I willing to pay in vet bills before I have to ... *cue dramatic soap opera 'somebody's gonna die' music*" It was not pleasant.

She's fine now. The vet never could tell me what was wrong with her. She only takes Cosequin, though. I feed her rice mixed into her dog food. And half the time her shit resembles fluffy, airy, fudgy Dairy Queen softserve.

Katie has been with me for all of her adult life. Since the days of my first wife in 1987. Run out and get that puppy right now. You know you want one.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11