I Don't Really Do This Sort of Thing

If there’s one thing I absolutely CANNOT stand to discuss it’s that thing you do in the bathroom that requires more than one wipe. But I’m going to challenge myself to talk about it. (Oh GOD. What if I’m the only one that requires more than one wipe and I just totally embarrassed myself?) (Just got off the phone with Matt to confirm he also uses more than one wipe. In fact, he said that if you don’t then you’re DIRTY. So there.)

My dog Taylor and I have had a really rough week. Here’s the thing: I’m not an animal person. And I know that’s not a good thing to admit. I love my dog, but I don’t really feel affection toward other animals. It’s just not who I am. It’s the same as all those parents who say they’re not kid people, but they mostly like their own kids. I get it. But this week, Taylor and I had a major meltdown, and I really wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to look her in the face again.

She ate her own poop.

Last Thursday, Matt and I were sitting on the back porch, drinking wine, and playing cards. Taylor was outside with us. Everything was normal; it could have been any other night of the week, and we would have been doing the exact same thing.

“I think Skip-Bo is a good name for a kid.”

“It’s your turn, Nic.”

“Think about it… go to your room, Skip-Bo!”

“What’s Taylor eating?”

“Probably an apple.”

Matt got up to check on her while I sipped my wine.

“It’s poop! She was eating her poop!”

“SHIT.”

After reprimanding her, we continued our game. But we couldn’t concentrate; I mean, she kept breathing and coming near us like everything was cool. AND IT SO WAS NOT. I kept wondering where we went wrong. The past few days I had been moody (some might call it PMS), and I know I took it out on Taylor. Was this her attempt to get back at me? You know, 9 times out of 10 Matt is the one who gets the brunt of my moodiness, and he’s never eaten his own poop, TAYLOR. That would be grounds for separate beds. FOREVER.

We quickly wrapped up the game and I went inside to consult with Google while Matt gave Taylor a bath and brushed her teeth. Turns out most dogs eat their poop at some point or another, and it’s usually not a big deal unless it becomes habitual, which it hasn’t.

But this doesn’t mean I still wasn’t thoroughly disgusted by her. I gave her the cold shoulder for two solid days. As I was putting away the recycling one evening, Taylor came and sat by me at a distance. She looked sad, lonely, and apologetic. And then I felt terrible. I hugged her, apologized, and gave her a treat. Because, after all, everyone makes mistakes. Some just make you want to vomit – A LOT.

Friday Candy

My girl Amber is a poet. It's one reason why we're such close friends -- we both just love words. She was an English major also, and don't you know that all English majors have a bizarre, unexplainable bond to each other? It's the words, man. They build a chain connecting us all.

Ask any artist to call herself an artist, and she immediately tries to change the subject. But that's what friends are for; while Amber is trying to change the subject right now, I'm letting everyone know that she's an incredibly gifted poet. And you can check out one of her poems HERE.

A Stone to Remember

As a high school teacher, I dealt with a lot of teenagers who felt they were better than most and thus deserved more. I heard things like, "I like to park in two spots so cars are further away from my Audi," and "I showed up to class every day... why didn't I get an A?" All teachers have moments when they wouldn't mind slapping a kid around a bit because, really, who do they think they are?

When I started to notice that attitude in my students, I started to notice it elsewhere. Adults deal with it, too. (What?! SHOCKING.) We deserve more money, we deserve a bigger house, we deserve to have a day off, we deserve recognition. And while some of that might be true, is it right for us to demand it?

This has been a summer of lessons in entitlement for me. I started the summer by consistently saying, "This should happen to me because I deserve it." And, dammit, I meant it. But after a few weeks of carrying around that attitude, I began to really annoy myself. Because how does that attitude fit in with my faith? The gospel I read doesn't have Jesus telling others he deserves to have his feet washed because he's awesome. Jesus actually washes others feet because he's humble.

There is no room for compassion or gratefulness with an attitude of entitlement. Every time I find myself beginning to think I deserve something, which, let's face it - is often, I have to remind myself that there is no goodness that comes from such an attitude. And I think we'd all be better off with a bit more compassion and gratefulness.