Sunday, January 29, 2012

Oh no, Poopaya!

Last Sunday I dropped off Papaya at Colleen and Kevin's house.

Colleen had graciously agreed to dogsit for a week. She wasn't home when Papaya and I arrived, but Kevin welcomed us in. Pops wandered for a couple of minutes, tried to eat the cat food, and came back over to the table next to their kitchen.

I said, "Be a good girl."

Pops squatted and dropped a poop. This is not a trick we worked on. (Had things gone as planned, I would've followed up with "Shake." Which maybe isn't that impressive, but at least it's not a poop on your kitchen floor.)

Kevin took her outside, I cleaned up the mini-mess, and all was fine. (Carol's commentary when I told her the story: "He scared the crap out of her!")

The week went by without incident, Colleen said, except when she went to play tennis and Pops ate the sugar cookies that were in the bottom of a bag on the floor.


Other than those couple of things, Pops was a decent guest. Colleen walked her and introduced her to some other dogs (Colleen is a social director for dogs, too!).

Kevin also took good care of her, playing lots of frisbee and making sure she didn't overeat the treats. All in all, a good week. He offered to take care of her anytime. And gave her a new nickname: Poopaya.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Looking forward to 2012

Every December I move the TV to make room for my Christmas tree. This year I wondered what life would be like if I never had to move that TV again. It was so heavy it warped the coffee table it was on.

My friends were puzzled. ("I have a small house. I have four TVs." "That wouldn't be so bad in the summer, but what are you going to do in the winter?" "Can't you just leave it there and not watch it? Or put it in the basement?") My parents offered to get me a new one. The current model was a Christmas gift from them in 2002, the year I bought my house.

I knew that nothing would give me more free time than giving away the TV.


No more Revenge, no more Packer games, no more episodes of The Cleveland Show that spoof Die Hard. (The year: 1988. The thieves were after a 27-inch TV. Just like mine.)

Instead, there is Hulu. And, I hope, more football parties at Chris' house.

I gave the TV away on Thursday. The house is so quiet!

But it helped to go out on New Year's Eve, where the party at Clyde and Sandra's proved to be a perfect distraction. Upstairs, we ate chicken and sandwiches and watched Pops, Sandra's 93-year-old dad, eat his jello shot with a spoon. Then we all played Sequence. It is oddly addictive in a Connect-Four-meets-Stratego kind of way.

After that, it was back to Clyde's man-cave for more wine.

A few minutes before midnight, Carol announced, "Well, it's been a rough year." We shared a laugh at her last-minute reflection on the disappointments of 2011. Ah, bygones.

It was a good night for a party — and for a TV.

We watched the ball drop in Times Square and toasted to 2012. Cheers to new habits! I wish you a year filled with friends, parties, and board games.