And Then There's Dog

I have a real problem with telling people no. So, as Boy was growing up, he was a perfect reason to get out of stuff without having to actually say, “I would, but I don’t want to.”

“Can’t stay over. What would Boy think?”

“Can’t make it. Boy has a thing.”

“Can’t afford it. Boy needs braces.”

See? Who could argue with that?

Since Boy moved out, Dog has quickly moved into his place as my excuse for everything.

“Can’t stay over tonight. Gotta take Dog out.” As opposed to those other nights when he'd just let himself out.

“Can’t make it. The kennel was full.” Or, I’m sure they would have been, had I called them.

“Can’t afford it. Dog needs to get his teeth cleaned.” Braces seemed a stretch.

Dog People are perceived as friendly. Did you know that? I’m not sure exactly how that works, but you seem friendlier if you have a dog than if you don’t.

And there’s a whole clan of us. Dog People. We meet in parks and on the street. We flash our gang sign: A double foot plant followed by a right-armed pull and forward thumb flick to engage the retractable leash. We have a universal greeting we shout out: “Is he friendly?” And all dogs are referred to as "he" until proven otherwise.


I’m taking some more of my forced vacation. I’m off until next Thursday, and since I just got back into town, I’m hanging around here. I have a long list of projects I need to do, but mostly, I’ve been going to the beach.

There are a ton of beaches around within driving distance, and which one I go to has a lot to do with my mood or agenda that day. If I want to play tourist, I go to Clearwater Beach. If I want to hang out with friends, I go to Treasure Island. With Dog, it’s the Redneck Riviera. There’s Honeymoon Island, a long-standing Sunday morning tradition for Boy and me from when he was five, and we lived right up the street. Yesterday, I went to Indian Rocks.

I’m still trying to get used to doing things alone, so I’ve been planning little excursions by myself. I still have yet to brave a restaurant by myself, but it’s all about baby steps. So off to the beach I went.

I took a book and a towel and stayed out just long enough to make me fall asleep extra early last night, which in turn had me up early and walking Dog at four-something this morning, something I thought was absolutely insane until I ran into two other dogs with their owners.

Dog was thrilled. Our usual five in the morning walk rarely garners any dog interaction. Apparently, there’s a dog-walk window.

While the dogs played, the owners and I chatted about how beautiful Dog is:

Thank you. I think so, too. Yeah, he is really big for a Lab. Peanut butter sandwiches and pasta. Of course I was kidding. I wasn't. He eats Eukanuba. When I'm out of peanut butter. No, he’s not a mix. He's English. A breeder in New Jersey. So, what kind of dog is yours? Really? Well, he’s gorgeous. Sorry, she. No, we’ve never tried that dog park. It really is funny that there are so many late night walkers. It was nice to meet you, too.

Fundamental Rules of Friendship

Throughout the history of mankind, you can discern much of the conflicts a society faced through the laws it left behind. Laws define a people. Laws separate them from the Other.

Once upon a time when I was a Philosophy major (concentration: Sociology of Religion, in case you were wondering) I studied how the Judaic religion defined itself by setting its members apart. By making up rules to live by that, in turn, began to define them. WE don’t worship idols. WE worship in the Temple. WE don’t eat pork. Et cetera.

When a group of people begins defining itself, it’s because there are others amidst their group who don’t do what they do. Others who believe another way. Others who are different.

Forgive my seemingly unrelated introduction and catastrophic segue, but what I’m going to talk about here is friendship.

Call me a fundamentalist, but I believe very strongly in the word "friend." I definitely believe in family above all others, but let me be clear here.

I was born to and raised by my family. I chose my friends.

That’s right – chose.

Allright, allright. In the interest of full disclosure, some of my closest friends will tell you they chose me. But, in the end, I chose to give in, didn’t I? I know I’m not easy. As a matter of fact, I can be a complete pain in the ass.

And I'm not going to share what happened that so thoroughly pissed me off and subjected you all to my rant. That would be disloyal.

Instead, I’m going to lay out my rules. Maybe I should just hand it to potential friends to sign before we proceed?..

If I text you, and you don’t text me back immediately, I promise to assume you are busy and not jump to the conclusion that you’re blowing me off unless you tell me you’re not blowing me off ten texts in a row. Then I'll think you're full of shit. And in return, I promise to never tell you that I’m not blowing you off when it's clear to both of us that I am. I just won’t text you back.

When you tell me something in confidence, I promise not to tell anyone in our/your immediate circle of friends. Instead, I will change your identity and blog about it and/or just tell my best friend, Carrie and sister, Julia, who already know about every aspect of my life and yours and will still look you in the eye without judgment when they meet you.

If I look like crap in something I’m wearing or am just having a bad hair day, you are required to tell me – immediately - so I can fix it before we leave the house.

If you “have to tell me something” you have to tell me right then. You can’t say you have to tell me something, but you’ll have to tell me later because then I will obsess about it for the rest of the day, week, month until you do. Look this isn’t the local news, and if something’s gonna kill me, I don’t want to wait until 11:00 to hear about it.

If I’m ever arrested, and I call you to bail me out, I promise to pay you back. And P.S. you may need to be my alibi, so you’ll need to express shock and act surprised when you’re picking me up. A well-timed "Why aren't you guys out there trying to catch the real criminal?" over your shoulder as we're walking out wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

When I end a relationship, it’s because it was the right thing to do. When I get dumped, it’s because “that guy must be crazy.” You must say this without hesitation and with complete conviction. Be emphatic!

You are never allowed to date anyone I loved so much that I’ve cried over him. I promise to never date anyone you’ve dated. Period.

If you think I’m wrong, you should tell me.

If I hurt your feelings because I’ve said or done something insensitive, you should forgive me and know I would never, ever deliberately do or say anything to hurt you.

When weeks and months and years go by and we haven’t talked because life is so busy and we both have responsibilities that pull us apart, know that I am still your friend, that I still think of you, and that you’re always, always in my heart…

And, that you’re still bound by all of the above.

Home is the Best City in America

When I was a growing up my mom would always say the same thing as we pulled into the driveway at the end of a road trip, “Home again, home again, jiggity jig.”

That still runs through my head every time I return home from a trip all these years later.

We got done with the conference early yesterday, so from the town car on the way to Denver International Airport, I called the travel agency who booked my travel plans from Hell home. Layover at the Dallas Airport, anyone? They found a direct flight on Frontier Airlines that would have me home a full four-hours earlier leaving in less than an hour, and could I make that?

Um, yeah.

The irritated pregnant woman standing behind the counter at ticketing didn’t think so when I found myself standing in front of her twenty minutes later. And then, she didn’t think my luggage would make it, after I practically had to beg her supervisor to have them open up the flight again to allow me to board.

But make it, I did. And so did my luggage.

So there.


Dog is thrilled I’m home.

My friend had come to stay at my place to take care of Dog and Dog’s Cat while I was gone, and when I got in, Dog showed me the same affection he usually reserves for company and strangers. My friend handed me a beer and hung out for a couple of hours while I was settling in.

Then I took Dog for a long walk, unpacked, and went to bed early in my own bed for the first time in a week.

And by the way, I loved Denver. It's an awesome, awesome town. The people are so laid back. The weather is fantastic. There's a ton of stuff to do all the time. I even have two really good friends who live there. But, don’t you find that you never really know how much you love a place or people until you leave and come back to them?

So even though, I have a million things to do today, I think I’m just going to hang out at home for a bit. I’m going to spend some time weeding my garden. I’m going to wrestle with my dog, and then, I'll go wrestle with the great big world again.

So, What Brings You to Denver?

I flew in late yesterday evening.

I took the Super Shuttle from the airport to my hotel. There were nine of us packed in the van like sardines. Eight men and me. At one point someone commented that, if they tried to get anyone else on the shuttle someone was going to have to sit on someone's lap.

So, I said, “Well, I have to get to know someone a little bit better before I sit in their lap.”

Without missing a beat, the man next to me turned and asked me, “So what brings you to Denver?”


I’m here for a conference. About a hundred of us are packed into a little room, again like sardines, to hear about policy changes and marketing techniques. And we get to drink a lot of bad coffee and suck on Jolly Ranchers. I’ve already gone around and filched everyone else’s cherry-flavored ones. They’re my favorite.

Tomorrow we have team building on the schedule. We’ll be doing an obstacle course. Now, when I schedule team building for my office, it consists of a case of beer and a trip to the Par 3, but that’s me. And, you know, just so long as I don’t have to do anymore "trust falls"... I mean, right?


After today’s session, we had mandatory networking for a couple of hours. Can you imagine? We were scheduled to converse with each other for two hours. Does anyone else work for a company like this? Seriously, I’ve only had one employer my entire adult life. Is this normal?

So we were all smashed by six o’clock, and I suddenly got very huggy.

After I hugged, like, the fifth person, I scooted on up to my room to order some room service and isolate myself until my beer buzz went away.

It seemed smarter than sticking around, because the way it was looking, I was definitely gonna end up on someone’s lap.

Yes, I Iron My Sheets

My sister, Sadie, called me last night, and she was laughing, “Have you been to that website “Shitmydadsays” yet?”

“No, not yet,” I told her.

“Go. Now.”

“I can’t. I’m ironing my sheets. I’ll check it out when I’m done.”

She started laughing harder, “You’re what? Did you say you were ironing your sheets?”

“Yeah, I like it when the sheets are all smooth,” and I was feeling a little indignant. There’s no way that I’m the only person who’s ever ironed their sheets. None.

“Doesn’t Dog sleep in your bed?” And she’s still laughing.

I was quiet for a minute, “Well, he enjoys a freshly made bed, too.”

“Holy crap, Paige. Just dim the lights. He’ll never know the difference.”

“Okay. Gotta go now.”

She was still laughing when I hung up.


Lily called a few minutes later.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“Ironing my sheets.”

“Oh.” Silence. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” and I tensed for laughter.

But she just said, “Our maid did that.”

“Yeah, well, my mom’s maid used to fold all her plastic market bags into little tiny squares, but, until I can afford a maid, I’ll be the one ironing the sheets. And I use the cloth bags.” I threw that last bit in for good measure. I’m nothing if not environmentally conscious.

Well, except for the extra electricity I’m using to iron my sheets.

I thought about this for a minute and decided I was still coming out ahead.

Family Values

I went to a family birthday party for my “first cousin, once removed.” That's what my aunt who does the family’s genealogy told me, because I always get the whole first cousin, second cousin thing mixed up.

Anyway, she turned one-year-old.

The cousin not the aunt.

There were babies everywhere, so you know I loved that! Much of my family drove over from Melbourne for the event, so we did what we do: Made small talk with the other party guests for about five minutes before we formed a tight little circle of just immediate family and spent the next four hours catching up and sharing inside jokes. It was awesome.

Every once in a while, one of us would hop up to offer assistance to the hostess, and then grab a plate of food on the way back to the circle.

As some point between pleasantries and that nauseous feeling I got after eating too much sugar, my auntie and I were chatting, and she asked me, “You’re not going to blog about this, are you?”

I said, “Oh, no. Of course not.”

And, of course, I’m not.


I got up this morning and was reading some of the articles featured on MSN.com and stumbled across this one: “Do You Blog About Your Dates?” Have you read it?

Now, devotees will remember that I’ve vowed not to write anymore about guys I’ve dated or am dating. Which is kind of a shame, because it does make the blog a bit more fun. There’s nothing funnier than life, and when you’re dating, well, as my dear mother reminds me, you have to keep your sense of humor about it.

Making the decision not to tell-all was not a conclusion I came to without some thought. If you know me at all, you’ll know it takes me a loooong time to make a decision. I’m the same person who took three years to decide on a sofa. And P.S. the sofa in question was finally decided upon because it was on the showroom floor, available, and on sale two weeks before my grandmother was due to pay a visit.

Here’s why I came to the decision not to blog about that aspect of my life, though:

As funny as it may be and as much fun as it is, it’s personal.

More personal than the things I do choose to share here. It’s the stuff I don’t even write in my journal. And while it did give me some relief to share the personal stuff when I was trying to make sense of a break-up, I don’t need to do that anymore. I know myself better now.

There are some experiences, some people you meet, that make you grow up. That’s what happened to me. I grew up. I went from being a girl to being a woman. And if dating is a girl’s realm, loving someone is a woman’s.

As much fun as dating can be, as it should be, when you’re moving into relationship territory with the one you’ve chosen, it stops being something to joke about, because that person becomes your constant companion, your co-conspirator, your person to lean on and share your secrets with. In short, they become your family.

And my family is the kind that bands together at parties and holiday gatherings to form that tight little circle. We're friendly and open to outsiders, many of whom become an extension of our family, like my best friend, Carrie, for instance, but we do seem to trend a bit clannish and we're very loyal.

And it's just that, well, I don't want to ever have to explain to a member of my clan why the story of us is plastered all over the internet. It's their story as much as it is mine, so it's not really mine to tell, even if I didn't know they were going to be part of my clan when I wrote it.


My cousin remarked to me as she was walking me to my car at the end of the party, an overflowing plate of food balanced in one of my hands, keys in the other, and two souvenir Hershey bars tucked into my purse, and my first cousin, once removed, in her arms, “I think family is all that counts, you know? If you have family, you have all you need.”

Now, I love my fellow bloggers, but we're friends. It's not so much a family as it is a community. And I value that, too. A lot. Really. More than you know.

So, no, I don’t blog about dating anymore. I don’t gossip about the trials and tribulations of the rest of my family either. I’m not about to upset my house to further my blogging hobby.

Because if you have family, you have all you need.