There is a God. He showed up in the form of my husband. I knew there was a reason I married him after being single for 36 years. He fixed my Espresso machine. I have always owned an espresso machine at one time or another in my life, it is as common to me as putting on a pair of shoes in the morning before you venture out for the day. Even if they are flip-flops.
I’ve owned more cappuccino machines than I have dogs. I haven’t own a dog for the majority of my life, as a child growing up my family had dogs, but my brother took on most the responsibility with the family pet. I recall we had the large breed of dog, like a German Shepherd. I didn’t spend a lot of time with this dog, because he had an affinity for my older brother. They were inseparable. I admired this Hatchi relationship and wondered why I could never tap into it and develop my own friendship with the dog.
I was in elementary school at the time and much too busy with my new Evening in Paris Barbie. I was very wrapped up in my Barbie dream world as a kid, I spent more hours walking Barbie’s plastic poodle than my own dog. Maybe I just wasn’t ready for the commitment and work of caring for a pet . I liked my ideal make shift world of a Dream house that collapses and travels with you. When I set up Barbie’s world she was not bogged down with domestics, she would just fancy off to her inflexible chifforobe and don a glitter gown for her evening in the spotlight at Studio 54. Barbie’s Amana fridge was stocked with miniature green plastic soda bottles with home made labels displaying Dom Perignon scripted from a fine tip sharpie. Barbie was always busy, she traveled and socialized with other Mattel friends, she did not have time to learn to cook, get married, or raise children. She did ,however ,always make time for her pink plastic poodle.
Eventually as I grew into an adult, Barbie and I did have one thing in common; we both made great reservations. I am not the best domestic nor the worst. I would rather be trekking in the Amazon then to have to make dinner for four at six p.m. I would rather be shooting a 22 at a rifle range at three in the afternoon than fight the grocery store lines for the two for one specials on Doritos for my kids lunches. I’d rather have the beds made, laundry complete, and the food cooked by someone other than me, and so would my family for that matter. Their clothes would be less wrinkled and the food would be tastier. My puppy even notices when my husband prepares his doggie dinner. He transforms his daily Science kibbles into Gourmet Giblets with Gravy.
Some people are blessed with a green thumb for home-made behavior. My mind has always wandered like a piece of driftwood on the sea every time I spray a can of furniture polish over the coffee table. I start to Envision myself at a book signing at Barnes & Noble and conversing with the public about my best seller and then the reality hits when I get spritzed with the Endust in the face because the nozzle is reversed..again.
Domestic chores are a form of prison for me and the only escape is hiring a housekeeper. I would do that if my Dog liked strangers, but he doesn’t. He also hates vacuums. So a stranger toting a vacuum in my house is a lethal combination. I wonder what Barbie would do? Just fold up her dream house and retire to her Black patten leather carrying case wearing her pink silk jammies with her plastic poodle by her side? Both laying there in a coma like trance until their next days play. I wonder when Barbie turned 50 if Matel had her estrogen levels checked.
Women in menopause need a life size Barbie case. A giant suitcase containing all their private possessions surrounding them as they lie next to their dog, neither of them blinking,and to be carried off to unknown territories only to be emptied all over the living room carpet to set up residence. Again.
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