So this is Christmas and a winter storm is headed our way to lock us indoors and random us like slaves to salt and shovel the driveway. But before I even attempt that task I have a more important feat to tend to: collecting Charly-dog’s lawn deposits for the last week before they become petrified and embedded in a foot of snow. Charly likes the snow, he is able to tolerate it better than the dog’ days of summer. Probably because it has DOG in that saying.
Maybe it offends him and it’s a “ding” against his dogly-hood. Maybe he doesn’t like that society uses the term dog in a slang slogan derived from the ancient Romans. They believed Sirius was the brightest star and this Dog Star warmed the earth in the Summer months. But Charly’s ego inflates in winter and his big Bobble head knows that the Canis Major, a Latin term for Greater Dog, shines in the winter months. Now if you had your choice of titles would you be a dog star or a greater dog…
OK let’s get serious…. let’s talk about Christmas. My Holiday was a Dog day afternoon that rolled over into the evening; my hormones had a bone to pick with everyone and the gnawing sensation they created in my body could not be quieted with all the Erath Pinot Noir in the world.
My husband was not home for Christmas to be with me and his two children and our one crazy dog. He has been in Italy for the last two months with a minor layover for a week in our house. He was scheduled to come home for the holidays and then fly off to the west coast to attend to his 96 year old mothers emergency carpal tunnel operation. A procedure which takes under an hour and done under local sedation. That was the first wild hair that barked up my ass.
The second was a conflict with my coming out to Italy to join him in January. It conflicts with his schedule because his boss will be there at the same time I will. His explanation was that if I changed my dates he would have more time to spend with me. I thought that was priceless a true Kodak moment, only problem with this picture is that it has a negative nuance and presented itself in a dark room of double entendre.
You see my Dog Star started to dim on that notion based on the fact that even when he’s home he doesn’t spend time with me. Why should anything be different 4300 miles across the Atlantic. So as fate would have it I have a non refundable ticket and will be going to Pisa as scheduled . Now, when I land, it could be a whole- nother issue which might combine the antics of Eat Pray Love, and Under the Tuscan Sun.
My husband and I are not talking a t the moment, he is 3000 miles West of me contending with his mother whose apparent operation canceled due to a fall and an infection. He is there to try to get her situated in an assisted living environment which she continually protests against. It is a never ending battle and it ends with my husband surrendering and waving a white depends…
They should have used my mother in law at the battle of Little Big Horn, she could have enveloped Custer’s last stand and head everyone off at the pass with her Jewish Guilt while saddling her Hover-round. All the while yelling at Sitting Bull to “settle down already”..and she was probably referring to his having had five wives. he must have had some Christmas past….
Wonder if his ladies had their own hormone revolution and tackled that gnawing sensation with a Chateau Fire water… I wonder what Mrs. Seen-By- the-Nation , wife No. 5 ,was thinking when her husband didn’t return home for the Holidays…..
D-aw-g star bright…..H-o-ly night..all is calm….all is……..mayhem.
Why do men cheat and sleep around on their mates like a junk yard dog scavenging through a dumpster from bone to bone. Do they not realize that after a while not only do they get caught but all the bones end up tasting the same?
I don’t understand the actual concept of how some one can actually follow through and consummate the cheating, however, I do understand the preliminary’s that lead up to it. I can see how stagnation and redundancy play a vital part in a relationship especially if only one person is adding fuel to the proverbial fire. What is it that enters a persons mind when they start to want to have that notion to stray. Most seem to lay the blame on lack of attention in their relationship. Why is having attention paid to one so important? Is someone’s ego so deflated that it warrants affection stemming from strangers to strippers?
I have a friend who is worth millions and is a direct descendant of a prominent family who steeled their fortune in the roaring twenty’s. She is a great grand-daughter of a a guy who has a Hall and a Deli named after him. She lies low in a suburban area located in a semi small state where the shore is eroding faster than Elliot Spitzer’s hairline. She married a nice guy and had two children with him the same age as mine. She was living the quiet life by the sea in a secluded neighborhood that just happened to have a strip club in the adjoining county that touted their Tiny Dancers. Her husband was a man of leisure and an unlimited bank account gratis the wife; a bank account that he convinced his wife to support his returning to school for a degree in Law. He would drop the kids off at school and mosey over to the community college and sign in, then hop in the BMW and tend to his education in lap dances by Professor Candee-lite.
He took his education to a higher court and veered off Course and centered around a Pole of conviction which benched him and booted his pre-law ass to another jurisdiction. I did hear he returned home with his tail between his legs in hopes of a reconciliation, but his wife did not find that appeal-ing; and the hammer of justice came down on him one night when she crazy glued his member of congress to his thigh and he had to drag his gavel around the sound block to the emergency room and plead his case while the surround sound echoed “stuck on you” by Huey Lewis and the News.
Yeah you can teach an old dog new tricks using HO-rrifyin ways to TIT-illate the male libido that tends to lie dormant when faced with commitment longer than their allotted attention span…which lasts about as long as Candee-lites thong during one pelvic thrust.
Yep cheating creates havoc, mayhem, and mistrust and leaves many people with wounded hearts and angered souls and bury their sorrow in a bottle of 1999 Beaujolais Nuveau.
I tell them to get a dog. Charly doesn’t cheat. Well, maybe when playing cards…….