A sea of 1,047 dog turds...
Discussion topic:
Is "terd" spelled t-e-r-d or t-u-r-d?
Right now, I think it is spelled g-r-o-s-s!
Yesterday was one of those days where I woke up with migraine precursors and entirely nauseous. (And no, I am not pregnant mom, grandma, and anyone else inclined to think that nausea is a sign of impending birth).
And, I was depressed. Because it has been about 52 days since we saw anything but the color gray in the sky.
So, I called in sick. There was no going to work.
Second reason for calling in sick: my dog, Molly, the Shiba Inu from Japan, ate an entire bag of uncooked sticky rice on Friday night and has had explosive rice diarrhea ALL WEEKEND. So, my husband and I have cleaned up about 25 explosive rice diarrhea messes in our house by Monday morning.
Maybe this had something to do with my nausea???
So, I figured I'd better stay at home so that our house would not be taken away in a sea of rice diarrhea by the time we arrived home from work.
Well, after Molly had had mess 26 Monday morning, and nausea had set in permanently, I thought 1) I am going to be nauseous all day anyway, so I might as well pick up poop in the yard and b) that it would bring my husband much joy to not have to pick up poop in the yard.
So, I set out at the task of Poop Removal. PR hasn't been done since last fall due to snow and cold.
I tell you, people, I grew up on the farm with animals like cows and sheep. And never in my life have I seen so much poop as I did yesterday. Never. It was beyond disgusting.
I spent 3 full hours pooper scoopering in the yard. It produced the following:
1) 5.5 full-sized kitchen bags full of molly and priscilla dung
2) an exhausted dog mommy
3) a permanent smell of dog poop in my nose
4) more nausea
5) a clean yard
6) a happy husband.
But, there is something really bad that has come of this. Even more than permanent poop smell in my nose (which, by the way, I still have at this moment even). I can't close my eyes without seeing turds. Various sizes, shapes, levels of moisture (gross). This is a problem. I feel like I am drowning in waste. I can't sleep since it requires closing my eyes.
So, I have been telling my story of woe about the explosive rice diarrhea to various friends who have told me about dogs who have eaten the following to the same end: 1) an entire tub of butter, 2) the entire contents of a lazy Suzy, including but not limited to pop tarts, crackers, and a bag of sugar, 3) scary dead things, 4) their own poop, 5) walls (I am not kidding).
Bottom line, dogs are stupid and they make a lot of waste, but I STILL love them.
Other than this, I am happy to report that my husband and I now have nearly reached the point of having riverside property as the Red River is solidly 2 blocks away from our house.
My Dad is convinced that we are all going to float away and that he is going to have to come rescue us. My husband and I are, in his words, very "nonchalant" about the entire situation. I feel fine about it. The city has been doing a fantastic job taking care of us, and I am the proud owner of a newly-refurbished basement complete with drain tile and a sump pump. No one on our block is worried since not even the flood of 97 reached our houses.
I had a bellydance gig on Friday night. We danced for a local theater company's fundraiser/silent auction. When we walked in the door, the first thing my fellow dancer, Rita, says is "Food fettish Guy is here."
"What??!!!"
"Oh, yeah, Foot Fettish Guy. We met him at Valley-Con three years ago."
Here is what FFG is wearing. One denim pirate shirt complete with many layers of ruffles, dirty. One light-colored leather vest with fringe. One set of tribal beads. Computer nerd pants. Bad hair.
I am not going to tell you how they found out about his interest in feet, but it ain't pretty.
Now, I have performed all my life, and I am accustomed to people looking at me in all manner of ways, but FFG is different. Because he has no social graces whatsoever. For instance, he sees nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with standing in front of the entire audience (who are seated) in the middle of the stage right in front of us for the entire performance bobbing his head (not to the music, by the way).
Foot Fettish Guy scares me. He is creepy. He tries to hug us after the show. I do not allow him near me.
I feel badly about acting this way toward someone. Maybe he is just a poor dude who really sucks at relating to people and just comes off like a complete pervert.
I am not willing to take the chance.
Luckily, Rita is accustomed to dealing with mutants like this on an almost daily basis, so she gracefully removed us from the situation. For which I was very glad, because FFG was trying to convince us that he was a writer for a local paper (I looked into it--he is not. He sells ads for them), and that he wants to do an article on us.
Over my dead body.
Other than that, it was a lovely performance experience. We got to wear our glorious blue dresses and dance for people that were generally very appreciative--and a full house at that. It was fun.
And then on the way home, I got to call in some idiot teenage drunk drivers. And how did I know they were idiot teenage drunk drivers, you ask? Because they actually showed us their beer cans at an intersection.
Wrong choice, young boys. Wrong choice with this chick. If there is one thing I do not tolerate in this world, it is drunk driving. So, I made my first 911 call that night. I even memorized the license plate of the vehicle and everything. You would be proud. I was sort of like Jennifer Garner on Alias. Sort of. Except not as hot. But I was wearing a great costume.
Another glorious thing happened this weekend. I received both a working dishwasher and a working stove for the soap kitchen off of Fargo's freecycle group. I am now completely in love with freecycle because they gave me the final pieces necessary to begin my laboratory/kitchen of creativity for all natural, synthetic free, organic, north dakota made soaps, lotions, and cosmetics. Hopefully this will bloom into an actual money-making business someday, and now I am one step closer, which makes me sooooooooooooo happy! Plus we have a dishwasher now! Hit me!
Finally, I would like to say that meeting Jason, the internet boyfriend, was a truly delightful experience. And, what's more, he was exactly like how I picture he'd be--both in looks and in personality. So, I guess there isn't always a ton of truth to the idea that you can meet someone over the internets and then find them to be a totally different person in person (ha!). And it is fun to see people fall in love. It is invigorating and encouraging and makes a person want to keep trying in their own relationships. So, that is good, too.
Loves to you all! I wish you a night free of turds. Or terds. Whichever it may be.
Is "terd" spelled t-e-r-d or t-u-r-d?
Right now, I think it is spelled g-r-o-s-s!
Yesterday was one of those days where I woke up with migraine precursors and entirely nauseous. (And no, I am not pregnant mom, grandma, and anyone else inclined to think that nausea is a sign of impending birth).
And, I was depressed. Because it has been about 52 days since we saw anything but the color gray in the sky.
So, I called in sick. There was no going to work.
Second reason for calling in sick: my dog, Molly, the Shiba Inu from Japan, ate an entire bag of uncooked sticky rice on Friday night and has had explosive rice diarrhea ALL WEEKEND. So, my husband and I have cleaned up about 25 explosive rice diarrhea messes in our house by Monday morning.
Maybe this had something to do with my nausea???
So, I figured I'd better stay at home so that our house would not be taken away in a sea of rice diarrhea by the time we arrived home from work.
Well, after Molly had had mess 26 Monday morning, and nausea had set in permanently, I thought 1) I am going to be nauseous all day anyway, so I might as well pick up poop in the yard and b) that it would bring my husband much joy to not have to pick up poop in the yard.
So, I set out at the task of Poop Removal. PR hasn't been done since last fall due to snow and cold.
I tell you, people, I grew up on the farm with animals like cows and sheep. And never in my life have I seen so much poop as I did yesterday. Never. It was beyond disgusting.
I spent 3 full hours pooper scoopering in the yard. It produced the following:
1) 5.5 full-sized kitchen bags full of molly and priscilla dung
2) an exhausted dog mommy
3) a permanent smell of dog poop in my nose
4) more nausea
5) a clean yard
6) a happy husband.
But, there is something really bad that has come of this. Even more than permanent poop smell in my nose (which, by the way, I still have at this moment even). I can't close my eyes without seeing turds. Various sizes, shapes, levels of moisture (gross). This is a problem. I feel like I am drowning in waste. I can't sleep since it requires closing my eyes.
So, I have been telling my story of woe about the explosive rice diarrhea to various friends who have told me about dogs who have eaten the following to the same end: 1) an entire tub of butter, 2) the entire contents of a lazy Suzy, including but not limited to pop tarts, crackers, and a bag of sugar, 3) scary dead things, 4) their own poop, 5) walls (I am not kidding).
Bottom line, dogs are stupid and they make a lot of waste, but I STILL love them.
Other than this, I am happy to report that my husband and I now have nearly reached the point of having riverside property as the Red River is solidly 2 blocks away from our house.
My Dad is convinced that we are all going to float away and that he is going to have to come rescue us. My husband and I are, in his words, very "nonchalant" about the entire situation. I feel fine about it. The city has been doing a fantastic job taking care of us, and I am the proud owner of a newly-refurbished basement complete with drain tile and a sump pump. No one on our block is worried since not even the flood of 97 reached our houses.
I had a bellydance gig on Friday night. We danced for a local theater company's fundraiser/silent auction. When we walked in the door, the first thing my fellow dancer, Rita, says is "Food fettish Guy is here."
"What??!!!"
"Oh, yeah, Foot Fettish Guy. We met him at Valley-Con three years ago."
Here is what FFG is wearing. One denim pirate shirt complete with many layers of ruffles, dirty. One light-colored leather vest with fringe. One set of tribal beads. Computer nerd pants. Bad hair.
I am not going to tell you how they found out about his interest in feet, but it ain't pretty.
Now, I have performed all my life, and I am accustomed to people looking at me in all manner of ways, but FFG is different. Because he has no social graces whatsoever. For instance, he sees nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with standing in front of the entire audience (who are seated) in the middle of the stage right in front of us for the entire performance bobbing his head (not to the music, by the way).
Foot Fettish Guy scares me. He is creepy. He tries to hug us after the show. I do not allow him near me.
I feel badly about acting this way toward someone. Maybe he is just a poor dude who really sucks at relating to people and just comes off like a complete pervert.
I am not willing to take the chance.
Luckily, Rita is accustomed to dealing with mutants like this on an almost daily basis, so she gracefully removed us from the situation. For which I was very glad, because FFG was trying to convince us that he was a writer for a local paper (I looked into it--he is not. He sells ads for them), and that he wants to do an article on us.
Over my dead body.
Other than that, it was a lovely performance experience. We got to wear our glorious blue dresses and dance for people that were generally very appreciative--and a full house at that. It was fun.
And then on the way home, I got to call in some idiot teenage drunk drivers. And how did I know they were idiot teenage drunk drivers, you ask? Because they actually showed us their beer cans at an intersection.
Wrong choice, young boys. Wrong choice with this chick. If there is one thing I do not tolerate in this world, it is drunk driving. So, I made my first 911 call that night. I even memorized the license plate of the vehicle and everything. You would be proud. I was sort of like Jennifer Garner on Alias. Sort of. Except not as hot. But I was wearing a great costume.
Another glorious thing happened this weekend. I received both a working dishwasher and a working stove for the soap kitchen off of Fargo's freecycle group. I am now completely in love with freecycle because they gave me the final pieces necessary to begin my laboratory/kitchen of creativity for all natural, synthetic free, organic, north dakota made soaps, lotions, and cosmetics. Hopefully this will bloom into an actual money-making business someday, and now I am one step closer, which makes me sooooooooooooo happy! Plus we have a dishwasher now! Hit me!
Finally, I would like to say that meeting Jason, the internet boyfriend, was a truly delightful experience. And, what's more, he was exactly like how I picture he'd be--both in looks and in personality. So, I guess there isn't always a ton of truth to the idea that you can meet someone over the internets and then find them to be a totally different person in person (ha!). And it is fun to see people fall in love. It is invigorating and encouraging and makes a person want to keep trying in their own relationships. So, that is good, too.
Loves to you all! I wish you a night free of turds. Or terds. Whichever it may be.
posted by Erin at 3:39 PM
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