1. Gabe was returned to the breeder by the family in Indiana. The breeder thought he was wonderful and the very next day a gentleman that works on her farm asked if he could give Gabe to his brother whose dog had recently passed away. It would seem that Gabe and this man’s brother are both very very happy with each other. I pray that it will stay that way.

2. LM was in more trouble last week. I did the unthinkable and revoked his right to read. He got teary eyed last night and said, “I haven’t read a book in TWO DAYS” so I’m hopeful that it’s making the point it was supposed to be making. I don’t know how else to make the point when I cannot be there (in his classroom) at the moment that he says something inappropriate.

3. We took the loft down. It had to come down anyway, before the house goes on the market, and not knowing when/if that might occur we decided to take it down and get the paint touched up, etc. LM wasn’t too sure about the new arrangement, but this morning he thought it was pretty cool. Sure makes his room look bigger, that’s for sure!

4. Friday night: awake at 4am to DN (Downstairs Neighbor) and her boyfriend being, shall we say, “intimate”. Was up for about an hour. Saturday night, I was up from 3:30-5, when I finally moved to the living room (I only waited that long because it meant I had to move my alarm clock and reset it and all). Got to sleep at 5:30am on the sofa to be awaken at 6 by her son’s alarm clock right beneath me. She didn’t seem to hear it to shut it off. Moved back to bed (moving and resetting the alarm clock AGAIN) only to get 15 minutes of sleep before I had to be up for church.

5. Played handbells in church at both services. Might be my one and only time to play as the woman I was filling in for will be back now. All went well, I’m glad I had a chance to play again.

6. Woke up this morning to DN yelling for her son to get up. If her condo weren’t connected to mine, I think I would just set fire to the place. In lieu of that option, I’m hosting a 4am party next weekend (when she has her kids, not her boyfriend). Anyone want to come stomp on the floor with me?

7. Pats lost. I lost my fantasy football match up (I’ll still be in third place, but I’ll be tied with at least one other, maybe two.)

8. Do you know how hard it is to find food that doesn’t contain enriched flour or hydrogenated oil? Oh.My. Oh, and I bought salmon. Even though I have no idea how to cook it.

9. I’m 5,000 words behind my goal for NaNoWriMo. I guess I know what I’ll be doing at work today.

10. I have about 3 more CD’s to rip (I used the term “burn” this morning and LM told me that to burn means to MAKE the copy ONTO the CD, but to “rip” means to put the CD onto the computer. Good to know.) before I can make my GME07 contribution. I’m wondering why we all submit a whole mess of songs, for P2 to choose just one? Shouldn’t I just sent the ONE song that represents my year (or that I listened to the most or something?) I know, don’t be critical, it’s not my gig!!

11. LM has pimples on his nose. He’s only 10. I bought him face wash and pimple stuff and we talked through how to use them. I wish he hadn’t inherited those genes.

10. Did I mention it’s Monday?

As part of LM’s punishment this last week, he had to do a number of writting assignments for me (because writing of any kind to LM is punishment.) Since he had lied, forgotten, been lazy and sloppy with his schoolwork and shown disrespect to two teachers, he had to write several different repetitive sentences in his best cursive writing to instill in him the importance of remembering his trumpet and demonstrating respect. These assignments were in addition to his added chores and revoked privileges in an effort to create a compounded consequence that might drive the message(s) home.

I believe wholeheartedly, however, that it is important each and every time LM finds himself in trouble to reiterate that HE is not a bad kid, he just made bad CHOICES. I never want him to feel like he is stupid, or incompetent or bad. I want to make sure he still feels loved, valued, appreciated and smart. To that end, in addition to the boring, monotonous, repetitive and dreaded writing assignments that I gave him to complete, I also asked him to write an ad to the gypsies to sell himself. I reminded him that it needed to include his good qualities because I wanted to get the most money that I could for him. This is his ad:

We all get them. Forwarded emails generated by someone with too much time on their hands and a soap box that isn’t tall enough for their liking, disseminated by all their friends and relatives (including someone who has your address). For the most part, they’re all the same. Whether political, religious, charitable or a poor attempt at humor, they clog our inboxes and rarely serve the purpose of educating, uplifting or enlightening any of us.

Most of my family and friends know better than to forward me every single piece of junk they receive. Most of them are as frustrated as I am that the only time you get an email from that one friend of yours is when it’s a forwarded piece of junk.

In my family, however, there is one relative that sends out a political piece at least once a week. While I am certain that I have voted for the same party she supports on several occasions, I do not always agree with the messages that she seems to rally behind. Each email arrives with a message to “Pass it on!!” or “Spread the Word” or some other phrase bestowing upon me the immediate need for me to shower my own contact list with her political beliefs.

I thought and thought about how best to handle the situation, but when another message arrived yet again this morning, and I felt that familiar twinge when I see her address in my inbox, I knew I needed to do something.

I sent an email in reply asking that this particular relative please remove me from her blast email list. I refrained from sharing with her my differences in political opinion and my belief that we are all free to make our own choices without assumption or pressure from anyone else. But the thing that gets me the most about all of this, is that the relative at the heart of this matter….is my GREAT AUNT.

Last night, after another hurried and frustrating evening with LM, I sat down to compile all of my NaNoWriMo pages into one document. I have been writing some at home, some at work and I wanted to see where I was at with my word count. I titled the compilation my working title of, “The Trouble with Charlie” and then shut down the computer and headed to bed to read.

I haven’t been reading much lately. But I had picked up Mitch Albom’s “For One More Day” and was anxious to get into it. The book’s main character is Charley, and it’s about the time he tried to kill himself. A quarter of the way into the book his mother says to him, “that’s the trouble with you, Charley.”

I’m no Mitch Albom, and my novel is no New York Times Bestseller, but for a moment, I felt like I was a novelist reading another novelist who had written something at least similar in some primitive way to what I was writing.

The book is another great one by Mr. Albom. As if there could be any doubt. It’s an easy, quick read, but one that will stick to you much like “Tuesdays with Morrie” and “The Five People You’ll Meet in Heaven” did. I highly recommend it.

I watched the show on the latest diet plan (while snacking on popcorn with a glass of wine). The “new diet” sounds remarkably like all the “old diets” only without the fad-element. Anyway you try to disguise it, it’s still eat right, exercise more. While watching, one of my problems became immediately evident. The diet “creators” (“reworders”? “remarketers”?) said that you had to go through your kitchen and eliminate anything with the “bad things” in the first five ingredients. They applied this method to four people they had selected and went through cabinets and the fridge and removed anything that might shockingly include “partially hydrogenated vegetable oil” or “enriched flour” etc. AND THEN THEY THREW IT AWAY. Or maybe they gave it away, (I’m not sure we’re concerned about the cholesterol counts of our homeless population), but either way, the food left the house. As I poured a second glass of wine, I contemplated this approach. Perhaps this is where I have gone wrong. I’ve always told myself that WHEN the bad food is consumed, I will simply not replace it, so that, in a matter of a few days, I will have rid my home of all bad foods and will be on track to eating “partially hydrogenated vegetable oil-FREE” foods. But that day never comes. When you run out of spaghetti sauce, you still have noodles, so you buy more sauce to use up the noodles, but then you have no noodles and too much sauce. Or you buy salsa to finish up all the chips. But then you run out of chips and you still have salsa.

I could actually be throwing this stuff away?! I had no idea.

All kidding aside, the one woman said something that has actually stuck with me for the last several days. She said, “I used to put food between me and my emotions. Now there is nothing there to serve as a buffer and I’m forced to confront my own feelings.” Wow. I think that’s me. I have always seemed to revel in that sort of “numbness” that comes from eating, the lethargy that takes over after a big meal has been a welcome friend. Those people who say, “Let’s go for a walk and burn off some of the dinner!” I thought were crazy. “Let’s sit on the couch, turn on the game and fall asleep!” always sounded more inviting to me.

I ordered the book. I ordered the pedometer. I make no promises, but I think I might actually go through my kitchen and box up the non-perishable, “enriched” foods.

If only I could give my negative emotions to the food bank, too. This, is not going to be easy.

Last night I was talking with LM about his project that we’ve been working on and he commented on how nice it felt to be ahead of schedule instead of leaving it all for the last minute. Mrs. B, his teacher, had even used the timeline he and I had put together as an example for his class and LM was proud that he was doing the right thing (“for once”). I told him that I preferred to always be ahead of schedule and tried to give myself extra time before something was due so that I didn’t have added pressure causing me to turn in a product that wasn’t my best. As the words came tumbling out, I found myself chuckling a bit, which LM quickly picked up on. “What?” he asked.

“Well, I decided to participate in the National Novel Writing Month this year where I have 30 days (the month of November) to write 50,000 words.” “Holy smokes!” LM exclaimed, “50,000 words?!? Are you crazy?!” “Apparently,” I said. “Right now I only have 7,500 words. I’m behind schedule and it’s only day 6!” “What’s the novel about?” LM inquired. “It’s about a boy named Charlie. The working title would be something like “The Trouble With Charlie” or something like that. Each chapter is about some sort of trouble that Charlie gets into.”

LM thought for a moment and then laughed a knowing laugh, “Hmm…is it about anyone I know?!”

“You could say that.”

By the way, I’m about 7,000 words into the most boring, unintelligent, lame, plot-less, rambing assembly of words ever created. Yep. I’m so proud of my NaNoWriMo efforts!! (See, I told you you would be glad I wasn’t publishing it on my blog!)

Bear was away in Chicago this weekend, so my sister was home with the kids. I didn’t hear from her, so I decided she must have her hands full and I’d wait until Bear got back to check in with them. I talked with my dad and my brother on Saturday and felt like I had gotten caught up on family news.

This morning I receive an email from Jules. “Are you okay? Are you mad at me? I called you twice and you haven’t returned either or my calls.”

Wha?!?!

Um,…(quick check of my cell phone)…

“Jules. So sorry. I turned my phone off when I went to church on Sunday and never turned it back on.”

I.am.such.a.dork.

Sorry, Sis.

I spoke with animal behaviorists from the University of Pennsylvania. I spoke with a clinician at a vet clinic nearby. I spoke with a trainer I had worked with previously. I spoke with several dog owners and friends. I spoke with my dad and my sister and my brother.

I cried.

I got up Saturday morning and emailed the breeder and asked for her help. I told her I was concerned that this family would put Gabe down if they couldn’t find an immediate solution and as much as I wanted to be that immediate solution I wasn’t in a good position to be helpful. I would take him if we had no other option, but I needed to be the last resort. By Saturday evening she emailed me back and said she would gladly take him back and would retrain and re-home him. I passed along the contact information for this family and then sent an email to the family so they could contact her directly.

I cried.

I promised to keep in touch with the breeder in case our situation would change and Gabe were still available.

I know it was the right thing to do, but I can’t help but feel nothing but heartache for my dog. I feel like the worst kind of dog owner ever for not being able to provide him with what he needs. And for leaving him in a place where he is so clearly unhappy.

I didn’t realize that a quarter of my plate was apparently NOT filled, as God just handed me my latest challenge.

The family that took in Gabe just contacted me. He has been doing well, for the most part but has taken to nipping and biting dog owners who try to pet him. The family is going to be getting rid of Gabe (I had requested they contact me first), and may have to put him down if they can’t find him a home.

I NEVER not one time had a problem with Gabe nipping or biting anyone. We spent a couple days a week at the dog park where he was surrounded by other dogs and other dog owners (who would pet him all the time). Never did I suspect he would have responded in this manner.

Our environment has not changed since we gave him away, in that we still don’t have our own yard and would still be faced with leash issues, but I have to wonder if he is reacting this way because he became an outside dog, because he isn’t getting the attention he once had, because he’s unhappy with the change in his environment, or what. I have a call in to the dog trainer we had used to find out her thoughts on his behavior and I have a friend tracking down the number of a trainer she has worked with for further insight. I don’t want to take back a dog that is going to have a barrel of new problems, but I don’t want Gabe put down, either.

Any advice? Anything? HELP?!