Calypso

While I was in San Francisco, I found out my dog Calypso was sick.  I got Calypso 14 years ago. After a brief stint puppy-sitting and falling in love with my brother's dog, Stanley, my mom agreed to let me get my own dog. Calypso cost $600 and I even paid half. Even though I have always considered myself her mommy, I have to acknowledge my own mommy's contribution. Although I took Calypso to L.A. for 3 semesters of college, my mother kept her the rest of time. Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, sometimes I flew back to New York to visit my boyfriend at the time and my friends took care of Cal several weekends. When I moved out and moved to Rwanda, my mom took over primary custody. And she has always done the morning walk. I guess like many teenage mothers, I didn't do a perfect job, but luckily I had a lot of help.
A lot changed while I was in Rwanda. I used to be Cal's favorite. It was my smell she sought out in unfamiliar places and she did not like walking away from me on the street. But since I returned, she seems to barely know me. That is a risk I took going away for so long, and I don't blame her for preferring the most constant person in her life, Debbie Doo. We are both lucky to have such a good caretaker.
Now, my 14 year old dog is sick. After maintaining her puppy hood for 13 years, my baby is finally showing her age. She can't see or hear and now she has a massive kidney infection. When my mom called in San Francisco to tell me that Lou was sick and might not make it, I managed to put myself into a solid state of denial and not deal with it. Now I am home, and the reality is tough. Calypso's vet said she has a massive kidney infection and a disk problem, but all is not lost. We are giving her anti-biotics and fluids for two weeks and then going back in. If her numbers stay stable or get better, then that is good. But she is not eating and she has to be carried downstairs for a "walk." She got better for awhile and gave us a lot of hope. But now, she has back slid and is almost back to her worst.
The thought of putting her down looms in my mind.  I hate having the power to make a decision, even though I know the vet will guide us to what she thinks is best and I have my mom to help, the idea feels awful. I don't want to keep poor Calypso around if she is miserable and in pain for my own selfish reasons. What does a deaf, blind apartment dog have to look forward to, besides being tortured by adorable babies who love her  and a treat after every walk? She doesn't like to cuddle anymore, preferring to sleep on her nuzzle nest on the floor. But, I really don't want to kill my dog if there is a chance she can get better. Who am I to decide? Wouldn't her little body give out if it was her time?
The immediate future is up in the air and right now I trying to focus on the positive. Not the mistakes I made, forgetting to take her out because I was busy watching TV, never brushing her teeth, or moving into a no-pets apartment. Not the fact that she can't get on the couch anymore or that her spine is visible, but all of the good times. I never trained Calypso very well (or at all) my affection for her may not be shared by the people she peed on (she was just excited) or whose floors she pooped on, but she is now and always was the sweetest dog ever.  Her hair was pulled and her back "patted" by hundreds of children and she never bared a single tooth. She greeted all visitors to the door with a wagging tail and I swear a huge smile. When Cal was really excited, she would run around the house in figure 8 formation, sometimes dragging her toy shark with her.
Right now she isn't up to all her old tricks, just sleeping all the time. I hope she is dreaming of Beggin Strips, cheese and forbidden human food. I don't know what her future holds, but I want what is best for my little Bichon frise, whatever that is.

Cease and desist

Dear New York City,  If you would like me to continue to reside on this coast, the snow must cease immediately. I think it is clear that this:

in no way competes with this:

Fairly useless but really not at all

I have been home since October. And it's January. No, I am not working yet. All the reasons that excused the situation in December are now starting to sound like...excuses.
Not to make excuses, but in my defense I had injured ankles, and then I was teaching Zeke's pre-school a whole 8 hours a week, and then the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Years were a wash, and then right as I settled down to get serious about jobs my cousin lured me to San Francisco and I just couldn't stay for less than 2 weeks! And so really, I am not useless, lazy, or shiftless at all.
It doesn't help my case that my friend Joco got a job 2 weeks into her search, and Katrina managed to go back to her old job (despite the rumors my Mother spread throughout my family, that was never going to happen for me).
The funny thing is that I don't mind not working. Some people claim to be bored sitting around the house all day. Not me. I do pilates and watch TV and knit. I also read, take baths and sometimes even pick up the phone. Those are all very legitimate and enjoyable activities. It's not that I miss working, just that I miss the money that comes along with spending 9 or 10 hours a day at an office.  Talking to people besides the reality stars on Bravo is also a positive aspect of leaving the house for a more traditional workplace. And it's not that my parents or family pressure me, its not really their style and so far I haven't been hitting them up for cash. It's just really that it sounds so bad. I don't want to sound shallow but "unemployed for 3 months" doesn't have the same cache as "brain surgeon"or even "human resources generalist"

Person: "So, what do you do?"

Me: "Actually, I just got back from Rwanda where I was volunteer teaching"

Person: "Wow! That's great! When did you get back?"

Me (in Nov or Dec): "Just a few weeks ago actually. Just starting getting back into the swing"

Me (now): "Just a few we..... months ago actually. Been busy with holidays and my...uh...um vacation"

Actually this whole blog post is a huge mistake, the equivalent of asking someone if you look fat. No one was thinking you looked fat until you suggested it. No one had probably realized the ridiculousness of the situation until I mentioned it.
So actually, I am doing great. I am so happy with my current situation, in this job market, I have kept so busy and productive, its quite remarkable. My motivation in writing this was to make other poor slobs feel better about no one wanting them. That has no bearing on me at all. I just don't want to commit myself to anything not worthy of my talents. Some company will be very lucky to have me, just not quite yet.

To move or not to move?

A few weeks ago the idea of living in San Francisco popped into my head. I happened to mention the idea to my cousin Jennifer, a New Yorker who moved out west, got married, had babies and stayed. I asked her if she always misses NYC or if she loves the West Coast. Her answer was a mixed bag and she said I should really come out. Last week, we worked out a plan and here I am!
Yesterday, as I was getting on the plane I thought I really could never leave New York long-term. My whole entire family is there. It was also recently brought to my attention that not all families get along in the same way as mine.  It's truly a blessing how close we all. Besides physical proximity, my nuclear family (plus additions) genuinely enjoy each other's company. How could I leave that?
When I arrived to the basement room of Jennifer's house that will be mine for the next 2 weeks, I started to reconsider. The guest room/basement play space is literally 3 times the size of my studio in New York. Literally as in literally.  And there is a washer and dryer, and my own bathroom. I could not only do yoga without hitting anything, I could throw a rocking dance party. There is a double bed, a table with 3 chairs, a couch and closet space.
Family is one thing, closet space another.