I can't do it. I can't write a journal entry every day. It's taking up too much time. I'm going back to my every other day schedule. It was an interesting experiment, though. I'll be sorry to lose any readers but there it is. I'm already on an every other day dog walking schedule as it is so this will be simple to remember.
Don't get me wrong, we walk our dog every day. John takes the morning walk, I take the last walk, and we alternate the dinner walk. She gets in about three miles a day that way. This schedule has been known to astonish other dog owners but we think it's reasonable considering she's a large beast who won't sully the purity of her backyard with feces and doesn't run around for exercise unless she's taken to a park and let off the leash. Even then she never really runs unless she's playing with another, bouncier dog. She's a loaf, in fact. No resemblance to her owners, hem hem. At any rate, Dixie loves her schedule and gets a heartbreaking Sad Dog look on her face whenever we dally past the appointed hour for leaving the house. If the look doesn't work, she comes to sit near the person who's supposed to do the walking and fixes him or her with a patient stare while radiating I'm Waiting body language. John refers to this as Dixie's Klarn Rays, willing us to notice her as though we were cruel masters who only walked her once a decade. The Klarn Rays invariably work. Personally, I can't type when she's reenacting Greyfriar's Bobby.
I'll have to give her the dinner walk at least two days in a row next week to make up for the fact that I'm jetting up to Seattle for the weekend. Which reminds me: any online diarists in the Seattle area want to get together for a drink? I'll be busy with family on Saturday but free of obligations on Sunday. I already know Luke and Anita, and it would be grand to see them again, but I'd particularly like to meet some new faces. Of course, I might turn out to be a horrible ax murderer or the sort of woman who can't stop talking about her cats but that's just the exciting risk you'll have to take, isn't it? Let me know if you're interested.
In completely unrelated news I went to a wedding yesterday. The receptionist at work married her boyfriend of 10 years. Despite having lived together for most of those 10 years she went in for the grand wedding. It was a very Catholic ceremony which kind of got on my nerves about the 700th time the priest asked us to call upon Christ for prayers, good wishes, strength, support hose, etc. He also spent way too much time talking about marriages that faltered or failed, infidelity, hard times, and other grim reminders of how few people keep their promises. It was frankly depressing. I enjoyed watching Angela's face when the priest made a huge deal about accepting children as a sacrament of God's Love. Angela isn't planning on children, I can tell you from that look alone.
It was a stiflingly hot day, and the air conditioning didn't work or didn't exist. I fanned myself genteely throughout the ceremony, dashed over to the reception as soon as possible, and knocked back a beer in short order. The food was okay although I noticed no one would eat the liver pate. I was suspicious of it myself. The decor was Early American Sock Hop. The best part was each table had a disposable camera with which to take lots of candid party photos. Clever Angela! The DJ was typically loud but incoherent, phony and slick, incapable of anything but the weariest jokes. I hate DJs at receptions. I didn't stick around for the dancing. It was all nicely planned and executed, and I feel sure the bride and groom had a great time but I really do hate these elaborate "traditions."
I am such a Philistine.
