Reading: Novels? I laugh, I mock, I go "ha ha ha." No no no, for me it's Sunset Western Garden Book and Black and Decker Painting How-to

Moving: Simple hour bike ride, interrupted by two (2) charming, jumbo-sized Akitas named Blaze and Bandit. Their owner was brushing them down by Cherry Creek and I hope some birds or squirrels make use of that fine nesting material.

9 April 2000: Dogs. Toys. Blake. Canoes. Stuff.

No reinstallation of camera software as yet. OMFB, if you crave to look at a house, go look at Shelley's. I love stuff like this, especially when it's so much in contrast to my total lack of imagination as far as decorating goes. "Yes, that milkcrate would benefit from the most caustic cleanser known. Blake! Don't shit on the chair!" That's the extent of it.

This is all going to change. We have paint swatches. We have, thanks be to large bonuses, hired two friends who, strangely enough, make their living from housepainting instead of grad-studenting, to do the lion's share of the painting. The trim and the cutting in of edges, particularly.

Anyway, I can foresee Speaking Confidentially falling by the wayside here, because I want to obsess about my house and there's this other project I'd love to advertise but since as of yet it's my fault that their web site isn't The Latest Thing (and yes, I did tell them I'm not the best person to give them The Latest and Greatest), I guess I'd better get to work on it. Instead of my usual blathering, that is.

In fact I only opened up to say that Blake is currently on his windowsill with his new bird toy, lots of wooden disks and a bell all strung on a dowel, hours of fun for the discriminating cockatiel. He's up there chewing on the plastic thread from which the toy dangled from the rack. Yes, I'm going to take it away if he snaps it. But anyway, that's my boy, liking the tags and boxes better than the toy. I feel like such a bad mother when his cage is full of magazine blow cards, but when that's all he wants to play with and he ignores his brightly colored balsa wood creations, well, all I want to do is make him happy.

Which is why we're getting a dog. We had thought maybe fall, but summer's the time to walk the dog and meet the neighbors. And we might get a puppy instead of a used dog, since I can come home at lunch to let it out. Besides scared out of his wits, Blake is going to be so jealous of this hypothetical critter. This morning RDC realized that owning a house with a garage means we can have a canoe! "Or a lake kayak," he amended.
"Or two lake kayaks," I suggested; the stronger person should sit in the stern but I'm sure he'd somehow justify taking the bow himself. Two single-person crafts would preclude that potential nastiness. "Or," I continued, realizing, "a canoe, because a dog can go in a canoe."

A canoe it is.

Poor Blake.

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Oh! And at a housewarming party last night, CGK told me a) "You are so wonderful, why are you so hard on yourself?" and b) if the letters mean so much to me, get the letters. A few people've told me a master's in English would be wasted on me because I'm so well-read already (ya ya ya, not that I believe that I am well-read, but I do believe it'd be easier for me not to try). CGK loved the English program at CU-Denver. So what the hell. A bunch of dead plants, an ill-trained puppy, and another grad program to abandon in disgrace. I have such self-confidence; I am a wonder.

What should I call these people? I don't know their middle names and I don't know them well enough to give them aliases. Anyway, the housewarming homeowners paid 80% of what we paid for about 90x as much space. (I have no idea how much bigger the house is, actually; but 90 is my usual factor.) It's in Highlands Ranch, Douglas County: the fastest growing county in the country (or was last year) and has no trees and a yard full of gravel. We ourselves have to provide for better drainage on the north side of our own house: RDC is planning gravel without dismay but I am kicking and screaming and demanding wood chips despite the additional expense and the fact they have to be replaced every year, every other year, whatever. I hate all that rock around houses, and screw whether it's good for the house. I'm all about appearance. (I just used that phrase! Kill me now.) So we have less space and no rocks. Neither house has big trees, but they have no trees and we have fruit trees. Nyah nyah. So RDC asked if I was happy with what we (will) have, considering how much more we could have gotten if we'd moved into the middle of breeder-ville nowhere. Oh yes.

(I like the owners very much, just not their taste in houses.)

So anyway. Two other salient points about the party besides that CGK luvs me:

• This is where we got talking to the friends we'll hire to paint. A great weight off my mind, since the painting weekend is also when Beth's in Colorado.
• A woman named Shirley (who was our age! what were her parents thinking? Isn't that the most out-of-date name?) joined a bunch of us DU types. CGK asked her, "Where's the baby?"
  Shirley said, "I have no idea."
  It is three weeks old and unlikely to go anywhere under its own power, but still.
  It was her sister's baby, though, and Shirley said something or other about how you couldn't tell her sister had so recently spored. In a minute Shirley and I got up to get drinks, and there was her sister. Shirley introduced me to Michelle, and I remarked on their obvious sisterhood. I'd noticed Michelle before because of her amazing figure and now I was more impressed that this was the recent parturient. I said something or other to the effect that gosh, you'd never guess she'd just had a baby. Shirley came back with her drink, greeting me with, "You are so beautiful!" If it hadn't already been clear she was wasted, that would have indicated how much her judgment was impaired. But anyway, in that weird party friendliness thing, I thanked her with a casual one-armed hug. Mid-embrace, she lay a moist smackeroo on my ear and breathed, "We both find you very attractive."
  I chortled and disengaged. I found that disturbing on so many levels:
  • Michelle had just given birth and could be presumed sexually interested in a) anyone at all and b) anyone besides the baby's father
  • Shirley was pimping her
  • Michelle and Shirley were sisters.

I told RDC about that on the way home. I was discomfited but did not feel as violated or threatened as I would have if Shirley had been male. Or sober. RDC was offended for my sake but didn't want to spring to the physical defense of my honor, as he would have if the presumer had been male. Isn't that odd? But of course, I had remarked on their appearance, because they looked so much alike--it was that relationship, no other, that I found obvious. I had complimented Michelle on not looking so recently pregnant. I never would have remarked upon his appearance to any man of equally recent acquaintance. Just as I had earlier talked with the female houseowner and a bunch of women I'd never met before about sleeping habillement and tampons (it sounded a lot like Beth's forum for a while), a physical compliment came to me easily in that context.

I think, culturally, it's easier for women to strike up a superficial intimacy--if that's not an oxymoron--about tampons and hair dye and whatever. With similar facility we can shred someone behind her back. Anyway, if I presumed to notice and compliment a woman's physical appearance, perhaps it's not so much a presumption on her part to make a pass at me.

But for her sister's sake as well. Eeesh.