I Hear You 2.0

I am a notorious eavesdropper. I've mentioned this in a past post and discussed things I have heard. It's an ongoing thing with me. Everyone is super interesting in their own way.  I get a little frustrated if I'm having a conversation with a dear, wonderful friend and I can't sort of listen in to some other potentially hilarious conversation that some strangers are having. Darn you, loved ones, for trying to engage me in meaningful conversation. 

Here are some snippets of conversations I have heard and noted over the past several months. I'm surprised I have as many as I do considering I never freaking leave my house. My house is safe. There are no social obligations to frighten me here. Anyway.

Three teenage girls on the street:

Two guys on the street:

And then there was this lack of insight:

Two girls, maybe 14 years old, at the beach: 

Kid to mother, very excited:

Woman to man coming out of ice cream store, and I really don't  think she realized what she was saying and that someone would overhear her and blog about it:

Overheard from inside the change room at Yoka Clothing Store: 

And my personal favourite, overheard two sweet children running in the street:

Don't think you're safe either. I'm listening and taking notes.

The story of Carla and Dave

Once upon a time, in the far off, magical land know as The Netherlands, there lived a beautiful maiden. Her name was Carla.

Now Carla was a great gal and she was loved by every one she met.

She was fortunate in that she had a wonderful family that loved her,

and she was freakishly good looking.

But still, Carla felt like something was missing.

She moved to Canada and started a small business where she sold sweaters.

Then she moved her business into a store where she turned average housewives into awesome goddesses of golden power and sunlight.

She had great friends and co-workers.

But still, she felt like something wasn't... you know... wasn't quite right.

Then one day a handsome stranger named Dave from Goodlookingtown flew into Toronto in his magical unicorn powered airplane and told Carla:

Carla's heart grew 10 times that day.


Even though he had just met her, Dave knew. Dave knew this was THE girl. 

They went on travels and adventures. She missed him when he was off helping sick people get home safely. 

They jumped off waterfalls and got matching Dora the Explorer tattoos on their bums. (totally true)

After awhile it became very clear that being not married was the dumbest thing they could think of doing, so Dave bought Carla a ring that made Ellen both happy and somewhat jealous dazzled like a star.


Carla said yes, because in addition to being beautiful, she's also very smart and she knew this was the best, most wonderful guy in, like, the whole world ever. Plus she really wanted that deck.

Their families were thrilled.

So Dave and Carla got engaged and started planning their lives together. Pretty sure it involves me somehow. Pretty sure.

xo

Mother and Child Reunion

As some of you may know, last year I made the difficult/easy decision to have Gracie move into the home of my amazing dog walker, Nina.

Nina was always very understanding when I'd complain about my love/less than love relationship with Gracie. She'd give me great advice, which I would either adopt and experience great failure, or would just look glassy eyed at her and say, "umkay" (yes, Nina I will start brushing Gracie's one crazy tooth. Umkay).

I would always joke, "Gracie you go live with Nina-New-Mommy" and laugh. Nina would respond that she'd take Gracie in a heart beat. But the guilt would come crashing down on me like big boxes of heavy guilt that rained down from Planet Guilt and I could not taker her up on it.

One day, Nina suggested she take Gracie for a week, just for a bit of respite. And I figured I could do that. After all, Gracie had stayed with her when Brian and I had gone away on vacations. I felt no guilt about that, so this would be no different.

So off Gracie went one Sunday afternoon with her little suitcase and promises that she'd be good for Nina while Mommy enjoyed not screaming and crying by 4pm every day. Is this what having a colicky infant is like? For 10 years?

At the end of one week, I asked Nina if she could do another week.

By day 10 I asked Nina if her offer to adopt Gracie was still on. And it was. And I could have wept with relief.

And horrible crushing guilt.

Followed by more relief.

After about two months of Gracie living with New Mommy, Nina brought her by one day.  She was soft and shiny and had a little pep in her step. She'd lost a couple pounds (She weighed 30 pounds on her last day with me, which was about 10 pounds too much. That's a lot on a little dog). I held her for a couple minutes and then got frightfully misty.

Gracie seemed pretty non-plussed.

Whatevs, old mommy. I'm living the high life now.

Anyway, that was all 14 months ago. She's lost a total of 10 pounds, and as Nina reports much of her odd behaviour has gone. No more having to pee at 3 am. And 5 am. And 7am. No more barking at all things in general, but molecules specifically. No more incessant whinging (pronounced Whin-Jing). I've had several little visits with Gracie but this past weekend, we had her for the whole weekend because Nina took her family to do something to do with bikes that sounds awful if you're a sedentary adult who likes TV and snacks. Say, like me.

Within two seconds of Nina saying "bye bye little Boo" to Gracie and shutting the door, the weird Gracie behaviour started up again - the whimpering and begging eyes and the tap tap tapping on the floor, trying to tell me she wants something, but I never get it right.

 THIS DOG IS A BOTTOMLESS PIT OF INDEFINABLE NEED. It's like playing a guessing game except it never, ever ends and the only way to win is to go sit on the front steps, alone, with booze.

So when Sunday evening rolled around and it was time to pack little weirdo off to her new family, it was not without both sweet frosted relief and a big dollop of shame.

Even though it has all worked out for all involved, I still feel like I've failed Gracie. I want to be like those mega tattooed women who rescue death row pit bulls and reform them into 75 pounds of muscle-y adorableness. I want to be the kind of person who does not project my fears and insecurities onto an innocent Sheltie. I want to be the kind of person who doesn't think her dog is judging her, and finding her very much wanting. But I am not that person. I am weak, dammit. And Gracie's will to be anxiety provoking is strong.

So maybe it's not  just me. And it's not just Gracie. Maybe we're just wrong for each other. Breaking up was hard to do, but it was the right thing to do. It was a mutual thing.

I still love the little bitch, dammit.