Trials and tribulations

Maggie has now been in DC for all of a week and a half and, apart from a few cross-border trips from Nogales to southern Arizona, this is the first time she has ever been in the United States.  Moreover, it's the first time that she has ever lived in the United States.  And it has been quite the ordeal for her, to say the least.

She is not yet 2, but she has experienced a lot of changes in such a short lifespan.  For one thing, she has lived in 3 different countries and has therefore had to adapt to the lifestyle of a Foreign Service dog.  The smells, tastes, sounds, and the general feel of each place she has lived has, at times, been a bit overwhelming.

Maggie has also lived through a relatively long time period in which there was always someone home with her, no matter the time of day, and she could escape to the back yard to go potty at any point (the climate in Lima is so temperate that the doors opening from both the kitchen and the main living space into the walled backyard were almost always open).  Moreover, she always had her friends to play with - whether it was the gardener, Jainor; the maid, Petronila; Pookie, the cat; or Grace, the pitbull extraordinaire/pack leader. 

When Maggie moved to Mexico, the big change was the house and the loss of the gardener and maid (strangely enough, they did not want to come with us).  But I was still home all day, to pay attention to her and let her out to pee whenever she needed.  And she still had Grace and Pookie to harass to her heart's content.

But now...everything has changed.  First, there were issues getting her on the plane the day Anthony and I planned to ship her.  The stupid expletive deleted! woman behind the ticketing counter declared that the crate was too big to fit into the luggage area.  Anthony managed not to shoot her in the face and came back the following day to get her into cargo (as opposed to her flying with our friend as excess baggage - i.e. as opposed to flying her less expensively).  Although that same woman was there again, Anthony worked with someone else and Maggie got on the damn plane.  So she spent 2 whole days in-transit, more or less, locked up in her crate and trying to get to me.

When she got off the plane, she ended up in the unclaimed baggage area for at least 45 minutes because her mommy (that would be me, folks) was very, very, very late.  (Note to self: the next time a friend is helping me pick my dog up at the airport, be absolutely certain that everyone knows which airport we are going to.)  She must have been absolutely terrified.  Because here's the thing: she's a very anxious dog.  She is all fine and dandy so long as Anthony or I or Pookie or Grace is around, but minus all those factors, she's a wreck. 

On top of that, all the new sights, sounds and smells were accosting her.  Ugh.  I just can't imagine.

So, I take her out of the crate, and cuddle her all the way back to my apartment (yeah, we got lost again; but hey, that's the fun that is driving in DC).  She's tired, confused, disoriented, and now hiding behind me so my friend, Jan (a.k.a. the nice man who went to all this effort to help me pick MAGGIE-SO-DELICIOUS! up from the airport, and could use a big freakin' doggie kiss after the frustration of getting lost twice), could not touch her.  I think he was so frustrated with Maggie that he left pretty much immediately.

So that was two Saturday nights ago (and I missed such a scandalous party at Max's house for this!)...the next day I planned a meeting with the dog walker I had retained for 5 days a week.  Maggie was okay with her after a while, but still extremely tentative.  Turns out Maggie hates her because on Monday, she refused to get out of her crate to go for a walk.  Same thing on Tuesday.  So we had to say goodbye to the dog walker.  Such a shame.  Because now, Maggie has to learn how to hold her pee - for nine hours at a time.

The other things that terrify Maggie now include: construction vehicles/semis/buses, people, and other dogs.  Which is basically all there is around here. 

The plan is to keep her on a schedule.  Up at 5:30AM, out to run and pididdle, in crate for most of day, out for dog park and then dinner and relaxation until 10, 11, 12 o'clock... Slowly she is adjusting.  S. L. O. W. L. Y.  She is now able to go approximately 5 minutes at the dog park without pulling out the ol' VAMPIRE PUPPY! face because some dog is trying to smell her foof.  Maggie is also getting much better at sticking her nose right up in the wee-wah of other dogs so she can say "hello."  (More like, "Hey baby, do you come here often?") 

But like I said, things are improving.  She can also now walk around the block with her tail held high, as opposed to clenched over all her girlie bits so no one can sneak up behind her and surprise her.  I would even go so far as to say that breakfast potty time is her favorite because Mommy doesn't even make her walk on a leash to get to that back alley with the overgrown patch of weeds and grass that MAG-DELICOUS! so likes to trample.  She just races over there, with her sproingy little tail bouncing all over creation, her butt chops whistling in the wind, and her Einstein ears flopping all around her head.  Not to forget, of course, that really endearing, shit-eating grin plastered all over her face (which kind of makes her look like she dislodged the one brain cell left in her head)...

In any case, Maggie is improving every day.  And she's only had two accidents in the house (both my fault, really).  Clearly, we're learning how to make it work.  Now if only I could get her to stop shedding...

Stress is so overrated

You can imagine the amount of shenanigans I've gotten up to since Easter (I blame some people named BRIAN STREET for that godawful Hungarian brew this past Friday), but even with all of the socializing I do, work is still work and I am definitely tired these days.

This week marks my fourth week in Spanish language training and, while some people are invigorated by learning to think in a second (or third, or fourth...) language, I find it utterly exhausting.  At the end of the day, my brain is so weary from all that internal translating, all I want to do is curl up with a good book or a watch a movie.

However, that is never really the case.  Now that Maggie is here, I have all kinds of responsibilities - like getting her not to pee on the carpet.

Here is a typical day:
5:30AM - wake up, wash face, brush teeth, throw on gym clothes, grab MAG-DELICIOUS! and go for a run
6:30AM - yoga, while trying to persuade Maggie that I do NOT want to be French kissed (nasty!) or to have a 30-lb dog sitting on my head
7:00AM - scarf down my oatmeal (yes, I eat it every day) then shower, get dressed
7:45AM - check for important emails
7:50AM - run out door to catch ride to work
8:45AM - arrive at work, refresh cup of tea, check work email, print out Argentina news to read throughout the day
9:00AM to 10:00AM - language lab
10:05AM to NOON - Spanish class
12:05PM to 2:15PM - logistics for move to Argentina (emails, diplomatic passport, forms, more emails), more time in the language lab, administrative stuff like timesheets and travel vouchers, 20-30 minutes to sit outside in the sun and eat lunch while enjoying my colleagues' conversation
2:15PM-4:15PM - Spanish class
4:15PM-5:00PM - more logistics, errands, emails and the like
6:00PM - Home!  Quick change into more comfy clothing, free MAG-DELICIOUS! from her crate and run out the door before she has a chance to poop on something, dog park
7:00ishPM - Usually pretending to do homework and more logistics for move, but normally spacing out on my personal email and Facebook, while trying to decompress
8:00PM-11:00PM - studying Spanish, work administration, prepping for next day, if I'm lucky I remember to eat
11ishPM - BED.  Again, if I am lucky.  Wash, rinse, repeat...

So, since I'm not the kind of girl whose picture is under the words "spontaneous" or "care-free" in the dictionary, you can see how the stress involved in this kind of schedule might wear a girl down.  Especially since I'm always stressed about what I haven't yet done or what should go on the to-do list for tomorrow.  In fact, I worry so much that I start waking myself up in my sleep around 3 to 4:30AM every day.  I actually stress that my alarm clock (which has not failed to go off EVER) is f$%&ing with me and I have somehow missed my 5:30AM wake-up call, so I wake myself up enough that I actually check the time.  Yeah, that's right, people, you heard me: I wake myself up to reassure myself that I can still sleep.  WTF?!!

On top of all of this, I am maximizing my time with my new colleagues/friends, since goodness knows we will all never again be in the same place at the same time at any point during our careers (we're like Clark Kent and Superman that way).  Which is why I found myself at a house party this past Friday night at around 9:30PM.  It is also why I left said house party after midnight to dance at a gay club with approximately 15 of the party-goers who lasted that long.  And it is also why I was at Ben's Chili Bowl at 3AM with the only other 2 people who were still left standing after all that.  (I am not sure I can actually blame the cosmos for my walking Maggie at 4AM, forgetting to bring the house key, and then waking my landlord up at 5AM to get the spare, but I digress...)

I guess you could say that I am in the middle of a big change in my life, where I have recently exited a long-(long-long-long-)term relationship and no longer have the kind of support and reassurance and comfort one gets from that, while simultaneously embarking on a brand-new career that is, by its very nature, very dynamic and ever-changing.  I have also tried to break some of my past habits, particularly those that prevent me from making spontaneous choices and enjoying the moment (I am, after all, every inch the judging introvert, as evidenced by my Myers-Briggs results).  Needless to say, my life has been very hectic, stressful, joyful, and rushed since I got off that plane from Mexico in February.  And I feel like I haven't quite caught my breath.

Which is why, to be honest, I don't have a proper answer when people say to me, "You're going to Buenos Aires?  That's great!  Are you psyched???"  I am actually too tired, too in the weeds, too much in the details, and too busy being spontaneous to even begin to think about an eventuality that won't even happen for two and a half more months.  Who has time to be excited for the expectation of Argentina?   Not me, my friends, not me.

So this is why, when my friend Andrew texted me on Saturday to say he was coming in from NYC (via Philly) to visit, I couldn't resist.  It is also why, when we were out for a drink at my neighborhood haunt Mandu and my friend Chasity texted to see what I was up to, I couldn't resist inviting her to join us.  And so we staid until closing at midnight, and then wandered up to some unknown bar in Adam's Morgan to have a few more drinks and dance like fools to the songs playing on the radio.  Because that is what you do when you're trying to enjoy the here and the now, and make the most of the time you have with the people you care about, stress be damned!  You stay up way past your bedtime, find yourself a hangover by Sunday morning, and just muddle on through to another day, another work week, another round of Spanish homework.

And occassionally you sit back on your heels for a moment, pause, and say, "Shit.  That was awesome."