Train, train, train, training fools...

Well, maybe not fools, but I'm seriously growing attached to my chair in our corporate training room. We've got a relationship that seems to be much closer than that of me and The Man!

We're going on Week 4 of the Trainathalon, but this week is not so bad. We've got a couple of less new than us newbies who are doing a little teaching back (we call it "sharing") of one of the first training events that we will be doing.

So far, so good for them and us, because we're finally in a situation with a small group of people--our people!-- and we can ask all sorts of questions...or *I* can ask all sorts of questions to my heart's content. I must say that I have been the Chatty Cathy of the group this week, and I'm afraid I might get banned from the training room if I don't shut up--and then, where will The Chair and I be? It's rough having a forbidden love, isn't it?

But, I need to know! And, I need to know it now!...even though no one expects me to know for at least another month. Sometimes, that ol' Type A personality can get the best of you.

I've kept my hand in at Super Suppers, working one night a week and every other Saturday, and it's mainly because I really, really like those people. I was bone-tired this morning from last night's party, because our ladies wanted to stand around and drink wine all night. Note to the ladies: the busy bees who were working around you last night all have other jobs to go to in the morning and want to get out before midnight!! It really wasn't that bad, but since I have to drive about 45 minutes to get home, I was wound up when I got here (because there was no traffic and I could drive fast!!! Well, isn't that what a turbo is for?), so I had to read for awhile before bed...which, in the best Give a Mouse a Cookie vein, led to reading one more page , then one more chapter, then another chapter...until it was almost midnight.

Normally, I would have watch a little TV to nod off, but we're (The Man and I) at a standoff of sorts about the remote control. Seems a certain someone misplaced it when we were changing the sheets on Sunday night, and heaven forbid that we actually get up off the bed to change channels. The good news is that we found it this evening...under the Rickety Fat Dog's blanket, so all will be right in the world now that we can get a dose of The Daily Show before we doze off.

Speaking of poodles, the Goldfish has acquired a new name: Mr. Expensive. Saturday night, I was lounging in bed, reading, and the Goldfish was trying to dominate (read: hump) the New Hotness. Anyway, they were doing the Greco-Poodle wrestling thing a wee bit too close to the edge of the bed and fell off. It was pretty funny, because it was sort of in slow motion as they slid over the side. Anyway, they both seem to be fine, hop back up on the bed, and go on as before. Later in the night, the Goldfish seems to be a bit uncomfortable, so I figure he's a little sore from falling off the bed and I give him a Rimadyl for pain. Sunday, he's still not completely up to par, so The Man suggests we cart him to the vet in the a.m.

I get out of training class on a break to hear a voice mail that says the vet is keeping him for X-rays, which we all know means buckage. X-ray = thank heavens I went back to work so I could afford poodle upkeep. Long story short, the dog has cracked his pelvic bone where the muscle attaches to it, and it will take about 4-6 weeks to heal. In the mean time, we're to keep him from jumping, hopping, etc. to facilitate this healing. Easier said than done, my friend, especially when he's on the wonder drugs. He's crated during the day, so he at least gets a few hours of undisturbed healing time, and maybe that will be enough. Trying to keep him calm and sedate falls under the teaching pigs to sing curriculum. Like some of the rest of us, he's not quite come to grips with this whole aging process, and doesn't realize he's not quite super dog anymore.

That's all the news that fits from our little house on the ridge. I'll be hitting the road in a couple of weeks for my first observational visit, so I should have plenty to entertain you with from the wilds of lower Illinois. Hopefully, things will go well and not end up like this: