But on the plus side, now we get HBO.

My poor dog.

I finally get home, and I go to pick her up at the spa today, at the appointed time. And the guy behind the desk, with whom I'm on friendly terms, says to the runner, "Take your time getting Maggie - I've got to settle up with her first." And I was like, that's weird. Did my credit card not go through? They usually call me when that happens (not like they don't have the single most important piece of collateral I own, but, nonetheless). And he says, "You've got an injured dog."

I...I....what??!

Turns out poor Miss Maggie got into a "fence fight." There was a dog baiting her from the other side of the fence, and she swatted at him, and cut her paw pretty badly on the fence. This happened Sunday night. So they bandaged it, and Monday took her to their vet, who sedated her and stitched it up. Oh, and she's on antibiotics. And she's been just fine, typical Maggie, eating, hanging out, just with a funnel on her head.

And then, PS, he says, by the way, you owe the vet $400. Because your credit card expired, and we didn't have the updated date to give them.

I don't even know where to start with this.

First of all, my dog is hilarious. She's fine. I think her paw hurts, but she forgets about it. She constantly runs into stuff with the cone. Cleo was kind enough to let me bring her over tonight when I went for dinner with the new second years, and she was a HOOT. My favorite part was when I caught her trying to drink out of Cleo's toilet with the cone on. And she was bouncing off the walls, and the furniture, and people, because her head is suddenly much wider than it was previously. To sniff the grass, she basically has to put her head straight down.

It was...oh, my God, it was so funny. She's just so cute....

But needless to say, the conehead hat came off for a while. I was starting to worry about Cleo's paint...

But I made her put it back on to sleep tonight. Because I cannot stay up and make sure she doesn't mess with her paw. She's currently sprawled out next to me on my bed and the collar is poking me in the armpit. She's dreaming at the moment and wagging her tail in her sleep, so she can't be that upset about the whole thing, I suppose.

So she has to go back to a vet - maybe OUR vet this time (you know, the place where we have VET INSURANCE, and discount prescription coverage, and things like that) - on Thursday to get her bandage changed, and again in 10 days to get the stitches out.

I'm actually fairly annoyed that they didn't call me. He was like, well, I didn't want to worry you, and it wasn't really an emergency. Fine. But a, if you're going to run up a bill like that, you call me first. You sedate my dog, you call me first. And more importantly, MY DOG HAS A CONE HEAD. My puppy hurt herself. No, I wouldn't have rushed back or anything like that, but, I'd like to know these things.

My one friend, who's local, takes her dog to a different daycare in town. They have webcams so you can see your dog 24/7 online. That's suddenly a lot more appealing...

My poor baby.

Joy and Sorrow, revisited

The conclusion of the tragic and amazing story of Tyler's friend came sooner than expected.



Keep the family in your thoughts and prayers. It sounds like they're holding up okay; a lot of mixed emotions. This is one of those things, you know - both awful and wonderful. A story of great strength, community, and love, and a life lost too soon.

Meanwhile.

I also mentioned that one of my college professors died suddenly. Here's the obit, due to be published tomorrow, posted today on Facebook.

John Steven Paul, 58, of Valparaiso, died Friday, July 10, 2009, at Porter Memorial Hospital. He was born February 22, 1951, in Fort Wayne, IN. He received a B.A. with distinction from Valparaiso University and an M.A. and Ph.D. in theatre and drama from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Joining the Valparaiso University faculty in 1979, he was Professor of Theatre and served for 15 years as department chair. He taught courses in dramatic literature, playwriting and screenwriting, drama and the church, and non-Western theatre. He directed more than 60 plays, musicals, and operas for the University Theatre, including Long Day’s Journey into Night, King Lear, The Yellow Boat, The Pirates of Penzance, Accidental Rapture, The Book of the Dun Cow, A Little Night Music, and The Magic Flute.

He was the founder (in 1987) and director of Soul Purpose, the University’s student liturgical drama troupe, which creates new plays and performs them in churches throughout the country. In 2001 he received Valparaiso University Alumni Association’s Distinguished Teaching Award. He served since 2005 as Program Director of Valparaiso’s Lilly Fellows Program in Humanities and the Arts, the largest national, ecumenical association of church-related colleges and universities.

He was an active member of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education and its religion and theatre focus group. He was a member of the Bach Choir of Valparaiso University.

He is survived by his wife of 29 years, Margaret Franson, along with his parents, Robert and Betty (Steffen) Paul of Fort Wayne, IN; two sisters, Jane (Reverend David) Boedecker of Marshall, MI, and Joanne I. Paul (Reverend Wendy Vander Hart) of Arlington, MA; two nieces, Sara Boedecker-Johnston (Kelley James Johnston) and Emily Boedecker; several beloved godchildren and many friends.

A funeral service will be held Thursday at 11:00 AM at the Valparaiso University Chapel of the Resurrection, Reverend Frederick Niedner officiating. Visitation will be held Wednesday from 4:00 to 8:00 PM at Moeller Funeral Home, 104 Roosevelt Rd., Valparaiso, and from 9:30 to 10:30 AM Thursday at the Chapel of the Resurrection. A memorial service will be held in September. Memorials may be made to the Department of Theatre or to Christ College, Valparaiso University.

He will be missed. Several of you know, this blog was named in reference to my class' Freshman Production, in which he was heavily involved. Go with God, JSP.

And I got some other news today I'm rather concerned about...

Oy.

But anyhow. I'm back on the road. Should be back in the Old No'th State tomorrow, in plenty of time to pick up Maggie. I have to remember to call them in the morning and tell them to give her a bath...

So let's end on something a little happier. And what could be sweeter than this?

Sunday Secrets

So, every Sunday morning at midnight, the new crop of secret postcards go up at PostSecret. They're often poignant, typically interesting, and frequently amusing. And feed that voyeuristic thing we all have but don't like to admit to. I look forward to them all week.

I love, love, love this one, from this week's secrets:

Love.

(And no, really, I'm going to bed now.)

Joy and sorrow

They so often go together, you know?

I had a lovely day, here, personally. Lots of family around, good food, good conversation, good party. My relatives are crazy. My aunt Aphrodite told a story involving the word "bj". My cousins Gina and Candy showed up later and helped me put away the table and chairs (not light lifting!) and we had a good visit with them. It was delightful.

I logged on to Facebook afterwards and discovered that one of my (everyone's) favorite Humanities professors had died. I think he was in his 50s. Apparently he had a heart attack. Rest in peace, JSP.

But while all of this was going on here...remember how I blogged earlier in the week about how Tyler's fried was dying of testicular cancer? Well, Tuesday, he asked his girlfriend of three years to marry him. She, naturally, said yes, and the whole community pulled together to get the wedding planned in a mere four days. Tyler texted me last night and said that the local Fox affiliate had done a piece on them.

It's really lovely.



There's footage of the actual ceremony online as well, here.

Tragic. Beautiful. And really hopeful.

How is it Friday??

This week has been going by so fast...

Today was a little more laid back. I slept in a little, ran some errand with my mom, we made cookies, I went to the gym. And my cousins, whom I so totally adore, came over. We talked, we ate, we were loud. It was a very Greek good time.

Lots of culinary wonderfulness today. Portillo's hamburger for lunch, Giordano's stuffed cheese pizza for dinner. That's the stuff of epicurean Chicago legend.

And I worked out on this whole different cross-trainer today at the local gym. It was like some sort of stair-stepper/elliptical hybrid thingie. It was amusing and fancy and had a lot of buttons. It made my feet hurt (the elliptical always does, the past couple of weeks. I clearly need new shoes...). I had a short little workout today, only a half hour, just cardio, but, it was restorative. And something has to combat all the cheese and grease and cookies of today...

Family gathering tomorrow. Knitting Sunday. Road trip again Monday. I can't believe it's almost time to go back....

Thursday confessional

I have a confession to make.

I really like the South.

I think that somewhere, at my core, I am a Southerner. I like to think of it in the same way I consider red to be my natural hair color, just not the one that grows in.

Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago. Great city. Good people. Shitty-ass weather. Freakin' traffic nightmares. Really craptastic weather (it's so grey here. I forgot about the grey).

Down south, we have sun. We have breezier days and sweet tea and Southern Hospitality. Nobody owns a snow blower. I'm equally day-trip close to the beach and to the mountains. There's way the heck more sunlight. Did I mention how significantly less grey it is down there?

Truth be told, I could be very happy staying in the South. Chicago would be a place I came to visit every year or two when I was feeling nostalgic and wanted good pizza. If it all came down to logistics, I'd sign on to be a "damn Yankee" in a heartbeat.

(Because you know the difference, right? A Yankee is someone who comes from up no'th. A damn Yankee is one who comes and never leaves.)

But here's the rub.

I have these people in Chicago. Family of both the genetic and voluntary sort. And every time I come up here, I feel so acutely the problem of being away from them.

My God daughter came over for lunch today. She's seven, and she's awesome. Smart kid (duh), just funny as heck. Kicked my butt in checkers. We went to pick up the pizza together - just us - and had a little girl talk. She's at that stage where she's just starting to figure out that the world really is bigger than her and she's trying so hard to make sense of it. She's an amazing kid. I also really like her mom, Shelly (her dad is actually the one I'm related to. When they got divorced, Shelly got custody of us). Oh, my word, I adore that kid.

And then I went over to Robin and Brad's for burgers on the grill. We assembled the usual crew, our core group of people who've been friends literally forever. And oh...my God...I can't even tell you how good that feels. I was sitting there tonight, at Robin's kitchen table, in the kitchen that Brad remodeled himself, with these people...them, and their one year old son, who just steals my little heart every single time he smiles. Bianca and Steve (Steve may have had a different pseudonym before...it's 1am and I can't quite remember...) and their almost-three-year-old, who is like my favorite little boy (is he still a "toddler?" He sure isn't toddling...) in the whole wide world. Ali and Jer, whose wedding I was in, who, Ali and I have been friends since we were four and Jer and I lived together for two years. And Claudia, who's the closest thing I have to a real sister. I'm looking around at them tonight, and thinking of us all in high school (well, not Steve and Jer, they were later additions), sitting around the cafeteria tables. Doing choir and band and voice lessons. Going to school dances and football games. Ali and I climbing trees when we were little.

It seems, somehow, in retrospect, like such a simpler time. In truth, it was not. Adolescence is never easy (one of our attendings likes to say, "Puberty isn't good for anyone."), but we had a heaping pile of other crap to deal with, you know? Abuse and death and divorce and depression and all sorts of shit that adolescence is just NOT the time to be dealing with, but, you know, that seems to be such a time when life happens. Not just for our little clan and our friends, but for everyone.

And I look at us now, and we still have a lot of shit. But somewhere along the way, we turned into real grown-ups. With kids and lives and jobs and mortgages. With spouses and doctoral degrees and sensible cars and lawn mowers and dog walkers. With indescribable joys and unspeakable heartaches.

I cannot imagine my life without these people.

And while I think about staying in the South, or doing other fellowships elsewhere after I'm done with Child, or living in places like New York or Seattle or Canada, and I think about never spending another winter in Chicago, and living in a place where there's sun and beach and things that grow, and it all seems so utterly delightful...I cannot imagine myself being, long term, away from the minutia of our daily lives. Away from this, my chosen family. Away from my genetic family. Away from my cousins and my God daughter and my other good friends in the area. Not in any sort of permanent way. My roots are so deep here.

But I love what I do, and I love where I do it. I love the idea of experiencing different places and doing different things and establishing a life that is very authentically my own.

I do not know how to reconcile these things.

Fortunately, I have at least three years before the need to figure this out becomes more immediate. But, I? Have absolutely no idea how I'm going to do that...

Florida Biker Bar

(From my Dad. Who is now old, although never a biker and does not live in Florida. Happy birthday, Dad!!)