Nothing about ketchup, sorry, but instead a post to catch-up.
Wiley and I are moved into our own living space...still renting, but everything inside is ours. No more three kitchen tables, two couches and two pianos. No, Dear Reader, it's a treadmill, a couch, a chair, and an ottoman! With 1 dining room table! And some end tables! It's marvelous. Our two-bedroom townhome is close to work so I can walk on the days it's not too hot (oh yes, I will drive .5 miles to work; I've done it, and I'm ok with it). It's on the busline so Wiley can bus it to school when it's rainy. The walls don't seem to be too thin, though we live next to unknowns on one side and an Indian couple on the other. I'm tempted to ask them to come over and make Indian food with us, as we are big fans, though Wiley makes a wonderful coconut curry chicken already.
So the move went smoothly, with A Better Way Moving and Storage loading us up and unloading us at the new place. No scratches, no dings, nothing broken, and all in less than 2 hours. Couldn't have been more beautiful. We thought we lost 3 books and a vacuum cleaner attachment, but all of those items showed up yesterday as we went through our unpacked bins for the third time. As students move in for the year, I'm sure my rosy glasses will become a bit more purple when it comes time to fight for parking spaces, but for this weekend at least, I will enjoy. Wiley also bought a charcoal grill/smoker and has been a caveman ever since he got it. Anytime he can, he's outside playing with his new toy. I can't complain (except he did burn the grass, and it looks a little bad) because the food he's cooked has been fantastic, and all I have to do is set the table and eat.
For one weekend, I was a kennel attendant at a local kennel. I cleaned kennels of 20 dogs, inside and out, on Saturday and Sunday, and when time allowed, I was even able to walk and romp with the dogs. Such dogs included two Great Danes (who were the best-behaved dogs of the whole group), two German shepards, a border collie, a Boston terrier, a collie/shepard mix, a St. Bernard, a Labradoodle, a Bichon Frese, two Schnauzers, a golden Retriever, and a little yellow dog that looked like a fox (bushy tail and pointy ears and just a doll). There was also a dog named Starbuck that scared me to death, so he was walked by others. Call me a coward, but when I see you foaming at the mouth when I'm trying to put water in your bowl and you're trying to chew a hole in the fence to get at me, I'm going to leave you alone. The Retriever tried to have his way with me, but I was able to fight him off by telling him to sit. The Labradoodle was impossible to put a collar on, but with the help of my boss, I got it on him, and he was just as giddy and jumpy. I'd had enough by this time and realized if I was ever going to be able to actually walk him, I'd have to show I was top dog, so I said, "Sit." Nothing happened except more bouncy. "Sit." This time, a lap around me. "SIT." He sat. And stayed sat until I said, "Ok, let's go." I patted myself on the back. Sadie, the St. Bernard, however, had a mind of her own, and refused to go back into her kennel after her walk. Tugging on a St. Bernard's collar is not going to work. Pushing on a St. Bernard's rump also has no effect. I think Sadie just got a little tired of my pleads because she finally went in after about 5 minutes of me throwing up my hands.
In addition to cleaning out the kennels, I also got to experience just what a dog feels when that door is closed because I ended up locking myself in the kennel no less than three times. I was able to get out one time, but the doors were a little stickier on the other two, so I was glad my boss was there to get me out. She said she used to do it all the time, which made me feel better.
Unfortunately, the job was short-lived, and I am not working there anymore, though I have made a new friend who shares my love of Indian food, and I'm hopeful that we will get together for lunches around the kennel schedule. When I got home, I picked up my cats and danced around the room with them, telling them how happy I was that they were little so I could pick them up and place them wherever I wanted them to be (not that they stay, but that's ok).