Tonight I finished up my second writing job, and put bids out for two more. It's pretty incredible that people are paying me to write for them. One of my favorite things to do is use correct grammar and spelling, so being paid to do something I really love is a level of awesome like I've never known. And yes, I know I sound like I should be wearing Buddy Holly glasses and a pocket protector, but I don't care. It's sheer awesomeness.
And now, for something less nerdy, and a little scary, and probably somewhat amusing.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love my dog. Gingerbelle is my best friend. She saved my life. She is the best listener ever, and she loves to cuddle and watch chick flicks. And as if that weren't cool enough, she has this badass fifth leg and her face looks all wonky from where she fused with her own twin in the womb. I've never met anyone who doesn't like her. And if they say they don't then they're big, fat liars.
More than anything, Gingerbelle loves to ride in the car. Mine has been in the shop for four weeks, but she found a way to get one anyway. You see, tonight Gingerbelle ran away. This not only frightened me, but it also kind of ticked me off. Here is a dog that has an easier life than most humans will ever know, and she runs away to the neighbor's house.
Why would she run away? Because this afternoon she heard me on the phone talking about my car. Being a dog and selectively having a vocabulary that's pretty limited to about eight words (bed, down, potty, bath, cookie, NO!, ride, and car) she misunderstood the conversation completely. Gingerbelle couldn't grasp, "Mommy doesn't have the car. The car is gone. We cannot go for a ride in the car." What she heard was something like this:
"Mommy car. Car. Go ride car."
So while I cooked dinner, my oldest walked Gideon, my husband's chocolate lab. He then let Gingerbelle outside. She typically runs to the edge of the woods, does her thing, and comes right back. But tonight, after ten minutes, she still wasn't home. I walked onto the front porch and was screaming my lungs out when I saw the neighbor's car slowly back out of their driveway and creep down the street towards our house. When my neighbor opened her car door there sat Gingerbelle with a huge smile on her face. And she gave me this snotty look that said, "YAY! Gingerbelle go ride car!"
Usually when my husband, a firefighter, works a 24-hour shift the dog and I retire to my room after dinner where we watch television while the boys play video games. Tonight I watched alone, as Gingerbelle was grounded and had to stay upstairs with the boys for four hours. At the end of her restriction, she leaped from the hallway and onto my bed. For a 46-pound golden retriever with scoliosis and hip issues, that was no small feat. She apologized by whining and cuddling against me, and is snoring at the foot of the bed as I type.
So that's how Gingerbelle got her beloved car ride despite the fact that mine has been in the shop for four weeks. Smartass dog.
