Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Many things...
The NoodleDog had his “final” agility class last week. I say “final” because it was not at all “final”, in that Tammy the Teacher offered to keep teaching if we, the students, would keep paying her on a per-class basis ($15/class, which I suppose is not bad, and since it is entertaining, I could classify it as “entertainment” in my little personal budget).
It was fun. Tammy the Teacher had set up the course so that the dogs could run all the way through. We started out with the Weave Poles, which is like a slalom for the doggies. They have to weave through this set of poles. I taught the NoodleDog “this side” and “other side” during our normal walks since he would get tangled around trees and whatnot, so I took him off the leash last night and walked him through it a large number of times, saying “this side, other side, this side… No, this side. This one. This side! This side! Good boy. Now other side, other side, this side, thiiiiiisss siiiiiiide…” and tempting him with a treat in my hand. It took a while, but by the end of the evening, he was doing alright at it.
I have apparently been making a mistake with the NoodleDog. I have been saying his name when I want him to do something so he knows I’m talking to him. Apparently, you are not supposed to do this. You are just supposed to tell the dog “sit” or “stay” or “down” or “go weave!” and he’s supposed to know you mean him just by your voice. So at the last class, Tammy the Teacher told me to stop calling his name every three seconds (hee! I was totally doing that…) and to just try to get him to pay attention to me anyway.
Last night, we were not doing well at the course because the NoodleDog had no idea I meant him when I kept yelling “go weave! Go weave! WEAVE, DAMN YOU!!!”. He looked blankly at me, and then wandered off into the corner to look for feathers or mice or other neat stuff you can find in a barn. As we went through the course, ever so slowly, I began to curse him quietly. “OK, that’s it, jump (you non-listening dog). Jump! Ok, walk. Walk, buddy, walk (dog-who-is-not-listening-to-me), walk! Walk, walk, walk!! Ok, now tunnel! Yay tunnel! Tunnel (you freakishly long obtuse dog)…” and so on. And then one of my more experienced classmates told me that I could talk to him by calling him not by his name, but by something else. Like a nickname. Hee!
Then it was “Go weave, Noodles. Noodles, Noodles, Noodles, weave!! You! Oofus! Oodle, Noodle, Poodle jump! Yoodle, walk! Woodle, Tunnel! Foodle, Teeter!” and so on. I got a red star at the end of class for not using his name.
He was not at all impressed with the teeter-totter last week. He could go up to the middle, but as soon as that sucker would start to tip, I’d have to drag him across to the other side. So our main hitches are the weave poles, which he is learning slowly, and the teeter-totter, which he knows and doesn’t like. For some reason (possibly because it nearly killed him last week), he balks at the giant walking-platform as well. Other than that, he does just great on the whole course! I think we might go back a few more times, and it would be nice if we could get some stuff to practice on. I think Rob, since he is so handy, and I can probably build most of it. I asked Tammy the Teacher, and she said I’m welcome to bring Cooter, Rob’s dog, and teach him some new tricks, too!
Speaking of Rob, I have to say, I was a little disappointed with his reaction to the nice, nice things I bought last week. I am recovering from my financial setbacks from vacation-time this year, and was given (oy, by my parents, which is disquieting enough) a gift card to a lingerie shop. Normally, I just go to Sears and get whatever is on sale when my stuff starts getting worn-out or gets wrecked in the wash. Nothing too fancy. But with this gift card being for a fancier shop, I had my pick of fancy, fancy stuff. So I got three nice, fancy hand-wash-only bras to supplement my collection, and a fancy negligee. Ok, maybe not that fancy, but it is nicer than the stuff I usually wear (long t-shirts). And you know, the first time I was wearing this fancy stuff, Rob did not even notice. I have mixed feelings about this – in that it could be a good thing that he wasn’t being superficial and bla bla cares about me not because of how I look bla bla bla. However, it could also be a bad thing that he didn’t notice, because you’d think he’d notice something like that. The thing created CLEAVAGE, people!
And today, an update on my new office construction project. It seems that some contractors or trades just don’t want to work, even for money, which we are paying them LOTS of. So my carpet installer got to the space this morning, and maybe because it is overcast and cool here, he thought it would be better if he went home to hide or something, because he called my flooring supervisor, and told him a story, which went something along the lines of the mean, mean building operator and equally mean property manager told him to go away. So then the flooring supervisor tells me, and I, quite naturally, need to be scraped off the ceiling. I question this whole thing, and state that my drywallers PROMISED on their LIVES that the space would be ready for flooring, because I had threatened them repeatedly that if it was not, I would snap and kill someone. Actually, I didn’t do that yesterday at all, I just went in to the space, all morose and depressed, and looked at it in a state of general despair, and asked quietly if they thought it would be ready for flooring today, and I think they felt really sorry for me, because they said it would, really, it’d be OK, they promised, please don‘t cry. I replied very gently “whatever…” and left, my head hanging and my feet scraping the floor as I left.
That must have worked, because when I flew over to the space this morning in response to the distressing flooring situation, it was in FINE shape for flooring to be installed. Ok, there was a little dust around, and the odd blob of drywall mud stuck to the floors here and there, but (and correct me if I’m totally wrong here) we are paying the flooring people an obscene amount of money to obtain and install the carpet and tiles, and I have always been told that prep is part of their job. Scraping the odd blob of mud off is, in my honest opinion, PREP!!!! I gritted my teeth, and looked around for someone to kill, and finding no one, I called the building operator, and asked him who he thought he was to send my flooring guy away. He replied with complete shock “you mean the flooring guy who came up to me and the property manager this morning, and told us he couldn’t possibly put flooring in the seventh floor because it wasn’t ready?”
Oh. So it’s the flooring guy, eh? It’s HIS fault? Well, let me just then call his supervisor, and ask him to FIND ME A NEW INSTALLER NOW NOW NOW!!! So I did. Actually, I asked whether the supervisor thought the installer wanted to work and be paid, and that if he did not, we should find someone ELSE to take our money. And I’m not quite sure I was even that nice about it. I also PERSONALLY swept out the south end of the floor, so there is no reasonable excuse for them not to start installing carpet today.
Presumably, the drywallers are back in there now, sanding, and the flooring guy whose ass I hope has been kicked is in there installing SOME carpet at least, and the cabling guys are also pulling cable for our furniture, which is due to arrive October 12th. If all goes well, the trades will all participate in a carefully choreographed ballet of construction goodness, and I won’t have that aneurysm that threatens me whenever I start to worry enough that my face turns red and I have to start screaming at sub-trades. Hee! If not, however, then you may abruptly stop hearing from me.
It was fun. Tammy the Teacher had set up the course so that the dogs could run all the way through. We started out with the Weave Poles, which is like a slalom for the doggies. They have to weave through this set of poles. I taught the NoodleDog “this side” and “other side” during our normal walks since he would get tangled around trees and whatnot, so I took him off the leash last night and walked him through it a large number of times, saying “this side, other side, this side… No, this side. This one. This side! This side! Good boy. Now other side, other side, this side, thiiiiiisss siiiiiiide…” and tempting him with a treat in my hand. It took a while, but by the end of the evening, he was doing alright at it.
I have apparently been making a mistake with the NoodleDog. I have been saying his name when I want him to do something so he knows I’m talking to him. Apparently, you are not supposed to do this. You are just supposed to tell the dog “sit” or “stay” or “down” or “go weave!” and he’s supposed to know you mean him just by your voice. So at the last class, Tammy the Teacher told me to stop calling his name every three seconds (hee! I was totally doing that…) and to just try to get him to pay attention to me anyway.
Last night, we were not doing well at the course because the NoodleDog had no idea I meant him when I kept yelling “go weave! Go weave! WEAVE, DAMN YOU!!!”. He looked blankly at me, and then wandered off into the corner to look for feathers or mice or other neat stuff you can find in a barn. As we went through the course, ever so slowly, I began to curse him quietly. “OK, that’s it, jump (you non-listening dog). Jump! Ok, walk. Walk, buddy, walk (dog-who-is-not-listening-to-me), walk! Walk, walk, walk!! Ok, now tunnel! Yay tunnel! Tunnel (you freakishly long obtuse dog)…” and so on. And then one of my more experienced classmates told me that I could talk to him by calling him not by his name, but by something else. Like a nickname. Hee!
Then it was “Go weave, Noodles. Noodles, Noodles, Noodles, weave!! You! Oofus! Oodle, Noodle, Poodle jump! Yoodle, walk! Woodle, Tunnel! Foodle, Teeter!” and so on. I got a red star at the end of class for not using his name.
He was not at all impressed with the teeter-totter last week. He could go up to the middle, but as soon as that sucker would start to tip, I’d have to drag him across to the other side. So our main hitches are the weave poles, which he is learning slowly, and the teeter-totter, which he knows and doesn’t like. For some reason (possibly because it nearly killed him last week), he balks at the giant walking-platform as well. Other than that, he does just great on the whole course! I think we might go back a few more times, and it would be nice if we could get some stuff to practice on. I think Rob, since he is so handy, and I can probably build most of it. I asked Tammy the Teacher, and she said I’m welcome to bring Cooter, Rob’s dog, and teach him some new tricks, too!
Speaking of Rob, I have to say, I was a little disappointed with his reaction to the nice, nice things I bought last week. I am recovering from my financial setbacks from vacation-time this year, and was given (oy, by my parents, which is disquieting enough) a gift card to a lingerie shop. Normally, I just go to Sears and get whatever is on sale when my stuff starts getting worn-out or gets wrecked in the wash. Nothing too fancy. But with this gift card being for a fancier shop, I had my pick of fancy, fancy stuff. So I got three nice, fancy hand-wash-only bras to supplement my collection, and a fancy negligee. Ok, maybe not that fancy, but it is nicer than the stuff I usually wear (long t-shirts). And you know, the first time I was wearing this fancy stuff, Rob did not even notice. I have mixed feelings about this – in that it could be a good thing that he wasn’t being superficial and bla bla cares about me not because of how I look bla bla bla. However, it could also be a bad thing that he didn’t notice, because you’d think he’d notice something like that. The thing created CLEAVAGE, people!
And today, an update on my new office construction project. It seems that some contractors or trades just don’t want to work, even for money, which we are paying them LOTS of. So my carpet installer got to the space this morning, and maybe because it is overcast and cool here, he thought it would be better if he went home to hide or something, because he called my flooring supervisor, and told him a story, which went something along the lines of the mean, mean building operator and equally mean property manager told him to go away. So then the flooring supervisor tells me, and I, quite naturally, need to be scraped off the ceiling. I question this whole thing, and state that my drywallers PROMISED on their LIVES that the space would be ready for flooring, because I had threatened them repeatedly that if it was not, I would snap and kill someone. Actually, I didn’t do that yesterday at all, I just went in to the space, all morose and depressed, and looked at it in a state of general despair, and asked quietly if they thought it would be ready for flooring today, and I think they felt really sorry for me, because they said it would, really, it’d be OK, they promised, please don‘t cry. I replied very gently “whatever…” and left, my head hanging and my feet scraping the floor as I left.
That must have worked, because when I flew over to the space this morning in response to the distressing flooring situation, it was in FINE shape for flooring to be installed. Ok, there was a little dust around, and the odd blob of drywall mud stuck to the floors here and there, but (and correct me if I’m totally wrong here) we are paying the flooring people an obscene amount of money to obtain and install the carpet and tiles, and I have always been told that prep is part of their job. Scraping the odd blob of mud off is, in my honest opinion, PREP!!!! I gritted my teeth, and looked around for someone to kill, and finding no one, I called the building operator, and asked him who he thought he was to send my flooring guy away. He replied with complete shock “you mean the flooring guy who came up to me and the property manager this morning, and told us he couldn’t possibly put flooring in the seventh floor because it wasn’t ready?”
Oh. So it’s the flooring guy, eh? It’s HIS fault? Well, let me just then call his supervisor, and ask him to FIND ME A NEW INSTALLER NOW NOW NOW!!! So I did. Actually, I asked whether the supervisor thought the installer wanted to work and be paid, and that if he did not, we should find someone ELSE to take our money. And I’m not quite sure I was even that nice about it. I also PERSONALLY swept out the south end of the floor, so there is no reasonable excuse for them not to start installing carpet today.
Presumably, the drywallers are back in there now, sanding, and the flooring guy whose ass I hope has been kicked is in there installing SOME carpet at least, and the cabling guys are also pulling cable for our furniture, which is due to arrive October 12th. If all goes well, the trades will all participate in a carefully choreographed ballet of construction goodness, and I won’t have that aneurysm that threatens me whenever I start to worry enough that my face turns red and I have to start screaming at sub-trades. Hee! If not, however, then you may abruptly stop hearing from me.
