A Blowout Wednesday

Wednesday, you ask? Surely you jest... it's Friday the 13th after all...

Well, no.

I've decided that I am always approximately 2 days behind - not just in blogging, but in everything. That appears to be the amount of time I have lost in the last week or so either through sleeping or crying. Not to mention that pesky daylight savings time. Spring forward my ass...

On Wednesday evening Bogart and I decided that some ice cream was in order. Those who know me well have probably just gasped for breath. Those of you who don't know me personally have no idea why such a simple thing would cause such trepidation. You see, I am a semi-reformed sugar addict. There, I said it. I've come out of my frosting-filled closet. For the last two years I was able to ignore the siren song of the sugary treat (February 23rd being my anniversary). Not a single bit of goodness passed my lips during that time. Was I happy about it? More like conflicted, I'd say. I gave up everything (cookies, candy, chocolate, pie, ice cream, oh pretty much everything delicious and sugar-y) cold turkey. The only way I could. And it was HARD. Not terribly rewarding either as I didn't do any of the things that those "death to sugar" books would lead you to believe - didn't lose a ton of weight, didn't have a clearer head, still have the pesky pimples, and didn't feel any damn better. I'm sure that inside things were chugging along at a better pace, but I had nothing to hold on to as my flag - I feel so much more energetic! I am svelte! No more pizza face!

Ahem, no.

And it's funny because there is absolutely no sympathy for the adult candy-addict. I've often said that if I were addicted to heroin I'd get more sympathy - would you wave a dirty syringe in front of a recovering heroin addict? Probably not, but I've had many people not only wave chocolate bars in front of me, but eat them slowly, lovingly, and completely while I watched. Not to mention that my drug of choice was readily available, socially acceptable, and completely affordable even during my weakest financial moments. And of course it's yummo.

So for two years I was able to keep this up - not one single misstep. Until Klaus passed away. It's amazing how simple it was to buy a nice chocolate bar for myself (no worry about the law, or unapproving glances from "decent" people) and consume the entire thing in minutes. Something that was entirely verboten only a few weeks before (self imposed, yes, but I was just getting good at it).

I haven't had any ice cream in 2 years. Damnit, I felt like having ice cream. Bogart agreed. So off we went into the night in the Bogcedes to the grocery store. I decided to combine a little walkie for Bogart down Hawthorne so we'd have a little social interaction and he could pee on some things he hasn't peed on for awhile. All good. Then he guarded the Bogcedes (his least favorite thing save for guarding the house) while I went inside to procure some of that Ben and Jerry's goodness. Vanilla, chocolate, caramel and chocolate pieces. Mmm, mmm, mmm. I bought it, came out to the car, and Bogart and I were off for home and creamy happiness.

And then, BOOM!

What the hell was that? Driving down the street I think I felt it more than I heard it but it was pretty unmistakable - my drivers side front tire blew out. This has happened to me before but on my old 67 Mustang, which truly almost blew the car off of the road. In the Bogcedes, it felt like I had hit an unfortunately large bump and then was compelled to drive off slowly to the far left for something very, very important (even old luxury car = goodness). So great. Now I'm stuck far away from home with a blowout on the Bogcedes, Bogart and I in the car, with fast-melting ice cream. Damn. Damn. Damn.

AAA has saved my butt many times, and this time was no exception. They towed Bogart and I home (Bogart did have to ride in the Bogcedes however, my tow truck driver not realizing that he was in the company of someone famous). By the time we got home my delicious ice cream was more of a soup. Not that this stopped me, but I didn't get to share with Bogart the way I'd hoped (I didn't want to give him any of the chocolate). He hasn't liked ice cream in the past, so maybe that was just as well.

Cry, go to sleep, wake up, call another tow truck. Off to Les Schwab to replace the blown-out tire. Why is it that every time I've ever had something like this happen it is never sufficient to replace only one tire? To be fair, they did show me what my other tires looked like and lets just say that I was lucky only one blew out. So now I have to replace not just one but all four tires on the Bogcedes. Double, triple, quadruple Damn.

The good news is that we do have a new place to live next month - finally someone willing to take a chance on us. I really think that bringing Bogart in to the original viewing and interview helped enormously. He was on his best behavior (I think he knew this was important) and did the triple-play of Dale-dom: Head tilt, giving paw whenever someone says Guten Tag, and then lying down. For some reason lying down always makes people smile - I think because it makes Bogart look even more like a big stuffed animal. The space is a lot smaller than where we currently are, but is very close to where I work - so I will be able to be close to the important man in my life, the Boglemeister.

And for those who have been worrying, Charlie's moms dropped off another amazing care package for me (excellent chili and rice salad!!!) so yes I am eating. And not just chocolate.

Love,

Lulu