Dogs, Hurricanes and Solitude

So my family is away from the homestead for two weeks, and it's just me and the dogs. Oh and the hurricane. But the hurricane hasn't hit yet, so for now it's me and the dogs. The first 24 hours was rough. Neuf was the poster child for separation anxiety, and vomited twice, and between Jack, Neuf and the newbie, Ned, I probably ended up cleaning up about 6-8 pee puddles - one right on top of one of the vomit pools. To top it all off, we recently changed Ned's puppy food, so at 4 in the morning the poor guy was hit with a bout of diarrhea, and ended up having to take a fat, gooey dump on my bathroom rug. Luckily after that first 24 hours, everything seems to have calmed down.
I find that I'm really enjoying this solitude. Due to the path my life has followed, I've led something of an extroverted life. Especially in the past few years, I've really forced myself to get out and be social, when in reality, I'm really I big ol' homebody. I like people, I like talking and getting to know folks, but when it comes down to it - I'm so much happier not having to chat and be social. My brother-in-law keeps mentioning how I must feel so trapped here, and forced to live on their schedule, which includes early, early mornings and not a lot of social time. I keep assuring him that it actually fits in quite nicely with my lifestyle. I wouldn't necessarily call myself a morning person, but I do like waking up when the sun comes up and going to bed soon after the sun has gone down. It seems very in tune with the world's rhythms. There are times when I get into the swing of staying up until 2am and sleeping in, but I guess I just adapt to my situation.
One very nice thing about this solitude is that I've been able to record a lot of my songs. I always feel nervous singing when other people are in hearing distance - a fear that proved itself valid after my sister said some things about my singing that, I'm sure were meant to be helpful, but just ended up being hurtful. So it's nice to have everyone away so that I can feel free to experiment and not be worried about being overheard. I'm continually surprised when I play back the songs I recorded... I actually LIKE them. I like the sound of my voice - and those of you who know me know that's a HUGE step for me. For those of you who don't know me, well, I've battled all my life with the "I can't sing" complex, so to finally be producing something I can listen to and enjoy is awesome. Plus, I live being a songwriter. I've said to people before - I've been a poet for years, but now that I can play the guitar I write songs. In my experience, people are A LOT more open to hearing a song than they are to listening to a poem! It's so nice when you can be so proud of something you've made.

What's so bad about conflict avoidance?

My sister is great. She's amazing, I love her so much and I'm so proud of her I could puke. She's accomplished so much in her life. I'm in awe and envious of her a lot of the time. The flip side is that she's stubborn and fairly single-minded. Her way is the best, or if not her way, then something very similar. On the straight and narrow. Bare bones. 1+1=2.

I am not that way.

I will never be that way, but by god, she's gonna try, isn't she?

I'm sure most families are like this; it's kind of the family stereotype, really. I think for the most part my family tends towards the fairly ok side. I LOVE each and every one of my family members and I may have my own opinions of their lifestyle choices, but I also feel that they are their own unique selves and get to make their own decisions. I might say something if I really feel a particular way, but for the most part, I keep my mouth shut, and I don't question then because I know that everyone sees things just a little bit (or sometimes a lot) differently from everyone else.

My sister thinks I'm passive-aggressive. Yes. She's probably right. When I moved to the west coast, especially Seattle, I heard so much about how p-a Seattle is. And I kept thinking to myself, "passive-aggressive? Really?" Because it seems to me that what is know as "passive-aggressive" behavior is really just being polite. Ok, well let me differentiate. Always being passive-aggressive and "pretending" to be nice while secretly bubbling in a mire of loathing is not so good. I'm talking more about not getting in someone's face if they say or do something you don't like. I talking about respecting that other people have different ideas and opinions and not confronting them just because yours may differ. I'm talking about actually trying to talk out a problem rather than yelling it out. It's not pretending that an issue isn't there or not talking about it, it's talking about it without screaming and hostility. From where I stand, I want nothing to do with aggressive, hostile behavior. I despise it. If someone comes at me with a hostile attitude, I shut down. My pulse quickens, my stomach grips, and it's like a flat-line in my brain. I am incapable of engaging in an argument. Now, y'all can psycho-analyze this into the ground, nature/nurture, blah blah blah. It's the way I am. I LIKE being this way. I do not want to cause conflict, I do not seek out conflict, if there is conflict in my circle, I do my best to resolve it. I understand the sometimes conflict is a good thing, and sometimes it's been thrust upon me and has been very beneficial. But there are some people who eat, drink and breathe conflict, and due to their very nature - think everyone else should be like that too. They assume that you are a weaker, lesser being if you don't argue about everything, and often it seems like they think that by being upfront and aggressive they are somehow more in touch with their feelings than polite people.

There are people I know who argue a lot. For them it IS therapeutic, it's how they communicate, it's their nature. I understand that they methods are different from mine, and as a result, I don't tend to be close friends with those kinds of people. But then there's family... ah yes, the stereotype... you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family. What happens when family members have differing communication styles? Well, I think we've all seen what happens, almost every family I know has turmoil, and I think it's due in most part to lack of similar communication. It's just the way it is, and I think the only thing that you can do about it is try your best to see things from another perspective. There have been times here when I've gotten FURIOUS with something my sister said, because in my mind it was a huge insult. But I've held my tongue and when I got the chance to simmer down and re-examine things from how I know she operates, I've realized that what I took to be an insult was just her being direct with me. I'm not saying that my sister never does this in my case, but I do wish she'd be a little more understanding when we talk about touchy subjects and not insist that her way of communicating is best. And yet, I know that is part of her nature too, and I have two basic options -

1) Get really fed up and leave.

or

2) Suck it up and do my best to maintain a great relationship with my only sister who is letting me stay in her beautiful house for free and not to mention feeding me and allowing me an amazing opportunity to live in another country.

So, what have I learned from this? I like the way I am. I like my communication style. Sure there are things I can work on, and I appreciate being made aware of those things, but ultimately it's my decision. So often we are so unaware of what makes us tick in the first place, trying to have a conversation with another person about touchy stuff can be one of the hardest things in the world. Especially when you know that person doesn't think in the same ways you do.

The Cur Saga

So it's hard to housebreak a puppy. It's even harder when the two dogs who already reside in the house are not particularly housebroken. Generally, Jack and Neuf are good dogs, but Jack is getting old and incontinent, and Neuf is just a douche bag who likes to pee and poop in the house to show us all whose boss. So the house is full of dog odors and Ned, who is used to going any ol' where in the first place, thinks the whole house should be his bathroom. On top of all that, Ned has decided that since he's now bonafide, that means he should never have to set foot outside in the rain ever again. Ok, princess.
So I read up a bunch of websites on housebreaking your puppy, and most of them recommend crate training. I tried this for two days before collapsing in a fit of rage and tears. Ned loves his crate until he's forced to stay in there, then it's crycrycrycrycrywhinecrycry. I'd let him out for bathroom time, and when it would be time to go back in, suddenly the crate that's been his happy home for the past three weeks becomes a punishment and a thing to fear. Plus, he'd be so neurotically intimidated by what was going on that when he was let out and taken outside, he couldn't relax enough to eliminate, so it was right back into the crate, and thus developed a complex about going outside for a few days until I was able to lure him out with meat and snax. While we were outside, I tried to remain as calm as possible and wait for him to do his thing, but the only place he feels comfortable lettin' it all fly in inside. It rains here at least once a day, so that didn't help any either, instead of eliminating, he'd just stand at the door and whine. I can't fathom how people with carpets deal with this. At least we have all tile floors here, so the dozen or so small pools of wee are easily cleaned up. And to his credit, I will give him props for learning to pee on his wee-pads inside. Mostly he's figured out to use them. Though I can't help wondering if those just encourage him to think that eliminating inside is where it should be done.
I guess I should just be grateful that I have pretty much all day everyday to see to his training, I can't imagine trying to do this on a regular work schedule. ...Come to think of it, I can't even imagine BEING on a regular work schedule.

So today, tropical storm Emily is pissing down on us. I was hoping for a lot MORE rain and thunder and lightning, but all she's delivered so far is a constant stream of light rain. It's making for what I'll call a Novocaine day. Everything just feels a little numb. Speaking of Novocaine, I'm in the process of getting a crown put on one of my teeth. It broke when I was back in Seattle, and I figured that I'd just get it fixed when I was down here, and I wagered things would be a lot less expensive here. When I got the estimate in Seattle, the total was around $1,500. Wowza. When I went in to the dentist here in Santo Domingo and she gave me the estimate of around $500, and I was like, "oh, that's great." But with some pokey silver utensils in mouth, the dentist thought I was being sarcastic and said, "I know, right, just what you wanted to hear." If there hadn't been pokey silver utensils in my mouth I would have explained to her that it was, indeed, just what I wanted to hear, but opted instead to stay moot and avoid the possibility of getting poked by the pokey utensils. So last Monday I completed visit 3 of 4, and I have a temporary crown on now. It feels really weird and flat, kinda of like a really hard piece of gum has been wedged between my teeth. Well, at least it's not the snaggle-tooth that was there for two months after it broke!

Stuff my nephew says...

So Aidan and I were hanging out the other day, and Jack (the big brown lab) was nearby, and we were talking about him. We've been having some trouble with Jack and Neuf peeing in the house, but generally Jack is a really good dog. We proceeded to have this conversation...

Aidan - "I love Jack."

Me - "Well, that's because you don't have to clean up his pee and poop."

Aidan - "But I can't."

Me - (Incredulous snort) "And why is that?" (A lot things that Aidan doesn't want to do lately he simply attributes to "I caaaaaaaan't.")

Aidan - "Because my shirt isn't big enough."

Me - "...What? How does that have anything to do with cleaning up dog poop?"

Aidan - "My shirt's not big so it won't reach up to cover my nose like Dada's shirt does."

Classic.

My other favorite thing he said was the other day when we were in the dentist's office waiting for people to stick pointy things into my mouth. Out of the blue he says,

"Al Pal, I love you."

Awwwwwwwwwwwww! I was so touched. It wasn't the first time he'd said that he loves me, but it was so random and so sweet. Unfortunately, it was somewhat eclipsed about 30 seconds later when he put his hand out to the wall, sighed, and said,

"I love this wall."

Ok, so I'm on par with the wall at the dentist's office. Hey, at least I'm loved.

Ned.

Where am I? What's going on? I went from living on my own in a studio apartment in Seattle to a massive house in the Dominican Republic with two other adults, a 3 year old, and now 3, count em, t-h-r-e-e dogs. The thing is, I kinda like this new one.
This is Ned. He was found walking by the side of the road in the Samana Peninsula, covered in fleas and ticks and days, if not hours, away from death. I give full props to Dave and Joan, they were the ones who kicked into action, Joan made sad noises and Dave swung the car around to go get Ned. Me, I'm a horrible realist and could have just driven by without much thought to it. It's a harsh reality but that's the life of most of the dogs in Samana. I tried my best to save a Samana dog last year after getting too attached to her, and we all know how that turned out. I figured that Joan and Dave were just heading down a road that would only lead to a world of hurt. But we scooped Ned up (and I say "we" at this point because, although I was the most reluctant of the crew, I was the one that ended up with the flea-ridden cur in my lap) and took him back to our hotel/apartment and proceeded to painstakingly remove somewhere around 500 fleas from him. No, I'm not overestimating, I couldn't have imagined that sheer number of fleas on such a tiny dog.
About 10 baths and 5 hours later, Ned was clean and mostly flea-free. He ended up coming home to Santo Domigo with us and was given a clean bill of health from the vet. So he's been with us for a week, and each day I'm becoming more and more skeptical that he'll ever not be with us. Since I'm home more of the time and Joan and Dave already have plenty to deal with, I've become Ned's keeper and trainer, and honestly it's filling a much-needed empty spot in my life. One of the main reasons I fought so hard to get the rats to be able to come down here with me is that they fill my nurturing need. And yes, while I'm down here I get to look after Aidan, but he isn't mine, and the person he heads for when he most needs nurturing is Joan - and rightly so. So it's been good for me to have something to take care of. It's of course, stressful and icky training a puppy, but honestly, Ned seems highly intelligent and is picking up a lot of training really quickly, especially considering his age (the vet thought around 5 weeks, so he would now be about 6 weeks old). So yeah, he's pretty great... you know... for a dog.

Wet, White and Blue

Wettest... 4th of July... ever. No, seriously. EVER. Did it rain on your 4th of July? I can assure you, it rained more here. In fact it didn't stop raining. EVER. The whole day. I'm not embellishing. It's still raining.

That being said though, my, my I had a good time. The biggest party of the year at the Embassy is the 4th of July party, and though the estimates were somewhere around 500-600 of the possible 1000-1100 people expected to show up, that was actually ok since there was precious little space to stand and still manage to stay dry anyway. It's a bit of a pity, as the Embassy has pretty nice grounds, and there were all these little tables set up on the lawn that would have been lovely in nice weather, but Mother Nature had other nefarious soggy plans.

I got to play pretend diplomat and help out by corralling the VIPs through the entryway, as they walked through I greeted them in my few words of Spanish; "welcome! Good evening." and gesture them into the next room, hoping they wouldn't try to talk to me. If they did, I nodded with wide eyes until I could smile and inform them that my Spanish was "no mucho, lo siento." I shook hands and kissed cheeks of people in high, high places... and I have no idea who any of them were.

One of the highlights of the evening was hearing the National Anthem being sung as peals of thunder rumbled in the skies and rain poured down in buckets - BUCKETS! By the time I got to the buffet line (which was under a tent but on the lawn) it was a mud runway.

Much to our surprise, in spite of the rain there were fireworks that burst in all their color and glory and no doubt scared the shit out of Dominicans who weren't aware it was the US Independence Day. It was pretty cool though, standing in mud on the lawn of the US Embassy in Santo Domingo holding a whiskey and soda, watching pyrotechnics and thinking about how damn lucky I am to be me.

Good influence... Me?

I'm happy to report that apparently I'm a good influence on this household. I'm getting the family to eat more vegetables, and the other day Joan and I finally went about turning the extra bedroom into an exercise room. I even got Aidan to eat two pieces of broccoli the other day! This is a major achievement, let me tell you. The entire time I was here last year, and the time that I've been here so far this year, I had never, EVER seen Aidan eat a vegetable. The closest thing to a vegetable I'd ever seen him eat was a piece of an apple that had sat next to some green beans in the refrigerator. He wanted a banana muffin (acceptable) with frosting and sprinkles (only as a special treat). So I asked him what he was going to do for that frosting and sprinkles. I was eating lunch at the time and I put two pieces of broccoli in front of him and told him to eat it. I figures there was NO WAY he'd actually do it... but he did! We talked about the tongue doesn't like broccoli so much, but the body does. So you just gotta chew through the eeew and swallow, and that makes the body very happy! Then, of course, you chase it down with frosting and sprinkles.

Adorable Adian Adult Quote of the Day - "Sigh... I'm really stressed out, I need to do some yoga."