Wherein I give in to peer pressure.

I thought about doing it earlier, but shrugged it off. Now, I've decided to do it, cause while I really couldn't care too much about peer pressure when I was a kid (I watched Street Legal anyway). Apparently at the ripe age of 28 it matters to me. Leslie's doing it, Sara and Scott are doing it, so I guess I'll do it too.

NaBloPoMo here I come! (Late as always!) (National Blog Posting Month - where you must post to your blog daily for a month. Not the foggiest idea how I'll manage it, but if you're a friend send me topics, otherwise I'll post embarrassing stories about you. Yes, you.)

I was lucky enough to have a short day at work today, so I spent a good part of the afternoon at the dog park. I felt bad only being able to take the dogs to the small park the other night, so I figured I owed them some good time at Harmony Valley Conservation Area.

Leaving for the park always seems to involve a chaos of details. Do I have enough bags? Cell phone? Debit card and license? Keys? Leaches (where the hell are the freaking leashes?!)? Shoes, and, if I'm feeling generous, dog cookies. As soon as I ask "who wants to go to the park" our two big dogs whip themselves into a frenzy. I'm sure sharks who have been starved for days aren't this excited about a bucket of fish guts being dumped into the ocean as our dogs when we say "park!"Publish

As always, I am a major contributor to that frenzy, and ask the same question involving those four magic letters over and over again. I'm usually punished by getting licks to the face (ew!) or a drippy nose. I'm quite convinced their heads are in fact made of cement - it sure feels like it when their head collides with mine as I'm trying to do up my shoes.

Tonight felt especially chaotic because they didn't get a full walk in after their run yesterday. I said the p-word too early in the game, before having found a blanket for the back seat of my car. We usually take Dave's car to the park which conveniently is a shaggin' wagon with plastic in the back, so it doesn't matter if it gets dirty. But since he's away, my sedan was our only driving option.

I spent a while Saturday cleaning out that car, vacuuming it until it gleamed, and there was no garbage all over the place, no pop cans on the floor. It's actually the cleanest it's been since a few weeks after I bought it.

When I couldn't find the blanket we usually use, I just said "ah it'll be fine" and locked the door and loaded up the dogs.

Mistake.

The whole trail toward the big field was just one sucking pile of mud. Mud so viscose it was slippery. Mud in the forest as well. Mud, mud mud mud mud. Black mud and sandy mud, on our white dogs. Needless to say all car cleaning progress was lost in the back seat.

Our dogs (borzoi) need one really good run every day - after about 20 minutes of sprinting and running at each other like rams they settle down and walk most of the rest of the way.

On the way home I decided to pick up a few things at the grocery store (including milk bones) and when I got back Daedalus was stretched across the length of the back seat, and Prometheus was sitting in the passenger seat, looking at me like "hey where are we going next!"

I shooed him into the back seat, much to the disappointed yelp of his brother, and looked at the now muddy prints on the passenger seat. Crap. So much for a clean car.

So now, I'm going to busy myself and forget I'm all lonely by becoming the whirling dervish of house cleaning and maybe even get some furniture re-positioned if I get a chance!