Noodle and Rogue

At Christmas, we finally got to meet my sister Jessie's dog, Rogue, a 30 pound four month old Great Dane Boxer mix.

Hiatus

Hi loyal reader(s),

I've completely abandoned my blog as of late, and I just wanted to pop on here and let you all know that there are reasons for this abandonment. I plan to resume regular posting after the first of the year. There's a lot going on right now, things that are demanding every waking minute of my attention and, as it turns out, every sleeping minute as well. I'm hoping the next few weeks will bring some sort of calm over me, and I'll be back January 1st (ish) with plenty of new and exciting stuff.

Thanks,
Katie

Happy Halloween!

Wrestlemania!

Here are some videos from this morning's Wrestlemania, starring Knuckles Noodle and Hulk Logan.





Don't worry everybody! It's all in fun! No one was hurt!

Also, to be fair to both dogs, no winner was declared. They both fell asleep after these were taken.

Sleepover!

Noodle has a guest for the next week at our house. Her name is Logan. She's sleeping over while her mom is in Hawaii.






(That's gina's leg in between them.)



They are pretty hilarious when they wrestle. I'm going to try to capture some video at some point this weekend.

Prelude to a kid.

I was enjoying the last bit of a bowl of cereal this morning on the couch, watching the fire coverage, chatting on the phone with a friend. Noodle comes trotting out of the office, where gina is playing with Shelfari. Noodle comes to my feet and looks up at me. I'm looking at her, talking to the friend, and a split second later, she jumps onto my lap. The bowl of cereal is balanced on my left leg... she is now on my right.

"NOODLE! Get down!"

Sensing she's done something wrong, she hurriedly figures her best way out, which was to turn around on my lap, thereby sticking two paws IN my cereal bowl, and then jumping onto the NEW couch, with two milky paws, and then off of the couch to the ground. The wreckage - two milky paw prints on the couch, and milk all over my pants.

Taking the bull(sh*t) by the horns.

There are two things in my life that have been consistent. Two powers that started early and have never gone away. They are:

1. Writing, or as the writing tournament in middle school called it, the Power of the Pen, and
2. Procrastination

Admittedly, I've always been MUCH better at the latter, and only good at the former when I get into a groove - which is, to say, when I actually do it and do it a lot and under deadlines and for eyes other than my own. Ever since Mrs. Ames made us keep a journal in second grade, I've loved writing. Every subsequent "A" on English papers made me love it even more, and I've still never forgotten that "B" I got on an Art History paper in college (who did that woman think she was, giving me that "B"?? She's an ART HISTORY teacher, what does she know about writing??).

I've been wholly disappointed in my writing for the past, let's say, four to five years. When I do it, I don't like what I produce. When I don't do it, I feel... icky. There have been a magical few times where I'm doing it and doing it a lot, and I'm loving what I'm putting down on the page, and I experience a fulfillment I have never gotten out of any job, ever. These magical times are few and far between, and that annoys me. But then I always think, "Ah, I'll really commit to writing, starting next week."

The two consistencies in my life are not compatible.

Since no publisher is hounding me to turn in my manuscript on time, and since I am here and now publicly admitting my inability to discipline myself to write on my own, I've made the firm decision to participate in National Novel Writing Month. It starts at 12:01am on November 1st and ends at 11:59PM on November 30th. The goal is to write 50,000 words in one month (woo hoo - a novel!). To win, you simply have to write 50,000 words. You get a fancy certificate and the knowledge that hey, you just wrote a novel.

I'm sharing this with those of you that read this site, because I know by November 5th, I'll want to say, "Meh, I'll just do it next year." Two years ago, I told (made the mistake of telling?) my friend Wendy about NaNoWriMo (as it's called). Wendy is the one friend who writes that has never let me read her work. And I bet it's fantastic. In any case, the following November, on probably November 3rd, she called me and said, "How's your novel coming?" I laughed. "What novel?" "It's National Novel Writing Month!" I laughed even harder. "Oh, Wendy, you're HILARIOUS." Throughout the month, she kept asking how my novel was coming, even though she knew I wasn't writing one. She would give me updates on hers, the one she was writing at 11PM every night, after both kids and her husband were in bed, after all the family maintenance was done. And I was too busy "sleeping" or "watching The Office" or "sleeping."

So this November, I'm doing it. And you (every last one of you) have to hold me accountable. Of course, I won't let you read the novel, because it's going to be absolute crap (which they encourage). But I will keep you posted on my word count. And I promise (to try) not to lie.

One week and change left...

Noodle at work

Sometimes Noodle comes to work with me. Here's her first day on the job:

On dog ownership.

I don't want this site to become solely about our dog, but she's completely changed our lives. I'm shocked at the effect she's had on me. I knew life would be different with her, but I was only thinking about it as the care taking part - where will she stay when we go out of town? How often will we have to walk her? How hard will it be to train her? In the weeks before she came, gina and I would get up in the morning and lounge around and have coffee and watch TV before work, and gina would say, "I'm going to miss mornings like this." I would sleepily agree... and certainly, since Noodle's arrival, I've only slept past 6:30 once. What I didn't expect was how little it would bother me. Everything I do for her, I do happily - even when she's not listening, even when she's vomiting in my car (she gets carsick pretty easily), even when she's restless at 5:30am because she needs to go outside - I never, ever resent her. I couldn't imagine resenting her.

I know she's a dog, and not a child. But I have to say, if I feel like this about a dog, I can't imagine what I'll feel like when we have children. Everything this dog does makes me laugh right out loud. I feel so overwhelmingly responsible for her and for her happiness, and because she makes me so happy, I only want to return the favor to her.

I fully admit, I never thought I'd feel this way about a dog. We took her to doggy day care today - Wagville in Los Angeles. She passed her evaluation last week with flying colors, and they told us we could bring her whenever we wanted. Not wanting to travel home to take her out at lunch time, I suggested to gina we take her today. First day of school! I heard myself saying to the receptionist, "You'll call me if something happens, right?" She smiled and said, "She'll be fine. Yes, we'll call you if something happens. But she'll be fine."

Wagville has a web cam so you can check in on the action. I checked it about 20 minutes after I dropped her off and didn't see her. Of course, I thought I saw her - there are probably 6 little tan dogs. However, when I actually DID see her, there was no mistaking her - a skinny little body with a surprisingly big head and a tail like a squirrel - bushy and straight up in the air. My heart literally leapt, and I felt myself smiling (almost stupidly). It's almost impossible to accurately describe the feeling I had at that moment.

Last week, I took Noodle to meet my friend Wendy's kids, Zoe (5) and Wyatt (4). I brought her in and introduced her to the kids, who were engrossed in a Barbie video. Wyatt looked at her, and then looked up at me grinning. He said, "You're a mother now!"

I had to agree with him.

Noodle at the park.

Adjusting to her new life.

I'm not sure if she likes it here...

After...

Noodle's first haircut turned out to be a bit of a shave. She was quite matted and noticeably itchy, so I told the groomer if he needed to shave her, he could. We were devasted to lose all of her adorable hair, but she seems much happier now, and she can actually see where she's going!

She has my color and gina's curls...

Introducing...



Noodle the poodle!

This is the newest member of our family. She arrived yesterday, in need of a serious hair cut, but I wanted to post these pictures before she gets her hair cut, because I can't promise she'll be this cute once the groomer gets a hold of her. She's pretty matted and clearly can't see very well... we might have to get her shaved and start from scratch with her hairdo.

My cousin from Florida brought her out here to live with us after her five boys declared they didn't really want a dog. We plan on spoiling her highly.

Stay tuned for many, many more pictures.

Happy coin purse

The logo from a Hungarian grocery store meets Photo Booth and extreme jet lag.

Morning in Budapest

From my hotel room.

Godson

My friend Kim has asked me to be her youngest son Brady's godmother. It's either because I was present at his birth and was one of the first people in the world to hold him, OR because he totally looks like he could be my kid.



Either way, I can't remember the last time I was this excited to go to church.

Thanks, Kim.

Tales from Smith Mountain Lake, Virigina

I'm shooting in a very rural but beautiful lake area in Virginia called Smith Mountain Lake. My crew is from DC, and I don't think any of us fully understood exactly what "rural" meant, until last night.

We headed out for dinner at 9pm, driving about 10 minutes to the nearest restaurant, only to find it was closed. And it's not like it had just closed. It clearly had been closed for a half hour to 45 minutes. We kept driving another 20 minutes or so until we found what looked like some activity in a strip mall. We parked at a pizza place and went to the door to find out if they were still open. It was closed... but the waitress saw us come up the door. She opened the door for us.

"Is there anywhere around here we can have dinner?" my camera guy asked.

She looked at him, looked at her watch, and said in a southern drawl, "Darling, it's 9:30. I suggest you find yourself a grocery store."

Travel Tips

Dear Guy Sitting in the Row Behind Me on the Airplane,

When deplaning, it is common knowledge that you are supposed to let the people in the rows in front of you step out first. Everyone wants to get off the plane just as badly as you do... probably more so than you do because, as you have made perfectly clear by your blatant disregard for this, one of the simplest and most widely known of all airplane rules, you most likely only travel for pleasure, and at that, probably only once every other year.

The Gold Preferred status I hold isn't exactly a "thank you" from US Airways so much as an apology for repeatedly putting up with all the bullshit that comes with flying the friendly skies.

Enjoy your flight,
Katie

The Brave One

I decided last week that a good way to utilize the many hours I find myself alone and away from home is to go to the movies to see films I would otherwise undoubtedly miss. Last week in Alabama, I saw Superbad. Tonight, I went to see The Brave One.

It's no Silence of the Lambs. But really, what is? And what will ever be? Nothing. I'd give it a B+, and really only because the storyline is so unbelievable. However, Terrence Howard and Jodie Foster both gave great performances, and Nicky Katt as Detective Vitale stole pretty much every scene he was in. My favorite exchange:

Det. Vitale: This guy's got a rap sheet longer than my dick.
Det. Mercer (Howard): So, no priors?

I love Jodie Foster. Love, love, love. I used to have the movie poster from Maverick hanging up in my bedroom in high school. I have to say though, the older she gets, there's one thing she cannot do. And that one thing is pretend that she's straight.

I can't remember ever seeing Jodie Foster gayer than she is in this movie. Sure, she looks like she's probably loves Naveen Andrews (who plays David, her boyfriend) - the smiles, the touchiness - but this could all be a new friend crush or something. This woman is clearly a lesbian.

Now, there are some lesbians who could probably easily play straight women on film. Portia DiRossi and Leisha Hailey are both great examples. Ellen DeGeneres? No. k.d. lang? Never. We can officially add Jodie to that list.

I guess we can't fully blame Jodie for how overtly gay she seems in this movie. First of all, everyone is pretty sure she's gay in real life. Secondly, whoever designed her "look" for this movie clearly wanted to appeal to the lesbian in all of us. Her hair is the shagginess of her "Freaky Friday" days and the length of her "Accused" days. Neither look is very feminine. To top it off, she's constantly carrying around this messenger bag - never a purse - and she's always dressed like she's hitting up ladies night at the Normandie room - little trendy tee shirts, low waisted jeans, comfortable shoes that could most likely crush your skull. Not to mention, what little makeup she does wear was clearly not put on by her. There's a scene where she's putting lip gloss on and she might as well be smearing tar on her face - she seems that unaccustomed to such trappings as lip gloss. The look in her eyes is, "Okay, it's just like chapstick, only with a wand instead of a tube. You can DO this, Jodie."

I used to think Jodie was getting hotter with every movie she made. Turns out, she's just getting gayer... which for me, equals hotter.

Life without a bonus room.

I don't talk a lot about work on this blog, for very good reason, but my job takes me all around the world into different people's houses. Seeing how other people live really makes you examine how YOU live. And more often than not, I'm flabbergasted at how much space people want and think they need. I guess the more realistic thing to say is, I'm amazed at how much house people can get for their money in almost everywhere except Los Angeles.

I remember the first time I heard the term "bonus room." My friend Lindsay was having a birthday party at her house in Mission Viejo and she was giving us a tour of the house. I don't remember specifically what she was referring to, but she informed us that the location of such-and-such was in the bonus room. She showed us the room, and boy howdy, was it a bonus room. There was no other way to describe it. It literally had no purpose but to be full of all the bonus stuff you happen to own. Lindsay's had two guitars, a drum set, a bar, and a pull down movie screen projector setup. My reaction was simply to say, "Bonus!"

Many of these houses I see all over the country, specifically in the middle part of the country, have these bonus rooms. One such room in one such house was literally bigger than The Treehouse (mine and gina's studio apartment). It was 650 square feet of play space for three small children.

It's impossible for me to see these houses and wonder what mine and gina's life would be like if we owned one of these houses. These houses that are 3000+ square feet. I can't say that these houses are too big, or too extravagant, because they're priced lower than our 1000 square foot condo. There's something to be said for having that much space. People say they need it, but the truth is, they want it. And who wouldn't?

I just can't wrap my head around that much space. I grew up in a house with a mom, a dad, two sisters, 1100 square feet, three bedrooms, and one bathroom. I remember specifically having to announce to the whole house, "I'm going to take a shower now, please don't anyone run any water," and then STORMING out of the bathroom in a towel into the kitchen and yelling at my mom, "I had ONE request, to NOT run any water, could you not wait FIVE MINUTES to do the dishes??" (That was clearly during my bitchy phase.) I remember having to strategically plan when to wake up so that I could have enough bathroom time before or after my mom, but never during, because the bathroom was extremely small (who knew there was such a thing as a DOUBLE VANITY?), and my mom obviously got bathroom priority. I had never even heard of a walk in closet until I was probably 9 years old... and I certainly didn't think they were common.

When I'm at home in our condo in Los Angeles, I never crave more space. I feel like we have plenty. We have two bedrooms and TWO BATHROOMS (a first for me), a small kitchen but one with plenty of counter space, a walk-in closet in one room and a huge closet in the other room, and a living room/dining room area with enough space to entertain. I think to myself, we can totally have two kids while we're living here. This is plenty of space. This is a mere 100 square feet less than my parents' home.

Then I travel. I go to other places. And I see how your life can be made infinitely easier by having more space. Your kids don't have to share a room. Your kids can have their own bathroom. You can have your own bathroom. And your guests? They can have another bathroom. You can have a room dedicated solely to TV watching, pool playing, air hockey, or even Twister. You can have a formal living room (although I really don't understand the purpose of that), a family room, and a huge kitchen with an island. You can have a huge back yard with your very own in-ground pool (my friends in southern California make fun of me for calling them in-ground pools - I don't think they've ever seen an above ground pool). You can have enough space for both of your cars to fit in the garage, plus jet skis, motorcycles, work station, and maybe even darts. Your house can be the house your children's friends come to to have sleepovers, pool parties, birthday parties, picnics, play dates.

My mind doesn't stop there. Because the truth is, for gina and I to buy a house like this, we'd have to leave Los Angeles. And leaving Los Angeles most certainly means moving back to Ohio. I think of what that would be like - being so close to our families. I day dream about my mom being able to visit whenever she wants, about us being able to see gina's nieces whenever we want. Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthday parties, BBQs... all with our families. Our kids growing up with their cousins.

Somehow, this is only appealing to me when I'm away from Los Angeles. Then I get back to the usually mild weather, the palm trees, the saltwater in the air. I see the mountains, I smell the flowers. It's always a transition I have to go through, but I realize that when it comes down to it, I love living there. And my dream house isn't a 3000 square foot house in Ohio. It's my friend Wendy's house - an 1800 square foot Spanish style house in Hancock Park with hardwood floors, four bedrooms, two and a half baths, a fireplace, a doggy door and a fenced-in back yard, in a neighborhood where people know each other. It's a house you can't hide from one another in, but where there's always enough room for everyone. This transition from anywhere else back to LA is almost as hard actually being away. It does, however, help me keep things in perspective.

(I still think a bonus room would be cool.)