Freebies

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Dear American Red Cross, National Wildlife Society, MDA, PETA, National Breast Cancer Awareness Association, St. Jude's, Juvenile Diabetes of America, Working Assets, Protect Our Forests group, Big Brothers/Big Sisters, the Artic Wildlife Fund, Aids Awareness, CF Foundation, People for Peace, the Democratic and Republican national parties, and Robert Redford:

Please stop sending me address mailing labels.

I appreciate the thought, but really, I'm good. I could mail eight letters a day from now until 2012 and still have leftover address labels. So hear me now. I do not know enough people to send letters to in order to use up my existing labels. Back off.

The problem is I feel too guilty to throw away perfectly good labels. So I ration them out. Outgoing bills receive the really ugly labels like the unnerving stare of the ostrich that was on the Nature Company label. Friends get labels with flowers and bunnies and hearts that I would never, under any circumstances, ever select for myself. Agents and editors get the no nonsense stark labels with name and address but no annoying animal or handdrawn pictures of purple tulips on them (thumbs up to the one or two organizations that sent me those).

I don't even give money to these organizations and still they send me free labels, increasing tenfold my liberal guilt. I will sign their petitions to save the penguins or tell Congress to just say no to government funded Dale Carnegie self-esteem seminars for trash collectors, and I'm sure this is what keeps me on the list. People went to all the trouble to print and mail the labels though, and they've got my name and address on them so they're of no use to someone else, so I figure the least I can do is sign the petition.

The WORST is when they include that damn nickel with some plea like, "We offer this nickel b/c we're hoping you're a good person and you sending this nickel back to us (along with a check for $49.95) would prove it. Please, please, don't let us down. The (fill in the blank - children, bunnies, artic wolves, Robert Redford) is counting on you.

I can't take the pressure! Is it any wonder I have trouble sleeping at night?

Outdoor Running

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Fresh air is overrated. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's some slowly poisonous toxin(s) in it that drag the breath from your lungs, making your throat feel like it's on fire if you walk at a faster pace than that of the average garden slug.

I jogged outside today.

Quite the different experience than being inside on my happy little treadmill. On my treadmill, I jog three miles at about a 10-minute mile. Outside, I ran twenty steps and felt like my heart was going to explode.

Inside, I give myself mental pats on the back as I gently increase the treadmill incline, pushing myself to go harder.

Outside, I decide to call it quits when I'm faced with having to step around a small rock.

Inside, my water bottle and tissue are at my beck and call.

Outside, I swallow snot and make gasping noises to people mowing their yards, in the hopes they'll turn the hose on me and I'll swallow a few drops.

Why is it so much harder? I'm probably stretching it to say I even ran ("ran" meaning did not stop moving but not necessarily implying, once again, that I could have outpaced that garden slug)) two miles today. Apparently my treadmill has super-bouncy action in it and the lesson here is I must never ever go outside to exercise ever again.

SOUTHBEACH UPDATE: Does of woe and glory. Broke down and had a couple peanut-butter sandwiches. Dear Lord I LOVE peanut butter sandwiches! Blair decided he needed to be supportive of me though, and so this week has gone above and beyond the call of duty and has brought no bread into the house, even for him. I'm married to a prince.

We went out for brunch today and instead of having what may be the world's best french toast, I had a spinach omelet (with egg-beaters) instead. It was pretty good. Plus, I had a bite of Blair's french toast so I didn't completely lose out.

I don't know that I'm being good enough at this point to lose weight, but I do feel MUCH better with the healthier eating. Normally I roll myself away from the brunch table at this particular restaurant, full to the point of nausea. Today, while still very full, I felt good. Still had energy and didn't feel gross.

Two steps forward, one step back, but still making progress.

Rude People

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You might think this is going to be a riff on other people (which yes, we'll get there) but it's also about me. I was terribly, horribly rude to someone yesterday and the unsettling part is that the more I replay over in my mind what happened, the more convinced I am that I was in the right and had every reason to be uncivil.

Here's what happened. I had to take Olivia, my tabby, in for a checkup. Last week she was having some bleeding around her teeth and gums and the vet had us give her medicine for a week in the hopes that would take care of the infection and we wouldn't have to pull a tooth. So she was there just for a simple check-up.

We walk in to my normally serene vets office and there's chaos. Dogs in the back are howling, practically screaming. Two dogs in the front office are trying their hardest to break away from their leashes and greet everyone. When they can't, they pee on the floor instead. The phone is ringing, rooms are full, there's nowhere to sit, and my poor kitty is just huddling in her carrier, trying to disappear.

But fine, things happen. Dogs pee, I can live with that. I eventually find a little corner to sit down in and try to shield Olivia from the sight of the dogs across the room.

Then SHE arrives. An older woman with one of those trembling, high-pitched yappy dogs that barks at everything.

Before I continue I want to be clear that I don't blame the dog for anything. If owners don't take the time for training, the dogs can't be blamed. So I have no problem with the yappy dog, just with the way his owner handled things.

So we're sitting in this tiny cramped space and the second this dog spots another animal (and hello, it's a vets office so animals are coming in and out constantly) it goes insane. Supersonic high-pitched constant yapping for minutes on end. The receptionist was plugging her ears, trying to hear whoever was on the phone. I had my fingers in my ears. My poor cat was trembling.

And this idiot woman sat there and every few seconds said something brilliant like, "Now Charlie, hush." Two more minutes of ear-breaking yapping. "Hush now."

I finally turned to her and in the snidest tone possible with a dose of superiority thrown in yelled (so as to be heard over the dog), "Could you take your dog out of here?" She just gave me one of those blank stares like she couldn't imagine what I might be referring to and so I glared at her and said, "He's freaking my cat out."

And so she took the dog outside.

I STILL think I'm right. What sort of moron sits there and lets people suffer? And I'm not talking about a couple of barks. This was ear-shattering and nonstop. It just floors me that she had to be asked to do something about it. Maybe she's gone deaf with living with this animal. Who knows?

Really, I'm resentful that she put me in a position to be the bad guy. And yes I did have the option to just sit there and be polite and take it, but I'm like a mama bear when it comes to my cats. Do anything to try and harm them and I will take you down.

We got back from the vet's around 3:30 and we didn't see Olivia until this morning. She hid all night. Usually she'll hide for about 2 hours after a vets appointment and then decide the coast is clear. Blair thinks I'm turning into my mother, worrying so much about the cat's mental health, but here's another area I refuse to concede. The fact that she disappeared for over 12 hours indicates that she WAS freaked out by the whole day.

Mama bear. That's me.

If anyone has any opinions on whether you think I handled this situation properly, was rude for no cause, or had other options, I'd love to hear your feedback.