Stupid, Naive, Right-Brained Me

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I posted this 11 years ago, but it’s still apropos today. And sadly, I continue to take ownership of the above title.

Guess what I did last weekend? I’ll give you a hint, although it was not in the least bit fun. In fact, it was torture but it had to be done. Just an inevitability one simply can’t ignore. And believe me, I tried to for four months.

I’m sure right about now you’re asking yourself what the heck I’m talking about. So here goes: I just completed my tax return for 2014. Go ahead, judge me. I don’t blame you. In all the years I’ve been paying taxes (over 40) I’ve never needed an extension until this year. (Insert shameful head bow here.)

tax extension

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m generally responsible. I always pay my bills on time, see the dentist twice a year, regularly change the oil in my car, and never drive without wearing a seat belt. So how did I, completely out of character, end up doing taxes on September 29th?

Safety first
Safety first
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A Flippin’ Nightmare

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Last week, to thank Lauren for her kindness and compassion while euthanizing my dog Skip, I made one of her favorite desserts, tiramisu.

How tiramisu should look

Now don’t get me wrong; I’ve made tiramisu before but Lauren is vegan and the last vegan tiramisu I made was MANY moons ago. Sadly, I couldn’t recall the recipe but apparently it was a big hit. My guess is I combined a couple of recipes. But which ones? Therein lies my first problem.

Let me just say, as you are my witnesses, I will NEVER AGAIN make vegan tiramisu. You can take that to the bank. Do they still say that? Well anyway, in five words: IT WAS A FLIPPIN’ NIGHTMARE.

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So Long, Skip

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It was 9:30 p.m. on July 9, 2012. I was at Marin Humane, about to process a feral cat I trapped, when at the same time, an officer was carrying in an 18-month-old frightened fawn with white corgi mix. I immediately stopped and yelled, “Wait! Who is that?” And that, my friends, is how I met my dog, Skip.

A little malnourished
Our first meeting

Now don’t get me wrong; I knew the moment I saw Skip, he was meant to be mine; he simply had to be. Thus began our wonderful 13-year relationship. If you read my posts, you’re aware I’ve had a few pets in my day, but there was something unique about this one. Maybe it was those big brown eyes and his laid-back demeanor. He was a go-with-the-flow type; in other words, perfect for me.

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Oh, Rats!

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Well, this is a bit embarrassing.

I have rats. As in the kind that are disgusting, not the cute domestic rats my associate Donna has as pets. Her rats actually have personalities, like you and me. They don’t talk and they can’t shop or go to a movie with you but overall they’re pretty entertaining.

donnas-rats-izzy-and-simon
Izzy and Simon

I don’t know why we find domestic rats cuter than sewer rats, which are considered vermin, but there you go. My guess is the moniker, sewer, doesn’t enhance their image. But the thought of vermin taking up residence in my walls gives me the Creeps with a capital C. Unfortunately, I’ve had the Creeps a lot lately.

rat
A not-so-cute sewer rat
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