I am so, so busy right now, and I look ahead to the next few weeks and it only gets worse and I freak out and want to crawl into a cave and hide. I updated my site to the latest version of WordPress and broke my linkroll and I’m sure it’s an easy fix but I just can’t seem to take the time to find the fix and make it happen so instead I just have a stupid broken site.

So busy. I can’t even collect my thoughts or focus for five minutes, it seems.

For the last few years, I haven’t made multiple New Year’s resolutions. I try to keep it to one resolution per year, and I usually keep it simple and secret until the year’s over. But this year I hadn’t really even come up with one resolution. It’s not really that big of a deal, the not having a resolution. Sometimes I’d think about something I need to do and think hey, maybe I’ll make that my resolution, but these so-called resolutions are things like “buy toilet paper,” or “bring in that file box from the trunk of my car,” and I guess they just don’t seem very, well, resolute. Or something. I’m probably not even using that right. I don’t know. And, in any case, I did buy toilet paper but that file box is still in the trunk of the car. And I bet it’ll still be there in May.

Anyway. Would it be setting the bar way too low if I decided to have my resolution be that I’m going to shave my legs a little more often this year? Because I was thinking I’d make that my resolution. But then I thought damn, that’s pretty lame. That’s like resolving to go to the bathroom once a day or something.

I heard a rumor that normal girls shave their legs regularly and apply lotion every single day and, like, do their nails and stuff. I am not like this. I’m not a dirty hippie or anything. I shower regularly, and I’m pretty sure I’m generally clean-looking and nice-smelling. I’m not making any kind of a feminist stand by not shaving my legs. Really, I’m lazy and I just don’t take the time. I shower in the morning before work and it seems like I’m always running late, so I rush through it all, because in the allocation of morning time I need to leave enough time to dry and style my hair – a step that absolutely cannot be skipped. I rarely wear skirts and I’m not seeing anyone, so until I made the decision today to blab about this all over the internet, no one would have known that prior to last Thursday I had gone for approximately ten weeks without shaving my legs once. In fact, I can tell you exactly when the last time I shaved my legs was before Thursday. It was Saturday, November 11th.

God, I am such a loser.

So, the legs. They were really getting out of hand, and on Thursday I decided to just suck it up and take a bath and shave them. So I did. And then I did the whole “exfoliate and apply lotion” thing that I’ve heard so much about, and after many hours of work, I was rewarded with nice, smooth legs. And I remembered that I actually really like the feeling of freshly-shaven legs. And I thought, hey, maybe my skin wouldn’t be so mad and dry and itchy all the time if I actually TOOK CARE OF IT and kept it moisturized and stuff, especially since hello, it’s winter. So I’ve been trying to make a concerted effort to at least run the razor over my legs quickly while in the shower, and do the whole lotion thing afterward. It might not matter to anyone but me, but I seem to feel better, so I thought I’d make that my resolution.

I bet it’ll last as long as most people’s New Year’s resolutions do.

So people are starting to send me messages about my ten-year high school reunion, coming up this summer sometime. I figure I’ll begin preparing right away by examining every single area of my life for the ways in which I do not measure up to the person I’d planned to be by now. It’s never too early to start with that bullshit, is it?

Our childhood family dog was a Puerto Rican shelter dog – a terrier mix named Reagan. Reagan, not after the president, as my parents constantly explained, but after the little girl in The Exorcist. Aside from her complete and utter disinterest in fetching, tug of war, or toys of any kind, she was a kickass dog – obedient and patient and loving.

Reagan was about thirteen or so when we moved from Colorado to Virginia. She rode with me, at my feet in the front seat of our Caravan, and was basically a complete champ the entire way. But soon after the move her health began to deteriorate rapidly. Reagan was allergic to a lot of the new plant and bug life in humid Virginia, including the millions of fleas and ticks (not nearly so common on the dry plains of Colorado). Her hair began to fall out and she had mangy, oozy places all over from constantly scratching and scratching and scratching. She was arthritic and began to lose control of her bladder and we knew it was time to let her go.

I still feel bad about how we treated Reagan in the last days of her life. She was smelly and oozy and we were all just little girls still learning how to treat others, so we avoided her and shrieked at her to get away and fought over who’d have to clean up her latest mess, who’d have to take her out this time. We should have known better, but we didn’t.

It was another year or so before we got Belle. Remember Belle? She’s our golden retriever who had the super-scary Discovery-Channel-worthy splenic tumor last spring. Belle is also a kickass dog, though not much like Reagan at all. She loves toys and has never been terribly obedient. But still, a kickass dog.

Belle is thirteen now, and especially after her health scare last year, we know she won’t be with us forever. Though she doesn’t seem very feeble most days, her face has gotten very white over the years, and she’s slowed down a bit, and I know that a serious illness might be her last. So when Dad mentioned on the phone late last week that Belle was suddenly vomiting, having accidents in the house, and collapsing when she tried to walk, I figured I might be spending this past weekend saying goodbye.

I drove to HQ on Saturday morning, and by the time I got there I was ready to let her go peacefully if that was what seemed right. She had improved a bit since Thursday but was still clearly not well. She wasn’t as deathly ill as I’d feared, though, and we were able to get her to the car with minimal help from her leash and sling. As it turns out, we’ve dodged another bullet. She has a nasty ear infection, likely causing her dizziness and vomiting, and she also probably has a condition called peripheral vestibular syndrome, which will continue to affect her equilibrium but isn’t life-threatening. We have some prescriptions and an elevated food and water bowl set for her now, as bending her head down to food on the floor can exacerbate the dizziness. It’s so, so heartbreaking to see her collapse when trying to walk sometimes, but we know it will likely pass as she gets through her antibiotics.

I babied the hell out of her all weekend, cooking her rice and taking her out for walks and spending lots of time near her. I know the time we have left with her is limited, but I don’t know how limited it might be, and I want to have learned something from Reagan. I’m trying to store up some good time with Belle, just in case, but I’m not ready to let her go yet. I’m not ready.