Domestic Geek

Renegade Kosher wants to start an AIM chat room of the remaining blogathoners. I have never, ever in my whole life been in a chat room. I don't know where they are on the aim site. I feel like a bit of a moron. I've IM'd many times through. Oops, nevermind...they contacted me first and I guess I'm in.

Ugh, I've had too much caffeine already. I'm feeling a little ill. I guess I did good in my goal of weaning myself off of carbonated, caffeinated beverages.

One of the goals I want to tackle in the future is being selfless and giving more of myself. I'm seriously considering, once I find full time employment, donating my time to an organization such as Habitat for Humanity. I think what appeals to me about that organization is that the person(s) getting the home has to meet certain obligations to get and keep it.

I'm also going to take a vacation. Maybe Vegas. I haven't had a real vacation since Oct. 2004, and even that wasn't as enjoyable as it could've been because of the whiplash pain I was in.

I am going to learn to knit. Marcus' mom got me the stuff for Christmas. I just need to sit down and do it!

Marcus used to have dreams of being a bike tour rider. He's German-born and spent much of his youth training on his bike on the roads of Europe. When his step-dad was transferred back to the states and his beloved Peugeot road bike was stolen, he gave up that dream, but not his love of cycling. Every July, Le Tour de France awakens that cycling fever and yearning inside of him, especially since the winners the last few years have been Americans. Today, he broke down and bought himself a Team Discovery Trek road bike form Bicycle Village. Due to some unfortunate mechanical problems that kept Mike and him from mountain biking today, they decided instead to break in Marcus' new road bike.



They want to do a ride from Aurora to Kansas and back. I've offered to drive behind and be their "team car". I think they're planning this for next summer.

With the hubub of the main 'thon being over, I feel a little bit abandoned. I'm going to make sure that I keep my schedule totally clear for next year so that I can blog along with everybody else. It's kind of bringing up weird feelings that I've had my whole life. Not quite fitting in with everybody else. I know that's silly, especially since this circumstance is of my own making, but in my sleep-deprived state, the feeling is very real. By next year, though, I will be in a better place—financially, physically and mentally.

At dinner last night, Nina mentioned that you can tell exactly when I lost my job by looking at my posting calendar in the sidebar. LOL She's right. The solid mass of green—yep, that's when it happened!

I've been trying for almost two years to get some sort of online goal list started for myself. I was pretty close last December when I started my 101 in 1001 site, but alas, I never finished. I think I'll spend the next few posts figuring out what my 101 goals should be.

So, earlier I talked about my rabbits. Now I'm going to tell you about my old dog, Skippy.

Marcus and I got Skippy about six months after we moved in together in May 1993. I didn't want to get a dog as long as we lived in an apartment, but he talked me into it. Marcus looked and looked for a dog, but I kept telling him that this particular dog had already picked Marcus. He was about a year old, they said, and had been dropped off by owners that had moved. We got him from the Denver Dumb Friends League, a organization I had considered blogging for this year. We believe a man had abused him, as he was afraid of most men, especially those with facial hair. He had been an outside dog and his name was Lumpy. Well, we got him and his cage-mate, a Samoyed mix that I named Beau Beau. Marcus changed his name to Skipper (Marcus' nickname at work at the time was Gilligan), we went throught a harrowing housebreaking experience and we ended up with one of the dorkiest, sweetest, most loveable dogs ever. Thirteen years later, he's an old man, now. He can't see or hear well, he gets confused and has trouble going up and down our stairs. I don't know how much longer the poor old guy will be around. I know I'm really going to be broken up when he leaves us.