Today we are drinking from the head of a penguin.
So, I lived through my dentist appointment, but just barely. I’m unsure if they don’t numb me enough there, or if they don’t crank the nitrous enough, but I am way more aware of what’s going on than I used to be at Dr. Beiber’s office in LA.
Anyway, I’m filled. And yes, it’s porcelain.
My day, however, was the worst of times and it was the best of times. Because that beleaguered UPS man returned to my door yesterday–he hates me–and brought me this:
It’s from one of my oldest friends, who has a v.v. important job and two children and a husband and a commute, and how she remembered that chocolate-covered strawberries are my favorite thing is beyond me. And do you think I sat down and ate them all? Without sharing with Marvin? You would be correct. June gets very selfish when it comes to her stroms.
Marvin calls strawberries “stroms” and I have no clue why. It’s like how he says “dirty, grandma” when something is dirty, and he only does it because that’s what I say. Heaven knows why he has ANY word for strawberries, seeing as I eat them all before he knows they’re in the house.
The package came wrapped in a ribbon, which naturally I tried to tie to Tallulah’s head, and man did she enjoy me and my ribbon.
Did I ever tell you about when my grandmother took me strawberry picking? I was probably 10 or 11, and oh, was I a pleasure to go with. I was AGHAST at how early we had to go, and then I kept singing, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” during the picking portion, like I was some kind of field hand. (I saw Gone With the Wind for the first time when I was 10, so I was probably feeling Suellen and Careen out there getting their hands unladylike.)
I kvetched and moaned and carried on, and finally we were done. We took our stroms up to the tent at the front of the field. Grammy got her wallet out.
“What are you doing?” I asked her, incredulous.
“Well, I’m paying,” she said, probably desperately wishing my father had never met my mother and created the likes of me.
“They don’t pay US!?” I was PISSED. I guess I thought we were trying to earn a few extra dollars for some reason.
I have always been a cheerful and diligent worker.
When my father was young, a donut truck used to drive around the neighborhood selling fresh donuts, which hi. Why did all the good stuff happen before I was born? Anyway, my father used to pay my aunt to walk into the front yard and buy the donuts for him. It was too much effort for his 9-year-old self to WALK INTO HIS OWN FRONT YARD.
And then he’d never share even one donut with my poor Aunt Mary.
I have no idea how I got on this tangent.
Oh, there was one more thing I wanted to show you before I commence another exciting day in Life of June. Remember how I said I was so not the alpha?
Here is the scandalous scene I encountered when trying to get into bed the other night. And do you think she felt bad and scurried away? I had to LIFT her ludicrous self and place her at the foot of the bed.
When I first stole Tallulah I called my friend Ken, who we call the Pied Piper of dogs. In retrospect, now what I know from dogs, all of Ken’s dogs have been Labs, and come on. How hard are THEY to train? Somebody bring Ken a Tibetan spaniel/Am-Staff/Beagle mix and see how he does. At any rate, I asked him to just tell me ONE THING, the most IMPORTANT THING he could think of, for raising a good dog.
“Never, ever let them on the bed,” he said.