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January 16, 2004

Finally. The web-site is back in service. Things are rolling again.

I was rolling down the street on my bike (after I fixed my own bike tire) and had a dangerously close to dangerous encounter with bark. Abby (my
dog) was not paying attention and well, you shouldn’t take a dog bike riding with you. Lesson learned. Bruises give me the tough girl image I’m looking for anyway.

Abby Mayne is a standard poodle WITHOUT the she-she cut that we all know is the reason poodles got a bad name in the first place. I adopted her this fall. I’d like to apologize to all the dog owners I have rolled my eyes at over the years. My attitude is adjusted and people are now rolling their eyes d`Áe. I used to think dog = dirty, shedding, drooling, barking, take me outside at 5:00am to pee, can’t go on vacation, scoop stinky dog food out of stinky dog food can, smelly breath, make me itch till I bleed, please get off the couch for the hundredth time bother. Now I think dog = best friend always glad to see me, morning glory happy let’s go outside and experience the sun rising, snuggle by the fire cute, wiggle butt down the stairs, exercise partner, go everywhere with me otherwise I’ll miss her, love of my life.

I was in the studio recording my new CD and everything was going just fine…..then out of the corner of my eye I see this darting grey hateful creature and suddenly I feel completely out of control and helpless. Without even knowing how I got there, I find myself standing on the most elevated surface asking friend Dylan to please explain that, that thing, over there. That thing that has now ruined my life. How do I find peace in the same room as a killer mouse? Dylan thinks I’m kidding. I wish I was.

Two days later…. Come to terms with phobia. Re-track through all potentially helpful past therapy sessions. Make choice to be bigger than pesty rodent. Train Abby to be seeing mouse dog who always stands guard.
Forgive Dylan for leaving half eaten food containers around studio.
Forgive Dylan for saying mouse doesn’t have friends because we all know it’s a lie. Name mouse Gilbert in attempt to make him less yucky and more like Stuart little. Remember that Gilbert can’t hurt me, I can only hurt myself by allowing Gilbert to rob me of my dreams. Ask myself, “What does Gilbert represent?” Schedule therapy session to find new answer, because last answer isn’t working anymore. Pray Gilbert doesn’t make his home in my keyboard case.