Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

I just wrote a long, bitchy, moany, venting blog post about my work and the woes of my work and how much I wish this project were over (one more week ... one more week). But it was boring and depressing, and I realized that this blog is turning into too much of a sounding board for when I'm frustrated, which, actually, is what most of my journals ended up being too. And that is all fine and good for a journal that no one will ever read, but it's not incredibly exciting or interesting for the international world of blogging (even if I do have only one follower ... HI!). Besides, after writing the long, venty post, I felt much better. So I deleted it. Whew for all of us.

So, instead I'm going to recap part of the phone conversation I had today with my beautiful niece, because it just makes me smile. She called because she had just received the two box sets of books I sent via Amazon (on sale, thank you very much). [I love the idea for the National Geographic map binder, by the way! Will definitely file that away for next time!] (The gift shipped yesterday and got there today at no extra cost, thanks to my free trial of Amazon Prime ... whatever that is and which I must go cancel right now before I get charged for it.) Anyway, she could have just said "Geronimo Stilton" over and over again in her cute, growing-up-too-fast voice, and I would have been perfectly happy. What a great name for a character! But we did have an actual conversation, and my favorite part was the discussion about The Dog, whom she met only once, four years ago. So, she was, what, ... 3? Wow, what a memory. Anyway, it won't translate nearly as well, but here it is for posterity's sake.

Beautiful Niece: Thanks for the books, Aunt T. How's The Dog? [This is usually the first question she asks after saying hello, so I felt honored to actually get a full sentence from her first.]
Me: He's fine. He's taking a nap. How are you?
B.N.: Are you going to bring him with you at Christmas?
Me: I wish I could, but he would have to ride underneath with all the luggage, and he wouldn't like that.
B.N.: Maybe he could ride under your seat, like that dog you saw on the plane. [Holy crap, what a memory this child has. Last Christmas, I told her about the full-size standard poodle that got to ride on the plane right behind us, because he was being trained as some kind of helper dog. I then told her the even weirder story that the same dog was on our flight back home, a week and a half later. Weird! She, of course, thought it was perfectly normal. I mean, we flew in together, so of course we'd be on the same flight home.]
Me: [After taking a few seconds to figure out what she was talking about--apparently I do not have the memory of a 7-year-old--I attempted to explain the intricacies of training seeing-eye dogs without completely losing her interest.] Well, we'd have to train him to be a helping dog, and then he'd be allowed to fly with us. But if we did that, we'd have to give him away when we were done training him so that he could be with someone who needs help.
B.N.: [Without a moment's hesitation] Well, that stinks!

I couldn't have said it better, or more selfishly, myself. That would stink, though I guess not for the person who needed help. And where did she learn that phrase, anyway? Too. Dang. Cute!

And now that I have taken this pleasant break from the horrors of editing a high-level tech book written by two professors and one student who do not speak English as their first language, I can go back with a calmer brain. And that calmer brain is not just the result of the vodka and OJ I guzzled while writing this. Really!