The Neglected

So here is how it goes: you are tired from the day and just don't feel like unpacking that last box or you just don't have anything new to say to that pen pal from Kuala Lumpur. You'll do it tomorrow you say. But you don't do it tomorrow. You don't unpack the day after or the day after that. Soon its been a month and your pen pal has heard nothing.

Was there a military coup in the US, they wonder?
Maybe my friend from America was taken by a UFO like my Canadian girlfriend was. Maybe both.

Sadly, no. You aren't under house arrest by Kang or Kodos, it's simply that so much time has passed that the box has become a symbol of shame and the letter admonishes you as if it were alive like a character in the Brave Little Toaster.

Like the time you missed seeing Mr. T at the mall, you know you'll regret it if you continue to ignore your conscience. But you do it anyway and more time passes and then it comes to a breaking point.

You ask yourself, do you really want to be one of those people who just moves a box of crap from one residence to another; do you really want to let your pen pal, who could be washed away in a tidal wave at any time, believe that you have forgotten to write back. I thought you wanted to contradict what the international community thought of Americans.

So you suck it up and you unpack that box of sex toys, you write back to your Malaysian friend a lengthy treatise on the many types of sex toys and you finally get back to posting about your dogs on your neglected blog.

Yesterday was Oscar and Felixs' birthday. They are now two years old. Here is what they looked like back then. They haven't had much of an Autumn to speak of. I'm at work, M is at school. After five, I'm cleaning film for TAMI, or helping organize the Archivists of Central Texas regional association and M is still at school.

When I am home and its not dark, we play fetch in the backyard. That is there new favorite activity. I throw the ball and Felix will bring it back, then he'll go long and Oscar will stand in front of me and stare at the ball. The result is that Felix is always downfield when I throw the ball and thus he always gets it. It didn't work that way in Albany because there was always enough room for the much faster Oscar to make up time. So here I have to be strategic and fool Felix into going one way while I throw the ball the other so Oscar can occasionally get the ball. And what does he do when he gets it. He goes over to Felix and literally shoves the ball in Felix's face like the gracious winner he is.

In other birthday news, M and I are blowing off a party, seeing some old friends, and Gaelic Storm (h/t to Uncle Joe) to spend the weekend in north Texas to attend my niece's birthday party. She's turning 1. She's lucky she's cute.

Now that we've confronted our shame, we promise to have more content in the future...publish or perish.