doggie | JENN KELLY: Author

My Tags

So apparently my webpage is found when someone googles, ‘weird body things’. Isn’t that fantastic? I’m a little excited by it. My friend Suzanne told me it was because I tagged one of my posts those exact words. When I was talking about allergic rhinitis. So I think it’s time to write about other things.

You already know I”m high maintenance. Which I detest. I hate taking care of myself. I used to love soaking in the tub, doing my hair, removing hair off my toes, waxing my moustache (oh be quiet. everyone gets hair there.) Painting my toenails…

Now I find it way too time consuming. I could be doing other productive things like writing, or reading, or cleaning my house or playing with my dog. I could even clean all the gunk out of my bellybutton ring hole to keep the hole open even though I don’t wear a belly button ring anymore because it gets too infected.

So now let’s talk about my knee.

Three months ago (June?) we went to North Carolina for a holiday. I sat around a lot. I did do some running, but mostly it was all on one night when I was mad at hubby for something ridiculous which I can’t remember right now, but was probably because he ate all the chocolate or something. And when we got back, I was strawberry picking and then I felt an intensely sharp pain behind my right knee cap. Something dreadful and wouldn’t go away. So after a few days of awfulness I dragged my butt to my poor doctor who usually hears from me once a week (actually that would be his lovely nurse receptionist who hears from me, but it’s not usually a problem with me, it could be with Dan or the gaffer but let’s just say we have a great relationship and I butter her up with hot chocolates and strawberry jam) who told me I stressed it and to put some weird anti-inflammatory cream on my knee four times a day. This cream was not cream but oily goo that was impossible to rub in. Anyhoo, three months went by and I finally went to a physiolady. Guess who has no tissue behind her right knee cap?

Me!

So now I”m on physio exercises for my knee cap. And am still on physio for the same knee for something else I can’t remember but can’t do it because they contradict each other. And I still do physio for my left shoulder which I tore tree climbing.

I have decided I am slowly falling apart. And it’s very annoying… and I don’t have time for this.

So… coming to my book launch or what?

reading: um… Corsets and Clockworks or something.

listening to: hubby clean the tub. because I can’t kneel.

watching: the dog stare at me as she waits for me to play with her…

The Neurotic Dog – Daisy

While I’m not super-comfortable with sharing lots of stuff about my boys, I’m more than happy to talk about my dog, Daisy.

We picked her out from a litter of 8 (she was the runt) and as we went to pick her up, she promptly ate a Daisy. Because she’s a purebred, we had to give her the fancy name of “McGovern’s Dancing Night”. Cheesy isn’t it?

Regardless.

She is now eight and a half years old and weighs about 55 pounds. She’s a black lab (of which for some reason, men like to argue she’s not a real lab as she is too small etc which takes everything in me to ask them if they would like to see her papers and maybe the reason they can’t tell she’s real is because their hunting mutts are just that? Mutts?) and she grew a white beard the day I got pregnant. I have absolutely no idea how she figured that out, but she did. And from that day on, miss goofy slobbery turkey head became growling bark at everybody kind of dog.

We used to live in the country and she’d sit at the back patio door, looking for deer. We couldn’t afford the decking yet, so it was a good 5′ drop. She’d see one and her whole butt would start vibrating while her tail cleaned the floor and we’d open the door quietly and WHOOSH! off she went. She’d chase them for about a kilometer then come back terribly proud of herself.

She’s very good at finding anything dead and rolling in it completely (especially dead snakes). She can find any puddle with 5 kilometers and lie down in it (same for rivers). She can catch a ball, food (any size) and she can lick peanut butter off your toes or anything else that falls on the floor.

She hates thunderstorms. She will come up in the middle of the night, slam into our room (smashing the doors open) and stare at me until I wake up. Do you know what it’s like waking up to two black eyes looking at you?

If you are sitting in a chair, she will try to rub herself underneath your legs like a cat.

She eats everything but olives and blueberries.

And for some insane reason, she loves bubbles. Not bubbles you blow, but bubbles in the bath. She knows when I’m having a bubble bath (maybe it’s the scent?) and will whine outside the bathroom door until I let her in.

Staring at bubbles. To make a point.

"You weell geeeve me da bubblez

stupid doorknobs