early Saturday morning with the dogs

I woke early this morning to the sound of our youngest puppy whimpering. I turned to my right and squinted at the clock. 6:00am. I must have groaned out loud because my older dog (who at 3 years has the smarts to sleep in on a Saturday), lifted his head in agreement and repeated the gesture, which only encouraged the puppy to whine louder.

“I’m up, I’m up” I announced to no one in particular as I let the puppy out of her cage. Like Dash out of The Incredibles, she shot out of her cage and did 3 fast laps around the condo. She was wired and ready to play. I just wanted to lie down.

Yawning, I gave her some water, which she quickly lapped up. Way too much water way too fast. I knew from experience that I had about a 180 second window to get her downstairs and outside before her bladder blew. I threw on some shoes, a hat and grabbed a coat. I didn’t realize until I was standing outside in the freezing cold that I had mistakenly grabbed my girlfriend’s coat.

Standing outside with the dogs, shivering in my PJs and girlfriend’s coat, I realized that the condo was empty when I left. There was no sign of GIRLFRIEND or her parents. Back inside, I found a note. They woke up early for a family fun shopping expedition out in the suburbs. Their destination: IKEA and JC Penney. I was pretty sure the stores didn’t open at 6am. But they were no where to be found.

And so I did what any man would do in such a situation. I went back to bed.

The thing I love best about GIRLFRIEND is that she’s smart enough to leave me behind. Shopping with the in-laws at IKEA at 6am on a Saturday really aint my thing. Not when I can be sleeping.

An American Girl Haunting

HE SAID:

I have a confession to make. I am terrified of American Girl Place. I'm not proud of this, but admitting my fear is the first step towards recovery. For all my remaining years, I will never set foot inside another American Girl Place. I am convinced it's an evil place to brainwash young girls and their Moms.

My story begins over the summer. I went to meet GIRLFRIEND and some of her family friends who were visiting in town. Among them was a 7 year old girl I'll refer to as "BratGirl." BratGirl is the very definition of your typical American spoiled, obnoxious, whiny little girl.

No matter what you bought her, BratGirl always wanted more. She would pout and whine in high-pitched voice I'm convinced only dogs and myself could hear. Worse still, BratGirl always seemed to get what she wanted. There'd be moments when I could take no more and wished a runaway stroller would fling itself at her... and she'd be promptly rewarded with an ice cream. It seemed the louder she whined, the more she was rewarded. I blame BratGirl for my introduction to American Girl.

I was supposed to meet GIRLFRIEND, her friends and the visiting BratGirl there on a random Sunday morning. I walked the short distance and stood outside the entrance glancing up at the big sign. It wasn't far from my work and just down the street from the Chicago El stop. But I had never noticed this store before. I must have walked by it every day on my way to work. "Strange," I thought as I stood outside stuck in my head. The doors spilled open and dozens of Daughters and Moms knocked me aside. That should have been a sign to stay away.

The front entrance was huge and the walls were lined with customized dolls of every ethnicity and every era (Wild Wild West doll, Geisha doll, Hippie 60s doll, caveman doll, etc.) lining the walls. I scanned the crowd and realized GIRLFRIEND wasn't here. Damn. I had to go deeper inside this strange place.

So I took the elevator upstairs. Apparently, one floor can't hold all the dolls in the world. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that many Daughters in the store were dressed exactly as their Moms. That would be odd under normal circumstances, but what sent a shiver down my spine was that each girl carried a doll... dressed in identical clothes. In some instances, you had Moms, Daughters and Dolls all dressed alike. I kid you not. And best (or worst) of all, there was a sit-down bar where you could take hair braiding lessons. There I found Daughters braiding their dolls hair while their Moms stood behind braiding their daughter's hair.

I stood there for a long while mesmerized by this Americanized craziness. Once I came to my senses, I fled. Goodbye BratGirl. Here's hoping you never visit us again.