Waiting for Vizzini

Hopefully, I can promise you that this will be the last time the word "Verizon" appears in this publication. I can offer no guarantees. After two weeks of insanity and rage (I ripped the bulletin board off the wall and threw it, kicked over the shredder and said some phrases not appropriate for pre-school toys.) Finally, Comcast came to the rescue, forcing me to reconsider my unofficial list of least favorite companies. Previously, Comcast had been #1, followed by Verizon (but not so much Verizon Wireless). But after Verizon proved that they actually never start working for me, they took top billing. Sometimes it's hard when two words start with the same letter.

I now have a (mostly) fully-functioning home office. I conducted my first conference call from said office today, and the dog barking in the background came from the other guy's side, not mine. Alas, the Puggles from Virginia were not destined for this couple. Based on the strenous nature of the adoption process, I kind of think the agency lied to us because they thought us unfit parents. I guess we'll never know.

As plan B, after much discussion over whether The Boy could handle walking away without a dog, we hit the MD SPCA this afternoon. In the first two kennels, Lucas, the fox terrier with one lazy ear competed for our attention with Ilmer, the Sharpei/Lab mix. They both sat at attention, wagging their tails. They were both adorable, and they both had holds placed on them. Of course, we "met" them both anyway. We decided on Lucas (although I like that name enough to give it to a child). We talked on the way back about whether we are ready, whether The Boy would regret Lucas if later he decided he should have looked around more.

"I think he's great," he said. "I think he looks like our Mosotos."

Over the last couple of weeks, "mosotos" has come to have a plethora of meanings. In actuality, it means nothing.

Less than an hour later, we learned that Lucas was not our "Mosotos." The Boy is furiously researching other avenues for adoption. At the shelter today, Irene asked us, in her brogue, if we were patient people. After a pause, The Boy said, "Well, she would have to be. She puts up with me." And that's why I chose him-- for his self-awareness.

Tomorrow I have my first deadline at "work," Thursday I have the next, and in between, Wednesday night, I turn in my first piece in my writing workshop. A caveat: I may have judged my class too quickly. It's better than I thought, and for the most part, so are my fellow "divorcees."