pit stop

I am never more aware of how self-absorbed a pursuit blogging is than when I return to it after a break, feeling compelled to account for my absence for a moment before remembering that really, Ellie, no1curr. The world continued to turn just fine without updates from my tiny, insignificant corner of it.

Still, by way of explanation for those of you who don't do the Instagram thing: I moved into a new apartment - with Terence. And it's been amazing and fun and overwhelming and challenging and great and scary and hilarious and all the things that the first two weeks of cohabitation usually is. And I haven't made time to blog, because of all the expected reasons. I mean, The Container Store isn't going to shop itself, amirite?

But I'm mostly settled in now, and feel like I have enough room in my brain to return to thrice-weekly blasts of ME ME ME from a brand-new location a few floors down in the same old building. I'll explain why I stayed so close in the next post, or the one after that. For now though I am just firing this off to ease back into things, and because truthfully I'm too weak and hungry to dig into anything more substantial, since I just ran three laps around the cornfield on nothing but a venti Machiatto and six (homemade, not very good) molasses cookies. Einstein here needs to make some real food.

In the meantime however, I have a fun/cute(?) Chaucer thing to share.

One day on a walk a few months ago, Ridiculips stopped dead on the sidewalk when he saw we were heading in the opposite direction of the park we usually visit. He wouldn't budge, no matter how much I pleaded with him, and just kept glancing the way that he clearly wanted to go. When I realized what was up, I took a testing step in the "right" direction. He immediately started walking again. It was so cute and smart of him that I had to laugh, and I went along with his wishes.

I created a monster that day.

Ever since then, he's been walking me. Ever since it dawned on him that if his 135 lbs don't want to go in a particular direction, his 135 lbs don't fucking have to, walks with Chaucer are Chaucer-directed, with zero allowances for change and deviation. It is Chaucer's world, and I'm just scooping poop in it.

With this new program, he's grown increasingly bold and curious and demanding. He was always a very inquisitive dog, peeking into corners and trotting down steps he'd never been down, looking for cats or just meandering for the fun of it - but now he's really loving life. And yesterday I taped a bit of our walk to show you what I mean. You can see him glancing down at a little section of grass he's taken to exploring, up by the John Ferraro Building. At first I'd go down with him, but now we've worked out a system where I unclip him, let him go do his thing solo for a minute, and then call him up before we continue on together.

We do this every. single. time.

It's ridiculous, and letting him call the shots is a truly terrible habit I need to curb ASAP, but I can't help loving that he's so smart and stubborn and full of personality. Oh and sorry for my ugly, grating voice, ugh.

And that's what I got today.