This will surprise absolutely NOBODY: We moved the country and... adopted a dog! Meet Waldo, our 3 year old hound mix from the local SPCA!
He's cuddly and laid back and doing a good job of learning the drill around here. I've been rather obsessively reading books by Cesar Millan aka the Dog Whisperer and The Monks of New Skete, probably driving Steven a little nuts by starting every other sentence with, "Cesar says" and "The monks say". But I'm very, VERY adamant about Waldo being well trained because he is inevitably going to be a face of Spruceton Inn.
Maybe one day I can even teach him how to check people in. Hounds are good with computers, right?
Anyway. I never, ever identified as a dog person before this. But if this past year has taught me anything it's that people change. Or more precisely, that I change! Though perhaps "change" is not the right word for it-- it's more like just because you think you're something it doesn't mean you necessarily are.
I mean, I've always thought of myself as a "city person" and here I am. I'm not saying I've turned in my MetroCard forever and ain't looking back, but I will say that I am even happier out here in the country than I ever dared imagine.
It makes you wonder what you'll discover next about yourself.