Don't Mess With Schnauzers

As a result of a set of events that, frankly, would never, in any world, be blogworthy, I have found myself in deep East Texas for the past week, and will continue to be here until next Sunday. And while, yes, I am mostly here for a person--people, really, since she does, after all, have parents and siblings and one damn cute nephew--I am also here on a fact-finding mission. My task: to catch a glimpse of what her everyday life is like in this place that was once foreign to me.

If I've learned anything in my short few days here, it's that, with the exception of feeder roads along the interstates--which have to be the most amazing things I have ever seen--things are not all that much different than they are in New Jersey. It's a bit slower, there are more wide open spaces, and I've seen farms a-plenty, but there's enough commerce to make my Northeastern heart skip a few beats. And though it will surely seem blasphemy to my loyal Jersey-based readers, I would rather live in San Antonio than spend another day in New York City. There, I said it.

I'd like to think my open-mindedness has played a huge part in making me feel welcome and comfortable here. The point at which I knew I must have been doing something right was when her dog Riesling pounced on me and pawed at my crotch when I got in the door. Just like old times!

Perhaps the nicest part of the trip has been how natural it's all felt, despite being bereft of major activities thus far. San Antonio was the exception, yes, but the rest of this past week has consisted of running errands, watching movies, catching up on TV, and generally spending time with each other. And you know what? I love that. Couldn't ask for more.

So, unsurprisingly, Thursday night was spent in front of the TV in our pajamas, doing the cute cuddling thing (cue the "aww"), enjoying the NBC comedies. The DVR allowed us to never run out of quality programs to watch, and as a result we stayed up until 1:35am. And I, still feeling the cuteness, requested she tuck me in and kiss me goodnight, to which she happily obliged.

As we made our way back toward my bedroom, Ries departed from her spot on the couch and started walking around. She'd been on the couch for a few hours with us, presumably asleep, and had woken up when we went to go to bed. So she paced while we moved, and as we poured glasses of water, she trotted slowly into my bedroom for a few minutes and then marched right back out. Adorable.

So I crawled into bed, pulled my sheets up to my neck, and...felt wetness. I stopped, alarmed. I'd felt this before--this will be a story for another time, I promise--so I asked her if she felt something on the sheet. Sure enough, she did. So I immediately jumped out, looked down, and found a large spot on the quilt, soaked through the sheets, mattress cover, and feather-top.

I love ya, Riesling, but damn it, pooch, why'd you have to pee right where I slept for three nights!

Which brings me to my next Texas first: I've never done laundry at 2:00am before. And just in case you were wondering, no, that's not something I'd like to repeat any time soon.