Diamonds just don't really do it for me. I mean, I guess if some guy I really really liked, who I would commit to spending the rest of my life with, offered me one, I wouldn't turn it down, but I would hope that in that case he would be my best friend (and fulfill a few other roles, too), and the the gem I was wearing on my hand would be a sign of that friendship, but not the fulfillment of it.
Neither of those things are forthcoming anytime soon, though, so right now I'm encroaching on man's best friend territory, and getting a dog. Since, you know, I only have one job anymore, and I no longer have to count hours and be gone for twelve a day. The trustees of New Church (which I'm going to have to come up with another nickname for pretty soon, I think) have even said I can bring my canine to work with me if I want. I do want, although I think there will need to be a few weeks' adjustment period before I do something like that.
Oscar is a black cockapoo who is enough cocker to remind me (and my mom) of the cocker I grew up with, which might be why I decided on him and the shelter promoting him, even though he has to be shipped to me from Arkansas and I didn't get to meet him first and his adoption "donation" is one of the higher ones. I stole the photo from the internet before they took his profile off because of my having committed to adopting him.
His original name was (still kind of is, I guess), "Bounty," but that reminds my dad of paper towels, and me of British chocolate bars. The Milk Guy is at least cultured enough to be reminded of a book. I settled on renaming him "Oscar" because for some reason I was thinking of Desiree, a historical novel I had read as a teen and from which I had gleaned many names I found romantic. Oscar was the son of the heroine, and became the crown prince of Sweden. I didn't think Oscar was romantic at all at the time, and I still don't, but I like it because it's unusual. Plus, my dog is fuzzy like a Sesame Street monster, and Oscar is my favourite one. I have toyed with the possibility of other names, but Oscar is the only one that seems to work for me. I suppose this means it's a good thing I have no children, because they would probably all end up with unfortunate names which I would be compelled to name them, for interest's sake.
I'm currently on vacation, visiting Dave, Sister-in-Lu, and the World's Cutest Niece, but after I've been back home a week, Oscar will arrive in Connecticut from Arkansas, and I will drive down and pick him up and take him home. I sent in my "donation" last night, so I can now honestly say I have a dog. I'm nervous. I keep dreaming about badly-behaved puppies. But I'm also excited. And I can't wait to get home and go shopping for dog treats and a dog bed and stuff.
The only thing about all the developments in the last few weeks is that now? The entire author blurb on the back of my book is a lie. Maybe it doesn't matter, though, since the book no longer remotely ranks as a top seller in CFP's children's fiction . . .