The history of German cinema weighs heavy on the Baroness.

My life is really busy.

We're supposed to love busy. The economy and all. But really what I love is a life of sloth and slack, where I can sit around and draw stuff with pens all day and maybe paint the outside of my house again at a leisurely pace and take the dogs to the beach and work on their Roomba riding skills.

When I found time the other night for tacos and margaritas with one of my friends who I hadn't seen in way too long, I was all, what happened? Where are all my hours in my days?

Tash was all, "Dog Agility." And sort of looked at me like, DUH. I think she had one eyebrow raised.

At least after a pitcher of drinks, I can still get up early the next morning and stop at the field on the way to work, even if just for a teensy couple moments, to practice Gustavo's running dogwalk, and something hard. Lately, it's been poles. The hardest entries I can find, as fast as we can go. I have not tried the German yet with him. If that's freaking out Otterpop, I can only imagine what it will do to Gustavo.


Also because sometimes people think his name is Gestapo. My mom thought that was his name for a while. And if I'm waving my arms and yelling German things such as "No", "Goodbye", and "Winter", that's just weird. German film maker Michael Haneke, I hold you and your crisp black and white cinematography responsible for this.

Sometimes, I set up robot at the end of the poles and send him in from far away and off of weird angles. European angles. Maybe even German ones. He goes mad for the beep and treat and his poles are getting stronger and stronger. Then I set up a sequence I can do a bunch of ways with hard, scary pole entries and we run it. It's fun.

Then we all play frisbee. Then we go flying down the road to work. And work work work work. And then go to sleep and start again the next day.

The end. Or as we say in German, ende.