If you’re a pet owner, you think you know everything you can about your dog/cat/ferret/bizarre little iguana? You do, don’t you? Yeah, I did too. Until I got to spend many, many hours with my darling Lila Belle, who has learned to exhibit a few traits that aren’t so darling (and quite a few others that are, so I’ll call it even.)

Yes, one week (or three, depending on how you count it) into my four/six week jaunt across the world, and I’ve learned a thing or two about my puppy. In Atlanta, she wasn’t allowed on the bed (and CERTAINLY not allowed to sleep in it, given the feline menagerie’s predilection for doing so.) Out here, she’s an only child puppy, so she’s been granted the golden right to the bed (if only b/c I feel too guilty making her sleep in the too-small travel crate we have out here) so I’ve seen first-hand (first-paw?) how this little darling prefers to sprawl out, spread eagle, right on top of the pillows. And my legs. And my arms. And my chest. Anywhere she can, basically. Would be quite amusing if it wasn’t so encumbering.

I’ve also gotten to learn about city living. At home, we have a lovely fenced-in back yard, complete with dirt! And grass! And branches! And weeds! Here, in the city, Lila Belle is faced with doing her, uh, do, on concrete, the only choice being whether or not it’s dirty concrete or dirtier concrete. And though I don’t blame her, Miss Lila hasn’t taken kindly to a) doing her business IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE, EGADS! and b) doing it on concrete. Which, as you can see, poses a problem. You can take the gal out of the country, but not the country out of the gal, apparently.

But, all in all, it’s been good so far. We’ve moved from the hotel into a temporary apartment, and while it doesn’t have grass, it DOES have mulch, and Lila has seemed to find this an acceptable replacement for her beloved yard. There’s a Safeway shopping center across the street (much to my post-Safeway.com ordering self; the delivery man thought I was losing my mind…in my defense, I hadn’t realized the actual STORE was 100 yards away. My bad.) and not one, not two, but THREE Starbucks right around the corner. (I propose I alternate to equalize their daily profits…can’t have one getting all my $3/day.) Work is busy as usual, but challenging in that way where you’ve ended the day and know you’ve actually done a lot. (I hear the word for that is fulfilling, but it’s such a new experience to me, I’m still coming to terms with it.) So, at least for today, all is right in the land of Aubrey. And that, my friends, is a good feeling.

********************* IF YOU ARE IN MY TRAINING CLASS, YOU SHOULD *NOT* BE READING THIS, YOU SHOULD BE LISTENING TO YOUR DELIGHTFUL TRAINERS, I.E., MOI. SO SHUT YOUR BROWSER AND PAY ATTENTION, OR ELSE I’LL MAKE YOU DESCRIBE THE URCHIN UTM PROCESS. THIS IS NOT AN IDLE THREAT.******************************

No? Not in my training class? You sure? Ok, then, enjoy below.

So I’m in London for the week, then back to California, where I seem to be spending most of my time these days. When I was there last week, I flew Miss Lila Belle out (since I’ll be there for a month), a journey that went surprisingly well. We had a lovely week in the Westin (they accept dogs these days, who knew?) and then, upon my departure, my Lila went to stay with her angelic puppy godparents, HJ & James. I was initially quite worried, since they had the gorgeous Pinot and since Lila has been known to be a bit persnickity with other dogs, but despite some initial "playtime" involving a lot of growling, running, and biting each other’s necks, it’s apparently going smoothly. (Then again, that could just be Helen Jane being the lovely gal she is and saying it’s going fine to nip my overactive worrying in the bud. But I digress.) Helen sent me some pics to document that really, it *IS* going ok out there in wine country, so without futher ado, here they are:

Gmail, my email of choice (as it should be for all of you), orders your contacts by how often you email them. So, if you find yourself emailing your Mom or sister or best friend a lot, voila! They’re added to the list of "Recent Contacts" so you don’t have to stray very far to send them an email. You know you’re in touch with someone quite a bit if you find them added to that list; the system does it automatically. It’s long been my secret way to see if I’m in lust or like or love – well, if I had ever been in love, I suppose I’d use this method just the same. Surely if I find myself sending many, many emails to a certain someone, I’ve had them on my mind, have been "talking" with them regularly, so alas, something is there. And yet this feature, which I find to be delightful in its simplicity, does have its shortcomings; how does someone get removed after it’s over?

Alas, when I look at my recent comments, remnants of relationships past maintain; i.e, right there at the top is my ex’s email address, my ex who I have NO desire to contact whatsoever, NO desire to continue to see when I head to my contacts. It’s reality giving you a nice slap in the face, reminding you that it’s over even though you’ve moved on and moved past and are even heading towards the "no hard feelings" sort of mindset (though you’re not there yet.) This little reminder of relationships past has been irking me for some time, so much that I was about to send a ticket to the Gmail engineers asking how I could remove aforementioned asshole (see? Not REALLY yet there for the ‘no hard feelings’) when it occurred to me – delete his address!

Magic.

Now if only I could delete the memories as well.

I’m back!

I’M BACK!!

Nearly two weeks w/my site down, you’d be surprised how much I’ve been having the website DT’s, which surprised me since my writing as of late has been somewhat uninspired. And yet, through my travels and all the changes and fabulous things that are happening, I’ve found myself to need this outlet more than I had expected, if only to post my thoughts for myself. So, after custom DNS-ing and updating and getting over the fact that I lost at least a few weeks of my posts (as uninspired as they may have been), with a sigh of relief, I’m back, and somewhat better than ever.

Pics, and posts, and ruminations, and jubilee, all to follow. Thanks for your patience – I’m glad YOU’RE back, too.

I don’t know what it is about traveling abroad that makes me so inclined to discuss what exactly I’m eating over here. I mean, it’s not like I’ve traveled to Mars; the food can’t be THAT different. And yet, with some strange prevailing force that beckons me to this discussion, from it I cannot stray.

First, let’s discuss the state of Chicken in the UK. Yesterday, we had something called Chicken Oysters, that has absolutely nothing to do with actual oysters, mind you, and are more pertaining to the underpart of a chicken. About the size of a chicken wing with the consistency of dark meat, I’m convinced that I ate at least one chicken buttcheek, an experience that is far from pleasant. A few bites into it I decided that Pret a Manger deserved my money more than my stomach deserved to consume poultry ass.

Then today, with the highest expectations, I again encountered the mysterious chicken; this time, it was a teensy little baby bird all tied up in twine, reminding me of my dissection days in AP Bio which nearly permanently sent me to vegetarianism. In fact, the thought of even delving into such a dish sent me to feign being a veggie, an action morally ‘illegal’ here in the UK office since they have a set number of vegetarian dishes per day. It was a decision I didn’t enter into lightly, though it offered very little relief – the quiche substitute was less than satisfying. Thus, lunch #2 in the UK was a mini Milky Way bar (only 16p!)

But alas, I’m enjoying my time over here, foodstuffs notwithstanding. In fact, the trite complaining I’m doing is ridiculous given the nature of my visit and the very tragedy that is happening in New Orleans & the surrounding areas. Whilst I have food aplenty, there are people dying, longing for fresh water and any source of nourishment. Shame on me for digressing to something this insensitive; and yet serves as a meager example of the way the world, despite the tragedy and the death and the anger at our President and the sorrow and the loss and the confusion, continues to go on. People go to work every day, leaving the harsh reality of Katrina’s aftermath by the mere click of a button as they turn off the television. The donations, while pouring in, will likely soon wane, and the hundreds of thousands of people displaced will still remain without their creature comforts as we soon continue with our lives.

And as insensitive as it is, people like me will write what they know, where they are, and what they’re experiencing, as a somewhat futile way to exorcise the omnipresent visions of despair that are so permeating the news, an attempt at self-preservation by way of ignorance, of distraction, of continuance. We won’t forget, mind you, and we won’t stop trying to help, but we will try and go on.

This past week, my phone stopped working.

So did my Blackberry.

So did my work phone, since they haven’t yet configured it to ring here in Cali.

And, to add insult to already ridiculously incommunicadoed injury, my website went down.

Oh yes, Aubrey was SO in the pre-technology era, and has only started to re-emerge.

The company that hosted my site (my old company, which was kind enough to have it hosted for free for the past 5 years) had their server blow up. I’m not sure if there was an actual explosion, mind you, but regardless, aubreysabala.com was no more. Thankfully, I had backed up my files at the end of June so only lost about a month or so of posts (most of which were whiny and quasi-pointless) so all in all, am not too heartbroken. Still, having no outlet to express myself took its toll…let’s just say my freelance editor thinks I need a bit of inspiration.

So, as you’ll come to see in the following weeks, changes are occuring. I’m seeking my inspiration, off to figure out what it is I should be doing as well as where I should be doing it. I’m here in Cali ’til tomorrow, then off to London for a week, then back here for a month. And oh -that’s only the beginning.

They say that today is the first day of the rest of your life, and you know what, for once, I agree.