Forever Comes in Threes, page 10
LaTasha from Atlanta: Seems like to me Dr. Chandler has done all right for herself. Her parents raised her to be tough. That’s what a woman has to be to get ahead in the world because too many men would pat us on the head and promote their incompetent male friends.
Perry sighed. Sometimes this podcast felt like managing children. She planned to ignore the Dr. Lee references. She really did need to take time to listen to one of those podcasts and dig deeper into the host’s background. She’d been surprised to see female pronouns for the infamous Dr. Lee. She’d figured it was one of those doctors who spent all their time looking up other people’s asses and was now selling shit in his podcast. Focus. She needed to focus.
“Let’s don’t slip back into the men-versus-women discussion again. We’re going to save that for later. Let’s stay on target. Our goal is to find where we can take charge in our personal lives so we can find more time for ourselves to recharge or to spend with our partners, families, and friends.”
Evan from Arkansas: I save time by wearing clothes more than once before I throw them in the laundry. Saves wear and tear on the clothes, too. Most things can be worn more than once unless you spill something on them. Jeans can last three to five days, a shirt—if you wear an undershirt and use deodorant—at least two or three days. And get an extra day out of your underwear by turning them inside out.
Edith from Homer, Montana: The cowboys up here wear their long johns a week or more before they launder them.
Ramona from Alabama: I’m guessing the cows don’t complain about their smell?
Dr. Perry Chandler: Can you arrange to work from home at least one day a week? Unless you’re handling laundry for a family of five, a few loads timed so that you can fold them during your breaks would cut down laundry time on the weekends.
Ralph from New Jersey: I saw something on the internet where a guy made little dust-mop booties for his dog so they could keep the wood floors clean.
Vonda from Savannah, Ga.: Dumb ass. That’s not real. Just buy one of those Rumba things that vacuum for you.
Julie messaged: Caller on line two.
Perry: Thank God. Save me from this chat-roll disaster.
Julie: People feel strongly about this stuff. You’ve hit a nerve, and our page views are rocketing. Keep it up.
“Hi. You’re live on Timed for Success. Who am I speaking with, and can you tell us where you’re calling from?”
“I’m Adam, and I’m in Sacramento.”
“What would you like to tell us?”
“This podcast on saving time is wasting my time. The commentors obviously aren’t serious. Just work more so you can make more money, then pay other people to mow the lawn, clean the house, and chauffeur the kids all over the place. This plan creates jobs and relieves your stress. Trickle-down economics is the American way. Unless your son has the potential to play in the NBA or NFL, teach him to play golf. That’s the only sport he’ll need in the corporate world. Also, pinch those pennies early in your career, and invest everything you can. Let your money work for you now so you can retire early and take the wife on that cruise she’s been nagging you about.”
Perry sighed. “I’m going to ignore for now that you completely eliminated any girls when you said NBA and NFL, then suggested that fathers needed to teach only their sons to play golf. But I agree with other parts of your recommendation. Being more productive and putting in the bit of overtime to get ahead of your peers could get you up the ladder quicker. Also, clamping down on expenses now to invest some money is a great idea. Do you really need that second ski trip this year? Don’t run to the Apple store every time a new iPhone comes out with an incremental improvement. Make that money work for you in the stock market.”
Julie: Caller on line one.
“Hi. You’re on Timed for Success. What would you like to add?”
An unidentified female voice answered. “I think Adam is full of it. When he has a heart attack on the golf course before he’s fifty, I doubt he’ll wish he’d spent more time at work. Dr. Lee says work becomes our home when we don’t have balance. Work is a temporary situation until we retire. Family, friends, and the nest we build for retirement are the forever in our lives.”
“But without success at work, you might not have a retirement to look forward to,” Perry said. “Maybe balance isn’t simultaneous but something that evens out over time. You spend more time working now but just enjoy the benefits of your earlier success when you retire.”
“Dr. Lee offered this eye-opening scenario on Finding Natural Balance,” the caller said. “When you’re single and in your early twenties, it’s fun to go with your office buddies to the local sports bar for burgers and a beer after work. Then you’re over thirty, and most of your pals are married with families. Sure, you’re their boss because you put in the extra hours, kissed a few extra rings, and climbed the ladder. Only now you’re in your office alone, working late because you don’t want to go to the bar by yourself. Or you do go because nothing’s waiting for you at home but a clean apartment, and you end up eating dinner at the bar, pretending to watch a football game on one of the screens while you’re really watching a table full of young hires from your office sharing stories and beer and eyeing women. They won’t invite you to join them because you’re the boss and, in their eyes, the old guy who works and drinks too much. Then you’re almost fifty and you’re looking up at the ceiling of your hospital room, listening to your heart monitor beep. The office manager sends you the customary flowers with a card signed by a bunch of people, many whose names you don’t even recognize, because they passed it around the office for all to sign. But nobody comes to visit. Your boss calls. He spends about thirty seconds asking how you feel and assuring you the office misses you. Then he spends thirty minutes asking about projects with upcoming deadlines and telling you who will take over your job while you’re out, which nearly causes you to have a second coronary. Life sucks, but you have plenty of time now to think about how things could have been if you’d had more balance in your life.”
Perry mentally shook herself after several long seconds of podcast silence. Julie would have to edit that out before she posted the recorded version.
“Wow. This Dr. Lee sounds depressing. I wonder how many calls the suicide help line received after that podcast.” The unprofessional and inappropriate remark slipped out of her mouth before she could bite her tongue. “Sorry. Let me back up. That wasn’t a fair response, but her example is overly dramatic. And I certainly don’t want to make light of the very serious issue of suicide. I agree we need balance in life, but balance doesn’t mean the same thing for everyone. It’s not a black-and-white, fifty-fifty deal. Some areas are gray, and the ratios should be flexible, depending on where you are in your career and personal life. Thank you, though, caller. Wait. Your last name wouldn’t happen to be Lee, would it?”
But Julie had already ended the call, and the chat line was bloody again with the parent-versus-childless and men-versus-women battles. Perry glanced at her watch and dropped her chin in relief. The stretch of her neck and shoulder muscles felt good. The temptation to end the podcast clawed for attention. She didn’t need the money from it. Her teams were busier than ever, and she could use the time to write her next book. But she couldn’t end the podcast now. It would look like this notorious, vicious Dr. Lee had chased her away. Nope. She’d return to fight another day.
“We’re out of time now, but let’s track our time usage over the weekend and write it down. I think the results will surprise you.”
Julie cued the podcast closing, and Perry snatched her headphones off.
“The cyber crowd is vicious these days.”
Three furry faces looked up at her in agreement for a minute, and then Tucker ran to the top of the stairs and barked.
“I know, I know. I forgot to let you out after breakfast. Just give me a few more minutes. I’ve got to dig into this damned Dr. Lee.”
Molly barked sharply and lumbered down the steps with Tucker in tow. Shit. They weren’t going to wait. Perry had already typed a long note of ideas for how to dig into Dr. Lee’s dirt, uh, life when JT walked to the doorway and lifted his leg. She sprang from her chair.
“No, no, no. Bad dog. No peeing in the house.”
Lovable, fun-loving JT just stared at her. He did lower his leg, but only after he was done and she was already there, throwing tissues onto the urine pooling on her gleaming hardwood floor. She emptied the entire box of tissues, then stood up to glare at the soggy mess. No way she was going to pick that up with her bare hands.
“Damn it! Bad dog.”
The label didn’t faze JT, who was hop-stepping to the stairs and yipping like they were playing a game. Tail held high, he waved it with each jaunty step down the stairs.
“That dog must have a pea-sized brain.” Actually, that wasn’t true. She’d seen him figure out how to retrieve a bone or a ball that had rolled behind furniture when the others had given up. Even as angry as she was about the pee, his glass-half-full personality, comforting cuddles, and super-cute face made him impossible to hate. She stomped down the steps after him. One thing was certain—she wouldn’t get lost in work and delay potty break again.
Chapter Eight
“Hey, Danny. How’s everything going?” Ming set the Thai takeout on the floorboard, then settled into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes convertible. She missed his first words as her phone synced with her car’s system.
“…doing fantastic. The weather is perfect, and we’ve already adopted two cats and a dog in the first hour. Another couple is looking seriously at the St. Bernard, and Bonnie is talking with them. Are you still bringing those three small dogs?”
“I am, but it will be at least an hour, maybe even two before we get there. The foster is a first-timer, and I want to make sure she understands our requirements for adoption. Also, although I’m acquainted with these dogs because I knew their deceased owner, I’m not sure how they’d be around children and cats. They still have to be tested. They definitely wouldn’t be suited for a home where a kid might have a pet rodent, reptile, or bird. These are terrier mixes and have proved their hunting skills.”
“Gotcha. I’ll inform the other volunteers that people can put in applications to adopt them, pending further testing.”
“Excellent. See you in a bit.” Ming felt to her core that someone different lurked behind Perry’s façade of indifferent efficiency, and she’d seen the signs of bonding between Perry and the pups. But after listening to yesterday’s Timed for Success podcast, doubts niggled at her earlier, maybe too quick, conviction that fate had already matched the trio with their forever home. Pets, like children, needed time and attention, not workaholic owners. Besides, wasn’t Perry expecting her to help place the dogs with someone else? She parked in the short driveway in front of Perry’s double garage, checked her watch, and smiled. Ha. Five minutes early.
Perry sprang down the walkway, her grin a reflection of the bright sun, and retrieved the takeout bag from the car before Ming could open her door. “It’s an awesome day, isn’t it? Perfect for a walk to the park.”
Ming returned her enthusiasm. The adoption event was happening in the dog park about five blocks away, so they could take the dogs there soon. “It’s perfect for after we eat.”
Perry set the bag on the kitchen island and opened the refrigerator. “I have water, beer, green tea, sweet tea, and soda. What would you like to drink?”
“Green tea would be wonderful.” Ming opened the food containers while Perry gathered some small plates and serving spoons.
“That smells great. I love Spicy J’s. What’d you get for us?” Perry asked.
“Fried rice, the appetizer trio, and mango shrimp.”
“All of my favorites,” Perry said, unwrapping the disposable chopsticks provided by the restaurant. “Dig in.” She snagged some calamari to transfer to her plate but froze when Ming didn’t join her. “Uh, did you want to say, um, a blessing or something?”
Ming startled herself with an eruption of laughter at Perry’s caught-in-the-headlights expression. She was sure Perry had no clue she was so expressive, but the real shocker was how these small cracks in the self-confidence of this international businesswoman made Ming want to hug and protect her. She tucked that thought away for examination later. “No. I’m not religious. I might want to compliment the chef, but I don’t generally bless the food.”
Perry looked relieved. “But you’re not eating.”
“Could I have a fork? I’ve never really mastered the whole chopsticks thing.” She choked back another burst of laughter when Perry’s cheeks flushed like cherries.
“I wasn’t…I didn’t assume…I mean…just because…”
“Relax. I’m one of probably only a handful of people in the entire state of California who can’t eat with chopsticks.” She spread her fingers and held up her hands. “You would think fingers skilled enough to stitch a wound, wield a scalpel, and manipulate acupuncture needles should be able to use chopsticks.” She shrugged. “But not me. I secretly suspect my grandmother isn’t as fond of Mexican food as she claims. She’s just too embarrassed to go to an Asian restaurant with me where people would see me eating with a fork.”
Perry retrieved one and handed it to Ming. “You do acupuncture? Why didn’t you use that on me Thursday? I’ve always wanted to try it, and I wouldn’t have been too drugged up to work.”
“You needed to relax and rest. And acupuncture sessions can leave you feeling woozy or fatigued, too.”
“Still, if I hurt my back again, I want to try that.”
Ming started to explain that she wouldn’t likely be making house calls in Fresno as soon as she untangled herself from the co-op practice and her property purchase was finalized. She planned to move out of the city as soon as possible. Before she told anyone, though, she wanted to nail down a few more boards in the new life she was building. So, she nodded and chewed some calamari.
* * *
The metal loop for connecting the leash to the harness stuck out next to JT’s elbow as he twirled and danced, clearly excited. Perry shook her head. The harnesses were the old type that came apart if you weren’t careful when you removed them, and putting them back together correctly on the dog was like working a Rubik’s Cube. Scratch that. She could solve the cube in under fifteen seconds, but these harnesses seemed like they clipped together differently every time. She was tempted to sit one dog down and practice until she solved the trick to sorting them out. Or she could just buy three of those easy-on, easy-off new harnesses. Yet they were a bit pricey for dogs she didn’t plan to keep.
She threw her hands up. Obviously, she’d put this one on wrong. That loop was supposed to be on top, between his shoulders. “I can untangle parachute lines, so why can’t I figure out how to put on a stupid dog harness?”
“Well, these old-style harnesses are much more adjustable as your dog grows or ages and gains weight, but they can be the devil to buckle on correctly.” Ming clipped the leash to the harness as Perry removed it. “It’s easier if you leave the leashes attached when you take them off, so you know which part goes between the shoulders and don’t get it turned inside-out. Can I show you?”
“I need to do it.” She refused to admit defeat, especially in front of this woman she wanted to impress.
“I agree. I meant that I can instruct as you do it.”
“I can do it.”
“I know you can, but you’re the alpha, and you need to make him be still.”
“He’s too excited.”
“Give him a command.”
“He’s not going to listen.”
“Do your employees listen, even when they’re excited about something?”
“They better. I’m the boss.” Okay. She got it. She was a big dog in the business world. It was about time she started acting like it at home. “JT, sit.”
JT immediately sat and stared up at her. She held the harness by the leash and realized it was clear how to slip it over his head, tug one foot through, and close the clasp to secure what had a moment ago appeared to be a puzzle of random straps. She grinned at Ming.
“Good job.” Ming returned her smile.
They stared at each other through a heavy haze of expectation. Perry’s head was going to explode if Ming didn’t repeat Monday’s kiss or at least hug her before they left for the park. Instead, Ming held out Tucker’s harness and cleared her throat.
“Um, this is Tucker’s harness. I’ll get Molly.”
She would get that kiss. Yes, she would. She would put that harness on Tucker like an expert and impress the giver of kisses, then steal one of those knee-melting smooches if it wasn’t immediately offered. After all, Ming had kissed her before. Wasn’t it her turn to make the move? Visions of that kiss when Ming knelt to check the fit of Tucker’s harness burst when Ming reached down and neatly clipped the teal leash to Molly’s matching collar.
“Hey. Where’s her harness?” Why did she get the easy dog?
“Molly doesn’t need one. JT and Tucker have slender terrier heads. They could easily slip a collar by backing up and twisting a bit. As long as Molly’s collar is properly tightened, she’d have a hard time slipping it over her big, chunky head. She’s also better trained to a leash than the other two.”
Well, no worries. She’d get this harness on Tucker faster than her Rubik’s Cube record. She found the leash ring and clipped it on, then used it to hold up the harness. Yes. She could easily see how the straps should go and, after a small adjustment, gave the command.
