Sol's Random Stories

Review time. Used to bug me. Nowadays, I moonwalk to my review. My attitudes have changed, after two decades of this process. Never had reason to be stressed, but the whole ritual just made me uncomfortable, always too glad when it was over.  It's the typical list of factors, as you can guess. Being evaluated, under the microscope, my work product assessed by group consensus, a dozen mates who I have worked with during my 6am half day shift.  I've had the good luck of great captains and mates, so again, I've had no reason to fret this thing that comes around twice a year. Somewhere along the line it sunk in that the TJ's review is not an event that needs to be amplified, overanalyzed, or dreaded.  If not actually moonwalking, I stroll to my review now with a better perspective, wanting only to keep it all fun for the reviewers, and myself.

I'll say this with certainty: my dog is the silliest dog I know. The other three dogs in our building are far more serious; they act their age.  Not my Miss Silliness. Nearly nine years old now, but we still have to twist and shout with the sweaters. We still have to cross directly in front of folks passing on the sidewalk. We still must lunge   towards everything small and moving like bugs, birds, mice, and of course, those DNA-despised squirrels she gets only in dreams. We'll never ignore the other dogs barking across the busy boulevard, or stay chill defying our Chihuahua roots, or stop sneaking something to chew when we're not looking.  My Miss Silliness, she's never too fond of training lessons, basic commands, or being polite in public. I'm always apologizing for her, and feeling like I'm just lacking the skills to improve her behavior. But, dogs must also think we're pretty silly. Like, collecting and inspecting their poop, looking into their ears, br...