Sorry I haven't written.I think I've misplaced my mojo.Or, maybe I never had any to misplace but believing that I did was enough to get me by.I don't feel like I've had anything even remotely clever or interesting to say in weeks.I feel this way each time I sit down to say hello to you all, each time I answer the phone or sit down to a meal with friends and family, and it nags at me that this will be a problem in job interviews.That is, if I were being called for any.
Pa doesn't like me using the word fuck in my bloggs because he says it cheapens them and Mom doesn't like it because she says it just means I don't possess the vocabulary to find another word, but sometimes fucked is the right word, the only word.I am fucked.Look for me at your local fast food drive thru because that's what it's looking like.
I lost my job and with it any sense of purpose and most of my friends.
I lost the one thing that made the above bearable; I lost my best friend, my Bugger.
And now I've lost my mojo.
If I start listening to country music, just shoot me and put me out of my misery.
Mojo or no mojo, Mom says I have to write a blogg. Probably because she too wonders what the hell I do all day.
I stay busy and I try to make the best of my time.For example, I spend a lot of time trying to make use of every single tile by myself on a Scrabble board and then I take pictures of it.
Some days, I photograph the meals I prepare. I always eat them before I remember to snap a shot of the finished product though.
I've rediscovered the joy of washing floors on hand and knee.Probably because I have so much time and it takes so much longer. The crayfish never stop being funny and the adventures of Simon and G-funk continue to charm me. I've finally started to tackle the mess that is my basement.I set up a chair just outside the garage most everyday and contemplate cleaning it, too.
But I spend a lot of time in the yard still even though it's too hot to plant anything.I think I've finally won the war against the thistle which is quite an accomplishment.I realized yesterday that I have the greenest lawn on the block and I don't think I water anymore than the other Yard People.I prefer to believe that spending so much time on the porch at night and whispering nice things to it has done more good than the sprinkler.Some of you may want to point out that I have lawn weeds and to that I say they're all green and the same height, so who cares.I figure I'd have a lot more if I didn't let the pigeons hang around the yard because they're the clean up crew; too large to fit on the feeders, they clean up the seed knocked out by the sparrows.They have missed some sunflower seeds though and for that I'm glad because I have sunflowers popping up in the beds and there were enough in the alley behind me to keep my vases full for two weeks.This sunflower has taken up residence in the pile of dirt I keep on hand in the drive:
I also take credit for all the corn growing on the tracks. Lord Squirrel is going to have a lot of fun this fall.
I have more tomatoes - cherries and Early Girls - than I know what to do with even though I've been handing them out to neighbors and to my mother the tomato junkie.The beans aren't doing as well as I'd like but I've harvested enough for a meal to myself each week and have had enough twice now to share a meal with four others.Simon and G-funk are both big fans of the fresh beans and it seems the local buns have caught on because I keep finding half eaten, abandoned beans all over the yard and tracks.
I've certainly got a lot of time to wish I had the money to paint the house a pale butter yellow, which I think just might make it the most adorable little house on the block.After a visit to Cranbrook on Monday, I'm even more determined to load up the side yard with evergreens and trees.If you've never visited Cranbrook house and gardens, I urge you to go.Most of the local libraries are offering 2-4 free passes to a lot of local attractions including all parts of Cranbrook, the DIA and Detroit's MotownMuseum.
My favorite shot of the day was this grumpy little fellow, a Gray Tree Frog:
If you do visit Cranbrook, be prepared to come home and stare at your silly little garden and wish you'd started it fifty years earlier. Which of course is impossible but then so are the gardens there. Clearly, magical fairies maintain them.
I continue to stalk Perry, the resident hawk.I think that Perry may have had a little rendezvous earlier in the year though because it would seem there are now three regulars, two of which are half his size.And they are Cooper's Hawks.I had some luck when one of them presumably flew into my parents' house across the way and spent the evening recovering in their big Spruce tree.
And if these things don't keep me busy, if ever I feel the urge to spend the day in front of a TV or napping, Basil is sure to remind me not to do such a thing because he keeps me busier than anything else.But he's worthy of a blogg all his own, which I will create just as soon as I locate my mojo. Maybe it's in the garage.
In the meantime, someone give me a job.I'll mow your lawn and whisper sweet nothings to it.I'll bake you pies.I'll walk your dog.I'll wash your floors.I'll stalk your wildlife.I'll take your picture. I'll play Scrabble with you.
Because if I end up in a headpiece and a McDonald's visor, I might just shrivel up and die.
No longer bird lady or voodoo lady...
Category: Pets and Animals
After weeks of searching, I had started to think that it was like jeans or bras or Macdonald's fruit pie flavors: the minute I fall in love with them, they disappear. But I don't suppose crayfish are in danger of going extinct anytime soon.If they are, I can help.
I told myself (and everyone else) that she was for Bug but, of course, Bug made a fool of me again when she took one look at Rudy and then one look at me that said "uh, how about no?" and then walked off, all interest lost in the tank and most interest lost in me for the next week.I could have returned Rudy or set her free or eaten her, maybe fed her to Bug to regain some cool points before converting her tank back to a fish tank, but apparently, it was I all along that wanted a pet crayfish because I just went out and bought Bugger a whole new set-up.
I don't doubt Bug is somewhere laughing at my having finally gotten my crayfish and subsequently 25 more.Very funny, Bug.Laugh it up but the joke's on you because in another year, I might have considered cooking them up for you for control purposes.I thought about putting them in the pond out back.Rudys are German so I'd think they'd winter over fine here.But maybe we don't want them to.Rudys are banned outright in England.Probably because some poor bastard found himself with 4,000 of them suddenly, set them free, and then they took over.But alas, truth be told, I don't dump them in the pond because they might not make the winter.I don't want to sell them back to a pet store either because crays are sold as food for bigger things.So okay, I was bluffing, Bug, and I wouldn't ever feed them to you.It's been mentioned to me several times, but how could I ever be a dog breeder if I can't even part with crayfish!If you want one, prepare for applications and a home visit.
I am no longer Bird Lady or Voodoo Lady; I am Crawdad Lady.
Sigh.
I scored a 55-gallon tank with all the fixins off craigslist.com for $25 a few weeks back, meant to be a tank for the pond fish to over-winter in.Rudy can keep her digs and I'll divvy up the babies between the 55-gallon in the basement and the 30-gallon in the dining room.If anyone has some aquarium stuff lying around and you have any cave type ornaments, let me know.
Confuscious say, 'tis better to not shit than to shit too much.
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
It's a little known fact that Ace Frehley was a mail carrier pre-KISS.
This would be a way cooler piece of trivia if I cared about KISS.
I took my postal exam Monday morning and I should have my results in three weeks, which is about the time I expect to be able to take a crap again.
Seems to me I was built like a tank until I had my gall bladder removed a few years ago and now things are all out of whack.I can't even take medication for the pre-existing condition of my bowels being the first thing stress attacks without severe consequences.I weighed my options though and decided twas better to not shit than to shit too much with such an important task at hand and so I pumped myself full of anti-diarrhea tablets.
I was also on my period.Because just like I can summon the rain by leaving my car windows open all night, I can summon my menstrual cycle to coincide with important events like vacations, visits to theme parks in 100-degree weather, the likelihood of getting laid, and exams.
Then there's the eye twitching.And just like people swear they that don't notice the twitching, people swear that they don't notice the cold sore on my upper lip.Well, I don't believe a single one of you.It's all I see and try as I might to ignore it, it talks to me when I get real quiet.
Pssst.
They're all judging you, every person you see in a day, the strangers AND your familiars and they're all thinking HERPES.
Yes, I am the size of Spain, aren't I?
You should slather me with some ointment so I glisten in the sun.
Herpes, herpes, herpes.
I'm going away now but I'll see you again for the interview...
The guy next to me didn't have any talking mouth sores, but he poured sweat for the entire 2 ½ hour exam and it got so bad that I started to worry that he might have a coronary right there with pencil in hand.He was also a heavy breather, ya know, one of those people that snore when they're awake.Then there was the girl one table over who broke out in hives.We locked eyes at one point and I nodded and smiled a sympathetic smile which she returned with a smile. I can spot my own kind a mile away.
I daydreamed about smoking a joint before going in because, in the right frame of mind, pot turns me into Rainman. But that would be incredibly adolescent and irresponsible. That, and the chance it had of turning me into a paranoid freak, climbing over tables and Sweaty Dude to get out of the room twenty minutes in and screaming aloud at my upper lip and left eye to leave me alone as I disappeared out the door was too great.
It's just not fair, ya know. It's not fair that I hold the last bag of grass I'll see in a long time because The Man dictates such. God. What if it's THE last bag?! It's not fair that you can work in your yard all day, come in and take your bath and then sit in the backyard barefoot to admire your day's work while you drink a six-pack. It's not fair that you can do that and I can't do the same with a fat bowl.
Sometimes, I think growing up is nothing more than getting tired. There have been so many times over the years that I have stood back and looked at my father in particular and wondered what happened to make his so different from the boy people tell stories about. Now I see that he just got tired.
I'm getting tired, too. Too tired to try and cheat, too tired to fight about it and too tired to work the kind of bullshit job where no one cares what illegal activities I partake in on my own time.
I know I passed the exam. We'll all be put on a list in the order of our scores, the highest being the first called. I'm gonna be a mail carrier just like Ace and Cliff and Newman. Send positive vibes my way and send some to Sweaty Dude and Itchy Scratchy if you have any left over.
A little prayer that I take a dump soon would be a much appreciated gesture, too.
"They did a study between postal workers and chimpanzees. They proved chimps were 32% slower. Of course, they were better with public relations." ~ Cliff Clavin
Currently
listening
:
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
By
Spoon
Release date: 2007-07-10
I remember now that it happened before.The blinds on my west bedroom window are often disturbed, one of the vinyl slats shoved up and stuck as happens when you part them with your fingers to look outside.I woke this morning and they were like that.I fixed it.When I came in from mowing the lawn this evening, they were awry again.It could be some warp in the blind, I suppose.Except I replaced it a month ago.That and I remember now that it happened before.
The TV isn't always turned off while I sleep anymore.Sometimes it is though.
Basil stands in the hallway outside the bedrooms, looking up in a trance, just like Bug would.They can hear or see something I cannot.
She Who Will Not Be Named lived here for my two year absence and she swears there is something unsettling about the place.She's even used the word 'evil' once or twice.She claims it had a heavy atmosphere, like a weight on her chest, and she blames the house for a long, dark depression.
Sometimes I feel sad when she talks about it because I love it here.I feel really good here and I feel really well, too, and I wish it could have been the same for her.
Maybe the house knows that I love it and that I find its quirks charming.Maybe it's the former occupants, adoptive grandparents to She Who Will Not Be Named and me, only she didn't get to have the bond that I had with them which might explain the differences in opinions on living in the house.
Or, maybe I'm just exactly where I'm meant to be.Maybe I'm not one destined to live a glamorous life traveling the world; maybe I'm meant to set my roots and maybe I'm meant to set them not too far from where I was planted in the beginning.
Currently
listening
:
Dreaming Out Loud
By
OneRepublic
Release date: 2007-11-20
Expecting another gimmicky rendition of Batman and his foes, Batman Beginsdidn't really grab my attention in 2005 and it wasn't until sometime in 2006 that I sat down to watch a borrowed copy.Christian Bale's Batman blows Keaton, Clooney and Kilmer all out of the water and Christopher Nolan gives both Bruce Wayne and Gotham City souls.Ending credits still rolling, I was out the door to purchase my own copy so that I could watch it again that night and then every night for the next month.It has been a very long two years of waiting for the sequel, but after seeing The Dark Knight last night for the third time, I maintain that the wait has been well worth it.
I liked 1999's 10 Things I Hate About You, still do actually if I'm in the mood to dumb out in front of something cute.A Knight's Tale is just awful.I couldn't finish Ned Kelly.I walked out of The Brothers Grimm all pissed off.By the time BrokebackMountain hit the screen, I'd written Heath Ledger off as a dude prettier than he was talented, best suited to cutesy romantic comedies for the 20 and under crowd.
Boy, did I screw up.
All the hot dogs and brownies probably didn't help matters. And surely there was a bad taste left in my mouth from Get Smart, the first film of last night's double feature and a total waste of time.Plus there's the child-like fascination and excitement that Chris Nolan's Batman conjures in me. Ledger is so unrecognizable, so creepy, so brilliant that it turns my stomach a bit to watch him as The Joker; his performance is shocking and it has been more amazing and more disturbing with each viewing.
I apologize, Heath.I believe a darkness has to exist in a person to play such a monster so convincingly and I hope that what happened to you was just an awful accident and not because you opened Pandora's Box.I am sad that I won't see what else existed in you or follow you to wherever you were going to take us next.I finally watched BrokebackMountain the other day.It is beautiful and heart wrenching and your EnnisDel Mar steals both the screen and my heart.
I think it bewilders some people that I am able to watch a movie over and over and over again.I saw The Matrix in the theatre 13 times and another several dozen times at home.I'm certain I've seen Wonder Boys, Signs, Shawshank Redemption, Godfather II and A Clockwork Orange each over a hundred times.I don't suppose I've ever had an original thought on any of them, but I am studying them, critiquing them, memorizing them, and after while, something about them just becomes comforting.I guess Grady Tripp, The Hess family, Michael Corleone, Andy Dufresne, Alex, and so many others start to feel like friends.I said something to Mom about being attracted to the Joker and she laughed, saying it was just because I know what's underneath the make-up but I'm not convinced that that's it.The Joker and I are going to be friends.Maybe there's a little darkness in me too, Heath.
If you're planning to see The Dark Knight, rather, if you're planning to see ANY movie this summer, see it at the drive-in.Built in 1950, Dearborn's Ford-Wyoming drive-in features 9 theatres with shows starting at dusk and running until dawn, year-round.I rediscovered it just two weeks ago after having forgotten about it for more than ten years and I am so glad it didn't disappear in that time.It was once a ritual for me and I hope it is again becoming so as She Who Will Not Be Named and I have spent the last two Wednesday nights there, calling it our date night.We pack up the car with some pillows, some smokes, a cooler and a grab bag of edible goodies.Last night we took fresh popcorn, hot dogs off the grill, made up at home and wrapped in tin foil, and brownies still warm from the oven.You're still paying an $8.50 admission per person but you're paying for a double feature (a DOUBLE double feature if you can hang 'til dawn!), the privacy of your own vehicle for pajama wearing and smoking of any number of things, no one strange sitting next to you and no one telling you to keep your feet off the dashboard.You get the vintage intermission cartoons of dancing hot dogs and ice cream cones, too, and who doesn't love dancing food.I enjoyed The Dark Knight most of all last night, partly because the cast of characters are fast becoming friends, but also because there's just something romantic about the drive-in.
If the Ford-Wyoming meets the same fate as Wyandotte's theatre and so many others before it, I will be devastated.It's important to keep such a thing alive, so GO!
Sorry about that whole name thing, Trudy.
Category: Pets and Animals
No one seems to understand my fascination and affection for a crustacean named Rudy.No one really pokes fun, but no really cares either.Upon talking about him, eyes glaze over and people wander off.A perk of blogging: I won't know if you wander off, my feelings won't be hurt and I won't yell at you to come back and listen or watch until you get it.
I was careful to keep the concept of habitat in mind and I did some reading, but mostly I think I tried to build a world that would appeal to me were I able to get in there.Remember my mention of daydreaming of shrinking down to a very tiny size, donning a very tiny suit and mask and flippers?I wasn't kidding.
Rudy took to his new tank and thrived, ever curious about everything, except he never investigated under the clay pot, or under the slab of stone beneath that.He didn't dig in the sand beyond tossing it over himself for a good rub down.He was content to sleep in the moss and hide in the pot and climb on the driftwood and play in the bubbles until about two and half months ago, when he disappeared.He stopped coming out in the middle of the night to graze and chase bubbles as has always been his practice and he wasn't eating at all as far as I could tell.Hoping his favorite moss was enough to sustain him, I stopped feeding him outright because the uneaten pellets and wafers were funking up the tank.
He discovered the secret spot, under the pot, and having dug a burrow I swear I didn't see him for two weeks before I finally reached in and gently exposed his new digs.If I hadn't used a piece of wood as a base between the tank's bottom and the stand, I could watch him from underneath because he's excavated the sand right down to the glass.
Crayfish molt and Rudy has molted four or five times while in my care but he's never been inactive more than six days, three days beforehand and two or three days afterwards.I could find no literature that said a molt should take longer than a week.I had been adding interesting rocks to the tank as I found them in my travels and I removed them all, thinking that maybe there was a metal in one of them making him sick.I finally decided he'd taken to some sort of hibernation.
Every week I'd lift the stone to make sure he was still alive and he always was, acting his usual self, freaking out and skidding through the tank, backwards, propelled by his tail. And where once I was disappointed that he took no notice of my offering of a private place, now I was ticked off that I had ever given it to him because he was being no fun at all.
Always one to frown upon feeding pets other pets, I broke down and got him three minnows in an attempt to coax him out.Maybe he'd gotten bored.Maybe he needed more protein.But wouldn't you know those damn minnows hang out in his den with him, moving back and forth ever so slightly, right along side him!?Seemingly considering them his roommates and not his dinner, he pays zero attention to them.Each night tending to a crayfish that makes friends with fish and a gerbil that is in love with a hamster, I started to think the house, or maybe even myself, was enchanted.
This went on for six weeks and then about a month ago, Rudy reemerged.I didn't actually see him until two weeks ago, but I was waking in the mornings to find plants moved, piles of neatly stacked shells, and new entrances to his den.Now, he's more active than ever, out during the afternoons as well as night and eating an absurd amount of plants and pellets in a day.
Again, I just chocked it up to some sort of hibernation period that I don't understand and maybe even he was confused about what he was doing because he lives in a tank and not in a pond.
I was playing Scrabble online tonight and looked over to see some other creature scoot across the top of Rudy's pot, a very tiny creature that I had not put in there.Upon closer inspection, I realized it was another crayfish, a very, very tiny one, maybe 1/8" long.With perfect little tail, claws, antennae and eyes.As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed another.And after ten minutes, I had counted 11.
Rudy is a Trudy.
But Trudy hasn't been in a tank with another of her kind in six months.I had brought some plants home not too long ago but I'm neurotic about rinsing plants before putting them in a tank because of those damn trumpet snails.I never got around to reading too much about crawdad reproduction as I never intended to get Rudy a mate.I started reading again tonight and apparently, crayfish mate twice a year, spring and fall.The female can store the sperm until the following mating season and this timing fits perfectly, having gotten Rudy in November. Gestation is approximately 6 weeks. And baby crays born in the spring, are born in late May, early June.
When Trudy appeared a few weeks ago, she probably had her young on the underside of her tail, taking them with her everywhere she went.It's quite possible that tonight is their solo flight.
I've wanted to write these past few weeks but it's been hard to start.I suppose I could just keep it short and say, "Dear Bug, I miss you".But it's so much bigger than that.
Surely you've heard by now that Basil is here and I hope you're not mad because I have been terribly lonely for you and he is a great comfort. He feels like you, Bugger.He doesn't have Sebastian's thick, silky coat of fur; he has your rough and tumble, wooly bear fur.He does have huge Sebastian ears though!
Do you remember when I brought the new bedroom furniture home and we had all those drawers that we didn't know what to do with because neither of us find clothes very exciting? I found a use for one of them and inside are all your toys and collars and your food bowl. It didn't seem right to let him use your things because I know how you hate to share. I also tucked into your drawer all the cards and notes that came in the mail after you left and Bugger, they say such nice things. You touched the lives of so many people and you were so loved. We even got an envelope from the vet containing two cards full of messages and another two pieces of paper for the overflow. And it turns out, it was really no secret at all that you depleted the ponds there of all the koi. Everyone we worked with just had your back all this time, saying nothing much so you and I wouldn't get in trouble.
Speaking of, I think the anger went out of me when you went. I took Boss Man off the chandelier the day you left and I think if I bumped into him tomorrow, I'd thank him because I see the reason for it all now. Just like everyone promised I would. I believe that job went away because you were leaving and Basil was coming and it was important I be there for you both. As quickly as that job was gone, I believe that another will present itself to me when it's time.
I took Basil to the party you and I RSVPed for back in March.So much smaller than everyone else, I was afraid to put him down around the other dogs, afraid to let him out of my sight.If I ever worried about putting you down it was because I worried you'd be the bully, pushing the other kids off the swings and taking their lunch money!There were three other youngsters there, all his size, and they shared a pen apart from the rest of the gathering and so I put him with them at first, but he didn't seem to like it.He got spooked a few times but he's going to be like you, Bugger: unafraid, fierce and proud, able to hold his own.Even with dogs many times his size!He ran and ran all day long with those big dogs while the other babies napped in the sun.
He did however show his true age and sleep the entire two hours home.
Sebastian was at the party too.I have to laugh because he's so much like his sisters, Fancy Aunt Lydia and me.He would wander into a group every so often and say hello, but mostly he preferred to go off on his own for a good walk and some thought, more content to watch than join.
He misses you, Bug.In the days after you left, he would come over and he would look all around for you.He doesn't get up to greet me at the door when I visit him anymore and that tells me that it was never me he got up to greet, it was you.Or, maybe he's just mad at me about Basil.Suddenly, Sebastian seems more serious, dignified even.We all thought he was sick at first! Everyone hoped he would take to Basil, finding in him the playmate he has so longed for, begged that you be. Seems he walks a little slower and stands a little taller these days, Bug.I think he knows now that you aren't coming back and he is finally the older one and I think he understands the responsibility in that.Mostly he ignores Basil but when he's had enough he puts him in his place, a job he probably would have left to you when you were here. And whether Sebastian likes him or not, more than once I caught him very deliberately seeking out little Basil at that party and when he'd had a sniff and was assured that Basil was alright, he'd go back off on his own.
I had a good time that day but I did have to excuse myself a few times and wander off with Sebastian for a walk or wander off to the car for a smoke, a tear in my eye and your name a whisper on my lips. With nearly thirty scots running around, not a one of them looked like you, little girl.None of them showed any interest in the lake full of sounds and smells and magic like you would have and none of them even climbed the rock wall you would have loved to explore every nook and cranny of. I would have liked to slink off to these spots too but I guess it's just more fun with a friend.
I do hope you can find a little something in Basil that you like.He's as passionate about food as you were, prefers the great outdoors to the cozy indoors just like you, too. He follows me everywhere, fast becoming the friend so hard to make and the love so hard to find in this world. I believe he was born for me, just as you were. But he's no Lucky Bug.Sometimes I worry that I'm being unfair to him, cheating him, because I spend so much time thinking about you when I'm with him.I spend a lot of time telling him about you too, but he doesn't seem to mind.I do think he's tired of my playing your song over and over again.
Remember how I would sing it to you in the car and you'd wag your tail every time I changed the word "girl" to "Bug"?Sometimes you'd watch my performance intently, dancing around in your own seat, nosing at me and waiting for the next "… my Bug" and sometimes you'd refuse to look at me at all, being very irritated with it all and with me, but still you'd wag your tail on cue.
I've got sunshine On a cloudy day. When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May. Well, I guess you'll say What can make me feel this way? My Bug... Talkin' 'bout my Bug! (My girl!) I've got so much honey The bees envy me. I've got a sweeter song
Than the birds in the trees. Well, I guess you'll say What can make me feel this way? My Bug... Talkin' 'bout my Bug! (My girl!) I don't need no money, Fortune or fame. I've got all the riches, Bugger, One girl can claim. Well, I guess you'll say What can make me feel this way? My Bug... Talkin' 'bout my Bug! (My gir!l)
Talkin' bout my Bug.
I've got sushine on cloudy day With my Bug...
I've even got the month of May.
With my Bug...
You came to me in May and left you me in May.It was a really good four years and ten days, sweet girl, and it remains my favorite month of the year.
Your fish are doing well.Simon, Garfunkel and Pig, too.Basil doesn't really get it, so I've been taking care of them.Oh, and I have a surprise for you!You actually have MORE fish now!And Grandpa gifted us some tadpoles!If you can find no other reason to like Basil, maybe knowing that he helped Grandpa and I build your pond will warm your heart a bit.
We had a good time working on it and we talked about you a lot while we worked, telling stories and laughing. There's still more work to be done, more planting and more fidgeting with rocks that will lead into the bed beyond it, but there's magic already, Bug! Last night we had our first toad visit and he sang and sang, all night, looking for a girlfriend. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he missed the party this year so I just whistled back to him every so often from the office window.It's a perfect view from your couch there.
Basil's quite the gardener really, pulling dandelions out of the lawn, moving an incredible amount of mulch each day and toting his trowel around the yard with him.I think you would like the work we've been doing.I get discouraged sometimes, feeling overwhelmed by all the work and time yet to be spent on it, but it's already so much prettier than when you and I moved in.
The Peonies, my favorite, are about done blooming but what a show it's been.Their scent, sweeter than any rose, rolls in the back windows with the wind and it is intoxicating.
Remember how we just had the three big ones?Well, I've turned into quite the plant pirate, scavenging for plants and deals everywhere I go.All total, we'll have 12 Peonies next May!I don't even know what color some of them will be but that's okay, it'll be a surprise! We've got lilac now too, another find, and it's planted near our bedroom window with Lily of the Valley underneath. I don't expect it to bloom next spring, but when it does, it'll bloom just before the peonies and I'll be able to lie in bed and smell it!
I'm sorry to prattle on. I just wanted to update you with all that has been going on. When you were still here, I worried that I wouldn't see the good around me for awhile after you left but I think you'd be proud of me. I have tried to live each day as you did, with a brave heart and a mischievious smile on my face.
When I finally packed up your things I came across the note you left and when I'm ready to be less selfish and share it with others, I will do just that. I know in my heart that I will see you again one day and it will be wonderful. In the meantime, I'll continue to write about you and to write to you, keeping you up to date on all the things in this world you so loved.
I also promise to sit down for a blog (or two) tonight.
I've just been so busy!
But what to write about? My new friend? My passed friend? Grogg: Plant Pirate? Sprint car races? Bug's pond? The Return of Rudy? A Scottish Terrier party? Facebook? How Grogg thinks the world can be saved? (Yes, I think I've figured it out...)
Twirling it in my fingers with eyes closed, it feels like my Little Bugger's fur and I am so happy about that.
Even with a new baby in the house and feeling a nervous wreck, I slept better than I have since my girl left. The sadness lingers, the tears still sneak up on me, but the lonliness is gone. And that is why I didn't wait, I suppose. The house is not the same without a dog and neither am I.
Mom and I drove to Toledo last night to meet a dog already being called Sebastian, a four month old Scotty boy, all ears and muffins. His foster mother must have thought me mad when I burst into tears at the sight of him.
And since there is already a Sebastian in the family, he shall be called... Basil.
Uncle Sebastian didn't know quite what to think but he was very polite and he's promised to teach little Basil all about being a proper Scot...
He slept through the night and hasn't made a mistake yet in the house. He's eaten all his food and he takes his meds without any argument. He seems to be a thoughtful little guy, like Sebastian. He likes to chew on feet as they pass by. He likes sticks. And my dirty socks.
Less than 24 hours after meeting him, that's about all I know. Well, I know too that I am madly in love with him already and I wonder how that is possible.
Perhaps love at first sight is real.
There's lots more going on around here, too. Like, this little guy:
And a whole bunch of these guys everywhere:
And let me not forget the pond... nearly complete but progress was interrupted by a new addition to the family. Pictures to come!
I'm sure I'm not the first to feel and say that nighttime is the worst, the loneliest. On that first night, I woke to see that the baby gate was not in place and that Bug was not in her place either, which could only mean she was up to or into something. I got all the way to the kitchen before I remembered that it meant something else.
I lie in bed and I think I hear her bell. Sometimes it startles me but mostly I like it. I even hung one of her many collars on the front door and though I forget every time that it's not her come to greet me, that it's just a bell on a door now, I find comfort in the familiar sound.
I keep hearing the word heartbroken said to me, said around me.Admittedly, I thought that that's what it would be, too. I have never been so sad in all my life, but my heart is not broken and there is no hole either.I think it hurts so badly because my heart is so full.
I'm not sure I can say anything more about it all right now.
I want to say thank you.
I have found comfort in this box and thisspace, too.So many lovely words sent to me, so many lovely sentiments.So many lovely people. Thank you.
There's a storm coming.I can smell it.I can feel it in my bones.
Right now it's just gray and uncertain.Sad, soulful sounds roll in with the wind.
The weather report gives it just a 20% chance, but something awful is coming.
I feel like I should hang something on the door, some equivalent to "do not disturb".
This is a sick house, please go away.
Quarantine.
Death comes.
I want to lock up all the windows and pull all the shades, but that would be for my sake.For her, I keep it bright with a soft breeze rolling through.For her, I don't put my headphones on and I don't smoke the joint.For her, I don't go to sleep. I don't go away.
An old friend and a new friend stopped by unannounced yesterday.Glad as I was to see their faces, I was hesitant to ask them in.I explained that my dog was not herself and asked them to not disturb her, to please be quiet.They understood and they didn't disturb her, didn't even look at her really.When one of them stepped over her sleeping in a walkway I felt full of rage.I wanted to shake them, scream at them, scoop my dog up and tell them not to bother her but not to step over her like she's not even there either.I know that's stupid.
And I know none of you want to read this.This is the stuff that makes me uncomfortable: seeing someone I feel something for feeling so much.Knowing that something should be said and wanting to say it, but not being able to find the words.
Its okay, you don't have to say anything.
Just read, just listen.
I've been looking through pictures of her while she sleeps.There's the very first one, professionally done, taken just days after I had brought her home. I had thought it such a great photo then, but now I see that mine are so much better; that photographer captured a cute little dog, but through my lens, my eye, I have captured so much more.
I wake up to sounds at the end of the bed, uncomfortable sounds. She looks up at me with worried and apologetic eyes.I try not to cry.I try to believe she's sorry for vomiting and waking me, and not that's she's apologizing to me because she has to leave soon.I just clean up her mess and lay down on the floor with her, smelling her and touching her, listening to her take breaths that are not quite right.
There's a storm coming.
Just when I think the skies are about to open up and cry all over me, the clouds move a little and the sun shines again, bringing with it hope.Morning comes and she wags her tail when I stand, joking with her that I'm too old to sleep on floors anymore.I carry her out in my arms and set her in the grass.I sit on the steps, distracted by the grayness and the uncertainty, but when I look up, the clouds have parted and she's rolling in the grass like nothing at all is wrong.She's smiling.Then the clouds shift once more and she stops, again looking at me with sorry eyes, asking that I please come get her because now she is too tired to carry herself.
I think about the day I met her.I went in so intent on getting a little boy, a youngster.And there was this messy little girl, already an old lady, with silly fur and poop on her bum.It wasn't until three long days later that she was mine, but I was hers from the moment I saw her.
I will carry you for as long as you let me, Little Bugger.
I have a lighter that belonged to a friend and I used to carry it pretty faithfully.Notorious for going through lighters as quickly as I go through the cigarettes they light, I can't explain how this one has remained in my possession for so long.Its empty now, has been for some time, and still I keep it, standing upright on my bedroom dresser.I sit on the bed staring at it sometimes, f
