I had these ‘peelable’ words in my bathroom, on my light fixture. I took them off today.
Not because I don’t believe in them. Because they were peeling of their own accord and I was in Ultra Domestic Goddess mode today.
I started off with awaking at 1:00 a.m. with Butters staring at me. Urgently. Whining. We went outside and she chowed down on any grass she could find. Which, in a desert, is a pretty futile effort, but she knew every spot in our yard.
This could be (other than a ‘duh’ moment) indicative of the fact that the very day before, she started eating garbage. She has NEVER done this!
She wouldn’t even eat delicious, hot, human food sitting at her eye level before she was spayed! I do not know what she ate that brought on such an emergency … other than Q-tips, tissue and ok … mother nature arrived. (For the second time this month … another post … or not) Ug.
But she has NEVER … EVER … before. Weird. I wonder if that means after her surgery she was craving something her body needed, much like us girls do at certain times of the month. We can be all ‘salad and healthy’ then ‘give me a f*&$ing burger’.
So knowing this, we were outside for half an hour early in the morning while she scavenged for grass.
I’m no dummy. I know dogs eat grass when they want to puke. Bottom line. But, there was no puking.
So I’m a little concerned about her. I’ve let her out sans leash a couple of times, it’s been 10 days since her surgery … but mostly I’m still walking her, because she seems to like it. And also, I get to tell her in non-verbal ways, that she doesn’t have to bark at every car that goes by.
I was up at 7 a.m. (Expecting to walk into the main house to find Butters vomit – but no, we already know that.)
I went to bed early – so, in spite of my 1:00 a.m. awakening, I was spry. (I’m excited I get to use that in a sentence! LOL!)
My morning: 7:30 – left house. Off to get my oil changed (turns out I have a tiny leak and they talked me into synthetic oil since I’m over 75,000 miles). Car wash.
Store for my future cat ‘Draper’ – cat bowl, cat food, cat toys purchased.
Bank, for money. Since Nic lost my card, I’m doing this a lot. Good thing I used to work with these chicks and I love visiting them.
Purchased Nic’s 20th birthday gifts. (Ug! That’s a whole other post. My baby is going to be 20 on Tuesday!!!!)
Dropped donations off at Goodwill.
Stopped at the shops for things for my honey, for the house.
20 cents off per gallon! Thanks Smiths!
1:00 P.M. Did a majority of the weeding in the yard, after picking up the poop earlier.
Butters got to sit outside without her leash!
I kept avoiding the bedroom and worked on the rest of the house, I’m loving our nerd living room:
Thought about a woman’s ‘Day Off’.
Eventually got to the bedroom … and I can now walk through it. And it is ready. And there is space for my honey.
So, back to ‘Faith, Hope, Love’.
Someone commented, when I shared my morning:
Bottom line is I am SO grateful. Grateful that I even had the money for the oil change and the car that required it. The physical ability to weed that wretched dirt yard – the mental strength and ability to go through every single piece of my past these past weeks – the determination to make my past and present ready for my future.
The Faith that what I am pouring into my tomorrow is worth it. (It is, I know it.)
The Love still in my heart … that I fell head over heels with the man who I know was always meant for me.
I am SO grateful.
So very, very, very grateful.
And I can’t wait until he’s finally here.
Less than two weeks – and this girl has the man of her dreams, dreaming next to her.
This week has been bananas. And this morning started off on a queer note too.
I awoke, knew I had to take Butters outside (more on that later) looked at the clock, 10 minutes until 8! I threw some clothes on, grabbed a sleepy dog and a leash and out we went.
To no avail.
Came back inside, brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair and by now, my eyes are starting to open.
They opened enough that I could see in the living room that it was now 7 a.m.
Apparently, the atomic alarm clock in my bedroom got bored, and decided to leap into the future. I seriously need to leave it some crayons and paper or something, because this is the 3rd time it’s done that since I’ve had it.
Anyway, if my clock can time travel … so can we.
Let’s go back to Saint Patrick’s Day ….
I finally had an appointment to get Butters spayed and to receive her shots.
(Here’s where I preach again. DO NOT GET A PET UNLESS YOU CAN AFFORD TO TAKE CARE OF IT! I’ll also remind you that Butters was a stray, who adopted us, and it’s taken THIS long to afford to spay her. I kept her in the yard, have not let her have contact with other animals – because she had not had her shots. Be a responsible pet owner, spay & neuter! They are family members for life, not just a passing fancy).
ANYWAY, (climbs off of soapbox)
Got her in the car … managed to leave her in the car while alerting the vet that I was here and reminding them “She slips her collar – I may need help.” They came outside with me holding the lasso type leash.
Everything was going well! She allowed her temperature to be taken, was a champ getting through her shots – and then I said goodbye, covered in hair and smelling like a dog in my work clothes.
Later that morning, I received a call from my son … it went like this:
Received another phone call that afternoon from the vet saying she was out of surgery and in recovery.
Then it was time to pick her up.
I could see by the looks on the staff’s faces that they hadn’t mentioned everything during that phone call.
“Um, she’ll be out in a minute … they’re just trying to get the cone on her.”
Minutes added up … finally 4 technicians FOUR came out with Butters.
(It makes a lovely lampshade though …)
Turns out she was only one of two dogs that had ever woken immediately after – surgery and managed to take her own gauze off. Turns out she was a little hard to wrangle. Turns OUT she had already removed 4 cones.
“Do you want me to help?” I asked.
Yes, yes they did.
I held her as they put another cone on, as my manatee squirmed. And, watched as she removed her entire collar and cone.
I held her as they applied the ‘harness cone’ – and watched as she removed that too.
By now she’s panting … the senior technician, with a look of exhaustion, asked me if she was a ‘licker’.
“Well, yeah … I’ve seen her lick her foot.”
Long story short, we had the vet shoot her up with a tranquilizer and I left with a sedation prescription in addition to the pain-killer prescription.
“She’ll go down any minute …” the technician told me.
So the entire drive home, I had one hand on the steering wheel and one hand holding her upright, terrified she was going to zonk out, fall off the back seat and hurt herself.
I needn’t have worried. I ended up staying awake most the night with her. She would not ‘go down.’
She tottered around the house like a drunken toddler. I followed her everywhere so that she didn’t fall … and as she fought sleep, we cuddled.
I knew I would be useless at work the next day – and called my boss to ask for the morning off.
Oh, and why is she on the bed? I lifted her, because if I tried to ‘sequester’ her to a confined space (as the vet suggested), she yowled and jumped clumsily up at the door which I knew was NOT good for her stitches. I chose the lesser of two evils.
(In between all of this fun, I had given my son my ATM card to collect her prescriptions, which, he ended up losing. And after cancelling the card, he then found it. Groan.)
Fast forward to Friday.
I had a terrible spell. It lasted for hours. Usually when I’m tired, or stressed, I seem to have them more frequently. I sat at work having chest pain and dizziness. Off balance and feeling like I was in a furnace. I couldn’t wait to go home. Besides, my son was in Phoenix and Butters had been unattended all day.
When I felt safe enough to drive home, I took the chance and went for it.
I pulled into my parking spot and saw the most beautiful sight.
Boxes on the porch! Lots of boxes! My fiancée’s possessions had arrived.
But first on my list of things to do, was to get in, take my much-needed medicine, check on Butters and take my poor girl outside! She has to be leash walked in the yard for at least 10 days … so she doesn’t ‘overdo’ it.
I go inside – and was greeted by another sight.
Not so beautiful.
My VERY house trained girl could not hold it all day. I’m not surprised considering the medicines she’s on. But I was already not feeling well & now had 3 messes to clean up.
First things first though! Medicine? No. Take Butters out. Because I knew she was probably embarrassed about those accidents and she comes first.
Out we go.
Then she notices the boxes.
And to say she freaked out would be an understatement.
I can’t bring a box or bag in the house without her looking at it like I invited a vampire in. She fusses and frets until I ‘touch’ the strange new object and then she’ll get comfortable enough to sniff it – but keeps her eye on it, just in case.
Well, the boxes were just too much for her. And she must have been going bonkers when they were delivered – I imagine she was barking maniacally at the poor UPS driver when he or she was depositing the boxes on the porch.
So there’s mulitple ‘strange objects’ and ‘scent of stranger’ surrounding her.
She yanked on the leash, and it tightened – and she backed up to the edge of the porch ready to leap!
I had two choices, let her leap … which could do her wound much damage, or, I could pull tighter on that leash and cut off her air supply. I only had seconds to decide. I know doggy CPR. I chose pull, and get her back inside.
I locked her in my bedroom, stepping over the accidents.
I then cleaned up the accidents, as she whined urgently and pawed at the door … an occasional pitiful bark of protest.
I still had to handle the boxes, because I knew she still had to go out, and would not walk past them.
So I carried each box in, straining at the weight of them – heart pounding more than it already had been. Placed the boxes in the kitchen and released the hound.
I was finally able to take her outside.
And as I walked her, remembered, I still needed my heart medicine.
We eventually calmed down – and I put the boxes in new places so that she could walk in the kitchen without fear.
Fast forward to yesterday.
I indulged in a Netflix binge … needing the rest. Watched Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (at the suggestion of my friend Penny).
Okay, I watched the entire Season. (GREAT show by the way, bravo Tina Fey!)
Pausing only to take Butters out and fix a snack.
Then came the ‘incident’.
Stay with me.
Butters has a path. She’s walked it so many times, it’s indelibly etched into our desert dirt yard.
We took the path. Oh, I should mention. I was in my Netflix day underwear and a t-shirt. Ok, not technically ‘underwear’ underwear, not the type I drop on the laundromat floor. They’re boxer briefs that are so comfy and look like bicycle shorts from afar. Decent for the yard.
On said path, is a palm.
That’s the front view – as we approach … here it is from the other side, which, took me longer to see.
So – here’s what happened. I’ll usually discourage her from this part of the path. But, I wanted her to go her route. I decided I could fit under the archway.
Only, I didn’t factor in her pulling, and me holding the leash.
I lost my balance.
Luckly, the palm caught most of my fall. By hooking my underwear to it.
I’m hanging, by my underwear, not letting go of the leash, and I realize – I’m in pain.
It did not just have me by the undies.
I had palm imbeded in my leg and arm.
I kept calm. Kept hold of the leash and reached up to unhook myself from the palm, only to drop, very gracefully (not) to the ground.
Not one to be detered by a mere palm incidient, we finished the little walk and she successfully went potty as I felt blood running down my arm – and felt the ache of my leg.
Once inside I inspected the damage.
My arm was already swelling – my leg needed some barb removal, and was already bruising and swelling too.
Let’s talk about palm trees for a second shall we?
They’re so exotic and beautiful no?
NO! They are nature’s serrated knives!
Evil, barbed, serrated knives!
That is what I had hooked into me. You know what – they’re more like natures chain saws!
Here’s my leg today …
Trust me when I say, it looks worse in person … and feels like I was bitten by a strange object vampire.
Hurts to walk – hurts to sit.
I shall not be going under that palm again!
But I will be walking Butter’s path – many, many times for the next week. Because after almost $500 she’s my biggest asset at this moment – and also, I discovered how much I loved her when she was at her worst.
I called my future mother-in-law the day of the surgery – looking for advice when she wouldn’t settle. She told me dogs pick up on our stress.
Well then, Butters is screwed – I am a stress ball. I’m the one who worries for everyone. I can’t wait until Jim joins his boxes, because he soothes me. He’s my calm.
Speaking of worrying for everyone – as I was finishing up at the laundromat, the little man who I wanted to put in my pocket came back. He’d been gone for two weeks, in the hospital for most of it.
He walked over, wearing an oxygen apparatus and said: “Thank you for your kindness.” I’m tearing up just remembering that simple sentence. To make a connection with a stranger – to have them thank you. My little pocket man promised he would be there next week too, after I said to him and his wife as I made my way out of the laundromat “It’s so good to see you BOTH here.”
I’m so grateful for all I have, all I don’t have. For Butters, for my love, my family and friends – and for that stupid palm that reminded me, even if you get hung up or snagged on something painful, you keep going and finish what you started.
I’m a woman who can appreciate the past. Because it has given me my future.
I think I knew back then, that if I allowed myself to love the man I shall be spending the rest of my life with – I would have ruined it.
I would have.
I know this about me.
The hypocrisy of love, is not being capable of giving it to someone until you first love yourself. Or perhaps it is not hypocrisy, but a very intelligent and kind way to weed out what is wrong in your life – and Darwinism to an extent, that you are selecting the right mate.
It took a long time for me to do this.
I have spent the weekend very busy – and took some time to myself. 13 minutes into ‘The Hours’ I was so completely smitten with the movie and could completely relate.
I watched some more, after indulging in sashimi (Smiths had sushi grade tuna on sale) then had to Stop! Drop! And Write!
I’m such a sensitive person.
I know this too.
I pick up on the smallest detail, the fainest scent, the most subtle of body language.
I’ve always been a writer. Well, first a reader. An avid reader.
I filled my spare time, (between being OUTSIDE with friends) with reading.
I’m blessed that most of my childhood not only lived up to those books, but exceeded them. I was reading Alice in Wonderland whilst in India, on a bus.
So – yeah.
I’m also a professional writer.
Paid for newspaper and magazine articles.
But – I am not a great writer.
I always wanted to write children’s books.
I started one – a while ago. I wanted to introduce children to ‘big’ and different words.
One started like this:
“I like big words. I like to say, “Persnickety”
My mom was that today.
She smoothed my hair, she ironed my socks,
She cleaned the hands of all the clocks.”
You can see where I was going with that – but I never finish anything.
So I’m watching this movie – and getting melancholy.
I asked myself, “Who am I loving you for?”
Needing for the reason I love my fiancé to be true, and pure, and real.
And they are.
Thing is – he sent me this picture.
They just bloomed out of nowhere apparently. And he lives in such an amazing place.
And he’s coming to this:
Which, may look pretty to some nature lovers out there – but earlier this morning, I had to have my son remove a ‘Ramshead’ (Arizona Burr) from my cuticle. It was not pretty. It was not pleasant. And yes, there was blood.
I don’t think I love myself enough yet to understand that he’s willing to live with burrs in lieu of flowers.
Does that make sense?
I don’t feel worthy.
This quote though, reinforces the very real feelings I have:
“When I’m with him I feel. Yes, I am living. And when I’m not with him … yes, everything does seem sort of silly.”
Me: “Good morning!”
Laundry lady: “Good morning – coffee is already made!”
Me: “Aw! Thank you! You’re a lamb!”
It’s been a long weekend. Getting up early Saturday to let a contractor in, then 2 plus hours of power tools, barking and hammering. End result was great though – I no longer feel like I’m showering in a dilapidated Bates Motel room.
Then came the continuation of ‘The Purge’.
Going through my boxes – my plethora of boxes to make room for new boxes belonging to my fiance.
Would be so great just to pull something out and in a millisecond decide “Donate, Toss or Keep” – but when it comes to cards (I’ve kept every single card I’ve received) or photos – there is no getting around actually opening and looking at them.
By late last night I had decided maybe I need to use the ‘if there was a fire, what would I wish had survived it’ method. But there are too many memories for that.
I did find out on Saturday that my son has been paying attention to me all these years though.
We went grocery shopping – a big shopping trip this time. Out of most everything as I’ve been lackadaisical in the supply department.
I was starving. And on the way back, decided to pull into Taco Bell for some nachos.
Me: “Seriously?? How long does it take to make Nachos??”
Nic: “Remember the ‘there are people who would give anything to be where you are’ thing.
Me: “Yeah, you’re right. We have a car full of food … my son is sitting next to me – healthy. But … seriously!! It’s NACHOS!”
Gratitude is a little harder on an empty stomach.
Must stay Gold … no, wait, I’m not Pony Boy – must stay grateful. Which is a kind of gold.
(Great now I have that maple bacon dog video in my head … ‘the gold kind of grateful – yeah?’)
I reminded myself of this while getting frustrated with my room & closet and after tripping over the nth box for the nth time.
I reminded myself of WHY I was doing the task at hand, and how lucky I am to be preparing for the permanent arrival of my true love. SO I shut the fuck up and kept plugging away.
Back to today.
Glaucoma man has donned his Summer attire. It reached almost 90 degrees yesterday – so I don’t blame him. And I’ve got to admit, for a 79 year old man, he’s got some decent get-away-sticks.
Here he is again – posing. lol
I was a little disappointed in him today.
We had our usual ‘eyeball’ chat. Even talked about getting older and about counting blessings. It was lovely. Then he said something a little racist. And I went through that dilemma of ‘do I let him know that’s not okay?’ or ‘do I understand that this man is going to be 80 in 4 months and stuck in his ways … even though he JUST referenced how some people shouldn’t be so ignorant.’
I went with removal of eye contact and no agreeable smile. I think sometimes body language speaks louder than words.
And now I will be his wife … Crazy huh? Nah … It was in the comics lol
Originally posted on Debauchery Soup:
I am a proud comic book fan. (Okay, I’m a total nerd)
I am a member of The Mystic Order of Arachnid Vigilance (AKA: The Tick fan club) True story. Here I am with the Cypher Matic Decoder Wheel!
I am also a fan of artists, of finding out what inspires them. And I am in complete awe of natural talent.
So, it’s only fitting that I asked my long-lost/recently found talented friend if I could interview him. Because he has natural talent in the art department.
I’ll start with sharing what he labeled as his ‘nerdy’ stuff. *Cough* bullshit *Cough*
Now a little gratuitous moment – we played around with a short story I wrote, and…
View original 1,883 more words