I think the blue guy is waiting for them to dance on that marshmallow pole. 
Monthly Archives: March 2013
My milkshake brings my boy to a laugh
So, I got a LOT done today. Decided tomorrow is CHILL OUT day! Cleaned the house, went to the laundromat, did my extra weekend job tonight instead of having to set the alarm for Sunday morning. Anyway – long story short.
I’m at the grocery store. Clean laundry in the car. I had asked my son what he wanted added to the grocery list and his response was ‘Milkshake’. Milkshake?? “From where??” “By the flowers” he types back.
OK.
I can do this.
I finish up my shopping and head for the flower section. A-ha! Mini fridge thingy with cups of milkshake inside.
What flavor? Crap! I grab vanilla and head for the check-out.
“Hello beautiful” The cashier says. (Pretty sure he has a little crush on me, he’s very friendly whenever I run into him at this store).
I help pack my items in my green bags – chatting away with the cashier.
He holds up the milkshake that has a little damage to the rim. Says something about making it.
“That’s OK,” I say, “Pretty sure the insides will still taste the same”.
I’m oblivious to what he actually meant at this point.
I get home.
Proudly unpack ‘the milkshake’ and raise it up to show my son like it’s a trophy or something.
My son starts to laugh.
Eh???
“Um, you’re supposed to make those”.
Eh????
“There’s a machine next to the freezer that you put it in – you make it”.
Pffft.
He also made some comment about next time he wants clam chowder, maybe I could just hand him a can.
I had a few comments for him, but I’ll keep those out of the post.
Little laundry girl
There’s an adorable little girl at the laundromat. She’s sleepy – lids are heavy, but she’s having fun finding laundry carts and pushing them like little shopping carts. The mom is patient with her too. When she dropped her french fries on the ground, she just picked them up. Mom and Grandma are trying to fold 4 dryers worth of clothes.
Not much fun for the little one in adorable pink soft boots.
It makes me smile though, because she’s being a trooper, and her guardians are kind and keeping an eye on her. Of course there are one or two patrons that have cut her the eye because God forbid, she pushed a cart in their path.
It makes me sad – and mad – when little ones are left unattended or yelled at in stores for, well, just being ‘little’. An hour of grocery shopping, or waiting at a bank isn’t that thrilling for us, lets be honest. Imagine sitting in a cart or being told to hush or stay still for that long. Especially when their furtive imaginations and boundless energy longs to be free and to explore.
The one pat on the back I can give myself, is that I loved doing things with Nic when he was little, and put myself in his tiny shoes.
When he babbled in the shopping cart – I leaned into him, responding with things like “Really? Then what happened?” I found endless joy in his curiousity, his mischievious side and took great pains to remain calm when a trip had to be endured even though he was tired and cranky.
I’m looking at little laundry girl and thinking of Nic. If he could just be small, for 24 hours, I would love that. I wouldn’t wish him little again – his life is in motion. But, to hold him one more time – to pick up his spilled food that his tiny hands couldn’t hold on to, to chat with him in the grocery cart. Oh yeah. One day. Just for 1 more day.
Naughty bunnies!
Butters vs the chihuahua
Ah Tuesday morning. I’d just waved goodbye to my sick son – feeling a little guilty sending him off to school as stuffy and half awake as he was.
Fed the dog, grabbed some coffee – dressed in a long black skirt, a pink sweater and black knee-high boots.
Plenty of time to relax and play a little Candy Crush on my ipad as I sat outside and enjoyed the breaking dawn.
Chaos erupted.
It sounded like a pretty gnarly dog fight.
Crap. Where’s Butters??
I none so gingerly plonked my ipad onto my wicker table, spilled my coffee and panicked.
What to grab?
What’s going on?
Get the mace???
No … that’s gonna hurt! And let’s face it, since I don’t react too calmly in chaos, probably I’d be the one hurting when I accidentally sprayed myself in the eye instead of the source of the growling and frantic barking.
Big stick. I spied a big stick and grabbed it – bravely and briskly walking toward the ruckus.
Butters was going berserk. Absolutely, totally, kitten on crack crazy over the neighbors chihuahua.
(The only picture I could find related to Chihuahuas and Butter lol)
It had slipped under its fence and was under some illusion that it stood a chance against my 65 lb Sharpei/Sherpherd mix.
It stood (about 7 inches from the ground to the tip of it’s little snack like head) snapping and snarling from the opposite side of my barely-a-fence.
It’s more like chicken wire … big gaping holes that a very small dog could simply walk right through and into the mouth of my dog.
Please know, Butters is by nature a lover, not a fighter.
She gets excited when strange dogs go by – wags her tail and wants to play. Cats – not so much. And what she must have been thinking was “WHY is this cat barking and baring its teeth so close to my territory?!” Meanwhile, she was jumping up on the flimsy ‘fence’ and trying to get at the ‘barking cat’.
My first attempt to separate them resulted in Butters slipping her collar. (Insert Butter joke here _______)
My second attempt, after inserting stick in between dogs, left me with only one option.
Pick up angry, barking, snarling dog and carry her inside.
Remember now, I’m wearing a long black skirt, pink sweater and boots.
Nice.
Sixty-five pounds feels a lot like one hundred and sixty-five pounds when it’s still snapping and wriggling and thrashing it’s hindquarters in an angry tantrum.
I plop her down in the house and catch my breath. My heart is POUNDING. I can not DO exertion. No, seriously, I have sinus tachycardia, and walking up a flight of stairs feels like I’ve run a marathon.
But no time to waste. I have to leave for work in 20 minutes and there’s still the issue of the rat dog.
I exit from the side door, much to Butters chagrin. I hear her miserable pleas as I meet up with the trouble maker outside.
He follows me – rather pleasantly as I head to his house.
“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He trots along beside me.
Now, Chihuahua lives with a friend. Friend is a corgi. Corgi seems nice enough.
I arrive at my neighbors gate and read the ‘Beware of Dog’ sign.
“Well”, I reason, “I’m WITH the dog”.
And corgi is nice.
In I go. Dog is now home and I ring the doorbell to let them know they need to patch the fence so tidbit doesn’t wander into Butterland.
No answer.
But I do now hear the corgi.
Who proceeds to leap up and nip my arse!!!
Keep calm! Dogs can smell fear! Do NOT emit any dog-fear-pheromones!
I ring the bell again.
Nothing.
I now have to make it from the front door – to the gate to exit.
Crap.
The corgi is eyeballing me – and preparing to make another move.
I reach the gate and gently block the attack with my boot and scoot out to safety.
I’m now left with having to patch up the escape route myself.
I’m picking up rocks, pieces of wood – the dogs are at the fence, snapping at my hands when they get too close to their faces.
10 minutes ’til I have to leave for work.
I decide I can’t risk coming home to carnage. Butters will have to stay inside in our absence.
Felt awful all day. Poor thing. Was also praying she would use my bathroom if she couldn’t hold ‘it’. (The tile being easier to clean I mean. Obviously she can’t use the bathroom … I wish!)
Grabbed some ‘U’ fence posts on the way home (kissed $23 goodbye for those) – figured I could at least reinforce the ‘flimsy’ so she couldn’t leap out after the bugger.
Stopped by the neighbors, who still weren’t home, but did get to explain what happened to a friend of theirs who happened to be out front.
Came home, threw off my dog hair covered black skirt and pink sweater and went out to sledgehammer in those posts.
Considered using the hammer another way – but I borrowed it from a friend and don’t want to stick her with evidence.
Photo therapy
Lay in bed this morning with not a fiber of my being wanting to get up.
I am in a funk of all time funks for a myriad of reasons. But life goes on.
Laundry was skipped last weekend due to my tooth pain – blah, blah, blah – I’m so over talking about that. But, fact is, I had to do laundry today.
I milled about the house, crawled back into bed. Found myself watching ‘The Shahs of Sunset’ reunion show on Bravo. What the hell? I don’t even watch the show – no clue who the people were. But evidently, reaching for the remote and changing the channel wasn’t in the cards.
Get up Amanda.
I sat outside.
I haven’t been reading as often lately, tried to read a few pages. Haven’t picked up a paint brush in a while either, nor my camera.
“Go do laundry, and take some pictures” a voice in my head told me. From where I sat, I could see fog over the river – the mountains looked beautiful.
Okay. Get dressed and just DO IT!
So I did it. Shoved our laundry into a couple of washing machines and took myself and my camera off for some quality time.
Heads up – I’m the Queen of zoom and crop. Whereas, my son captures a subject and leaves in the surroundings, whether aesthetically pleasing or not, and his photos end up amazing. I love that about him. He doesn’t edit life. I just have a problem not editing my mouth.
Without further ado:
The reason I took my camera. Fog is rare here in the desert. It called to me. The Colorado River creates it from time to time, and every time it does, its gorgeous.
Decay and growth. I loved the juxtaposition of the two.
And here too. The area I was shooting in is prone to fires. The tree in the back obviously burned and the new growth in the foreground just made such a pleasing image.
Love the curl of this metal.
Beauty and the desert beast
The reservations irrigation system.
Looked like a mirror – or a framed picture to me
Gawd I loved these
Spent shell – wonder what was on the receiving end of this?
He’s a rocks rock
On my knees in rams head weeds to get this shot, pretty sure I have a couple of puncture wounds – but worth it
Home now – this little guy is growing through the steps. I won’t go into that metaphor. But I was proud of it and that little flower inspires me.
On the way home from the laundromat a song came on that for that very moment in time, couldn’t have been more apropos. Every word spoke to me. And I don’t know when this funk will break – but I know it will. I know this. But I’m nothing if not authentic, and I never ‘fake it til I make it’. I’m not going to plaster a smile on my face. I don’t feel like smiling just yet. I have big decisions to make, big changes to consider and time is slipping by quickly. I am sad, scared, 50 shades of blue and deep in thought. But life is still beautiful. I am still grateful. And tomorrow is another day.
Here’s that song.
Debauchery Soup 