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My first snowday – By Butters
It was very loud and windy last night. I know ‘windy’ because mom says that’s what when things fall over and noises happen outside. I told her a lot all night that was happening by barking and I was walking around a lot too.
We did not sleep very well.
This morning, mom’s alarm went off, I usually get up and stand over her to say ‘It’s time!’ but today I was too tired.
She pressed the button she presses when she is too sleepy too. A LOT of times.
Here is me not wanting to go out in the wind. Mom ALWAYS takes pictures! It makes me crazy. But, I’m glad she wants pictures of me.
Mom said “It’s New Years Eve! I won’t be gone all day, so if you can’t go potty, I’ll be home by just after lunch ok?”
I knew she would make me go potty anyway … she always does, and I won’t leave the porch if she is not outside with me. Even though she was late, she put on more layers of cloth and came outside.
I love the word ‘Outside’.
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Mom was home WAY sooner than lunch!
We live in the desert (she calls it that.)
All I know is, when I have hair it’s too hot in the Summer, but mom doesn’t want me shaved because then I’ll be ‘sunburned’. I know when I found my family in 2011 I have never been too cold or too hot.
Mom used to leave the front door open enough for me during ‘Summer’ Mumbled things about air-conditioning the entire neighborhood (then laughing about how other ‘adults’ used to say that?) so I could nudge my way in and out all day.
She didn’t do that this last Summer.
I live near people she didn’t want me nudging out to.
That’s all I understand about it.
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When mom was at work today – something happened that hasn’t happened EVER in my life! It hadn’t happened ever in my mom’s life here either!!!
Mom said it was called, Snow.
She got to be home early because of ‘snow’.
It started out like this at mom’s work:
Then she came home and let me see it!
This was my very first snow day!!! ( I told you mom takes a lot of pictures)
This is a blurry picture of me first seeing the white stuff.
Then things got crazy!
These fluffy things kept coming out of the sky!!! I didn’t mind them. I love rain. I loved the fluffy things too! Mom was with me – and kept making excited noises about it all.
This is my boy going to his car to get something … he said his ‘thing’ from the car was frozen … mom kept singing ‘Do you wanna build a snowman?’ even though she’s never seen the movie I hear it’s from.
But she DID make one!
It had blueberry eyes that I got to eat!!!!!!!
This was the best day ever!
Here are some more pictures mom took of me.
And here are my pawprints!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was sad about my tennis ball …
But mom said it would ‘warm up’ again.
All my things outside are wet …
This is my bed … and my green thing!
Mom said they would dry.
It got too cold outside. (I still love that word ‘OUTSIDE!’)
So mom and my boy said snow could come INSIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I liked the ‘snowballs’ they made – because they tasted like water and felt like a ball.
My mom says I can’t leave out this photo … I was ‘being cute’
here it is – and I was cold!
but OH so happy! And now, I’m snuggly on my couch … and my mom says I should say ‘thank you’ because a lot of people have read about me this year and she says I have a lot of ‘fans’.
Minimal Parenting State of Frustration
Come on down folks!
You can carry concealed weapons with no license AND it’s a Minimal Parenting State!
Seriously.
My frustration level today was at a full Spinal Tap 11.
I had my annual property inspection this morning.
All went well. Considering I’m a goody two shoes and have been cleaning like an OCD queen for a year, there wasn’t really any doubt about that.
Feels intrusive though – taking photos of every room – my bedroom, all my precious things. (almost expected them to bring in a table with stirrups for a full examination) The bathrooms – our towels and toiletries. Even Butters!!!
Don’t get me wrong, the people who manage the property I live in are really nice. I also understand why the homeowner is well within his or her right to know what condition their investment is in.
I’m just saying the inspection itself feels like a cell check. A reminder that where you are is not yours – and someone else has a set of keys and a set of rules.
Speaking of rules.
This was also my time to mention anything that needed fixing etc.
Well, other than some minor items, an obvious thing that needs fixing is the behavior of ‘the neighbors’.
Both homes are owned by the same person and managed by the same company.
I brought up recent events (the dog’s appearance, the witnessed dog abuse, the traffic/drug-likelihood continuance, yelling at the children)
I bring it up because I can’t escape it!
I’m no Mrs. Kravitz!! I’m not a ‘Curtain Twitcher’ (as my Nannie would say)
Every room I spend a lot of time in (kitchen, living room, bedroom) have windows directly facing ‘them’.
Walls are thin – I hear every car, every verbal barb from my couch – I assure you, I am not pressed against the wall with my ear to a cup.
I cannot enjoy the sanctuary that ‘home’ should be with the uncomfortable dysfunction constantly on display.
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Fast forward.
I told the inspector that I was done.
It doesn’t seem fair that I follow the rules, and can’t enjoy my home to the fullest.
I received an email at work from the landlord.
She was going to call CPS and if they did not renew the tenancy, would I consider staying?
Wow.
Yeah – of course. (I actually wasn’t intending to leave.)
The yard is a great size for Butters – I don’t feel like her barking interferes with anyone (no direct neighbors that we’re butted up against) and I’ve been in the home for 4 years and am settled. The inspector today kept saying how cozy I’d made the place. And it’s true.
It is cozy.
If you can shut out the world and just be in the moment – it’s a hell of a homey, cozy place to be.
I received another email from the landlord.
Apparently, the State I live in is a ‘minimal parenting’ State.
Huh?!?!
What is this, and why didn’t I know about this when Nic was under 18?
You mean I didn’t have to supply love, entertainment, attention to his education etc??? What the hell?
I joke of course.
The landlady had an example for me, and I quote:
“Do you know that if someone is dealing drugs out of their home and they are not doing it in front of the children and the drugs are locked up so the kids cannot get to them that it is not a danger and therefore they cannot do anything!!”
Wow.
There was another example:
“I was dumbfounded when I asked her what would constitute getting them involved and the responses made me so mad! She told me that if someone had dog feces all over there floor, with children in the house, that if the children were crawling through it or at an age to still not understand not to put it in their mouth that would be an issue.
If the same situation occurred and the child was 6 or 7 and knew not to put it in their mouth that would not be an issue. I don’t understand how that cannot be health and safety????!!!!!”
Again, Wow.
We went back and forth and exchanged exasperation and ideas. I finally mentioned that the dog’s waste is not picked up and is located amongst the childrens backyard toys.
Two are under 6.
Grasping at straws I know!
That failing, they could at least call ‘the neighbors’ out on the unofficial dog and we can get that innocent party out of the mix.
In order to keep Butters, I MUST have renters insurance and had to put a pet deposit down. They should have to do the same!
And I don’t say that in a ‘wah wah’ tantrum way … I say it because it is NOT fair that there are people who follow rules and people who don’t and the ones who don’t seem to get away with it.
I think (especially before Christmas) that might be something they won’t want to do and they’ll opt to relinquish the dog.
It should have no problem finding a home – it’s a sweetheart.
What keeps returning to my thoughts though is how on earth is anyone supposed to prevent a tragedy?
The minute a child is killed or found in a disgusting environment, strangers comment ‘why didn’t anyone DO anything about this?’ And they tut and sneer and judge. (I know I have.)
Well people, guess what? I bet someone TRIED to do something and there were no avenues for them to take.
I’ve called the Sheriff.
I’ve advised the landlord.
CPS has been spoken to.
And as I type, I’m still across from that family – and unless someone is seen walking out of their house holding a bag of drugs or they beat their children in the middle of the street – or they … gawd, what?
Unless they WHAT??
What IS it going to take to finally do them in?
I don’t know.
But I only want the best for those three children and for that pup.
And yeah – call me crazy – but I still only want the best for the flipping parents too. Because they were once children. Whatever makes them capable of being the way they are and lashing out the way they do – needs fixing.
I only want the best for EVERYONE!
Related posts:
The Help and how I almost didn’t
Porch Sounds – what about the children?
Sunday snapping Butters
Butters – my canine manatee and I had a quiet day inside. Too hot to be out, chores done. Both still – on our opposing couches.
I took the first photo of her on my ipad – her face mirroring my own boredom.
When I decided to get my ‘real’ camera out – she took off immediately, as she usually does, not wanting anything to do with it.
Then she came back – and was uncharacteristically cooperative. Toward the end of the ‘photo session’ she seemed to be posing for me – allowing me to lay on the ground, zooming in on her, clicking away as she stayed still.
I give you some of our moments.
The first 12 of 45
I fell asleep last night wondering if musicians get goosebumps or tear up when they play their best songs live. I thought this after getting goosebumps and tearing up to this.
Comfortably Numb, live.
I drifted off to sleep having been wished ‘Happy Birthday’ from 3 countries in which I was already born – and with David Gilmore and Roger Waters echoing in my head.
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9:30 p.m. I hear my son coughing violently in the kitchen – then:
Nic: “Don’t mind me – just choking”
Me: “Obviously you’re breathing”
Nic: “ha ha. Don’t rush out to check on me or anything”
Me: “K.”
Nic: “That’s my mom!” (as if he’s got a crowd he’s informing of this. “That’s my mom ladies and gentlemen”)
I smile and close my eyes.
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10:30 p.m. Eyes back open. My son is church mousing around in the kitchen, the house shakes. He has inherited my delicate elephant stomp.
12:04 a.m. Awoke from a dream involving two special friends from the past and a mystery man – we’d gone on a crazy roller coaster and then to a Depeche Mode concert. Ended up on stage and of course, I was taking photos.
2:00 a.m. Butters stands beside my bed, breathing on me. I try to ignore her.
2:30 a.m. Butters stands closer – breathing more heavily. I get up, let dog out and leave front door open for the dog and any and all serial killers to have easier access to me while I returned to bed.
4:00 a.m. Seriously??? Dog is nowhere to be seen, so what the hell has roused me this time????
5:00 a.m. Peer at clock with gritty, tired eyes … too tired to roll them in anguish
5:30 a.m. I give up.
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Didn’t have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling as I scooted out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom.
I always at least have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling first thing in the morning (well, on birthday mornings anyway, not every morning obviously)
I guess 45 is the cut off for that pink frosted feeling.
Son sleeping, dog still outside.
I microwave a cup of yesterdays coffee, because I’m too lazy and uncoordinated to make a new pot.
Shower cap in hand, towel at the ready, I sit and wait for my alarm, because I have no clue how to turn it off prematurely.
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6:00 a.m. Shower. I ponder while I’m in there.
Why do men have the best razors??
Seriously, considering the skin footage we women have to shave compared to men – shouldn’t ours be cutting edge? (No pun intended) and don’t give me that ‘But men have to shave their delicate angled faces’ crap, because you know as well as I do that women shave a hell of a lot more ‘delicate’ places and we have curves and angles too!
I will only buy mens razors.
7:10 a.m Dressed – still sipping my microwaved coffee – my mum calls and sings at me from the dog park.
7:20 a.m. I’m milling about the house now … always ready early – always restless.
I spy a banana in the fruit bowl that looks like a duck. I think perhaps it was bored, in there all alone – and decided to morph in order to have some fun.
I decide I like that banana instantly.
I give Butters two of her biscuits and then proceed to tip two vitamins in my hand and pop them in my mouth – along with dog biscuit crumbs.
Nice one.
*sigh* I’ll count that as breakfast.
7:35 a.m. I decide to plant a kiss on my sleeping sons cheek – he’s shirtless in bed with a sunburn
Me: “Hey naked … I’m outta here”
Him: ….
(I’m sure he’s got ‘Happy Birthday’ planned to exit his mouth later.)
Out the door I go.
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I hope for a really amazing song in the car – no luck. I end up pretending to know the words to a new Shakira song and sing out of key.
7:45 a.m. Arrive at work.
I unlock the door … notice the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign place above my desk has fallen off of the wall. I put it back up after I disable the buildings alarm. Then I wonder if that’s self-appreciating or just helpful. Decide it doesn’t matter, my OCD needs that sign back up where it was.
There is a birthday card on my keyboard.
A little while later, another card heads my way in the hands of my sweet friend Ruth. A tiny ribboned box perches atop it.
The card cracks me up.
This is it:
The little box opens to reveal a teeny tiny necklace. This friend knows me well. I love ‘little’. I love delicate. I love the necklace and she stands behind me and puts it on.
Friend: “Now we’re married.”
I’m thinking I could do a lot worse. She’s amazing. And she knows my humor and taste.
We would be bound to have a long and successful union – except she’s still madly in love with her husband.
The broker comes through the door with the most adorable tulips – and yes, they’re for me.
I’m feeling spoiled – and it’s only 9:15 a.m
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10:48 a.m. Finally got a Happy Birthday from my son.
He has accompanied his girlfriend to the dentist and the following instant messages ensued:
Him: I just saw a turtle wet a fallen flower
Him: *Eat
Me: It would have been funnier if it HAD wetted it
Him: Lol, well the flower just fell from a nude into the water, and the turtle ate it and went underwater, So I guess he did. Lol
Me: Nude??
Him: Bush*
Me: I don’t even want to know why your ipad confuses ‘bush’ with ‘nude’ lmao
Him: lol, oh no.
Him: Happy birthday by the way
Me: Finally
We have the strangest conversations. I hope he doesn’t eat the duck banana before I can point it out to him.
Yeah sure, I could show him a photo – but it’s so much better to meet a duck banana in the flesh … peel?
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My boss takes me to lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. We sit outside and chat. The view is gorgeous. I enjoy her company. We shared a room on a business trip to Phoenix a while ago – and over 8 hours in the car together. I like her. That’s the true test you know, a long car ride and sharing a room successfully.
I have the Mahi-Mahi wrap with wasabi and soy – SO good.
First meal of my 45th year, other than that dog biscuit crumb I had for breakfast.
You know, I never thought I’d make it to 30, let alone 40 … and now I’m half way to 90 for crying out loud!
And 90 is doable. Considering my little and delicate nannie just celebrated 91.
If I wore her on a necklace, close to my clavicle, she might see 101.
Home now, my parents have just left – and wouldn’t you know it? A pink frosted thing came with them.
I’m too full and too tired to eat any of it – but after the first 12, I did catch a glimpse of that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling.
Such compliment – much WOW
“So a dog walks into a lobby …”
My lobby to be exact, and I as soon as I laid eyes on said dog the internet nerd that I am, recognized the breed and ‘fan-girled’ the hell out.
“OMG! Is your dog friendly? Can I touch it? Can I take a photo of your dog?”
Yes it was, Yes I could, and sure.
This is the internet version:
Dog wasn’t too interested in me petting it … or touching it to be honest.
I don’t force myself on animals. I don’t grab at them, leer at them or invade their space.
I’m more of a ‘sit on the floor and offer an appendage then wait to see if they are interested in making contact’ type of girl.
So I sat on the floor, in my dress, wondering ‘why doesn’t this dog like me? ALL dogs like me!’ Lamely continuing to hold out my hand like there was a chance it would change its mind.
It didn’t.
I told my son about it – his response:
Is that bad? That my son and I speak ‘internet funnies’? I knew what he meant obviously. It’s one of my favorites:
So while it wasn’t in the mood for accepting my hand or my love, it was in the mood for a quick photo session.
Here’s the mini-Shiba Inu (“mini-SHIBE!”)
But I digress … about that compliment.
Later in the day, I’m sharing this story with an agent – showing him the photos of the mini-‘doge’ and he proceeds to give me the biggest compliment I’ve had in a very long time.
What you need to know about this man is that he’s very ‘what you see is what you get’ – to the point of having something awkward or unedited come out of his mouth from time to time.
(Gee, I’d know nothing about that – hold on, don’t slip on the sarcasm.)
Anyway, bottom line, he gets an A+ for authenticity from me.
I love that in a person.
Authenticity.
Love it.
So he’s reminded of a dog themed email he sent me and asks if I got it.
He went on to explain that he sent it because he was sorry he was grumpy that day.
The way he explained it went a little something like this.
“You’re the bright, shiny thing here … and I felt bad that I was grumpy.”
Wow.
I’m a bright shiny thing??
Day made.
I’m sharing this because too often we are unaware of what we may mean to someone.
And far too often we fail to tell someone what they mean to us.
I paid it forward by sharing with a dear friend how much they mean to me.
And then made sure to tell the man who complimented me just how much his words meant.
Good work should be complimented when noticed.
It just takes a few seconds to appreciate someone!
It took six seconds for someone to make my day – and I’m still feeling bright and shiny.
Even though the dog didn’t want me to pet it.
Debauchery Soup 