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Musings from the Laundromat: Innocence lost – From Shar Pei to Smooth (and crunchy) Criminal
Butters and I have a delightful ‘thing’ we do.
Every night during the Summer, when the sun goes down – I say to her “Wanna go see your lizards??” She understands this and eagerly stands wagging at the front door.
It’s adorable.
The porch light attracts a myriad of Summer winged bugs and is prime real estate for Summer winged bug eaters.
We have a little family (maybe their not related – maybe it’s more of a commune?) of lizards living above the light, just under the eaves.
Butters will run out, sit staring at the wall and jump up to interact with one if she spots it.
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Last year she accidentally killed one – she placed it in her outdoor day bed and curled up with it. It was the most heartbreaking thing to witness.
Dead lizard, belly up – drying in the sun.
Dog treating it like a pup.
I let her grieve for her lost friend for a day or two, then disposed of it.
Last night, before bed – I asked ‘Wanna see your lizards?’
We stepped outside and she flew at the wall and BAM!
She must have nailed it just right.
Those manatee lips of hers may be cute, but they seem to be an impairment when it comes to getting anything flat or small past them and into her mouth.
Porch light lizard, (that I didn’t even have a chance to see) successfully (or, unsuccessfully from its point of view I’m sure) arrived in the mouth of my dog.
I stood in horror.
I thought she would spit it out – and what was I going to do to end the suffering of a mangled lizard??
No need to have worried myself with that ‘what if’.
My innocent, lover-not-a-fighter, cowardly manatee started chewing.
Intently.
I was still stood staring and my eyes widened with every crunch.
She then trotted over to her water bucket and delicately drank – it was like watching someone gingerly dab their lips with a fine linen napkin after tearing into a slab of raw meat.
It was then I noticed she had not devoured all of it.
I was disgusted – my stomach roiling.
Then I remembered she sleeps with me.
I was not taking any chances.
While she doesn’t often snuggle too close, many nights I wake to her standing inches away from my face, breathing heavily.
I washed her face – lips and tongue – and tossed a dental hygiene bone on the carpet for her.
I wonder if the other lizards have noticed their friend is missing??
What if I find tiny little ‘lost’ posters near the porch light tonight?!?
What if they spot the tail at the scene and surmise there was a struggle?
I shall have to get rid of the evidence.
Which makes me an accomplice to my canine criminal.
*sigh*
Musings from the Laundromat: Glee Interrupted Edition
I’m fuzzy today.
Awoke at 6 a.m. made coffee, let the dog out had a healthy breakfast of a cookie and went back to my room.
Ended up falling asleep for another two hours and dreaming of ‘Glee’.
No clue why. But apparently I was with the cast, and cheerleaders in a hotel room a few doors down were rehearsing and making too much noise.
I was the one who went to let them know they needed to be quiet.
(When people tell me ‘follow your dreams’ – ones like that pop into my head and I feel sure I’m okay having not done so.)
I none so enthusiastically got out of bed – threw some shorts on, ran a brush through my hair and gathered the laundry.
Sitting at a table in the very back. It’s affording me a view of everyone’s activities while they wait.
No one is talking. It’s eerily quiet considering the amount of people, but also calming considering my fuzzy state.
I deleted my last post about how sick I’ve been lately. For several reasons.
Rainer is in the news and search engines are landing many people here. I wanted the home page to have the Never Forget post to welcome them.
Also I’m so tired of talking about not feeling well.
And this is where I will tangent.
I think the first few times someone asks ‘How are you feeling?’ it’s okay to briefly summarize the truth.
But after a while, people in general, want to hear ‘fine’. Because let’s be honest, most who ask aren’t really looking for an answer, they’re either making small talk or being polite.
I tried a more positive attitude last week – determined to ‘mind over matter’ myself into good health.
It didn’t work.
But it might have made others around me feel better, so I kept trying.
I also told myself ‘there are people going through a LOT worse.’
This is something I tell myself often – to put things into perspective. To latch onto gratitude with convinced claws and fly away with it.
In the car (my ‘thinking’ car) I was thinking about this.
To what end do we do this?
When can we accept that we are going through something painful/scary/sad without brushing it off with a ‘someone is going through worse’.
It’s a form of avoidance.
For me, I know that until something is acknowledged, accepted and processed, I can’t move forward healthily, mentally or physically.
Someone is ALWAYS going through worse – it doesn’t mean you don’t get to process what’s bothering you.
Of course, if all we think about is what’s WRONG and never get out of a problem or an ailment long enough to see what’s RIGHT then that’s an issue.
There is a lot ‘right’ in my life. And I’m grateful for it.
Maybe that was the meaning of my dream … outside interference was interrupting my glee?
And in true Amanda fashion, I strutted over to the source and told the interruption to “HUSH!”
Okay, so I explained politely why they needed to be quiet – but I did take the steps over there and solved the problem!
Even in my dreams I’m meek.
But I’ll be inheriting the earth apparently – so there’s that.
Musings from the Laundromat: There’s something on your leg edition
Innocently driving home yesterday with my son … when something came from behind us, flew in the open window, smacked against the wind shield and landed in parts unknown.
Yes, I said ‘came from behind’ more on that later.
So we both acknowledged the ‘happening’ and exchanged glances. Then I put my eyes back on the road as Nic looked down.
“There’s something on your leg.”
Rule #1: Don’t ever tell someone driving a car that there is anything foreign and quite possibly alive ON them.
Me: What?!?!?! What’s on me????? What is it???
Nic: I don’t know … it’s a spot … on your leg.
By now, I’m imagining this:
I don’t think that’s too far-fetched considering we DO live in the desert and there are any number of hard-shelled creepy crawlies that could show up on a bare leg.
Okay, so 99% of them don’t FLY, but some sadistic bastard could have tossed it from the side of the road? That would explain why it came from behind us while going 35 MPH.
Back in the car, I’m calmly trying to pull over to investigate what part of nature has violated my personal space.
And why is my son so calm?? Why is he not trying to save me???
On the side of the road, I bravely look down.
Nothing.
“That was already there!” The spot turned out to be a scratch from earlier.
“Yeah, but that might be what flew in …”
I followed his eyes down to the floorboard – right next to my foot.
Got out of the car and grabbed a cloth I have handy in case of such emergencies (mostly it’s for when I spill my coffee while driving.)
A bee.
My son announced, “It’s still alive – it’s on it’s back.”
I could see this.
I gently (yes, gently, no sarcasm here) collected it in the cloth and walked to a nearby bush to shake the poor little thing off.
It wasn’t coming off.
Now I’m laughing – on the side of the road, shaking a blue cloth.
Bee hung on tight – until it didn’t.
I’m back in the car and we start off home again.
Nic pondered, “How did it come from BEHIND us?? It had to be going faster than us!”
“That’s not hard to believe …” I pondered back – recalling how many things pass me on the road – sloths, snails, limping pedestrians, … parked cars.
“Maybe it was suicide.” Nic concluded.
I sighed … “Bee suicide … that’s sad.”
We interrupt this hamster …
Nic bought himself a hamster on his birthday.
Yesterday I tried to worm my way into its heart by offering it a sweet potato Triscuit as it’s been hissing at me. Of course, it was asleep – so I placed it on its ‘food deck’.
Nic: Are you trying to buy her love?
Me: Yes
Nic: Well I’m taking credit for that Triscuit
Me: You’d better tell her that was from me!!!
This thing doesn’t so much ‘hiss’ as manages to get a sound out of its throat that resembles a velociraptor and that croaking thing from The Grudge.
Sort of like this: http://youtu.be/-fzfT4iDGTM
But with more of this thrown in: http://youtu.be/hMvFo4cd02o
It’s name is “Scarlett”.
That isn’t what I named it on the drive home from the pet shop.
I drove Nic’s car so that he could sit on in the passenger seat with the rodent carrier box on his lap.
“Mom! Careful of the bumps!” Really? Really Nic. I drive expertly. Hmph!
His newly acquired pet scratched on the box the entire way home. I lovingly named her Scratchy and wasn’t budging – until yesterday.
Her new name is Satan.
I had my reservations about this new pet. Not because she’s a rodent – I love rodents. I’ve been the proud rodent mom to a long history of rats, mice, hamsters …
***Breaking News – We interrupt this blog entry to announce that a random male laundromat patron has just chosen to sit DIRECTLY behind me in a rogue chair, no less than a foot away! If anything happens to me, he can be found with a blue plastic laundry hamper – and a size 10 flip-flop mark on his forehead if he gets any closer.***
Back to the reservations.
Like most moms, any new pet that crossed our threshold was OH so loved and enjoyed for about a week – and then it magically became mine.
My fish bowls to clean, my fish to feed, my mouse to cedar chip etc. OH! Speaking of cedar chips
You know what? This is useless. I can feel that man … it is really hard to write.
I just got up, had to literally try not to back up into his foot, and went to check on my laundry. It was done – and in a brief moment when he wasn’t looking at me – I snapped this photo. I’m sitting at the red table, with my back to him … you can see the close proximity of his chosen spot.
Seriously guy – it’s a HUGE laundromat! Add to that, he keeps clearing his throat. It’s like having a teacher lean uncomfortable over you during class.
I have 14 minutes remaining on the driers – I shall stand awkwardly staring at the time elapsing until it’s time to go. Because even though I could just MOVE to another table, I don’t want to hurt his feelings! This is how fucked up I am. I can’t even scoot away from a possible predator without thinking about how they might feel about it.
Musings from the Laundromat: Clocks and Curbs edition
I woke up this morning, turned my sleepy head to the clock and thought ‘Wow! I slept in!’ Clock said it was after eight. I couldn’t see how much after eight it was, my nighttime drink cup was blocking the minutes.
Decided to leap into action. Figured I’d shower after I returned and had cleaned the house – threw a pair of jeans on, ran a brush through my hair and heated a cup of coffee to-go.
That’s when I noticed the clock on the kitchen wall.
For some bizarre reason, my bedroom clock time traveled.
It decided to Spring Forward – not even caring that we in Arizona do not observe the time change and completely ignoring the fact that if we did it was the wrong weekend to do so.
Bottom line, I was now ahead of myself.
I gathered my laundry – hunted the usual spots that my son’s laundry lurks, captured and bagged those items and headed out the door.
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The laundromat opens at 8:00 a.m., but I’ve noticed that the sweet laundry lady usually opens a bit early. I know this as I have arrived at eight on the dot and there have already been early birds sitting with their newspapers while their clothes are enjoying a wash cycle.
Deduction. I am capable of it. Gold star for me.
This morning, the pavement in front of the laundromat was littered with people. People and an assortment of baskets.
It wasn’t quite 8:00, so I wasn’t too concerned.
I carried my items over into the fray and plopped down on the curb to wait and sip my coffee.
One lady in particular kept pushing up against the glass – repeating the same Captain Obvious sentences over and over – and over.
“Something must be wrong!”
“They’re usually open by now!”
No shit.
She probably announced those two things at least a dozen times to anyone who would listen.
I sat. And sipped.
I’m pretty damn patient.
Except when it comes to listening to people who aren’t.
It was 8:10 now – OMG!
“Something must be wrong!!!!”
A new car pulled in – which had everyone who had previously been pressed against the door, turning like curious dogs in a yard.
When newcomer exited their vehicle, ‘something must be wrong’ lady filled them in.
“The lights aren’t even on! The lights at the counter are even off!”
Which she followed up with this gem as another newcomer arrived approximately 3 minutes later:
“The lights are on, but nobody’s home!”
Okay, which is it lady? Lights are either on or off.
‘Something must be wrong’ lady is the sort of person I can’t stand having behind me or in front of me in any line. Whether it’s the grocery store or the pharmacy or the bank.
Impatient – and loud about it. Sighing and clucking and complaining. I’ll use my ‘You know, there are people who would give anything to be standing in this line right now’ from time to time, but mostly I roll my eyes and enter a trance like state to block out the squawking.
The whole time, I’m sitting and sipping and thinking “Probably she slept in.”
I was willing to wait until 8:30, then I would put plan B into action – do laundry after work on Monday.
The panic mongers weren’t willing to wait.
They drove off, one by one. Leaving me – and two others to greet the laundry lady a mere 2 minutes after they gave up.
The door opened and I turned and smiled.
“So sorry” she said, “I didn’t hear my alarm this morning.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” I replied.
I got up from the curb – went inside and was able to stuff my favorite washing machines and claim my favorite seat.
Patience has such rewards.
Debauchery Soup 