I still find myself automatically reaching to brush my hair out of the way especially at night, after threatening the cats with banishment should they start fighting on the bed, my hand just naturally goes to the back of my neck to move my hair before pulling the covers up over my shoulders.
- Tags:repunzel
- Location:den
- Mood:chilly
- Music:and sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
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Last night I dreamed I was going to straighten up (a misnomer if ever there was one) my sewing room. The door was closed and I was having a lot of trouble opening it. It felt as if something was jammed against it but finally, with enough effort, I got the door opened. At first I thought the room was filled with feathers, packed from floor to ceiling but I realized as the air started to stir them that they were words, words like you might have seen printed from an old teletype machine. Each sliver of paper contained only one word but they were all there. Maybe all the words in the world. This was something I had wanted since I was two years old but unlike when I was two I could recognize all these words and best of all I could do whatever I wanted with them. Life could be based on a true story that I made up. I could arrange these pieces of paper in any order I liked, random or deliberate it didn't matter, my only concern would be in finding a way to keep the cats out of my sewing room.
Of course, upon awakening I realized a couple of things; there really aren't six Ps in the word xylophone and there's no way in the world all the words in the world could fit into my sewing room.
- Tags:there's the rub
- Location:den
- Mood:bored
- Music:All the stories to tell Old friend could you bid me farewell
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- Location:den
- Mood:on hold
- Music:local news and weather
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When my younger brother was 16 his high school biology class incubated 100 fertilized eggs of those 100 eggs 70 some hatched of those 70 some hatchlings 8 made it to the end of the school year and the teacher, without bothering to consult parents, drew names and my brother, Jimmy, brought home a little white chicken. He named him Ralph and Ralph quickly grew into a fairly large rooster. I don't know how long he was kept in the house probably no longer than he was able to get out of the box Jimmy brought it home in. My brother played with Ralph the same way you might roughhouse with a puppy and just like a puppy who gets too excited that damn fowl could get mean, especially around toes. I don't know what he was fed but my mother always mixed eggs with it which I thought was grossly cannibalistic. I think at first Ralph had free range of the back yard but he learned that if he flapped hard enough he could wing his way to the top of the fence and on to a brief freedom. In early summer it became a common occurrence for one of the neighbors to call requesting that my brother come get Ralph because he had chased a cat up a tree or had a dog cowering under a car. By mid-summer it was obvious the backyard fence wasn't going to keep Ralph in so my father made pretty good-sized coop for him and placed it inside a wire-covered pen that he had also made. This gave Ralph a lot of playing room but still my brother frequently let him out to run around the yard. My mother told me that one morning after a night of terrible storming, high winds, lashing rain, lightning and crashing thunder she glanced out the kitchen window and noticed that Ralph's pen had been upturned. She went outside to check but Ralph wasn't in his house or anywhere in the yard. She thought that some dogs might have jumped the fence during the night and somehow managed to get to Ralph. After several attempts to wake my brother she finally gave up yelling for him and climbed the stairs and knocked on his bedroom door. While she was telling him that Ralph was missing my mother said she could hear an odd noise coming from his bedroom "Jimmy, do you have that goddamn rooster in your room?" and he said yes and the reason he gave was that when he had gotten home the night before Ralph sounded like he had a sore throat and Jimmy didn't think he should be left outside all night. My mother told my brother that he was to put the bird back in his cage and then he was to clean up his room with a strong disinfectant. Jimmy said that he had wedged a piece of screen in the corner and put Ralph in it so he couldn't run around the bedroom. This was followed by a grim "Oh God!" I know nothing about chickens, well uncooked ones, but Ralph didn't start crowing until late summer, I don't know if roosters are a certain age before they start cockle-doodle-dooing but once Ralph started he didn't stop. He crowed at sunrise, he crowed at lightning flashes, he would jump on top of his coop and crow when someone turned on their porch light and would continue to crow when the lights came on in other houses as the neighbors tried to figure out what all the ruckus was about. Ralph was no longer the cute little biology project, he was a nuisance. My father gave Ralph to a man who worked for him who was a machinist by necessity and a part-time farmer by love. My father frequently came home from his office with stories of how Ralph was settling in, how in no time at all he had taken over the small farm. He said that Mr. Cray, the part-time farmer, said that Ralph truly ruled the roost, he had no fear of any of the animals, in fact, just the opposite was true. When Ralph wandered out of the barn in the morning the irritable old Billy goat went into hiding. When he would wander into the barn, the cats, whose job it was to keep the rat population down, would stay in the loft. Ralph chased the sheep, the cats, the yard dogs, the other poultry and Mrs. Cray. This was a life that suited the little rooster to a tee. One day two strange dogs wandered in to part-time farmer, Mr. Cray's yard. The cocky little rooster was outraged. Eying the larger of the two dogs, as if he couldn't believe such audacity, he puffed out his chest in importance, arched his wings in anger and with a confidence born of many a chase, Ralph went after the German Shepherd and was promptly eaten. - Location:den
- Mood:waiting
- Music:there may come a time when you'll be tired, tired as a dream that wants to die
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This morning when asked if I had copies of my marriage license and divorce decree I said that I had my divorce papers but no longer had a copy of my marriage certificate. I saw no reason to mention that about seven months into the marriage, during the course of an argument, John, in a fit of being John, tore the certificate into seven or eight pieces and said "Don't think that taping it back together will make it whole again." and I, in a rational act of maturity, put the pieces in the sink and burned them then as the spigot became engulfed in smoke said "Now that option's no longer on the table, is it!" - Location:den
- Mood:still chilly
- Music:lady rose waiting for the axe to fall
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Last night I put a hank of my hair, actually it wasn't a hank, that would have been close to 600 yards if I were measuring along the lines of yarn and I know this because years and years and years ago during the first year of my marriage there was a shop in Richmond that specialized in materials that were sold by the pound and yarns that were sold by the hank and the hanks were course and thick and if you weren't careful while crocheting you could end up scraping the skin off your fingers but the colors were unusually dull so the blood gave a decorative touch to the placemats or rugs I was making. Sorry, I digress. Anyway I put a handful of hair under the kitchen cabinet last night and it was gone this morning. I don't know why I feel pleased thinking that the mice (hopefully) are using it for nesting. It's kind of like the time we trimmed Clementine and I left the shaved fur in an open wastebasket on the back porch and the birds picked through it, taking what they needed for their nests, one of which was made on top of one of the columns on the front porch. Tuesday was the first election day I haven't worked in twenty years. I learned that life does indeed go on outside the precinct, in fact, it passes a lot more quickly. That might have been because my morning started at 6:30 instead of 2:15. Virginia, as usual, went Republican in the gubernatorial and back up positions. So now I know that's the way the voters of Virginia lean and they weren't doing it all those years just to waste my time. - Location:den
- Mood:chilly
- Music:I think I'll find a pair of eyes tonight to fall into and maybe strike a deal
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Last night I dreamed I was watching JEOPARDY and one of the contestants was a military general (Army, Air Force I'm not sure though judging by his hat he wasn't a Naval officer but that should have been obvious since there aren't Generals in the Navy) who, each time he gave an incorrect answer which was frequent, dropped the F-bomb. - Tags:there's the rub
- Location:den
- Mood:tired
- Music:A conversation in a crowded room going nowhere
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All I need now is a network willing to broadcast it. 
- Location:Den
- Music:Local news
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The Smoky Mountains - October 1982 Autumns in the Smoky Mountains aren't - perhaps I should say weren't since these slides were taken almost 30 years ago - particularly colorful but I think that's caused less by the fog and more by the fact that most of the trees are evergreens. I had hoped so much to see some local wildlife (I'd been living in the country less than a year and a half and it was still quite exciting to catch sight of deer or fox even rabbits - who am I kidding, it still is) but I don't recall even seeing any birds.
 I wondered how easy it would be to maneuver through these mountains. Because of the fog and density of the trees I couldn't really see what might be in them. My former husband was telling me that these mountains were far too rugged to be inhabited by people and I really needed to watch where I was walking because not only were there Copperheads all around but the Rattlers were still out in force. Because I had both hands on my camera I wasn't able to respond with either middle finger.
 In the clouds
 Above the clouds
- Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Mood:tired
- Music:and you're east of East St. Louis and the wind is making speeches
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February 1980 - Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Music:Sinatra was swinging all the drunks they were singing
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Last Friday morning I dreamed I was having a long conversation (monologue) with Mouser Max, explaining to her that cancer was not the silence killer, that I could prove it and all I needed was a listener. In my dream, Max and I were in bed, she was stretched out beside me, I had my arm around her as I usually do (she is the only cat I've ever had who insists upon having my arm around her when she sleeps with me) but I think she might have been listening under duress because her eyes were bulging. Bizarre? Perhaps. Realistic? Sadly, yes. I do expect my cats to, at least, pretend interest when I babble.
- Tags:there's the rub
- Location:den
- Music:Lester Holt & something that's supposedly passing as the news
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- Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Music:While every folk song that I ever knew once more comes tr
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There has been a terrible smell of almost burnt plastic permeating the outdoor's and even seeping into the house over the last week. My neighbor tells me it's because the stags are in rut. As these deer wander through the yard they are leaving their calling card. This musk - their social networking, a plethora of information about who they are, where they've been, where they're going, when they expect to return - an advertisement of their studliness, stinks. It is so foul. I don't know if it's just more prevalent this year or because of the cooling temperatures I've been able to turn off the air conditioning and open the windows earlier than usual so have just become aware of it. I've been told that this stench is nothing compared to good old she-bear smell in or out of estrus. In early autumn of '78 we went to the SPCA in Richmond to pick up the the Pet of the Week. The newspaper article stated "You'll love Lucy". We did and in less than twenty-four hours she had become our darling Clementine, a name she responded to immediately.
Trooper was sitting on the front porch when we got home with Clementine. He was not pleased. He had been an only dog for almost two years, he didn't mind sharing his home with the cats and kittens but this huge ball of fur was going to be direct competition. I was surprised by Trooper's reaction because he had several canine friends in the neighborhood. He was especially fond of Pearl, a black and white three-leg Border Collie who would come over on afternoons when the weather was good, knock on the front door, come in and wait in the living room for Trooper to come downstairs (he would be in my bedroom on his pillow taking his afternoon nap) then I'd open the front door and they'd trot outside and play till the kids got home from school.
Trooper spent the weekend ignoring Clementine, glaring at me and eating dog food. This was a first. Trooper hated dog food, he would wait until the cats had finished whatever they were eating and gobble up what was left in their bowls or, if I wasn't around, he just push them out of the way to get at their food, he even learned to meow, I guess in hopes of getting first servings instead of leftovers. Though he preferred cat food his refusal to eat dog food ended when we brought Clementine home.  The Monday after Clementine's joining the family she was taken to the veterinarian's for spaying and almost immediately brought back home. Clementine was in heat. She spent the next two weeks on the side-porch. Trooper warmed up to her, warmed up to her quite nicely, though he could only see her through the screen. They became almost constant companions for the next twelve years. - Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Music:love is not a victory march it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
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Old boy, even when young, liked warmth. February 1980
- Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Music:with brown leaves falling all around and snow in your hair
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Between the road and the river  | |
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- Location:den
- Music:long ago it must have been I have a photograph preserve your memories
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While in Richmond yesterday, ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) kastanzie and I had lunch at Ruby Tuesday's, my choice mainly because, though their food is usually mediocre, sometimes their coffee is good, it wasn't bad yesterday. The music that's piped through is hard to describe, probably just considered background certainly middle of the road, non-offensive. Sometime during the meal Feelin' Alright starts to play and I asked Kim if that was Michael McDonald singing only I called him Ronald. It was amusing to see that at 43 Kim can roll her eyes with as much disdain as she did when she was 13. Kim was quick to correct me by letting me know that Joe Cocker was the singer. I reinforced my position by listing more songs that Michael McDonald had not sung. Kim reinforced her argument through perseverance. This morning after feeding the cats, getting coffee, firing up the computer and doing my usual computer stuff which takes no time at all now that I'm using a satellite connection, I sent Kim an email telling her that she was oh so wrong and I was oh so right, Joe Cocker was indeed the singer of Feelin' Alright and to prove I was right I was sending her a YouTube link. Half and hour later she text messaged me saying "R u F'n kiddin me. I WAS THE ONE WHO SAID IT WASJOE COCKER!!"
My reply was "PROVE IT! I got up before you did: YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE!" - Tags:imc
- Location:den
- Music:Snake eyes sigh Boxcars cry Seven's stuck in the middle just wondering why
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I was standing in my downstairs hallway talking to a man who had introduced himself as the Emperor of Japan, and though he was a good 20 years older than I and dressed in a plain black suit that I noticed when he unbuttoned the jacket had a bright silk lining of pale pink and brilliant copper colored chrysanthemums and he must have been close to 10 feet tall because he had no problem looking into my chandelier and telling me that the fixtures certainly did hold a lot of bugs, there seemed to be no particular reason to question his honesty. For heaven's sake, why lie about your identity? He took my hand and turned it over then said "You misspelled Japan but it's easy to do that because it isn't spelled the way it sounds." I looked at my palm and it was covered in Hiragana symbols. I had no idea what they meant. The Emperor asked me if they were crib notes and then blew into the chandelier and sent up a cloud of dried moths. Was I planning to cheat on a test I didn't know I'd be taking or was my palm the only free space left? Was there just too much clutter to read the writing on the wall? When I turned to ask the Emperor I noticed Joan Collins on my front porch. She was swinging the hummingbird feeder, splashing sugarwater all over the place causing the birds to chatter in a monkey-like shrill. I tapped on the window and asked her to stop and she said "Wrong dynasty" which struck me as funny and I woke up laughing. | |
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When asked how she liked school so far this year, my older granddaughter told me that she knew "It's going to be the best year ever! I love my art class. There's this dreamy guy, he so sweet and he can drive!!!!!" - Location:den
- Music:I can see a better time when all our dreams come true
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it was almost 27 years after the concert and even then I didn't exactly get to it but I did see a sign somewhere near Newburgh saying 'Woodstock 45 miles' and I only saw that sign because, for some reason instead of heading back into the city on Saw Mill River Parkway, we headed northwest.
Since moving the computer from the book room upstairs to the den downstairs where the television is I've watch a lot more TV. It's not so much that I'm watching more TV as it is I'm not turning it off after catching the news in the morning so this past week I heard a lot about the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock Festival.
In the early summer of 1969, Woodstock was all everyone talked about. Woodstock was our (the East Coast's) Monterey. The festival would be held in a meadow, last for three days and have every band imaginable. A strong selling point was the rumor that the Butterfield Blues Band would be one of the acts and now 40, perhaps more, years later the only song of theirs I can recall is Season of the Witch (so, so much better than Donavan's version, if memory serves, which it really hasn't been doing a particularly good job of lately).
I had two invitations to go to Woodstock. The first was from a friend who suggested that we leave on Friday morning around 2 (after the bars closed) since it would be about a 10 hour trip, he felt certain he could cram 6 of us into his Corvair - truly unsafe at any speed. Another friend said that it would be a little cramped but he could get 5 of us into his Beetle but we'd have to leave on Thursday because his car overheated frequently and we'd have to pull off the road and let George (you do the math) catch his breath.  The deciding factor in not going was the oft repeated "Be sure to bring some blankets because we're going to have to sleep on the ground." I've often wondered what it might have been like to have attended but this past week's retrospective where most of the tapes and photos were of the attendees not the music and most of those photos were of the kids in the rain and mud and mud and more mud.
After seeing these pictures I no longer wonder if I made the right choice, I wonder how we got so old.- Location:den
- Music:rock became her anchor bird became her dream
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and smell the honeysuckle because it has choked out everything else.
 - Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Mood:nostalgic
- Music:Just because you don't believe it, doesn't mean I didn't mean it
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For some reason I have found myself wondering if I should have some type of near death experience whose life would flash before my eyes. - Mood:go toward the light. . . .plea
- Music:we don't need to understand
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It's the Benjamin Button of Birddogs
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Is a happy dog
- Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Music:and the livin's easy, the fish are jumping and the cotton is high
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I wish I had an amulet, a talisman or just confidence that there was such a thing as magic I'm not really sure what I'm looking for; it doesn't have to be anything spectacular, something leaning more toward the benevolent, it doesn't need to be thaumaturgic. Just a little something I know is there, it doesn't necessarily have to work, there's nothing particularly wrong with a false sense of security. Even as a small child there wasn't a sense of safety, just the waiting for morning. As my mother taught it, my guardian angel was there 'to enlighten god.' How much trouble could I get into in my sleep to warrant being tattled on? Waking frequently to glance at the window to see if it was day yet. I still do that, only now when I see daylight streaming through I think "Damn! it's morning already!" Jim Morrison's mojo was risin', at least, I hope he was singing about a mojo. The first Doors album I had was recorded in monaural so the clarity wasn't great. A few months after this I got my first stereo - a record player with detachable speakers - not that big an improvement since most albums were still being recorded in mono. A few years later when L.A. Woman was released I didn't pay that much attention to it, primarily hearing it on the radio, on AM stations that tended to drift so I guess I sort of missed the irony of a man whose mojo was rising only to have him die three months later. Where would one begin to even look for such a thing? Perhaps EBay might have them at a bargain price, drastically reduced for quick sale since they might be on luck's last leg. Ok, a used mojo might not be the way to go. Are mojos mobile? Are they just floating around looking for a place to take up residence? I once dated a brooding (self-absorbed) musician who was quite fond of proclaiming, with a heavy sigh, "I didn't find the blues, they found me!" Would a mojo find me in all this grass and trees? Are there special mojos for people rapidly approaching senior citizenry? Before going in search of my mojo I thought it might be prudent to know exactly what a mojo is. First step, at least for me, in looking up anything has always been the dictionary and on the internet my favored spot is The Free Dictionary which uses the American Heritage Dictionary which gives the correct pronunciation with the definition and United States (common) and British pronunciation separately. The cats were all within easy reach as I was typing this so I decided to entertain them since they had been so patient with me last Saturday when, after watching the third season of Weeds, I serenaded them (ad nauseam) with "Litter boxes, litter boxes and they're all filled with kitty shat, litter boxes, litter boxes . . . . " I typed in Perch but he didn't seem impressed so I tried 'purchase' and he shot me a quick look as if to see if he were in some kind of trouble. Next I tried Max. She didn't bother to open her eyes. Hammett was asleep by my feet so I nudged her when I typed in Hammett. She stood up and stretched and when I typed in 'hambone' she started figure-eighting around my ankles. Snap was the only cat to jump up onto the table and actually inspect the speaker but lost interest after the fourth 'Snap'. After an hour of irritating the kitties I realized that I don't want a mojo, what I'd really like to have is a dog. I wonder if I'd be lucky enough for the cats to accept a puppy running around making their lives miserable? - Location:den
- Mood:hoodoo? you do. I do what?
- Music:But there aint no Coup de ville hiding at the bottom of a CrackerJack box
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 Amber in the shadows - Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Mood:green
- Music:He laughed under his breath because you thought that you could outrun sorrow
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- Tags:imc
- Location:den
- Mood:productive
- Music:sure was gonna be rough they never liked Mama's homemade dress
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Carmella finally fucks Father Phil
- Location:den
- Music:Bill Maher's dialogue
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so don't even think about hiding
It's been five years since I quit smoking but who's counting- Location:den
- Music:Hey kids, rock and roll, rock on
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I am Whimsically creepy.
This pleases me enormously.
- Location:Den
- Music:It's such a sad old feeling The fields are soft and green
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- Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Mood:mixed
- Music:they all sense something brewing up the James and headed this way
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- Location:den
- Mood:simple
- Music:local weather report
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My granddaughter attended her first 'formal' dance this weekend
- Location:den
- Music:Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
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Last night I dreamed that I had made my bed so now I was going to have to lie in it. In my dream I was aware of an eye-rolling been there done that semi-amused attitude. Even so, there had to be some way I could sleep in my bed without messing it up. I tried crawling in under the covers from the foot of the bed just like Fletcher used to do. No success there. It probably had only worked for Fletcher because she had been a 15 pound cat with really sharp claws and the bed was already messed up when she'd do this. I tried tucking in the sheets as I slipped out of the bed but that didn't work either, I was just making it as I went along. I wondered if I could install some type of trap-door in the mattress then each morning I could slip out that way but even in my dream I realized that it would be a major undertaking to clear out enough junk from under the bed just to have a place to land and that would not eliminate the need to straighten up the sheets and spread that had been mussed as I slept. I was uneasily aware that this would be my life forever, not exactly a Sisyphean task but still forever OR I could just start sleeping on the sofa and on that revelation I woke up with an almost overwhelming awareness of just how much I missed my old friend the cigarette. - Tags:there's the rub
- Location:den
- Music:and all the news just repeats itself like some forgotten dream we both have seen
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Today, someone mentioned friends with benefits and I assumed they meant Social Security and Medicare. - Location:den
- Mood:creaky
- Music:in the drunk tank an old man said to me: won't see another one
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When I filed my taxes last month through TurboTax there was only the e-filing fee for my State taxes. For some reason after making the payment I couldn't get the screen to change, while waiting I received an email confirmation from TT that my payment had been received and still the busy symbol was circling on the site with the message "do not proceed until download complete", download of what I have no idea. After 20 minutes I clicked cancel and tried again but I couldn't go forth with filing. After a phone call to customer service it was decided that I would have to pay again to get to the next page and a refund of the first charge would be put into action immediately tough it might take 1 to 30 days before it showed up on my statement (it showed up immediately). Monday morning I received an email from TurboTax saying my refund for overpayment on State e-filing had been processed and should show up on my account in 1 to 30 days. Later that morning I talked to someone at TurboTax and, yes, they screwed up and have refunded both payments. I asked the man I spoke with if there was any way they could stop the payment. He said no. I asked if there was any way I could refund the duplicate payment to them. He said no, that even if I sent them a check there'd be nothing to apply it to, it had been their mistake and was in the system and not to worry about it. The error was theirs not mine. I asked if this was likely to happen again. He said he didn't think so, that it had probably happened because I paid twice so they refunded twice. I asked if I was going to receive a refund of $20 every month from TurboTax. He said he didn't think so but if I did it was mine to keep. - Location:den
- Mood:tickey-boo
- Music:amen to anything that brings quick return to my friends, to my friends
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This morning's exchange of text messages with kastanzie
clsisold: Are you ok? kastanzie: yes. I havn't been on the puter in a couple of days. Was busy all day Thurs. & yesterday. R u ok? clsisold: Yes, I'm ok - you're ok (I see a book here). Are you coming up this weekend? kastanzie: MayBe. I have 2 c how work pans out. Don't worry re it as far as food goes, but u could clean up just n case! :) clsisold: Wear heavy shoes - clear your own path - Tags:imc
- Location:den
- Music:you said I was your blue, blue baby and you were right, you were right
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I just watched Grey Gardens. If I had a trust fund would you move back home? We could wear scarves and learn to dance. You could bring your cats. | |
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On a warm sunny day, as this one was, it was a pleasure to walk around outside, even behind a lawn mower, taking in the bouquet of the emerging flora, recognizing the tracks of the different fauna both wild and domesticated, and you would think that after 28 years I would have learned to check the bottoms of my shoes before coming inside.
- Location:den
- Mood:odoriferous
- Music:don't be tempted by her favors never turn your back on mother earth
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- Tags:slide scanning
- Location:den
- Mood:dehydrated
- Music:don't let the fading summer pass you by
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The snow we had in March certainly has made this a very pretty deep green spring. The parts of the lawn that I've already mowed look so lush that I figured it would be beneficial to attempt do a little more yard maintenance this year than just cutting the grass.  I was about to turn off the television when Matt Lauer said he was with the author of the new book 10-10-10. Unfortunately the segment turned out not to be about fertilizer but just your standard bullshit. - Location:den
- Mood:barren
- Music:you're the one that I still miss and the truth is that it comes as no surprise
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Today's Fortune Cookie
Beware of odors from unfamiliar sources
Guess those odors won't be coming from the plumbers (if they ever show up). They've been here so frequently this year I feel I almost know them intimately.
- Tags:false sciences
- Location:Den
- Mood:tickey-boo
- Music:and when we're older and full of cancer, it doesn't matter now
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Smiles
Peter 2002  Jennifer 1977
- Location:den
- Music:and I get no answers don't get no change raining in Baltimore baby everything el
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- Tags:imc
- Location:den
- Mood:tickey-boo
- Music:clothed in crinoline of smokey burgandy softer than the rain
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Nanny came to us by way of one of the Seven Elevens in Richmond. My former husband, John, would stop each evening at the convenience store for coffee and one evening he happened to have my grandson Nicholas with him and there just happened to be a box of puppies inside the store and John felt that every boy should have a dog even if the dog and boy lived 60 miles apart and at three and a half years old Nicholas wasn't going to object to any of this so he named the puppy Nanny. Supposedly she was a mixture of Labrador Retriever and German Sheppard, was probably 5 weeks old, solid black and she sported a huge potbelly (worms).
From the very beginning, Nanny seemed different from any of the other dogs I had raised. She had a veracious appetite. I only once saw her refuse food; I had given her a rice cake and she spit it out. I honestly think she thought I was trying to feed her Styrofoam. When she was old enough to start running around outside with the other dogs she started bringing putrid, steamy animal carcasses onto the back porch. Oh my god, these things were so foul just seeing them would make me gag. Not knowing the penchant Labradors, even ones that are only a quarter Lab and three-fourths concrete pylon, have for putrefaction I would scoop up the steaming carcasses in a shovel, hold them under the dog's nose and sharply say "Nanny, no! No!" and she would inhale deeply thinking to herself "Ambrosia." No matter how I disposed of the bodies, Nanny always found them and brought them back.
As Nanny got bigger and bigger, she developed a fondness for chasing Frisbees. She could do amazing jumps and flips and could almost always catch the Frisbee. She never tired of this and no matter how long someone was willing to throw the Frisbee she never lost interest. I was cutting grass one afternoon. It was hot, it had been dry for weeks so the grass was brittle and the mower kept stirring up a lot of dust. Nanny came running up to me, her Frisbee in her mouth and without my asking she dropped the Frisbee beside me hoping I'd toss it for her. I kept on pushing the mower. She picked up the Frisbee tossed it up in the air. I continued to mosey along behind the mower. I guess that in a last effort to get me to play with her, Nanny dropped the Frisbee in front of the lawn mower. I leaned over, pushed the disc aside and said "NO". Again Nanny dropped it in front of the lawn mower and I just kept mowing. It made a lot of noise as it got sucked up into the blades before being belched out the chute. It looked like a star. Nanny looked at the mangled Frisbee, looked up at me then ran off into the woods returning a few minutes later with another Frisbee. Evidently she had a stash of them squirreled away in the woods. I couldn't believe it, she dropped the thing in front of me. I stopped the mower, picked up the Frisbee and threw it high into a cedar tree. When John pulled up into the driveway Nanny ran to the cedar tree, started barking and jumping until John came over to see what the fuss was about. Tattletale.  Just about a year after she was brought home Nanny had puppies, eleven of them. She didn't seem particularly concerned about 'birthing'; in fact, she started popping them out on the back porch. I guess she didn't want to be too far away from her Frisbees. She wasn't that good a mother; she didn't seem to have that much interest in her babies maybe it was because she had so many of them. I increased her food and feedings and, to be on the safe side, I started giving her calcium supplements. I ended up weaning the puppies earlier than normal. Once they had graduated to regular puppy food I couldn't have Nanny anywhere near them while feeding because she'd just knock them out of the way and gobble up everything. We kept three of the puppies, two males - Brutus and JF - and a female - Nobby. When Brutus and JF were not quite five months old they wandered off and were hit by a train. Nanny, who was pretty good at howling, would sit out on the porch at night, look up at the sky and sing but after the boys died it almost sounded like keening. Two weeks after Brutus and JF died Trooper died. Nanny had come into heat again and wandered down to my neighbor's yard for satisfaction. Poor Trooper, he wanted to hump everything but the ladies wanted nothing to do with him. It's odd this difference in my dogs; Trooper would try to mate with anything, the cats, dogs, old tires, shins and was always rebuffed whereas Nigel, Nanny grandson, seemed to have no interest in reproducing. I wouldn't have known his sister, Iris, was in heat if I hadn't noticed her grandfather, my neighbor's dog, slowly moving up the driveway. He was moving so slowly, almost as if he were straining against a strong wind, leaning to one side, shaking, sometimes falling. He was moving so erratically I thought maybe Wexler had had a stroke until I noticed he was still chained to his doghouse and that was slowing him down. Now that's horny. Trooper must have followed Nanny down to Wexler's and there had been a fight. Trooper had deep puncture wounds in his skull, his face was torn up pretty badly and there were a couple of severe bites along his ribcage. I buried Trooper out along the edge of the woods where Tonka, the cat I had long before I was married and Fivel, the mouse Jennifer found in the choir room at school, were buried. While I was digging his grave Nanny would come up and drop sticks or rocks into the hole. Sometimes I would toss them out and she'd bring them back other times I just left them. Digging Trooper's grave was therapeutic as well as a lot harder than I had expected but if I say so myself I did a good job, those sides were true. I remembered to put the dirt to one side of the grave so I could easily get out. Nanny and the other dogs watched me but none tried to join me. When I would climb out of the hole to take a break, sitting on the damp clay, legs dangling into Trooper's grave, Nanny would quietly sit, letting me rest my aching back against her bulk, neither of us knowing that in less than a month she too would be dead. She would wander down to the railroad tracks with another dog that had been hanging about, a big putty colored dog who showed up around the beginning of hunting season but I doubt he was any type of hunter. He was friendly and seemed to be really grateful for Nanny's companionship. I did not dig a grave for her. John and Nicholas found her severed body on the tracks the Saturday after Thanksgiving (she disappeared early the morning before). They brought me her collar. John said the buzzards had already gotten to Nanny. He also said that about 20 yards away from her was the body of another dog. That would have been Traveler. Eariler in November, I had taken Nanny into the veterinarian's in Richmond for spaying, she came through the operation with no problems and I picked her up the next morning. She seemed pleased to see me and sat in the front seat beside me alternately looking out the window then turning towards me. If she did this quickly enough she would spray the windshield with spittle. I needed to go to the bank and not wanting to leave Nanny in the car I went to the drive-up window. When the teller returned my deposit receipt she included a dog biscuit (instead of a sucker). I showed Nanny the treat and nonchalantly asked, "What do you say?" Much to my amazement Nanny said "Aaaruff". The two ladies at the window burst into laughter and one said, "Oh she's so well-mannered." Masking my surprise, I said, "Yes, she is." - Location:den
- Mood:nostalgic
- Music:and I still don't know what for, don't matter anymore
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I had to go into Richmond yesterday, did a little shopping but I was mainly there to get my car inspected - something I forgot to do last December. On the drive home while I was still in congested town traffic a couple of guys two lanes away from me started shouting something and when I stopped at the traffic light I realized they were calling to me saying "Hey Red. Red haired girl in the Nissan" (evidently from a distance my dyed hair doesn't look 61). I debated just ignoring them by staring off in the opposite direction but ended up turning toward them, peering over the tops of my glasses and apologizing "Sorry, boys". They said "Oh, that's ok". Well, at least they didn't start shouting obscenities at me. | |
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I put no stock in any of this stuff yet it really is beginning to bother me that I keep receiving this tarot card. I should have deleted this subscription when I added Fortune Cookie but I didn't. I've kept the Fortune Cookie cookie primarily because so many of the messages contain typos; this morning's fortune was "Good things come to those who wiat".  I look at this card and wonder why the woman seems to be straining against the wind much more than the man is, a man who is hobbling along on a crude prosthetic using crutches that appear to be somewhat short while carrying extra weight upon his back. I'm sure there's some significance to this and I could look it up but then again it is Saint Patrick's Day so maybe this is just an historical reference to the great potato famine.- Tags:false sciences
- Location:den
- Music:and when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon but I'll be seeing you
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Today's fortune cookie: Your pursuit of happiness is an endless trail of Good Humor
- Tags:false sciences
- Location:den
- Mood:tickey-boo
- Music:Sometimes life is the sweetest thing And sometimes it's just naked pain
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When I was a child we had this piece of furniture that was considered the 'kids' couch'. It was old, it was ratty, seemingly indestructible and we could do whatever we wanted on it. I don't know the origins of this sofa. It was around long before I was born. It might have been something my parents had when they first married. It might have been even older than that but whatever its age it stayed around the various houses we lived in until 1963 when my mother decided to get rid of it. She first tried to donate it to the Goodwill who, in no uncertain terms, informed her that they were a legitimate used furniture store and not in the business of hauling away junk. I do believe she argued with them but lost and ended up making arrangements with whomever it was that picked up the neighborhood trash to take it away.
When this picture was taken my brother was three and I was five years old.  I've no doubt that this was a posed picture, this couch was the hub of too much activity. It was not a place to just sit and read. It was here one day while attempting to be the Human Slinky that I tumbled off the couch, rolled onto the floor and noticed a really long black snake under the baseboard heater. Running into the kitchen, I told my mother that I thought there was a snake in the living room. She told me to go back and make sure. This couch could fold flat so offered an excellent platform on which to stage all our productions from circuses to melodramas. Because the top of the couch was so wide it was ideal for setting up my brother's army men, the tanks, the jeeps and cannons. The seam down the middle was the Maginot Line. Neither of us had any idea what a Maginot Line was, just words we had heard. I assumed it had something to do with making up stuff. We also liked to stand on our heads, draping our legs across the top of the couch to see how long it would take for our mother to come in and tell us to stop because if we hung upside-down too long our livers would turn over and we'd die and if we did we weren't to blame her for it because she had warned us but we wouldn't listen. This repeated threat led to a play about two dead kids hanging around, usually at ceiling level, to see who really got the blame. After my older brother and sister got home from school this play escalated into a grand production of the dead kids doing things that the live people couldn't blame on anyone, stuff like a knife or fork falling to the floor during dinner, a door unexpectedly slamming shut, a lost radio signal. This play had Broadway written all over it until my mother came in and told us to stop (I honestly think it was scaring her) and she told me that I was going to Hell because it had been my idea and I was just a natural ring leader. Though all of us played on this couch my younger brother was the only one who picked at the cotton that was popping out of the seams. For reasons none of us were ever able to comprehend he'd stuff the cotton up his nose. Several years ago I mentioned this to my sister-in-law. She just shook her head and said "Oh God, he still does that. Only now after packing one nostril he holds the other one closed then snorts to see how far he can blow the stuffing across the room" Evidently, we only age.
- Location:den
- Mood:tickey-boo
- Music:half of the time we're gone but we don't know where we don't know where
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