the hardest type of lesson

I'll get right to the punch, because that's how it feels, like I've been punched. I haven't been able to catch my breath for weeks, my chest is tight and heavy.

Our dog, Bella, got very sick, very fast. And then she was gone. Is gone. She is gone.

One of the many hard things is that it took me so long to find a groove with her. You see, she was my husband's dog. And his best friend. Bella didn't like me very much, not for a very long time. She was bossy, and demanding, and manipulative, and was able to play my husband against me and I resented it.

And since she was always with him, she was never with me. Not just the two of us anyway.
And then I got a puppy, and my attentions were elsewhere.

But after time, my husband took some trips and didn't take her. He and I worked different schedules and sometimes I was alone with her. And, well, life got hard for a while and it turns out she is a really good listener. Was. But the magical moment was when I started walking her on lunches. Just me and her (because I physically can't walk both dogs at once - too strong!).

The first time we went out she was a pulling, barkey mess. And then I gave her a treat to try to get her to sit and calm the fuck down. It was the briefest thing, but we realized that each other were okay. From then on, our walks were really lovely. She started cuddeling me, and she is the best cuddler. Was. Was the best. Somehow we just found our groove.

So now we are left with a Bella sized hole in our lives.
It is a noticable hole: she was an under-foot type of dog. Always in the way, always present. So the lack of her is so palabale, a constant reminder that she isn't being stepped on in the kitchen while you are trying to cook. She isn't worming her way out the door because she can't bear for you to leave without her.

And we can hardly bear it, her absence.

But I've learned, learned so much, so much that I should have learned before I lost her.
Learned to be more patient and appreciative of the constant need for attention, the under foot and in the way. I realize now that much like people those things that drive you up the wall are often also the things that make them 'them' and that those are the things you miss most when they are gone.

I should have learned it sooner. But I'm glad I learned it at all.

watch

when my grandfather died last year, i asked for a watch of his.

i ended up with two: one a self winding with a busted band, and the other needing a battery.

i wore the one with the busted band and held it together with a clear plastic rubber band, which made it look like the crystal was busted.

today chris got a wild hair to replace the battery in his watch and get a new band, which has needed to be done for over 5 years. i accompanied, taking my grandfather's watch - the one with the busted band. something, of course, i had been meaning to do for a while but, well, that's why i'm married to chris - because he actually helps me accomplish life's small errands.

the watch store in town is run by a lovely man, not originally from here, that also sells beautiful kilm rugs and random trinkets. we have bought a rug from him that makes me happy every time i walk across it.

he is good and quick with watch repairs.

he mended the band, and complimented the watch, with great seriousness. 'that is a very nice watch' with the underlying meaning being 'take care of it.'

i wore it for an hour so it would wind itself up. it is now on my nightstand. i'll start wearing it again, sans rubber band.

catsup? ketchup?

chris' mom bought nice ketchup while we were in kentucky for the holidays. it is incredible!

i sometimes try to make dinners around the possibility of using it (burgers again? why, yes!).

now the real question is: why don't i just MAKE catsup? hmmm?

chris made mustard a while back: it was really freakin' good. i'm assuming that if fancy ketchup tastes as good as it does, then made-from-scratch would be even better.

now who's got an extra scoop of motivation i can borrow so i will start making my own condiments on a regular basis?

salad days

i've been a (mostly) vegetarian for a really long time. i was a vegetarian back when you had a really hard time finding meat-free dishes in most restaurants. salads, usually the house salad which consisted of ice berg lettuce, a few old slices of not-quite-red tomatoes, and some wilty cucumber, were the only option.

i really, really hated salads by the time i got to college. like a lot.

then things started to change: restaurants had more vegetarian options, and they learned to make really good salads. and i learned to make really good salads.

but sometimes i still forget that salads can be tasty.

why do i forget about salads? what is wrong with me?

salads are yummy.

things you think are boring but they are not

the weather. mostly just the weather.

we brush it off as an inane conversation filler. but really, i think it is more like a religious devotion. and much like religion, it is an effort to decode life, the unpredictability and vagaries, the surprises and complications.

i think that is why we marvel and refuse to accept.
"can you believe it is so warm? for november?"
"it's not going to rain for the next four days. no way. i refuse to believe it."
"it can;t be winter - summer just got here!"

i know there are people in the camp that loves all weather, and is excited about all of it. i might argue that this is just a form of blind worship of an unpredictable god. might as well sit back and enjoy the ride, 'cause there is nothing else you can do.

and of course, there are those that don;t want to hear about the weather, because there is nothing you can do about it. just leave it be. talking about the inevitable and uncontrollable is boring. atheism? agnostic?

me, i am firmly in the talk-about-it-extensively and examine-it-all-the-time person. i should go to seminary school for weather nerds.

(by the way - isn't the weather crazy right now?)

whoops

last monday morning was interesting.

well. maybe not interesting. maybe gross. there - you have been warned. those of the weak of stomach, read no further!!

we had a little cigar box mounted to the wall of our bathroom. the door open up. in the box we keep little bottles of bathroom things, like deodorant. at the time of this incident, there was a tiny nail which, were the box not mounted to the wall, would help keep the lid closed. this has been the set up for nearly six years and two moves. i keep trying to remember to remove the tiny useless nail.

i, being of sound mind and general clumsiness, somehow let the door swing closed on my hand while reaching for deodorant. ouch! i quickly examined said hand, and it seemed unscathed. whew! somehow i missed that nail! need to remove it...

so i proceeded to my bedroom to get dressed, reached up for something and OH MY GOOD BLOOOOODDDDDD!

then i woke up on the floor. with a very bad headache and a very bloody hand.
turns out i did not escape the nail. it was just a tiny, tiny puncture wound, but i think it hit a vein. i'm fine, really, and i have a lovely bruise a week later.

5 whole years!

chris and i JUST celebrated the ol' 5 year anniversary. (our kissaversary is actually around easter, and it will be 9 years i think this spring, lest you think we were like just getting to know eachother or something!)

we celebrated! we put on clean clothes, went out to eat at a restaurant, came home, and watched back to back to back episodes of 'battlestar galactica' and went to bed 10 (so late!).

man, we know how to party.