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.

it might be a bad sign when...

you are venting to your therapist (is it venting? or is it therapy...?) about your job, and she suggests you need to write a book.
because it is that harrowing/unusual/typical/funny?

i'm just sayin'. that seems like a bad sign.

dinner

Chris emailed me earlier today:
"Any foods I need to put in the dinner tonight?"

First, it is awesome he is cooking dinner. He's gotten really good at it - his baking really is stellar, too. (And considering I can;t bake it is a good thing someone in the house can make tasty flaky cinnamon rolls....mmmmm....gluten free cinnamon rolls....)

Anyway. I responded in poem form. I thought you may enjoy (I'm sure Chris did: his response was "K.")

"Hm.
Dig around in the fridge.
Open all containers. Open all bins. Open all drawers.
Explore contents.
Identify suspect things.
Put suspect things in the trash.

Line up not-quite suspect, but possibly questionable items.
Use these items."

Moved.

So, we no longer reside in the converted goat barn. But, changing the names of blogs and redirecting stuff is a pain in the ass. And now that I have wrangled myself some extra hours in the day (part of the moving goal) I've been meaning to start writing on this thing more, partly to keep the family up to date on all our recent and increasingly frequent adventures (also part of the moving goal).

Today I just want to say: there really are only two things I miss about the goat barn.

1) The immense ease with which we could clean it. Hello double the space! You require much more maintenance. And our vacuum broke, and I believe the shop-vac we are are using as a substitute is causing us deafness.

2) Our Land Vixen (er...landlady...). We just miss her.

wowza.

last night, we went to a cook-out, which kinda turned into a party. like an actual shindig.

it was real good fun - the kinda fun we thought was easy to stumble across fours years ago, but here in VT seems harder to happen upon. but there it was, and it was good.

thanks, memorial day!

decision making

we've been traveling so much lately. this is the first weekend in a really long time where we've been home both days. it's a relief.

traveling is wonderful and exciting and also exhausting.

and now we are thinking about making changes. i'd tell you what they were if we knew what they were. in fact, if anyone wants to volunteer to decide for us - that would be great.

we

I have a pal who just got married.

And he just 'we'-d.

By this I mean that he is now referring to himself and his new lovely spouse as 'we.' Before it was just '[her name] and me' or 'I' or, well, you get the idea.

I think it is adorable: it is one of those things that you start doing without realizing it. But it is this insignificant thing that seems to signify...something. That everything has finally clicked into place, somehow? To test the waters? But, then again, I make too big a deal of words and phrases and such, so this could easily just be me.

I think Chris and I - we! - started doing it when we finally stopped doing the break-up-and-get-back-together dance. I noticed it one day, that he had said the 'we', and the next thing I knew I was spending time with his family on a regular basis. For me, the 'we' usually precedes the 'I love you.' Just my way of trying out stuff, I guess, seeing if it feels comfortable to be associated with this person, but before I start giving that ol' heart away.

Anyway. 'We' are pretty thrilled about 'us' so that's good. And my new pal seems all flush with happiness, which is awesome.

winter

it is here. finally.

Winter.

and admittedly i have been dreading the coming of vermont's main season. everything here revolves around winter. we have winter, and not winter, and mud season. and mud season is really just an off shoot of winter, since it is the product of the still partly frozen ground starting to thaw, and not being able to absorb the run off from all the snow.

but i digress.

it is snowing, and now just a little. there are tiny flakes piling up on the ground making snow banks. there are normal everyday items whose edges are blurred, color is covered, and that are becoming only identifiable as fluffy rounded soft things. and it is beautiful in it's softness and strangeness.

but i haven't had to start moving it yet. i don't like it much when i have to move it.

Empty Bowls

My favorite charity event was this past weekend: Empty Bowls. How can you not love a charity event where your donation gets you a beautiful, handmade bowl and yummy, handmade (?) soup.

These are the two we picked out: These are also the two my Dad would be proud of. Although even they are a little 'fancy' the one with it's shiny black glaze on the bottom, the other with the fancy little swirl on the inside. I love bowls. I get so very

excited when I see all the bowls, can barely contain myself! I just simply marvel at all the quirky little creations.

And of course my obsession leads to excess donations to charity, in the form of additional purchases of bowls. These my Dad will consider a little to precious, to which I say: Hey! At least I know they made little transfers for those precious little drawings which somehow redeems the fact that I Love Them. I LoveLoveLove them and will eat all of my meals out of them.

Oh, and the soup was good, too.

I forgot about the bugs

Living in the middle of no where means there are less people.

But, that does not mean there are less living entities. Rather, it means there are more bugs. I have been home less than 24 hours and have found: two ticks on the cat, an caterpillar in the bouquet of flowers that I left on the table, a centipede in the sink, and mosquitos in the house.

I can handle most bugs pretty easily, but the ticks and the mosquitos piss me off - and gross me out - because it has actually been far too cold for both to even exist, but there they are. Stupid wankers.

Chicago

I went to Chicago. Or rather, I went back.

For the first time in a long time.

I've been back to visit, but not really, not in the way where you have a lot of free time to spend in the city...which is not truly the way it was when I lived there, but still. This trip was a lot of free time, almost like living there, if living there meant you were independently wealthy and never had to work. Which would be awesome…

It can be an amazing city. I was staying in my old neighborhood, and was better at getting around than when I have stayed elsewhere within the city limits. As if my Chicago compass has lincoln park as it's center. And buses! I never used buses much in college, mostly because the majority of my trips involved direct routes on the L lines. And they were a hassle. Now they seem speedier, more reliable, and more importantly tell you the streets as you approach so you can actually get off on the right spot. They are also equipped with GPS and if you can find wireless while you are waiting for the bus, it will tell you exactly when the next one is coming – but IF you can find wireless. Most people have wisely secured their wireless, which for us would-be thieves is a big pain in the ass.

Chris did make a friend on one of the buses: a gentleman that would have fallen into the ‘drunken bum’ category, except he was not drunk, didn’t smell at all, had a bus pass that he used successfully, and actually seemed to be fairly knowledgeable, specifically about old cars and air cooled engines. He spied Chris’ t-shirt w/ the Volksrodder logo, and cam e over to chat. But in that uncomfortable way where you’re not quite sure if the person has all their marbles – and he did seem to have lost some along the way, but the ones he kept were interesting. And then the crazy started peaking out, with cars he invented but hadn’t built that would have revolutionized the world. Or maybe it was true, who knows. He seemed cared for somehow – someone was keeping him clean and fed – but we were curious what his story was…

I got to see old college pals, some I haven’t seen in a really long time. It was great to see that everyone was going so well – I feel so proud of all of them. Strangely (?), the majority of my college pals were guys, and they have meet some really amazing women, who also tolerated some nostalgia ridden ‘remember whens’ – which makes them very tolerant people, as well as interesting and lovely.

And I got to see an old gal-pal and her very cool little girl. She and her husband have been married since soon after college, and are so happy together. It made me feel better about the fact that Chris and are still ridiculously happy (almost three years of marriage!) especially amid all the recent splits that we’ve heard about. They make me nervous, like I should be looking over my shoulder at some mysterious thing creeping up.

And I got to see one of my dearest college pals get married to a beautiful and brilliant woman. I felt truly lucky to be able to be there, and celebrate the two of them.

Ah, Chicago. Why don’t I live there? There are so many good things about it. I sometimes forget, though, until I am there how - as one person put it – isolating and expensive it can be (sometimes those are the same thing). I do want to move back one day, but it is unlikely that it will actually happen. I like the amenities of living rural-ly – like big dogs, quiet, actual darkness at night, big gardens, and landscapes and vistas made from trees and mountains instead of buildings.

But good god it was nice to visit.

Back in VT

The garden has gotten a little overgrown this week, but still looks good. The cabbage worms are still winning the battle, and therefore the brusselsprouts look like crap. No worries. The beans are in, and the basil is huge: beans and pesto will be eaten and put up tomorrow. Can't make the stupid underliney stuff stop, so this looks a little odd...

























It isn't hot here. Which is one of the things I like about the north. I think a comparison list - north v. south - is coming soon. It was lovely being home, even under sad circumstances.

NOLA

I got sent to New Orleans on a business trip. It rained/stormed in the afternoon, and then cleared up. It was beautiful: I only really saw the warehouse district and the french quarter. So, to answer all the questions, no real apparent damage from the hurricanes in those areas. I mean, there were some building with windows still boarded up, and strips of closed shops, but nothing more that is typical in any big city.






I'm not used to big southern cities: big cities are usually places where I walk with purpose, don't make eye contact, put up walls. But, this is the south. It doesn't matter where you are or what time it is: you smile, you make eye contact, and you say 'hello.' Ah, the south.





Being in the south was nice: the heat, the light, all the things that are summer. New England summer is like a weak-ass version of summer. In some ways, it is lovely - I hate the heat, really, and it is nice not to drip sweat all day every day. But you miss the heat. The light, the way the late day sun slants. And northerners have a fear of showing skin, born of the constant coolness, i think? There was an abundance of skin. It looked like it was summer. People looked summery.

Exactly.

Local strawberries, picked up at a Walker's on the way home. Still warm, 'cause they were picked that day. Ah, spring. You sure do taste good.