Category Archives: dog love

let the rocks speak

Our forms displace a precise amount of air.
We have volume.
Your thoughts do not.

We remember all that made us.
You do not.
The air and the fire, the currents of water,
grains of sand, and eons of pressure.

Our value is not relational.
Yours, sadly, is.

Gutter, rooftop, buried, shattered, exalted, exposed,
it is all the same to us.

You collect us as trinkets.
That does not make us trinkets.

We adore gravity.
You do not.

It’s no accident
the only time you felt real today
was when you walked in the rain
and through water-speckled glasses
looked at your dog
looking at you.

[After losing several posts connected to these pictures, I submitted myself to them. The story of conspiracy and monopoly (think: Comcast) and co-dependence and Murphy’s law (mine, the Universe’s) will have to wait].

Did I create a monster 

When we invited Finn into our lives, I wanted to raise him to be unafraid of the vacuum.  With all that shedding black fur, I knew I’d be vacuuming A LOT.

And so, for months I made sure that I never startled him with the cord, or bumped into him with the canister, or acted anything but super casual-cool about the noise. It worked! Look — there’s a dog relaxing on the couch while his human runs the vacuum — I was so proud.



But then one day he tossed the star toy down next to the canister and fool that I am, I flung it across the room.

You can guess the rest. Now every single time I start up the vacuum, he thinks it’s time for a game. It. Just. Took. One. Time.

(Noticing the speed of conditioning makes me fearful about how I dismiss a few less than exemplary moments of parenting (once? It just took once?)). But never mind. I can’t go there today. It’s sunny and 80 degrees out and I have the afternoon to myself.

Don’t be fooled

Don’t let the bedroom eyes fool you.He desperately wants to eat the doll lying there, a mere five inches from his nose.

Evening found me in a Newton Corner church shoulder to shoulder with like minded neighbors. None of us have been fooled — not for a New York minute.

Free Speech for People and Roots Action leading the charge.

impeachdonaldtrumpnow.com

The idea is to get cities and towns to pass resolutions asking the House to begin investigating whether there are grounds for impeachment (there are, of course — more unfolding by the day). The idea is to express tangible outrage and exert public pressure.

They are focusing on the emoluments clause because that evidence is already in, even without the tax returns. DJT has been in violation of it for every minute of every hour since he took the oath of office.

Relentless pressure. From all quarters. This is not normal. This cannot go on.

PS  At link above you can sign their online petition (for what it’s worth). Almost a million already have.

Shadows on snow

Maybe to blog more often is to give myself permission to matter on some.

(Ha — Autocorrect wisdom? I meant to say “natter on some”).

Just wore Finn out so I can happily leave him while I go to writing class. The striping shadows of trees pleased me to a ridiculous degree. Look at the colors! Purple, plumbago blue, lavender, and grey. A regular festival for the eyes. And the soul.

End of day

We are both zonked: Finn from playing with his buddies and dog-walker Rafi; me from chopping rock hard snow and revamping two chapters.

Just made a few more machine-pieced components for the Pale Village quilt. It’s time to iron for a while and watch comedy — maybe I’ll finish watching Mike Birbiglia’s “Thank God for Jokes” on Netflix. In this show there’s a hilarious riff about the schism between “on time people” and “late people” (‘How do on time people feel about late people? Well, we hate you is all’).

Peering out

It is coming down really fast and may turn to freezing rain. Plowing is slower than ideal. Still, it’s just a snowstorm and I don’t quite understand the emergency reverse 911 calls, constant reports, and all the rest.

We walked early and had a hard fetch session at the upper field and then played out back just now too, before I shoveled (arg – is the snow heavy!) I’m down for the count, as my father used to say. Finn would prefer otherwise.

It’s a good day to make revisions to text (today, a chapter covering the hours before the Stono Rebellion, 1739, from the perspective of a bondman) and maybe also to see if I can stomach last night’s recorded CNN special about Putin. For now, eating leftovers and about to watch “Nashville” (she said sheepishly).

  Blood and money

The other night, I clipped one of Finn’s nails too short and it bled. And bled. Oh, and it bled some more! The special powder had turned to rock, so while K held a paper towel on our poor alarmed pup’s paw, I whipped up a concoction of corn starch and baking powder.

The bleeding stopped, as bleeding usually does. But later, after settling on the pillow that he sleeps in at the end of our bed, Finn worried at it some. I didn’t know it then, but the nail bled again. The next day while making the bed (or what I call ‘making the bed’), I was astonished to find a perfect heart of his blood on our coverlet.In writing class last week (and weirdly, I can’t remember if it was before or after this nail incident), I wrote (and wrote) about blood. Oh how I wrote! If this is the year for making myself uncomfortable with risk-taking, then I ought to share it, oughtn’t I?

img_1256Meanwhile, I lost my progressive lenses two days ago (my $600 progressive lenses!) It’s disorienting and distressing to say the least. I have tons of three dollar reading glasses which I lose all the time with little consequence. But these? Until two days ago, I had considered my successful tracking a function of respect for the price tag.

(That’s $600 with insurance, by the way. If St. Anthony doesn’t come to my aid, I’ll be looking to Warby Parker for cheaper replacements).

Coincidentally, I recently recommitted to a babysitting job that kinda ruins my Thursdays. I didn’t want to say ‘No’ and I didn’t want to say ‘Yes’ either. In the aftermath of saying ‘Yes’, I decided that earmarking my modest earnings as ‘mad money’ might ease the ambivalence.

And then I go and lose my glasses. I lose my glasses something like ten minutes after the ‘mad money’ idea — glasses that cost almost to the dollar what the babysitting will produce in income.

Maybe they’ll turn up. Certainly, I won’t spend $600 to replace them. But correlations like this make me pay attention and ask questions.

Questions like: don’t I deserve to spend $600 on myself? (this from a woman who recently purchased a sweet grass basket in Charleston for $270 and considered it a deal). Or, is the designation ridiculous, given the amount of our resources spent to keep me nicely clothed and in bath salts?

Could it be an old lesson — that old, old one about the dangers of saying ‘Yes’ when I want to say ‘No’ (I thought I was done with this one).

Or maybe it’s about losing focus. Pure and simple (although, what’s simple about that?)

Such first world issues I leave you with today.

UPDaTE: I re-thought the Thursday commitment. Relief. ‘Hear that glasses? You can show up now!’