I'm listening to a Wagner opera on the radio. What the hell? I hate Wagner. Maybe I'm too lazy to get up. Nah, I can't stand it. I'm turning it OFF.

A day without the muppets is like...a day without the muppets

My neighbors are building a fence between our yards and I've gotten over my resentment that they started this project NOW when I'm feeling broke and pulled into the decisions and earth moving and the like. It will be beautiful and I don't have to pay for it right now but I must pay something since it is my fence too. Neighbor to neighbor communications. They're nice people and we've lived side by side for 13 years.

The dog needs to be led out on a lease because, well, there's no fence. He doesn't seem to mind. Today we played at the dog park until he actually lay down, covered in mud.

Dog fun:
1. Bitey-bitey, growly-growly game
2. Run the perimeter at top speed
3. Hump any dog the same height, regardless of gender
4. Run after balls but don't bring them back
5. Sniff butts (an all-time favorite)
6. Run through the mud with wild abandon

When you get home, carry him directly to the tub to hose him down. Remember to get a black dog next time, dummy.

I have the day off, mostly. A new baby to visit this afternoon but that's all.

I read an article in the NYT about race horses that was so awful, I couldn't finish it. Euthanizing horses when they break their legs after they've been shot full of cortisone so they can run with injuries. WTF.

Jockeys get hurt too but they have free will. But horses? Gorgeous creatures that they are. It's shameful.

Rebecca, these are for you

I'm waiting for my first client to show up. This morning, the sun shone on the magnolias in the front yard. They haven't quite opened but they've shed all their fuzzy coverings. It's not raining, a minor miracle. A friend is in Maui right now and I'm trying not to be cranky about it. I said I was trying. We could have a day of sunshine. We could. Others on the planet think sun is ho-hum but we're extremely grateful, here in the NW.

Our vitamin D levels are pathetically low. As someone who grew up in the NE, where it was rainy and cloudy and effing freezing half the year, this weather is mild and boring. And fercripssake, I'm writing about the damn weather!!!

The dog licked my eyelid this morning. That's how I woke up. I was dreaming about dancing on a stage in a red dress and then a warm wet tongue licked my eye. EWWWW.

However, yesterday, he licked my mouth, which was slightly open. And that's gross. i woke up to a dog tongue in my mouth. When something like this happens, you don't even have time to react or avoid.

My client is here. Gotta go.

Is my car cursed?

This morning: BANG BANG BANG (dog barking) I stagger down to the front door and a kindly neighbor in a chapeau lets me know my car has been broken into, window smashed. Serves me right for leaving my ancient ipod in there. Glass all over the inside, and in the driveway.

I've had my car back from the body shop for exactly 2 weeks. All sides of my car have been smacked, in different accidents (well, the last one wasn't my fault-I backed into some lame concrete posts in the dark on my way to a birth). Actually, none of the accidents were my fault. I hesitate to mention this, but a drunken guy stepped out in front of my car and I, uh, knocked him down. I wasn't going very fast, he was reeling around, accompanied by his more sober friend who insisted that I NOT take him to the ER (maybe he had more on board than alcohol). I checked him all over in my maternal nursey way and he kept insisting he was fine. I felt HORRIBLE. I also recently got a warning from a cop when I tried to go around a car at a crosswalk in a school zone. No, I didn't crash into any school children, thank the lawd in heaven.

Is it time for my children to take away my car keys? Is it the bright blue of my car? Is it some hoodoo that needs exorcism? Smudging? Chanting and singing? What, tell me, what should I do?

Meanwhile, Deb and Felix and I are going to have a puppy class on Thursday. With someone who's WEB site is called 'Sensitive Dog"
Uh-oh.

And here I will officially admit it. I'm reading Tina Fey's 'Bossypants' on a Kindle Fire. Deb got one from work for selling a butt load of vitamins or something. I feel like a hypocrite or worse. ((((however, in my evil leetle heart, it's way cool and I can read in bed in the dark without disturbing my honey with the sound of pages turning.))))

Even so.

I want my poetry book to be on paper, made from trees. And a cover with groovy art. And binding glue and all.

I did it. I went to Nordstrom. I rode the ***light rail***, surely the most beautiful way to travel. And the light rail dropped me off right at the door.

People who shop at Nordstrom DRESS UP to go shopping. Everyone was beautifully turned out. Hair, nails, boots, etc. I was wearing a pair of muddy pants from the dog park, a beret because my hair wouldn't behave and a long raincoat to cover, well, everything. I didn't fit in. The store is sparkly and shiny and clean, with many floors of expensive clothes which I will never buy because I wouldn't pay $175.00 for a dress, one dress. I could buy a buttload of clohtes at Value Village for $175.00, let me tell you. And the clerks are beautiful too. I think they're meant to intimidate the likes of me.

I headed straight for the lingerie department and hung over the counter until a bright young thing noticed me. I told her I wanted the oldest bra fitter on the floor, not someone the age of my child. She brought 'Mary" over. Mary was about 4 feet tall, with a serious chest area. She had a shelf in the front. I imagined her bra fitted with trusses and gears, probably what I was going to be trying on. She let me back to the fitting room and LOCKED ME IN. She complimented my ratty sweatshirt (!). Then she whipped out a tape measure and got busy. She left me alone to stare at myself in the tryptic mirror under the fluorescents. Gawd. Yes, this is what I look like now. Gawd, She returned with an armload of bras. She cheerily told me my size is 36 DD (!!!!!!!) Gawd. Then I tried on a black number that looked like a cafe awning. Could be an umbrella. Or a large purse. It fit. It felt wonderful. Uplift and separate. Yes. I don't want to talk about how much they cost. A bra of this magnitude costs a lot. I bought two.

As soon as I got home, I put on my new bra. I wore it all evening. I'm wearing it today. Imagine, years of engineering have gone into my undergarment. Years! I can wear a black lace bra just like other women. I can. Although I'm not sure I can garden in it.

It's snowing here in the land that global warming forgot, snowing on the magnolia blossoms and daffodils and violets.

Fine.

The white dog will blend in.

Then I'm going to take the light rail to the dreaded Nordstrom and buy a bra. Oh gawd. For years I have pretended that I don't wear a bra. But I do, sad things that they are. I buy them on-line or at the cheap-o store. They don't fit. They don't hold up. They are a poor excuse for a real bra, which is what my mother wore. She had real breasts, before the cancer, not two nipples like mine. But menopause brought me the gift of breasts (why now?) and so I'm going to go to the bra place and face the FITTERS and understand once and for all that I have breasts that need encasement and support. I'm going to go. I am. Today is the day. As many have gone before me, I going to march in there and demand the oldest fitter to help me, not some young giggly thing with Coopers ligaments that aren't tired yet.

As my daughter said after her first bra fitting experience, "Mother, it was very humbling."

Before I lose my nerve, I'm outa here.

The picture above is an example of my current back. My chiropractor has a doohickey she staples my shirt to my back with and then it makes a series of ka-chungs and beeps. Then she breaks down the table and bends me in half backwards. I have to go once a week.

Massive rain, hail and floods. I walked to the lake and had puddles in my boots. My socks squished when I walked. The dog was leaping around because he's outside and chasing a ball. Any ball. He looked like a vertical mud puddle.

In the night, some small murder
at my feet
neat package of innards
intestine, stomach, jewel red liver
heart and muscle
in the belly of hawk
who
even now
arcs across the near meadow
on soft wings
such winnowing!
such about to be born!

A wee babe this AM and we almost dropped him. Babies are slippery, y'all. Fortunately his daddy was right there and grabbed him. His mom was standing up so gravity had a go. Big sister slept through the whole thing.

Then I went dancing. I cleaned the house, threw the ball for the dog, put the clean clothes away and NOW I get to have a bath and a lie down. With the Sunday NYT, heaven.

I skip over the bad news of the world and head right for the society pages. And the magazine section and finally, the book reviews.
Why do I read the society pages? Because the NYT started putting in same sex weddings; photos, ceremonies and all. Some day we'll all have the same rights. Washington passed a same sex marriage bill but you know the opposition is gearing up to referendum the thing. Right this very day, from the pulpit there's hate a-brewing.

My love and I threaten 'traditional' marriage. ((flex flex))

I had no idea we were so powerful.

GRRRRRRR !!!!

My little cat has been nudging me all morning to pet her. She sits on my hands so I can't type. She pushes her face into my lap. She's my love cat.

My new life

Wake up at dark-thirty because the dog has to pee/poop.

Go down to the dog park and throw the ball 47 thousand times. Watch the white dog turn, uh, grimy and muddy and brown. Watch the white dog hump other dogs and run after random balls and run in the pack that circles the park.

Listen to the white dog bark with a ball in his mouth.

Coem back up the hill with stairs included. Carry the filthy dog across the kitchen floor and put him right in the tub. Wash off his legs, feet, belly, tail, etc.

Dry him with the endless supply of ratty towels you've had in the basement for just this purpose.

Yell at him when you find him on the couch!!!!!! Bad dog!!!!!

Think about your former life when you could sleep in and there weren't footprints all over the house.

Then dance in your living room with the cats looking on.

All in all, a good day. A trip to the emission station with my trusty Blueberry. Passed. Am I glad I don't have that job. And perhaps there are decent benefits and a union to join. And there is the snazzy uniform.

My therapist is on the fourth floor of the Smith building, a landmark building in Pioneer Square. I make myself climb the stairs, all 543 of them. I'm winded when I arrive at her door. I hope she never moves up another floor. I'll need the servants to carry me up there. It takes me 10 minutes to get my breath before I can talk.

Then to the dog park, in the rain. Muddy dog to dump into the tub as soon as we got home. He's very fond of humping other dogs Great. Dog behavior.

On call. Waiting for the ladies to go into labor.

Because Rebecca just talked about cherry pie on her blog, I'm gonna go take a bath.

Pie is heaven on earth. Like baths.

Then I'll feel less deprived. Of pie.

Pina Bausch

We saw 'Pina" today, in 3D. The dancers moved in DIRT, spread across the stage. It was sweat, beautiful muscles sweating, dirty faces and a woman in a red dress. Go see it. On the big screen. Please.

Life with a Puppy

!. Forget sleeping in. Puppies need to pee/poop at 6AM. Or earlier. And you have to run to the door. Otherwise the poop may end up on the rug in front of the door.

2. Puppies have more energy than a room full of two year olds. Puppies jump three or four feet into the air. Straight up.

3. Puppies think that cats can be convinced to play with them. Even if they're hissing and growling.

4. Puppies run around like goofballs. One guy today called my puppy a 'knucklehead". He was right.

5. Puppies will eat anything. I mean anything. You spend a certain amount of time digging bits of detritus out of their mouth.

6. Puppies bark at cars, people, dust, shadows and absolutely nothing.

7. Puppies can make you laugh until you're weeping. In the back yard. In your pajamas. In the rain.