Spring Has Sprung

On the Lookout
This? This is my dog, or half of my dog. The storm door is closed and on the inside there's a definable doggie nose moisture line straight across. In the background there, that's a sock. Probably one of Eddie's socks, but all socks in the house serve double duty, once they're off the foot or out of the drawer, as Cody's play things. He drags them about the house and we find them in kitchen, outside, in the hall and there, near the front door.
I love that dog.


More signs of spring. The shoes that pile up near the armoire in the living room are a little skimpier.


Teen Years

My friend and I were talking this afternoon and we wandered onto the subject of teen angst. I am increasingly aware of how each day brings me farther away from that time in my life. I can remember it fondly as enough time has now passed.

We talked about (made fun) how her sister-in-law deals with it and how we used to cope. We both wrote sad, sad little poems.

I dug some little treats out.

ktm, circa 16 yrs:

I got bored so
I painted my left hand grey and pretended it was dead.
I couldn't feel my book anymore and I couldn't drive to the grocery store with that hand.
People apologized. I got cards. I held a funeral.
They sent flowers.
I had to tell them it was just a joke.
So I did.
And they laughed.
So I hit them.
With my dead hand.


ktm, circa 17 yrs:

I struggle so much.
I fight inside my head with that little girl who will have no one touch her. I hate her.
She always wins.

I want to be loved
I want to love

Sometimes I pull my knees to my lips when I'm cold. I can imagine kisses so wonderful between me and another. I can share so much.

I want to share
I want to love

I want to be involved in the night.

I'm scared.
I don't want my heart to skip a beat again. I might like it again. It might want to skip more. Maybe 2 or 5...skipping into the sunset or sunrise, leaving my body lifeless in the absence of its booms.


ktm, circa 19 yrs:

When the shadow touches the pen, he will know that I have lived. Not just that I have practiced the elementary business of breathing, but that I have envied and feared. He will know that I made the shadow dance forming "E."


Isn't She Lovely

This afternoon at around 5:30 I was taking Cody for his afternoon walk. I suited him up, harness and all, and started out. I didn't make it too far down the driveway before I decided we would go opposite our normal route. I could sense that Cody needed new things to smell (and tinkle on). This took us past Mr. Ivan's house, our neighbor. He's a sweet, old man who takes care of all the neighborhood cats. They hang out at his house during the day to keep him company as he watches over the neighborhood, and hope to get the occasional head scratch. In the evenings they go home to their respective families. I've seen it happen. When he goes inside for the evening, they scatter to different houses on the street. It's like a cartoon. He's the Snow White of our little Drive.

Cody and I pass Mr. Ivan and the cats on our way down the street. I wave and Cody goes bonkers at the possibility of catching one of the cats, so much so that he almost chokes himself on the harness, which was bought to prevent exactly that, so we hurried on.

On our way back home, I decided we'd stop and say, "Good Evening" to Mr. Ivan, no matter Cody's behavior problems with the cats. So we stop and talk. Just when I can't contain Cody anymore and am on my way home next door, Mr. Ivan stops me and says, "I want to thank you for being lovely today. I think it is so lovely when women wear skirts."

I had worn a skirt shopping earlier in the day. It wasn't anything special, I had a T-shirt paired with it and some flip-flops. Hardly glamorous, but he said I was LOVELY. Lovely is probably the perfect word. It wasn't "sexy" or "beautiful" or "pretty." It was lovely. It was a wholesome compliment. Today I have come to the conclusion that every woman should be called "lovely" at least once in her life. It feels lovely.


To My Dearest

To My Dearest, Who Sends Things Like This To Me At Work

I'm in the mood to thank you for loving me. I know that almost four years ago you promised that you would, you even volunteered to do it in front of 400 people. But then, I only had a glimpse of how you would love me. I had no idea.

I always feel considered in your world (except when you turn off the light in the room I'm still in when you leave it...unintentionally).
Thank you for sharing laughs with me everyday (even if most of them are AT, not WITH).
Thank you for cleaning the house when you know I've had a frustrating day.
Thank you for always greeting me first while resisting the cutest dog ever, making him wait his turn.
Thank you for hurting when I hurt and listening to me vent about said hurts endlessly without complaint (and holding my hand while you listen).
Thank you for letting me know that you love me in a new way everyday. (I like the hair brushing and the back scratching, so feel free to repeat a day or two.)
Thank you for breaking into my car that time, just to leave a Valentine's present (even if I returned it for a different one).
Thank you for trying to propose on that one Valentine's day, when I was unconscious because of that emergency dental surgery and all those Percocets, even though you couldn't because I was unconscious...with all the Percocets.
Thank you for waiting for me.

Sometimes I can't believe you love me, especially when I come up with such revelations like, "There is no 'almost fat'," while continuing to pester the dog once he's found his most comfortable spot after I've just eaten half a pint of sorbet and complained that I'm cold...then hot.

Thank you for always getting me a blanket and turning on the fan. That's true love.


At the Car Wash

Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Yeah. We TOTALLY made out in the deluxe wash.


One Heapin' Helpin'

After finishing my dinner this evening, I needed something sweet (this is not new). I went into the kitchen to prepare my dessert. I gathered the necessary elements then went back into the living room to sit next to Eddie on the couch and enjoy my creation-o-decadence.

When Eddie looks to his left, where I am seated, I get a head tossed back in laughter. He almost lost his breath. The dog was scared and leapt off of the couch. I'm still sitting there, dessert in hand, wondering WHAT his problem could be.

"Chocolate Frosting. On a Spoon?"


"You know I almost did that a couple of times, but I held back in fear that you would laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing. I'm eating my frosting."

He doesn't have any sisters. He's obviously never lived with girls.
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