10.20.2010
Wordless Wednesday
Where I go to clear my head, which lasts a few minutes until Max lies down in the middle of this pretty scene and proceeds to attack a dead fish.
10.13.2010
Wordless Wednesday
********
Go check out this post by Nichole and this post. Both inspired by my Weight of Tears post. They are both wonderful writers, and these posts are touching.
I will be back tomorrow to talk about something that was sparked by Nichole's post. I know I've been silent thus far this week.....got a ton on my mind, and I just want to sleep or be outside, but I'm not leaving this space, that's for damn sure. : )
10.08.2010
exposed desire
The last of your kind-
A gentle soul with a wild streak.
I lie in the crook of your arm,
my fingertips playing morse code on the edge of your naked hip,
lips brushing your chest for the sake of the taste.
Your words muffled in my hair,
Your breath on my temple.
I try to burn the feeling of our legs intertwined,
into my heart, and
Your warm palm carefully cupping my bare ass.
You will skillfully make my skin weep,
and then you'll be gone...
I will be left,
too soon,
with a single memory:
the ghost of your tongue
trailing along my spine
lingering
around the curve of my neck
ending in a sea of desire-
your lips crashing into mine:
salt water waves eroding rough rock,
leaving behind smooth sand.
A gentle soul with a wild streak.
I lie in the crook of your arm,
my fingertips playing morse code on the edge of your naked hip,
lips brushing your chest for the sake of the taste.
Your words muffled in my hair,
Your breath on my temple.
I try to burn the feeling of our legs intertwined,
into my heart, and
Your warm palm carefully cupping my bare ass.
You will skillfully make my skin weep,
and then you'll be gone...
I will be left,
too soon,
with a single memory:
the ghost of your tongue
trailing along my spine
lingering
around the curve of my neck
ending in a sea of desire-
your lips crashing into mine:
salt water waves eroding rough rock,
leaving behind smooth sand.
10.06.2010
A perfectly suited name
She is terminal. Almost 20 years ago she had one of the worst cancers possible (how can anyone say one cancer is worse than another? I don't know. But...), causing her to have a total hysterectomy and lose half of her small bowel. Her husband left.
She drove herself to the hospital when she discovered her pants full of blood.
Her husband never returned.
Now.
Now she is here. She survived that, so surely she can survive this. This rectal cancer. This painful, invisible EVIL that is causing her so much pain. Now, on top of it all: burns all over the lower portion of her body, from the chemo.
I am to discuss her options with her. She is not frail at all, only thin. I am taken in by her strength as soon as I cross the threshold of her room. She is in a hospital gown, pulling on sweatpants.
"Have a seat, but first help me with this." So matter-of-fact.
I help her pull her sweatpants up, find a loose shirt. She pulls her gown off, not needing my help, but allowing it. There is a spot on her lower back: red, raw, newly infected. I touch the area ever-so-slightly.
"How does it look today?"
I tell her what I see. She nods. Smiles.
She shows me these gauzy type of disposible underwear that the hospital gave her, just like the ones they gave me after having my daughter. She asks me to find out where she can get them. They are the only things that don't hurt, but tells me "If I can't buy a case, I'll just go commando."
I laugh as my eyes fill with tears. I sit in the chair as she settles onto the edge of her bed, haphazardly leaning on her left hip.
"Please don't cry."
I tell her I won't. But I sorta am. I close my eyes, pushing the vision of her lower back out of my mind.
"My name is Ms. Noble. What is yours?"
I tell her. She smiles.
So. Options.
"Here's my only option, in my head: I am going home. I don't want any more treatment. I want to go home and read and clean my house and sit in my backyard and spend time with my friends and family and I will be damned if I am going to wait for death to show up. Death will have to wait for me."
My eyes fill again, and she begins to giggle. Chimes in a soft breeze.
I discuss the option of hospice, and of a home health agency coming into her home to meet any needs she has. She is polite-she listens and nods in all the right places.
Yet.
She asks to be discharged. She wants to go home. I can't argue with that. I won't.
She reaches across this space between us, this span of 30 years, of health & disease, of faith & fear, and places her hand on my arm. Strength and bravery are transmitted through her cold fingertips.
"You won't argue with me. I know it."
Three days later, she is walking down the hallway on her own. She lights up when she sees me.
"I have a case of those disposible undies in my room. Thank you for finding them!"
I tell her it was the central supply lady who found them.
"I am going home tomorrow."
I tell her I had nothing to do with that either. She made the decision. And I tell her I am happy for her. I ask her what she will do first, when she gets home.
"I will put on my favorite pajama pants and T-shirt, grab a favorite book, make my favorite drink, and go sit out in my backyard. I will enjoy life. I will not feel pain. I will not be afraid."
Her favorite book: To Kill A Mockingbird. Drink: A mimosa.
I walk with her back to her room, talking about books and drinks and gardens and death. I tell her I am struck by her bravery. Again: chimes in a soft breeze.
She runs her hands through her peach-fuzz head of hair.
"There's no bravery. Only love. Life. Faith."
An embrace. A smile full of light. Chimes in a final, soft breeze.
I think of Ms. Noble when I want to curl up in my bed and cry. When I want to turn away from the pain. When I wish for someone to take the discomfort of life away from me, just for a second.
I think of her, and know that I can do this. I can handle this.
I will learn to laugh like windchimes, and push the fear & pain away.
She drove herself to the hospital when she discovered her pants full of blood.
Her husband never returned.
Now.
Now she is here. She survived that, so surely she can survive this. This rectal cancer. This painful, invisible EVIL that is causing her so much pain. Now, on top of it all: burns all over the lower portion of her body, from the chemo.
I am to discuss her options with her. She is not frail at all, only thin. I am taken in by her strength as soon as I cross the threshold of her room. She is in a hospital gown, pulling on sweatpants.
"Have a seat, but first help me with this." So matter-of-fact.
I help her pull her sweatpants up, find a loose shirt. She pulls her gown off, not needing my help, but allowing it. There is a spot on her lower back: red, raw, newly infected. I touch the area ever-so-slightly.
"How does it look today?"
I tell her what I see. She nods. Smiles.
She shows me these gauzy type of disposible underwear that the hospital gave her, just like the ones they gave me after having my daughter. She asks me to find out where she can get them. They are the only things that don't hurt, but tells me "If I can't buy a case, I'll just go commando."
I laugh as my eyes fill with tears. I sit in the chair as she settles onto the edge of her bed, haphazardly leaning on her left hip.
"Please don't cry."
I tell her I won't. But I sorta am. I close my eyes, pushing the vision of her lower back out of my mind.
"My name is Ms. Noble. What is yours?"
I tell her. She smiles.
So. Options.
"Here's my only option, in my head: I am going home. I don't want any more treatment. I want to go home and read and clean my house and sit in my backyard and spend time with my friends and family and I will be damned if I am going to wait for death to show up. Death will have to wait for me."
My eyes fill again, and she begins to giggle. Chimes in a soft breeze.
I discuss the option of hospice, and of a home health agency coming into her home to meet any needs she has. She is polite-she listens and nods in all the right places.
Yet.
She asks to be discharged. She wants to go home. I can't argue with that. I won't.
She reaches across this space between us, this span of 30 years, of health & disease, of faith & fear, and places her hand on my arm. Strength and bravery are transmitted through her cold fingertips.
"You won't argue with me. I know it."
Three days later, she is walking down the hallway on her own. She lights up when she sees me.
"I have a case of those disposible undies in my room. Thank you for finding them!"
I tell her it was the central supply lady who found them.
"I am going home tomorrow."
I tell her I had nothing to do with that either. She made the decision. And I tell her I am happy for her. I ask her what she will do first, when she gets home.
"I will put on my favorite pajama pants and T-shirt, grab a favorite book, make my favorite drink, and go sit out in my backyard. I will enjoy life. I will not feel pain. I will not be afraid."
Her favorite book: To Kill A Mockingbird. Drink: A mimosa.
I walk with her back to her room, talking about books and drinks and gardens and death. I tell her I am struck by her bravery. Again: chimes in a soft breeze.
She runs her hands through her peach-fuzz head of hair.
"There's no bravery. Only love. Life. Faith."
An embrace. A smile full of light. Chimes in a final, soft breeze.
I think of Ms. Noble when I want to curl up in my bed and cry. When I want to turn away from the pain. When I wish for someone to take the discomfort of life away from me, just for a second.
I think of her, and know that I can do this. I can handle this.
I will learn to laugh like windchimes, and push the fear & pain away.
SQUEEEEEEE!
Full intentions of posting something of substance, but uhhhh......
I JUST GOT OFFERED A JOB! W/ BENEFITS! AND GOOD PAY! AND....ZOMG!
I JUST GOT OFFERED A JOB! W/ BENEFITS! AND GOOD PAY! AND....ZOMG!
10.04.2010
Music Lover Monday-New sexy-voice music
MMmmmmm, I like this guys' voice. Yum.
You're welcome.
Try-Josh Hoge
(Sorry, Alan. I know you don't care about the sexy voice. *shrugs shoulders*)
You're welcome.
Try-Josh Hoge
(Sorry, Alan. I know you don't care about the sexy voice. *shrugs shoulders*)
10.01.2010
Dog days
I live in a house with 3 dogs: my old lady dog (Daisy), my crazy-I-think-he-shoots-Red-Bull-&-coffee-when-I'm-not-looking boxer (Max), and my sister's humps-anything-that-makes-any-rash-movements Yorkie (Frank). The combination is simeltaneously hilarious and absolute torture.
5:00am-Max is turning tight circles in his crate at approximately 25 mph. The sound of his nails on the plastic bottom of the crate can be heard 2 blocks over.
5:05am-Daisy wakes from the dead and hobbles to my mother's room.
5:07am-After the hobbling, she puts her head on the edge of the bed and begins a deep-throat whine. Also? She basically wiggles the entire time, since she cannot keep her weight on all 4 legs at the same time. Shuffle-switch-shuffle-switch. Oh, and THUMP THUMP THUMP: her tail hitting the wall as she wags away.
5:10am-My mom gets up & lets Daisy out, who barely makes it off the porch before she pops a squat and pees.
5:12am-Still peeing.
5:13am-Still peeing.
5:14am-Mom lets Daisy in. Frank shows up out of nowhere, wanting to go out. Daisy in; Frank out.
5:17am-Frank in.
5:18am-Max is still furiously turning circles in his crate. We avoid letting him out toooooo early because....well, you'll see.
5:20am-Daisy is hobbling in front of the empty food dish. This is probably the most alert she is all damn day. Actually, not probably but for sure, without a doubt.
5:21am-Mom fills the dog bowls.
5:24am-Mom bends down to unlock Max's crate, hoping to prepare for the upcoming clusterfuck by standing on her heels only.
5:24:01am-Max tears ass out of the crate like a racing horse out of it's chute, crashing into my mother's legs, barely missing her feet, pounces up on the couch, takes off of the pillows on the couch, and careens towards the back door. Frank has decided that he CANNOT handle Max's energy level, so he is going to go all alpha dog on Max.
5:24:30am-Frank flies out of the kitchen and yap yap yaps at Max's face. He actually gets Max's big jowls several times a week.
5:25am-My mom makes her way through the alpha dog debacle to the back door, and shoos them out.
5:30am-The 2 males are done pissing on each other's pissing spots in the backyard. Max is either oblivious to the alpha dog debacle, or doesn't give a shit (I'm going with option #2). He just wants to PLAY.
5:31am-All 3 dogs are now in the kitchen, where Daisy has managed to snarf down 2 bowls of dog food in less than 5 minutes. Fantastic. Max sniffs tentatively towards the bowls, and Daisy goes all alpha dog on his ass: snotting, growling, snarling, drooling, snapping.
5:32am-Max takes this as a sign of "OH YAY! She wants to PLAAAAAAAAAY!" And goes ape-shit in the house.
5:33am-Daisy lies down in front of the empty dog dishes, and glares at Max as he bounds through the house at warp speed.
5:34am-Frank is done eating the leftovers, and has decided that Max is just too damn hyper. Again with the biting of the jowls. Max continues to think Frank is playing.
5:35am-Frank is now too excited for his own good, and begins trying to hump Max, who in turn thinks Frank is playing a new game.
5:36am-Frank moves on to Daisy: "Ooooo, old lady dog that doesn't fight me when I try to hump!" Except, he forgot that she is the most alert this first hour of her day, and she turns on him, doing the snotting, growling, snarling, drooling, snapping thing.
5:36:30am-Frank takes off for my sister's room, to lick his wounds (just injured pride, as Daisy doesn't really actually get him).
5:37am-7:00am-Max stands at my closed door and SNIFF SNIFF SNIFFSNIFFSNIFF 's. When the sniffing doesn't work, he begins talking and whining. And scratching on the door. Just 2 scratches at a time: Scratch-scratch. whine. talk. whine. sniffsniffsniffsniffsniffsniff
7:01am-I open my door and tell him to shut the hell up. If I let him in, he bounces on the bed & pisses off my girl. So I try to avoid that until she is up and dressed. However, Frank always sneaks in & then STARES AT ME while I brush my teeth. Wth??
7:02am-Max is put off by not being allowed in the room, so he bounces his ass through the house, tongue hanging out with a smile on his sweet face, and goes to torture my mother and sister as they are getting ready for work and school. He jumps on their beds, nips at their feet and hands, jumps up on them, licks random body parts, and then begins digging in the bathroom trashcan.
When he drags out all the trash, my mom locks him in his crate, where he begins the tight circles in his crate again.
8:20am-When I get home from dropping my girl off at school, I let him out and he takes off around the house again. He refuses to go out in the backyard. Daisy is now laid out in her usual spot in the middle of the living room, nose running, snoring loudly. She is oblivious to most of Max's antics all damn day long.
8:30am-I take Max for a walk, where he pulls me the entire time, and stops approximately 1000 times in the 45 minutes we are out. He also marks his territory on the same damn branches, corners, and bushes every day. Why?? So annoying.
9:15am-We are back from the walk. Max's tongue is almost touching the ground, but he is STILL NOT WORN OUT. He drinks a gallon of water. Daisy doesn't even know we have been gone. Frank? Has barked the ENTIRE time we were gone. He was in his crate, and he is covered in his own slobber from barking furiously at our absence.
I don't even have the energy to tell you what the rest of the day is like, but seriously? All fucking day I am letting them out, letting them in, yelling at Frank to stop staring at me while I'm on the computer, yelling at Max to stop getting into every fucking thing, and Daisy just snores away.
At night, I take Max for a walk. Yet, every night, at about 10:30pm, he stands at the back door and talks to me. But when I open the door, he backs away. Actually, lately he has taken to running into his crate when I open the back door. What the hell, dog? This is where I am done with his cute personality and I yell at him to get the hell outside or shut the hell up, or I chase him around the house in the hopes that I can chase him out the back door. My exercise for the day.
Then he comes back in, and tears around the house again, bouncing on and off of furniture, knocking over shit, trying to get into my sister's room, and just batshit crazy. Daisy? Still asleep, with my feet rubbing her side. Frank? He has ran around trying to alpha dog Max into shutting the f- up. When he fails at this, he then begins to try to hump everyone and everything. When he fails at this, he jumps up in my mom's lap, where he pants disgusting dog breath in her face. Then she pushes him off the couch, and he hides under my bed.
Finally I convince Max to get up on the couch between my mom and I.
Then? He lies there and farts the most disgusting dog farts ever.
All with a smile on his face.
These f-ing dogs run our house.
5:00am-Max is turning tight circles in his crate at approximately 25 mph. The sound of his nails on the plastic bottom of the crate can be heard 2 blocks over.
5:05am-Daisy wakes from the dead and hobbles to my mother's room.
5:07am-After the hobbling, she puts her head on the edge of the bed and begins a deep-throat whine. Also? She basically wiggles the entire time, since she cannot keep her weight on all 4 legs at the same time. Shuffle-switch-shuffle-switch. Oh, and THUMP THUMP THUMP: her tail hitting the wall as she wags away.
5:10am-My mom gets up & lets Daisy out, who barely makes it off the porch before she pops a squat and pees.
5:12am-Still peeing.
5:13am-Still peeing.
5:14am-Mom lets Daisy in. Frank shows up out of nowhere, wanting to go out. Daisy in; Frank out.
5:17am-Frank in.
5:18am-Max is still furiously turning circles in his crate. We avoid letting him out toooooo early because....well, you'll see.
5:20am-Daisy is hobbling in front of the empty food dish. This is probably the most alert she is all damn day. Actually, not probably but for sure, without a doubt.
5:21am-Mom fills the dog bowls.
5:24am-Mom bends down to unlock Max's crate, hoping to prepare for the upcoming clusterfuck by standing on her heels only.
5:24:01am-Max tears ass out of the crate like a racing horse out of it's chute, crashing into my mother's legs, barely missing her feet, pounces up on the couch, takes off of the pillows on the couch, and careens towards the back door. Frank has decided that he CANNOT handle Max's energy level, so he is going to go all alpha dog on Max.
5:24:30am-Frank flies out of the kitchen and yap yap yaps at Max's face. He actually gets Max's big jowls several times a week.
5:25am-My mom makes her way through the alpha dog debacle to the back door, and shoos them out.
5:30am-The 2 males are done pissing on each other's pissing spots in the backyard. Max is either oblivious to the alpha dog debacle, or doesn't give a shit (I'm going with option #2). He just wants to PLAY.
5:31am-All 3 dogs are now in the kitchen, where Daisy has managed to snarf down 2 bowls of dog food in less than 5 minutes. Fantastic. Max sniffs tentatively towards the bowls, and Daisy goes all alpha dog on his ass: snotting, growling, snarling, drooling, snapping.
5:32am-Max takes this as a sign of "OH YAY! She wants to PLAAAAAAAAAY!" And goes ape-shit in the house.
5:33am-Daisy lies down in front of the empty dog dishes, and glares at Max as he bounds through the house at warp speed.
5:34am-Frank is done eating the leftovers, and has decided that Max is just too damn hyper. Again with the biting of the jowls. Max continues to think Frank is playing.
5:35am-Frank is now too excited for his own good, and begins trying to hump Max, who in turn thinks Frank is playing a new game.
5:36am-Frank moves on to Daisy: "Ooooo, old lady dog that doesn't fight me when I try to hump!" Except, he forgot that she is the most alert this first hour of her day, and she turns on him, doing the snotting, growling, snarling, drooling, snapping thing.
5:36:30am-Frank takes off for my sister's room, to lick his wounds (just injured pride, as Daisy doesn't really actually get him).
5:37am-7:00am-Max stands at my closed door and SNIFF SNIFF SNIFFSNIFFSNIFF 's. When the sniffing doesn't work, he begins talking and whining. And scratching on the door. Just 2 scratches at a time: Scratch-scratch. whine. talk. whine. sniffsniffsniffsniffsniffsniff
7:01am-I open my door and tell him to shut the hell up. If I let him in, he bounces on the bed & pisses off my girl. So I try to avoid that until she is up and dressed. However, Frank always sneaks in & then STARES AT ME while I brush my teeth. Wth??
7:02am-Max is put off by not being allowed in the room, so he bounces his ass through the house, tongue hanging out with a smile on his sweet face, and goes to torture my mother and sister as they are getting ready for work and school. He jumps on their beds, nips at their feet and hands, jumps up on them, licks random body parts, and then begins digging in the bathroom trashcan.
When he drags out all the trash, my mom locks him in his crate, where he begins the tight circles in his crate again.
8:20am-When I get home from dropping my girl off at school, I let him out and he takes off around the house again. He refuses to go out in the backyard. Daisy is now laid out in her usual spot in the middle of the living room, nose running, snoring loudly. She is oblivious to most of Max's antics all damn day long.
8:30am-I take Max for a walk, where he pulls me the entire time, and stops approximately 1000 times in the 45 minutes we are out. He also marks his territory on the same damn branches, corners, and bushes every day. Why?? So annoying.
9:15am-We are back from the walk. Max's tongue is almost touching the ground, but he is STILL NOT WORN OUT. He drinks a gallon of water. Daisy doesn't even know we have been gone. Frank? Has barked the ENTIRE time we were gone. He was in his crate, and he is covered in his own slobber from barking furiously at our absence.
I don't even have the energy to tell you what the rest of the day is like, but seriously? All fucking day I am letting them out, letting them in, yelling at Frank to stop staring at me while I'm on the computer, yelling at Max to stop getting into every fucking thing, and Daisy just snores away.
At night, I take Max for a walk. Yet, every night, at about 10:30pm, he stands at the back door and talks to me. But when I open the door, he backs away. Actually, lately he has taken to running into his crate when I open the back door. What the hell, dog? This is where I am done with his cute personality and I yell at him to get the hell outside or shut the hell up, or I chase him around the house in the hopes that I can chase him out the back door. My exercise for the day.
Then he comes back in, and tears around the house again, bouncing on and off of furniture, knocking over shit, trying to get into my sister's room, and just batshit crazy. Daisy? Still asleep, with my feet rubbing her side. Frank? He has ran around trying to alpha dog Max into shutting the f- up. When he fails at this, he then begins to try to hump everyone and everything. When he fails at this, he jumps up in my mom's lap, where he pants disgusting dog breath in her face. Then she pushes him off the couch, and he hides under my bed.
Finally I convince Max to get up on the couch between my mom and I.
Then? He lies there and farts the most disgusting dog farts ever.
All with a smile on his face.
These f-ing dogs run our house.
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