House: disaster.
Laundry: 5 loads and counting.
Skin: NOT TAN.
Jelly Belly: Well accounted for.
Books: Still reading the same one I started BEFORE I left.
My thighs: Sore as hell from horseback riding on the single-most stubborn Mexican horse EVER.
The ring finger of my right hand: Sporting a gorgeous amethyst ring!
My brain: Still along the shore, watching the sun set over the ocean.
5.31.2008
5.30.2008
Where Oh Where
Ok, so here it goes. Danielle is off sunning herself and no doubt drinking herself silly, building sand castles with her adorable daughter and cozying up with a good book while baking in the sun. I made the mistake, er, friendly gesture, and asked if there was anything I could do to help her out with her last minute things in preparation for her trip. She suggested I be a guest blogger. I’ll admit I was hesitant at first. Well, hesitant isn’t the right word, I’m terrified. But I figured what the heck. It’s a good outlet for venting, no? Besides, it’s the last day before Danielle returns so it’s now or never. Keep in mind, I have absolutely no life outside of my children, so I have nothing of any relevance to post here. But, I’ll try to write something blog-worthy, but I have a feeling I’ll just end up rambling aimlessly. Let’s just hope by the time I’m done you’re not asleep on your keyboard.
I mentioned above that I have no life. And it’s really true. I knew before I had kids that my life would never again be the same, but I was in no way prepared for the number of ways it would change and how this little person would affect every aspect of my life. I could sit here and list all of the ways I’ll never again be the same and how now, every decision I make, no matter how miniscule, I consider how and if, it will affect my children. But instead, I’m going to be selfish for a bit and complain about how some days I feel as though I’ve lost myself.
I lie in bed at night (or stare blankly at my computer screen at work) thinking about all the things I no longer have time for. Hobbies, friends, family, projects, my husband, MYSELF! Where did I go? I used to go to movies, try out new restaurants, buy myself new clothes and shoes, read a book. Now, well, the last movie I saw in a theater was Talladega Nights (my husband picked), I haven’t been to a new restaurant since, well, I can’t remember, last bit of clothing I bought for myself was from a maternity store (so that doesn’t count), and books?! HA! Dear, sweet, Danielle has purchased me 3, count them, THREE books recently and while she’s been able to finish an entire book, start on another (not to mention all the ones she was able to complete while on vacation) I’ve been able to read 2 whole pages of the first book she gave me. 2 pages.
I love my children. I adore them. I’d give my life for them. Well, I guess in a way I already have, but you know what I mean. I just sometimes have these depressing moments when I think that I may never be ‘me’ again. It’s hard to find that balance between the dedication it takes to raise children and having your ‘own life’. Is it useless to pine away for the life I had before? I mean I can’t get it back. My life, as I knew it, has virtually disappeared.
So, since there is no fork in the road in front of me and there is no turning back, I’ll continue through the chaos of raising 2 children (and I know I shouldn’t complain, I only have 2 kids and an incredible husband, so I know there are others out there worse off than me, but I am being selfish here), and hope that a day will come and I will be able to regain more of who I used to be and triumph over the fact that I was able to make it through it all.
Forgive me for the somber and boring subject. I swear I’m not always this down in the dumps and boring. And I don’t mean to imply that I in any way regret the choices I’ve made or having my beautiful girls. I mean, just this morning I was telling a co-worker about how this time with my kids is so fleeting and how I love being a mom and my children are gifts, blah blah blah. But sometimes I just look back and wonder how my life transformed so drastically and when it happened?! It was so gradual, I hardly noticed. But I know I’ll go home today and see the smiling faces of my girls and my ‘own life’ will once again take a back seat, but I have a feeling, I won’t mind so much.
I mentioned above that I have no life. And it’s really true. I knew before I had kids that my life would never again be the same, but I was in no way prepared for the number of ways it would change and how this little person would affect every aspect of my life. I could sit here and list all of the ways I’ll never again be the same and how now, every decision I make, no matter how miniscule, I consider how and if, it will affect my children. But instead, I’m going to be selfish for a bit and complain about how some days I feel as though I’ve lost myself.
I lie in bed at night (or stare blankly at my computer screen at work) thinking about all the things I no longer have time for. Hobbies, friends, family, projects, my husband, MYSELF! Where did I go? I used to go to movies, try out new restaurants, buy myself new clothes and shoes, read a book. Now, well, the last movie I saw in a theater was Talladega Nights (my husband picked), I haven’t been to a new restaurant since, well, I can’t remember, last bit of clothing I bought for myself was from a maternity store (so that doesn’t count), and books?! HA! Dear, sweet, Danielle has purchased me 3, count them, THREE books recently and while she’s been able to finish an entire book, start on another (not to mention all the ones she was able to complete while on vacation) I’ve been able to read 2 whole pages of the first book she gave me. 2 pages.
I love my children. I adore them. I’d give my life for them. Well, I guess in a way I already have, but you know what I mean. I just sometimes have these depressing moments when I think that I may never be ‘me’ again. It’s hard to find that balance between the dedication it takes to raise children and having your ‘own life’. Is it useless to pine away for the life I had before? I mean I can’t get it back. My life, as I knew it, has virtually disappeared.
So, since there is no fork in the road in front of me and there is no turning back, I’ll continue through the chaos of raising 2 children (and I know I shouldn’t complain, I only have 2 kids and an incredible husband, so I know there are others out there worse off than me, but I am being selfish here), and hope that a day will come and I will be able to regain more of who I used to be and triumph over the fact that I was able to make it through it all.
Forgive me for the somber and boring subject. I swear I’m not always this down in the dumps and boring. And I don’t mean to imply that I in any way regret the choices I’ve made or having my beautiful girls. I mean, just this morning I was telling a co-worker about how this time with my kids is so fleeting and how I love being a mom and my children are gifts, blah blah blah. But sometimes I just look back and wonder how my life transformed so drastically and when it happened?! It was so gradual, I hardly noticed. But I know I’ll go home today and see the smiling faces of my girls and my ‘own life’ will once again take a back seat, but I have a feeling, I won’t mind so much.
5.29.2008
How I knew-part II
(Your lovely blogger is still on the beach, soaking up sun, and drinking LOTS of corona. See ya on the 30th!!!)
The end of my eighth grade year, my boyfriend and I were pretty serious. Pretty serious, meaning, we had kissed, we held hands on a regular basis, and we talked on the phone all hours of the night, when we could get away with it.
His parents were divorced. Back then, I had no idea what that felt like, and I tried to empathize.His father was a hard-ass. I don't even remember what he looked like, when I try to recall his face in my mind, but I remember that I had a hard time making direct eye contact with him. I definitely knew what it felt like to have a hard-ass parent, although his father was on a whole.'nother.level (anyone know what that line is from???)
One night, his father caught us on the phone past his allowed time. His father picked up the phone while we were chatting about Mario 3 (LOVE THAT GAME! It still rocks!!!), or some innocent shit like that. I don't remember what his father said, I only remember the harshness in his voice, and the silence that followed. My boyfriend waited until his father hung up, and quietly told me he would call me tomorrow. I hung up, knowing that things probably weren't going to be very jolly in that house for the rest of the night.
About 2 hours later, my phone rang. I picked it up quickly, because as most teenagers do, I just ASSUMED it was for me.
It was.
My boyfriend was crying.
Hysterically.
In a mumble-whisper, he told me that his father had 'gotten out of control'. I had gotten that feeling before about his dad, but we hadn't ever really talked about it bluntly.
I was instantly filled with this rage. I can recall it inside, even to this day.
We hung up quickly, and I spent about 2 seconds weighing my options. There was only one option.
I went in my bathroom, popped the screen out of my window, and climbed out on the roof. It was a 2 story, so I had to jump to the backyard. Lucky me, my brother had left his bike in the backyard.
I rode the 20 blocks or so to his house, on my brother's little bike. When I got there, I tapped on his window, on the side of the house. He opened it just enough for our eyes to meet.His face was swollen, one eye already turning shades of bruised plums. He had welts on his neck and shoulders.
I made him crawl through the window, out onto the grass, so I could touch each spot softly.
That rage ran through me again.
I cried.
I put my lips on each bruise, cut, welt, injury.
We were only 12, for fuck's sake. TWELVE.
He assured me it wasn't that bad, that he wasn't hurting too much, but his eyes defied him.
We sat in the grass, huddled together behind the air conditioning unit, thankful for all the shadows. We didn't know what to do. What could we do?
After an unknown amount of time, we said goodbye. As he crawled back through his window, he reached for my hand. I gripped it, feeling him shudder. When he closed the window and his blinds, I saw the single tear.
I rode home that night, without seeing where I was going. My eyes were full, overflowing, with tears of anger, hate, rage, and sheer sadness. When I reached my street, I fell onto my driveway, and stared up at the stars for what seemed like hours. My mind was racing, and I again had the realization that I MUST STOP THIS KIND OF VIOLENCE.
That is the only time I ever snuck out of my house when I was growing up.
The end of my eighth grade year, my boyfriend and I were pretty serious. Pretty serious, meaning, we had kissed, we held hands on a regular basis, and we talked on the phone all hours of the night, when we could get away with it.
His parents were divorced. Back then, I had no idea what that felt like, and I tried to empathize.His father was a hard-ass. I don't even remember what he looked like, when I try to recall his face in my mind, but I remember that I had a hard time making direct eye contact with him. I definitely knew what it felt like to have a hard-ass parent, although his father was on a whole.'nother.level (anyone know what that line is from???)
One night, his father caught us on the phone past his allowed time. His father picked up the phone while we were chatting about Mario 3 (LOVE THAT GAME! It still rocks!!!), or some innocent shit like that. I don't remember what his father said, I only remember the harshness in his voice, and the silence that followed. My boyfriend waited until his father hung up, and quietly told me he would call me tomorrow. I hung up, knowing that things probably weren't going to be very jolly in that house for the rest of the night.
About 2 hours later, my phone rang. I picked it up quickly, because as most teenagers do, I just ASSUMED it was for me.
It was.
My boyfriend was crying.
Hysterically.
In a mumble-whisper, he told me that his father had 'gotten out of control'. I had gotten that feeling before about his dad, but we hadn't ever really talked about it bluntly.
I was instantly filled with this rage. I can recall it inside, even to this day.
We hung up quickly, and I spent about 2 seconds weighing my options. There was only one option.
I went in my bathroom, popped the screen out of my window, and climbed out on the roof. It was a 2 story, so I had to jump to the backyard. Lucky me, my brother had left his bike in the backyard.
I rode the 20 blocks or so to his house, on my brother's little bike. When I got there, I tapped on his window, on the side of the house. He opened it just enough for our eyes to meet.His face was swollen, one eye already turning shades of bruised plums. He had welts on his neck and shoulders.
I made him crawl through the window, out onto the grass, so I could touch each spot softly.
That rage ran through me again.
I cried.
I put my lips on each bruise, cut, welt, injury.
We were only 12, for fuck's sake. TWELVE.
He assured me it wasn't that bad, that he wasn't hurting too much, but his eyes defied him.
We sat in the grass, huddled together behind the air conditioning unit, thankful for all the shadows. We didn't know what to do. What could we do?
After an unknown amount of time, we said goodbye. As he crawled back through his window, he reached for my hand. I gripped it, feeling him shudder. When he closed the window and his blinds, I saw the single tear.
I rode home that night, without seeing where I was going. My eyes were full, overflowing, with tears of anger, hate, rage, and sheer sadness. When I reached my street, I fell onto my driveway, and stared up at the stars for what seemed like hours. My mind was racing, and I again had the realization that I MUST STOP THIS KIND OF VIOLENCE.
That is the only time I ever snuck out of my house when I was growing up.
5.28.2008
The Mist
A couple of weekends ago, my mother rented a couple of movies for us to watch. We watched Juno, which I loved! ('You are the cheese to my macaroni.') That movie has so many silly lines, but at the same time, I appreciate the message.
So, of course, my mom has to rent a scary movie. Now, I'm all for scary movies, although, I have to say the one I hate the most is Jeepers Creepers. That freak of nature just flips me out!!!! He is just inherently evil to me. It really flips me out just to see his picture. Getting the goosebumps just typing this!!! Ack!
Anyway, I can handle scary movies, but they stress me out. I yell at the TV, and during the course of the movie, I feel my shoulders inching up towards my ears. By the end of the movie, I usually have a horrible headache, and my shoulders and neck are tied up in knots, from the stress. I'm a nut, huh?
So, back to the movie she rented. Get on with it already!
She rented The Mist. I had never heard of it, or read the book, which is pretty amazing, considering I am a huge Stephen King fan. I began reading his books when I was about 7. And please don't say my parents were wrong for letting me read his books. They were fascinating to me...I marveled (and still do!) at his vast imagination. I respect my parents' opinion to let me grow a taste for all types of fiction, not just the stupid romance novels (which I freakin' hate!!!).
Anyway, so back to the movie.
The premise, the bugs, the creatures, the stupidity of the small town folk--all classic Stephen King. All GREAT! The bugs creeped me out, and got me thinking about what Revelations says about the bugs and creatures that will fall from the skies. Ack-goosebumps again!!!
But! I was so damn pissed off at this movie! I don't want to ruin it for any of you who decide to go rent it based on my glowing review (pfft.), but JEEZ! The ending just really disturbed me, even for Stephen King. Not that I think it was the wrong ending, or whatever, but it JUST DISTURBED ME. It made me hurt, because seriously, it shows what we as humans will do in extreme situations, when we are cornered and think we have no way out. I'd like to think I wouldn't do what the characters did, if put in their situation, but I don't know.....(if you don't intend to see the movie, and want me to tell you what happens at the end, just let me know).
It also got me thinking again, like I did after 9/11: 1- that we (society as a whole) are not all that prepared for a big huge life-altering disaster; 2-that those of us in my generation (and more recent generations) are sooooo lucky that we did not have to worry about nuclear bombs, did not have to crawl under our desks, or hide in our basements, like my parents' generation did. Then again, we seem to be swinging back in that direction again, over the past several years. All the craziness in the world lately, makes me fear for my children's (and grandchildren's) future. I can imagine this is how my grandparents must have felt, right?
So, of course, my mom has to rent a scary movie. Now, I'm all for scary movies, although, I have to say the one I hate the most is Jeepers Creepers. That freak of nature just flips me out!!!! He is just inherently evil to me. It really flips me out just to see his picture. Getting the goosebumps just typing this!!! Ack!
Anyway, I can handle scary movies, but they stress me out. I yell at the TV, and during the course of the movie, I feel my shoulders inching up towards my ears. By the end of the movie, I usually have a horrible headache, and my shoulders and neck are tied up in knots, from the stress. I'm a nut, huh?
So, back to the movie she rented. Get on with it already!
She rented The Mist. I had never heard of it, or read the book, which is pretty amazing, considering I am a huge Stephen King fan. I began reading his books when I was about 7. And please don't say my parents were wrong for letting me read his books. They were fascinating to me...I marveled (and still do!) at his vast imagination. I respect my parents' opinion to let me grow a taste for all types of fiction, not just the stupid romance novels (which I freakin' hate!!!).
Anyway, so back to the movie.
The premise, the bugs, the creatures, the stupidity of the small town folk--all classic Stephen King. All GREAT! The bugs creeped me out, and got me thinking about what Revelations says about the bugs and creatures that will fall from the skies. Ack-goosebumps again!!!
But! I was so damn pissed off at this movie! I don't want to ruin it for any of you who decide to go rent it based on my glowing review (pfft.), but JEEZ! The ending just really disturbed me, even for Stephen King. Not that I think it was the wrong ending, or whatever, but it JUST DISTURBED ME. It made me hurt, because seriously, it shows what we as humans will do in extreme situations, when we are cornered and think we have no way out. I'd like to think I wouldn't do what the characters did, if put in their situation, but I don't know.....(if you don't intend to see the movie, and want me to tell you what happens at the end, just let me know).
It also got me thinking again, like I did after 9/11: 1- that we (society as a whole) are not all that prepared for a big huge life-altering disaster; 2-that those of us in my generation (and more recent generations) are sooooo lucky that we did not have to worry about nuclear bombs, did not have to crawl under our desks, or hide in our basements, like my parents' generation did. Then again, we seem to be swinging back in that direction again, over the past several years. All the craziness in the world lately, makes me fear for my children's (and grandchildren's) future. I can imagine this is how my grandparents must have felt, right?
5.27.2008
A breath of fresh air
When I was about 10, my mother attended college at night. There, she met Tish, a woman who was to become one of her very close friends, and who is still a very good friend of the family.
Tish was (and still is) gorgeous. Dark curly hair, dark brown eyes, perfect skin tone, beautiful smile, great laugh.....you could say I had a bit of a crush, I guess (??). When we were out together, people would always comment that we looked alike, so we all began saying she was my older sister.
So, as older sisters often do, Tish took me to the mall and to a movie one day. Prior to the movie, we walked through some stores. (Just to give you an idea of how long ago this was, the store that we were walking through was Stripling & Cox!!!) We were being silly, walking through the women's section, when all of a sudden, we heard the hugest, loudest fart! We both stopped in our tracks, and began laughing. We walked around a corner, only to run into this little old lady, who proceeded to let another one rip, and then, upon noticing us, said 'Oh my! Excuse me!'
Tish and I looked at each other, smiled politely at the woman, and ran off, only to explode in fits of giggles about 20 feet away.
Now, a good 20 years later, we still laugh about 'the breath of fresh air'!
Tish was (and still is) gorgeous. Dark curly hair, dark brown eyes, perfect skin tone, beautiful smile, great laugh.....you could say I had a bit of a crush, I guess (??). When we were out together, people would always comment that we looked alike, so we all began saying she was my older sister.
So, as older sisters often do, Tish took me to the mall and to a movie one day. Prior to the movie, we walked through some stores. (Just to give you an idea of how long ago this was, the store that we were walking through was Stripling & Cox!!!) We were being silly, walking through the women's section, when all of a sudden, we heard the hugest, loudest fart! We both stopped in our tracks, and began laughing. We walked around a corner, only to run into this little old lady, who proceeded to let another one rip, and then, upon noticing us, said 'Oh my! Excuse me!'
Tish and I looked at each other, smiled politely at the woman, and ran off, only to explode in fits of giggles about 20 feet away.
Now, a good 20 years later, we still laugh about 'the breath of fresh air'!
5.26.2008
How I knew
When I was about 9, a strange thing happened.
The lady that lived across the street from me suffered from epilepsy. She was in her early 30's, tall, long legs, gorgeous red hair, sweet....and her son was evil (another story for another day!!). I am not sure how I found out she had seizures, but I know that I knew.
One day, I was on my driveway playing with another neighbor's daughter, when the lady ran out the front door of her house onto her lawn. She was yelling, and her husband came running out after her. He pretty much tackled her, and they fell to the ground. It happened so damn fast. My first thought was 'Oh my gosh! She's having a seizure!'
So I ran inside, yelling and screaming to my mom 'Call the police! She's having a seizure!'
My mother ran outside, with me trailing close behind.
How embarrassed was I to find out that she was not having a seizure, but she and her husband were just horseplaying, wrestling, chasing each other around the house, ticking one another.
(First off!: Get a f-ing room! Jeez!)
However, my mother told me I had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was proud that I was so willing to seek help.
It was then that I realized, for the first (of many) time, that my purpose is to help others.
The lady that lived across the street from me suffered from epilepsy. She was in her early 30's, tall, long legs, gorgeous red hair, sweet....and her son was evil (another story for another day!!). I am not sure how I found out she had seizures, but I know that I knew.
One day, I was on my driveway playing with another neighbor's daughter, when the lady ran out the front door of her house onto her lawn. She was yelling, and her husband came running out after her. He pretty much tackled her, and they fell to the ground. It happened so damn fast. My first thought was 'Oh my gosh! She's having a seizure!'
So I ran inside, yelling and screaming to my mom 'Call the police! She's having a seizure!'
My mother ran outside, with me trailing close behind.
How embarrassed was I to find out that she was not having a seizure, but she and her husband were just horseplaying, wrestling, chasing each other around the house, ticking one another.
(First off!: Get a f-ing room! Jeez!)
However, my mother told me I had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was proud that I was so willing to seek help.
It was then that I realized, for the first (of many) time, that my purpose is to help others.
5.25.2008
Head hung low
This morning I was driving to work, and I passed through a school zone. It was just about time for the school zone to be over, and the crosswalks were deserted. As the light turned green, I noticed someone up ahead, walking across the busy street in a haphazard way. As I got closer, I saw that it was a kid. And what do you know, he dropped everything in his arms, right in the middle of the street. Papers flying, folders falling, and the case of a band instrument lying on the ground. His backpack knocked him in the head when he bent over for his things.
Up ahead, I saw a car approaching. And not really slowing down. I started to cringe. The kid was scrambling and papers were going everywhere. My heart was pounding, and I pulled over, intent on running out to help him, or call 911 if he got hit.
At the last instant, it seems the half-assed driver saw the kid, and swerved. My heart stopped. But, in that split second, things slowed down. I saw the kid barely glance up at the car, with his hair in his eyes, his backpack practically on his head, and I noticed two things: first his shoulders dropped, like he was defeated; then, I saw a brief flicker in his eyes, like 'I dare you', before the fear blew out his eyelids, and he dove for the median as the car swerved.
I sat there for a second, with my heart in my throat. I was frozen. Then, I watched as he picked up his remaining papers, shoved them in his backpack, and wandered up to the sidewalk.
I rolled my window down, and meant to ask him if he was okay. Nothing came out. I realized that if I were him, and that had just happened to me, I would not want anyone to say they saw it happen. I would not be able to keep my cool, and talk to some stupid stranger about it.
So, I said nothing, and drove on my way.
The look in his eye got me thinking about this:
Once, I was driving down 35, towards Waco, to visit a couple of kiddos on my caseload. On this portion of the highway, there isn't a thing to the left or the right of the road, other than farmland. It's pretty flat too, so I was able to see a couple of miles ahead of me.
As I drove, I began to notice a figure walking down the center line on the other side of the highway. As I got closer, I saw that cars were swerving around it. When I realized what it was, I slammed on my brakes.
A big, shaggy dog, with matted fur, was walking down the middle of the highway. Like he had a death wish. His head was hung low, meandering in and out of the lines.
There were no other cars around me, so I slowed down significantly, several options firing and mis-firing in my head at once. I could stop and call him, but what if he walks in front of a car and ets hit? I could yell at him to 'go on', and hope he walked to the shoulder.
In the end, I did nothing but watch. A big 18 wheeler came along and barely missed him. All of that matted fur was whipped around as it passed him, and he didn't even look up.
Again, I was frozen, with my heart in my throat.
I went along my way, thinking about that damn dog the entire day.
How did it get there?
Who did it belong to? There are hardly any houses along the highway; just little farmhouses set wayyyy back off the road.
What the hell was he thinking about when he decided to walk down the highway like that?
On my way back home, several hours later, I scoured the sides of the highway for him. I also looked for tufts of fur, in case he actually got hit.....
I never saw him, but I still think of him on occasion. For I too, have felt so blah that I just walk with my head hung low, watching my feet move, one in front of the other, rather than look up, and see what I'm walking towards.
Up ahead, I saw a car approaching. And not really slowing down. I started to cringe. The kid was scrambling and papers were going everywhere. My heart was pounding, and I pulled over, intent on running out to help him, or call 911 if he got hit.
At the last instant, it seems the half-assed driver saw the kid, and swerved. My heart stopped. But, in that split second, things slowed down. I saw the kid barely glance up at the car, with his hair in his eyes, his backpack practically on his head, and I noticed two things: first his shoulders dropped, like he was defeated; then, I saw a brief flicker in his eyes, like 'I dare you', before the fear blew out his eyelids, and he dove for the median as the car swerved.
I sat there for a second, with my heart in my throat. I was frozen. Then, I watched as he picked up his remaining papers, shoved them in his backpack, and wandered up to the sidewalk.
I rolled my window down, and meant to ask him if he was okay. Nothing came out. I realized that if I were him, and that had just happened to me, I would not want anyone to say they saw it happen. I would not be able to keep my cool, and talk to some stupid stranger about it.
So, I said nothing, and drove on my way.
The look in his eye got me thinking about this:
Once, I was driving down 35, towards Waco, to visit a couple of kiddos on my caseload. On this portion of the highway, there isn't a thing to the left or the right of the road, other than farmland. It's pretty flat too, so I was able to see a couple of miles ahead of me.
As I drove, I began to notice a figure walking down the center line on the other side of the highway. As I got closer, I saw that cars were swerving around it. When I realized what it was, I slammed on my brakes.
A big, shaggy dog, with matted fur, was walking down the middle of the highway. Like he had a death wish. His head was hung low, meandering in and out of the lines.
There were no other cars around me, so I slowed down significantly, several options firing and mis-firing in my head at once. I could stop and call him, but what if he walks in front of a car and ets hit? I could yell at him to 'go on', and hope he walked to the shoulder.
In the end, I did nothing but watch. A big 18 wheeler came along and barely missed him. All of that matted fur was whipped around as it passed him, and he didn't even look up.
Again, I was frozen, with my heart in my throat.
I went along my way, thinking about that damn dog the entire day.
How did it get there?
Who did it belong to? There are hardly any houses along the highway; just little farmhouses set wayyyy back off the road.
What the hell was he thinking about when he decided to walk down the highway like that?
On my way back home, several hours later, I scoured the sides of the highway for him. I also looked for tufts of fur, in case he actually got hit.....
I never saw him, but I still think of him on occasion. For I too, have felt so blah that I just walk with my head hung low, watching my feet move, one in front of the other, rather than look up, and see what I'm walking towards.
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