Archive for November, 2009

Yesterday, I noticed tha Briscoe’s eye lashes were matted. But her eye didn’t look red, and it didn’t seem to be bothering her, so I decided it was probably just dust or allergies.

This morning her eye was much more matted, and upon closer inspection, swollen. So I called the vet to make sure they were open and to expect the fluffy puff shortly.

When I picked up her leash, Briscoe looked at me like a kid on Christmas morning and bolted for the door. She was so pumped. Once we got in the car she stuck her head out the window and soaked up the crisp autumn air. When we pulled up to the vet’s office, she started crying.

I took her inside, and stood at the counter. The girl behind the desk looked at me and said, ‘Just a minute,’ and looked behind me at a woman standing behind me.

The woman said, ‘I’m here to get Lucky.’

For some reason at 9 am this morning, the fact that this adult woman stated that she was at the vet to get Lucky struck me as absolutely hysterical. I almost lost it.

Then the girl handed her a box. Lucky was her deceased dog, who had been cremated and she was here to pick up his ashes. I was immediately not amused anymore.

Then I looked on the desk, and there was an identical box, but where the other said Lucky, this one said Justice. My mind heard, ‘I’m here for Justice!’

My heart heard that there is no Justice and nothing Lucky about the fact that our dogs won’t live as long as we do.

When they took Briscoe back and I had to leave she tried to leave with me and didn’t understand why I was abandoning her at such a scary place.

I’m trying to make it up to her. She doesn’t seem much worse for the wear.

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Can you believe Thanksgiving is next week?  It has really snuck up on me!  I’m so excited!  Then after Thanksgiving comes Christmas!  I can’t wait to decorate my house for the first time.  It’s going to be really awesome and exciting, once I come up with an awesome decoration scheme.  All I’m sure about is that I want a big tree in my front window with lots of lights.  Lots.

You know how sometimes your birthday or Christmas rolls around and everyone says, what do you want this year?  And you really can’t think of a single thing you really want?

Yeah, me neither.  Especially this year.  I can think of lots of things I would like to get into my hot little hands.  Some of them are things I really need (in ivory, king size, please), some of them are things I think I need (size medium, thanks) and some of them are things I’m fairly sure I don’t really need but might die if I can’t have (size ten, if you are in the market), and some things that I just think are downright pretty and might want to come live at my house, with me (I’m a libra in case you were wondering).

Speaking of things I want and like, I want to amend my statement that Lie to Me is the best show on television.  It’s good, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve decided I like Castle the best.  Partially because I love it when ridiculously good looking people do mundane every day jobs on television shows, but MOSTLY because I love every single article of clothing worn by Detective Kate Beckett.  Her clothes are obviously not in the average salary range of a new york city cop, good thing her back story includes her being a park ave princess in her earlier life, you know, before tragedy struck and her mother was killed and she swore to avenge her by joining the Force.  It makes it all so much more believable, especially the part where she wears spike heels while chasing criminals through the streets.  The unbelievable part is how completely obsessed I am with all the different leather jackets she sports. I love all her coats, and her shoes.  Sigh.  So, sorry Lie to Me, until you can beef up the wardrobe, Castle is in the lead.  And a quick search of the internet leads me to believe I am not the only one who is obsessed with this aspect of the show.

I hope you have all enjoyed this installment of “I’m a materialistic fashion whore who watches too much television.”  Tune in next week for “I like to complain about things that don’t matter to anyone but me to everyone I can corner and make my captive audience against their will.”  Actually, next week might be more along the lines of “Listen to the nutty, crazy, ridiculous and embarrassing things that were said and done by my family on Thanksgiving after a few bottles of wine.”  Who knows, you just can’t ever tell.  (Note to family:  I’d never really report such things on the blog, I keep them all written down somewhere else for the expose novel I’m going to write one day about everyone I know and love).

Man, I’m cracking myself up with the jokes this afternoon. 🙂

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An effort in Futility

I love camellias.  The ones in my parents backyard are blooming right now, and I was really excited about picking a few and taking them home.  One of my favorite things about camellias is that they bloom in the winter and that when they drop all their flowers it creates a ring of color on the ground that looks like a skirt.

So last week I decided to pick a handful of camellias and bring them home to my house and put them in the sweet little vases I have slowly collected over the years of deb and bridesmaid gifts that sit on the window sill above my kitchen sink.  The problem is that this idea occurred to me when I was already out in the backyard, and I was too lazy to go get the garden sheers and cut my camellia flowers.  So I just went ahead and picked them.  Some of them broke off easily.  Some of them didn’t work out so well and I was left with a sad bald flower with no petals. 

But that didn’t stop me.  I picked a bunch of really pretty camellias and was so happy when I got them home.  They looked so happy and friendly in the vases that seemed to be completely intended just for them (and gardenias). 

Ohhh, but remember how one of the best things about this sweet little flower is that their petals fall off.  And the flowers I picked were no exception.  I found sweet little flower petals EVERYWHERE!  In my car.  On my front walk.  On my front porch.  Smashed into my seagrass rug.  In my dog’s hair.  Stuck to my kitchen floor.  In my pocketbook.  And let’s go ahead and be clear that my window sill was COVERED by the petals in a matter of hours. 

Another thing that has been falling recently is pine straw.  I LOVE new pine straw.  The red kind.  I’m not sure I can even come up with anything else that is the same color.  It is a totally different color once it lays on the ground for a few days.  Deeper, darker, brighter, better.  I like it when it drops from the real high pine trees and sticks in the grass straight up, like the dark red pine straw just sprouted up all over the yard.  Of course, I really like the pine straw because I’ve never actually had a pine tree in my own yard, and it’s much easier to love the pine straw when it isn’t sprouting up in your own yard. 

I’ve been watching the first season of Ally McBeal on dvd.  It makes me laugh.  I never watched the show when it was on television, and I’m so glad, because it’s so much more relative to my life now than it ever could have been then.  There is something about the show that makes me feel better about my own life.  I also love that most all of the characters are on other television shows today. 

I’ve been having a case of the mondays, where everything seemed a little off.  My coffee wasn’t strong enough, my favorite pen ran out of ink, I hit my elbow on the door frame, it got dark too early, my knee hurt while I was running,  nothing serious, nothing real upsetting, but just enough to make me remember that it is monday. 

I’ve been neglecting this blog, for some reason I just haven’t had the drive to put much of anything on paper.  I go through these spells where I have SO MUCH TO SAY, and I take the time to write it down.  But recently I just haven’t gotten around to writing it down.   I still have things to say.  I think of things to blog about all day long.  It is kind of like exercising, you know you will feel better if you do it, and you think about doing it, but it’s so easy to not have the energy to actually do it. 

I’ve always thought of this blog as a sort of bank account of my thoughts, every word I write here increases my investment.  I went to church last night for the first time in a while.  I don’t like to go to church by myself, and I don’t like to go real early in the morning and these two excuses help me to rationalize why I don’t go to church as much as I wish I did.  In Andy’s sermon he talked about how we should have a spiritual bank account in the same way we have a 401(k) or an IRA or a savings account.  I like this idea, it’s something I’m going to think about.  I wonder if spiritual bank accounts have penalties if you make a withdrawal too early.  I hope not.  I might need to make a withdrawal on a seconds notice.  Maybe it’s not something you are suppose to make a withdrawal at all, like an IRA that you were never allowed to withdraw without a penalty, because it will always be worth more to you later than it does now, compound interest and whatnot. 

I don’t know, I’m just thinking.  On a lighter note, I’ve eaten so much left over Halloween candy it is disgusting.  I ate so many nerds and sweet tarts last week my poor little tongue was ripped to shreds.  I’m addicted to mini kit kats and I’ve finished off the last of the strawberry laffy taffy.  It has been a good November so far.

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It was sunny and warm here all of last week, which always make for an interesting Halloween.  I remember as a child either sweating to death in whatever huge costume I’d been damned and determined to wear, or freezing to death in whatever thin material had seemed absolutely necessary. 

Last Thursday night Kate and I made pumpkin sugar cookies.  We spent the first hour arguing about which cookie cutter we should be using, how thick the cookies should be and whether or not we had a better cookie cutter that had gotten lost at some point in time.  We spent the second hour trying to keep Trav from eating the pumpkins that had already come out of the oven.  It is amazing how long the whole process takes, and Kate had to ice them Friday while I was at work.  He is a serious cookie monster, capable of destroying three days of work in ten minutes.

The heat wave finally broke Saturday night.  Saturday afternoon I had on a tank top, jeans and flip flops and I was so hot, but by the time I headed home that night after it had poured down rain it was chilly.  Sunday was borderline cold, we had a tennis match, and it was the first bit of physical activity I’ve had in about three weeks.  I wasn’t too sore this morning, but I felt the muscle aches set in this afternoon, and I just took a fantastically hot bath.  I love a good bath.     

I washed a load of towels and sheets today, and it was in the dryer when I came home tonight.  It was cold outside and I was tired and a little depressed that it was basically dark when I left work this afternoon.  Daylight savings always comes as a bit of shock to me.  It takes me a few days to adjust to the early darkness, and in the beginning all I can think about is how it’s going to be dark for MONTHS before it gets light again.  I got the hot towels and blankets out of the dryer and sat with them on the couch for a few minutes.  The smell of clean laundry, coupled with the comforting warmth slowly soothed the tension of my day and I was happy.  Hot laundry is not something you can properly appreciate in the summer time here in Georgia, and I had to admit that winter time has a few perks, like thick socks and fun gloves and warm laundry and Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

I hope you all got to see the moon tonight.  It was one of the prettiest full moons I’ve ever seen.  I love a good bright moon. 

Oh, and we had a mouse in the house last week.  Yep, and since I don’t have a landlord to call and demand something be done about it, I had to do something about it.  I caught that stupid mouse in the snap mouse trap I bought.  I don’t feel as bad as I would have imagined, you know, killing a poor defenseless mouse with my tricky spring trap.  I did have a few passing thoughts about the disney Cinderella movie, and how Gus Gus gets caught in the trap and Cinderellie gets him out of the trap, and picks him out a shirt to wear and gets him a hat and some shoes.  Well, I’m fresh out of mouse shirts and hats and shoes.  You can call me the exterminator. 

Briscoe was the cutest pumpkin in America for Halloween.  I’ll post you a picture as soon as I get one from Libby, who is my historian for life because I am so bad at taking pictures and she is awesome at it.

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