I was going to write about how the other day was the worst day of my life, the day i signed away the life of my best friend. How all day i couldn't get out of bed, or eat, or do anything but have fits of crying. How i hyperventilated all the way home from the vets saying "there's no dog in my car. There should be a dog in my car." How i felt like i had the flu. But instead i'm going to write about all the wonderful moments he brought to my life.
After a disheartening day at work, i unlock the apartment door and before the key has even finished it's job, i hear the jingle of his collar tags. The door opens and there is the sweetest fuzzy little face there ever was, grinning up at me with a smile that would say, if it could, 'i love you soooo much and i've been waiting for you all day!' Instantly that terrible day is gone, even if only for a moment, and I kneel down and he snuggles right into me, like he can't get close enough, and I agree. It's such a warming moment.
On a lazy Saturday morning, sitting on the couch catching up on the weeks news, he comes over and looks at me, so hopeful. And I always say, 'ok buddy, why don't i come sit on the floor with you?' And i do, and he comes over and flings himself against me, like the little boy that he is, with no grace, but all love. And i smile, and rub his tummy and lean over and kiss his furry little head, and tell him that i love him. Such a tender moment.
When my BF and i have a fight, and it's not often, but when it happens, it scares me and i feel awful, and i'm sitting on the floor, in the bathroom with the box of tissues. It's never more than a minute before i hear snuffling under the door. Diesel can't get to me through the door, but by God, he's gonna try. And if i don't open that door, i know i'll hear a dramatic 'humph' and the door lock check as he lays hard against it. I open the door though, i always do, because i know that he'll come over to me and get his little wet nose within an inch of my own and look me in the eye and stare. And i stare back and tell him, not with words, how heartbroken i feel, or how sad, and he looks back and seems to say don't you worry about a thing. it'll be ok. it'll all be ok.' And i'll believe him, because he's always right. And he'll move his head to my shoulder and i'll hug him tight, and kiss his head. It's really just a moment, but it saves me.
So now he's left me, though i selfishly hope he's not too far. And i won't have those moments any more. His body betrayed him, and me. I know his little character could not have been happy stuck in that failing shell. I miss those priceless moments that i will keep with me, in my heart. So in his last moments, i stared at him, and he at me, unblinking, and i told him, not to worry about a thing. it'll be ok. it'll all be ok. And i kissed his head, and told him i love him.
11.20.2011
11.14.2011
Twilight rant
I was just perusing photos of the as-it-happens, latest Twilight premiere (hey, i'm still a girl, i like a big fancy several-thousand-dollar gown as much as the next chick). I see flocks of teenagers sure, but more than that, i see grown women brandishing oversized signs portraying an airbrushed-even-in-his-prime twenty something, announcing their never ending love for him, or his character. Or something.
Yep, that's right. Their undying love for a fictional character nearly half their age. No wait. He's actually over 100 years old so he's twice their age. OK but he's in love with a teenager so it's hard to remember that he's actually a senior citizen and not, um a pedophile. I've heard this argument (raise your voice an octave and read this part w/ a nasally twang because that's how i hear it in my head every time i hear it in real life) that the books are an easy read and they're a great escape and the romance is so hot and BLAH BLAH BLAH. I get it. Your Twilight is my Housewives of New Jersey. It's trashy trash we probably shouldn't admit to liking. I guess I find reality TV more realistic than this-yes, sad and ironic. In my world, when i read, i want to read. I want to dig in and think AND be taken away to somewhere more interesting with someone more exciting. When i want to shut down, i watch tv. That's not to say everyone has to behave that way, that's just how i am. I see books and movies as art forms and i just don't feel the same way about tv shows.
Some people might say that my loathing of the success of the Twilight books is jealously. I'm going to have a grown up moment here - those people may be right. I certainly would love to see my own literary piles of sh!t hung in the air for all to see -and have those same people spend their savings on life-sized cardboard cut-outs of my main characters and tattoos of my plot lines. I truly would savor every gratuitous moment. But in this case, i find Stephanie Meyer's fame tastes as sour as Paris Hilton's. What did either of them really do to earn their keep? Stephanie Meyer stole bits of character from great literary works and hacked and mangled and glue sticked them together. Devils advocate: there's nothing new under the sun Snark. OK, while i don't really buy that, i know it's not easy to be original -that's what separates the women from the girls. And the best Meyer could come up with is 'they sparkle when the sun hits'em!' What the f&ck is that? That's just silly y'all.
So she nabbed the entire concept (vampires, forbidden love) from, like, a million other better written novels, so what. Well, she couldn't even create believable vehicles to drive this already familiar plot. She penned boring, vapid characters no one cares anything for (I once heard her main character compared convincingly and with Harvard Debate Club precision and gusto- to a lego brick)-but i hear that's ok because they're teenagers.
People, that's not ok. Teenagers are the farthest thing from dull. Teenagers are lustful and dramatic and believe it or not, insightful. The problem is usually they think too much - and not about the right things. So they do stupid things for what they think is love maybe, and then they learn something, and do something equally stupid but in a different way the next time. They are exciting little sponges. Somehow, Stephanie Meyer made me bored to tears with this girl Bell.
More than that, however, i find this mania extremely disheartening. Why is this no-talent hack making oodles of bank when writers with real talent are forced to self-publish and build slow cult followings over decades before they make it big? What does this say about us? Hilary Thayer Hamann wrote a book about a teenager that I could not get over. Do you need to relive your teenage years as someone more interesting? Her teenage heroine is believable, relatable and totally interesting. Is anyone reading Margaret Atwood anymore? Hold on, you want to have a little somethin' somethin' with a teenager? You need a little John Irving. Oh you want a real romance - try John Galsworthy - his Forsyte Saga is epic. Yes I'm annoyed that Chuck Palahniuk was writing for years before people realized how on the f*cking edge Fight Club was. Why do people only know Tolkien as 'that guy who had something to do with the Lord of the Rings movies'?
So no offense to those of you who enjoyed the Twilight books, i guess, like i said, i think i get it, but i'm sort of embarrassed for the world the way women and young women are acting over these poorly written completely unoriginal badly acted pieces of regurgitated sh*t.
Yep, that's right. Their undying love for a fictional character nearly half their age. No wait. He's actually over 100 years old so he's twice their age. OK but he's in love with a teenager so it's hard to remember that he's actually a senior citizen and not, um a pedophile. I've heard this argument (raise your voice an octave and read this part w/ a nasally twang because that's how i hear it in my head every time i hear it in real life) that the books are an easy read and they're a great escape and the romance is so hot and BLAH BLAH BLAH. I get it. Your Twilight is my Housewives of New Jersey. It's trashy trash we probably shouldn't admit to liking. I guess I find reality TV more realistic than this-yes, sad and ironic. In my world, when i read, i want to read. I want to dig in and think AND be taken away to somewhere more interesting with someone more exciting. When i want to shut down, i watch tv. That's not to say everyone has to behave that way, that's just how i am. I see books and movies as art forms and i just don't feel the same way about tv shows.
Some people might say that my loathing of the success of the Twilight books is jealously. I'm going to have a grown up moment here - those people may be right. I certainly would love to see my own literary piles of sh!t hung in the air for all to see -and have those same people spend their savings on life-sized cardboard cut-outs of my main characters and tattoos of my plot lines. I truly would savor every gratuitous moment. But in this case, i find Stephanie Meyer's fame tastes as sour as Paris Hilton's. What did either of them really do to earn their keep? Stephanie Meyer stole bits of character from great literary works and hacked and mangled and glue sticked them together. Devils advocate: there's nothing new under the sun Snark. OK, while i don't really buy that, i know it's not easy to be original -that's what separates the women from the girls. And the best Meyer could come up with is 'they sparkle when the sun hits'em!' What the f&ck is that? That's just silly y'all.
So she nabbed the entire concept (vampires, forbidden love) from, like, a million other better written novels, so what. Well, she couldn't even create believable vehicles to drive this already familiar plot. She penned boring, vapid characters no one cares anything for (I once heard her main character compared convincingly and with Harvard Debate Club precision and gusto- to a lego brick)-but i hear that's ok because they're teenagers.
People, that's not ok. Teenagers are the farthest thing from dull. Teenagers are lustful and dramatic and believe it or not, insightful. The problem is usually they think too much - and not about the right things. So they do stupid things for what they think is love maybe, and then they learn something, and do something equally stupid but in a different way the next time. They are exciting little sponges. Somehow, Stephanie Meyer made me bored to tears with this girl Bell.
More than that, however, i find this mania extremely disheartening. Why is this no-talent hack making oodles of bank when writers with real talent are forced to self-publish and build slow cult followings over decades before they make it big? What does this say about us? Hilary Thayer Hamann wrote a book about a teenager that I could not get over. Do you need to relive your teenage years as someone more interesting? Her teenage heroine is believable, relatable and totally interesting. Is anyone reading Margaret Atwood anymore? Hold on, you want to have a little somethin' somethin' with a teenager? You need a little John Irving. Oh you want a real romance - try John Galsworthy - his Forsyte Saga is epic. Yes I'm annoyed that Chuck Palahniuk was writing for years before people realized how on the f*cking edge Fight Club was. Why do people only know Tolkien as 'that guy who had something to do with the Lord of the Rings movies'?
So no offense to those of you who enjoyed the Twilight books, i guess, like i said, i think i get it, but i'm sort of embarrassed for the world the way women and young women are acting over these poorly written completely unoriginal badly acted pieces of regurgitated sh*t.
8.27.2011
'6 Good Things About Bad Storms' or 'The Bright Side of Dark Weather'
While obviously there's nothing fun about a dangerous storm, there's a lot of reasons that a big bad storm can be a pretty good thing.
1. Your plants could use a reprieve. -This has been a particularly hot summer and our little potted friends might welcome a little time out of the sun.
2. No guilt! -There's no guilt when you hang out inside that you might otherwise feel when it's sunny and a balmy 80 degrees out -but all you want to do is lounge around inside and watch Downton Abbey.
3. She's crafty! -In the words of the all powerful Beastie Boys. You can use this down time to get your art on. Paint, draw, scrapbook -whatever floats your proverbial boat.
4. Spring cleaning? -Yup, it's hard to put it off when outdoor activities aren't such a bright idea. And let's face it, when it's so nasty out that you'd rather clean the house than walk the dog - you may as well run with it.
5. Stock that fridge -so you've already hit the grocery (you're prepared of course). Now your cupboard is full but the fridge... Why not use the power (while you have it) and make something tasty that you can munch on later -say by candle light?
6. Get smart -so the TV won't work? No XBOX?? No worries, pick up a book. That's right, it's a great chance to snuggle up to a nice Pumpkin Spice candle with a hot cup of chai and catch up on your Margaret Atwood or Neil Gaiman. In fact, that sounds like a fantastic idea...
What will you be doing while this bit of nastiness flows through? Besides boardgames what will you all be doing to pass the time?
1. Your plants could use a reprieve. -This has been a particularly hot summer and our little potted friends might welcome a little time out of the sun.
2. No guilt! -There's no guilt when you hang out inside that you might otherwise feel when it's sunny and a balmy 80 degrees out -but all you want to do is lounge around inside and watch Downton Abbey.
3. She's crafty! -In the words of the all powerful Beastie Boys. You can use this down time to get your art on. Paint, draw, scrapbook -whatever floats your proverbial boat.
4. Spring cleaning? -Yup, it's hard to put it off when outdoor activities aren't such a bright idea. And let's face it, when it's so nasty out that you'd rather clean the house than walk the dog - you may as well run with it.
5. Stock that fridge -so you've already hit the grocery (you're prepared of course). Now your cupboard is full but the fridge... Why not use the power (while you have it) and make something tasty that you can munch on later -say by candle light?
6. Get smart -so the TV won't work? No XBOX?? No worries, pick up a book. That's right, it's a great chance to snuggle up to a nice Pumpkin Spice candle with a hot cup of chai and catch up on your Margaret Atwood or Neil Gaiman. In fact, that sounds like a fantastic idea...
What will you be doing while this bit of nastiness flows through? Besides boardgames what will you all be doing to pass the time?
8.24.2011
These are a few of my Favorite Things
worn in jeans
icecream -with sprinkles
the first silly Harry Potter movie
the first silly Bridget Jones movie
my dog Diesel
mashed potatoes
thick fuzzy socks
Christmas
Halloween decorations
puppy snuggles
playing in my (herb) garden
sitting in the sun
reading a book on the tiny, me-sized loveseat i inherited from my grandparents
fluffy over-sized fleece
a warm bed in a chilly room
long weekends
what are yours?
icecream -with sprinkles
the first silly Harry Potter movie
the first silly Bridget Jones movie
my dog Diesel
mashed potatoes
thick fuzzy socks
Christmas
Halloween decorations
puppy snuggles
playing in my (herb) garden
sitting in the sun
reading a book on the tiny, me-sized loveseat i inherited from my grandparents
fluffy over-sized fleece
a warm bed in a chilly room
long weekends
what are yours?
4.24.2011
The Joy of Knowing You
I recently crossed this vast country of ours to be a part of a joyful celebration. Our dear friends renewed their wedding vows after eleven wonderful/exciting/trying years. Can't help but reflect on what a great statement this makes. Actually, i believe they literally made the statement during the ceremony. I married you once, and i do it again. I love you as much now as i did then. It's beautiful that people can still stay together because they choose to. Not because they have a kid or a house or a financial situation. Because they want to. It's a beautiful thing to celebrate. Congratulations friends. Here's to many, many, many more cross country trip to celebrate the joy of knowing you, you terrific couple you.
8.05.2010
Autumn
After that no-name excuse for the feds to take a day off comes what may just be my favorite time of year. i don't think i'm saying that because it's been over 90 degrees here for something like two weeks. I'm also not saying it because our electric bill is higher than Matthew McConaughey in Dazed and Confused. And i'm definitely not saying it because what was once a beautiful, if petite, rosemary bush is now a lightly toasted semblance of a petite rosemary bush.
I adore autumn. I love the oversized fuzzy sweaters. I love the cushy warmth at my elbows and tucking my chin into them when i'm thinking hard on something. I need to cook with apples again. Apples and cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice please. I am in withdrawal over the lack of pumpkin. Pumpkin pies, but also pumpkins sitting on porches and pumpkins all carved up glowing in windows. I even miss the rusty, spicy color of silly halloween decorations. And yes, i am severely aching for some halloween. I need ghosts and vampires and mummies like Jersey girls need tanning booths. Take pity on my boyfriend- I've been whining about this. I have large storage tubs (not bins or baskets -though i have those too), we're talking monstrously oversized (yes, full) tubs, of halloween decorations. There's a severed hand to leave in a candy bowl, and candy bowls that look like piles of ghosts or gaping-mouthed jack-o-lanterns. Tea light holders to project teeny terrifying shadows of ne'er do-wellers on my eggshell walls. A black candelabra of which Cloris Leachman would be proud.
I'll be the first to admit that it's maybe a little odd that i so love All Hallows Eve when i can't even watch a predictible pile of horror like Saw IIII without a lot of closing my eyes and humming Dave Matthews. I have some pretty awesome memories of Halloweens gone by. If there was a Ghost of Halloween Past, she'd be the cute one wearing two different colored socks and three pigtails knotted in a rainbow of ribbons. I remember a few nut-ball costumes, certainly, and the joy of the year as a kid was always the parentally-sanctioned seizure of literally pounds of sugary treats in a single night. There was something else though. Something that was just as much fun as bouncing from door to door in the slight chill of a Massachusetts October/November divide: decorating the house with my family. Competing with my brother to come up with the most complicated and original jack-o-lantern design -actually pulling it off was another matter. We'd spent hours plunging our scrawny arms well past our elbows into huge bumpy vats of pumpkin guts. Planting something sinister in the candy bowl. One time dad rigged a rubber skeleton to swing down the stairs at unfortunate souls who rang the doorbell. Another Halloween we stuffed one of his old shirts and pair of dingy overalls, sat it in a vague human form, in a chair behind the front door, and gently laid a green shrunken head in it's lifeless lap. Then there was the year we ran out of candy so my brother drafted a huge sign that read "We are Amish, we have no candy" or something like that. No doubt well lit by the electric light at the front door.
I have a lot of great memories of Halloweens past. I know there are more to come. When sweaters start to appear, and people start leaning into the wind, and you can almost smell the apple pie in the oven, you'll find me elbow deep in pumpkin guts, grinning like a, well, like someone else's jack-o-lantern. Mine will have StrongBad on it. Take that Adam. :)
I adore autumn. I love the oversized fuzzy sweaters. I love the cushy warmth at my elbows and tucking my chin into them when i'm thinking hard on something. I need to cook with apples again. Apples and cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice please. I am in withdrawal over the lack of pumpkin. Pumpkin pies, but also pumpkins sitting on porches and pumpkins all carved up glowing in windows. I even miss the rusty, spicy color of silly halloween decorations. And yes, i am severely aching for some halloween. I need ghosts and vampires and mummies like Jersey girls need tanning booths. Take pity on my boyfriend- I've been whining about this. I have large storage tubs (not bins or baskets -though i have those too), we're talking monstrously oversized (yes, full) tubs, of halloween decorations. There's a severed hand to leave in a candy bowl, and candy bowls that look like piles of ghosts or gaping-mouthed jack-o-lanterns. Tea light holders to project teeny terrifying shadows of ne'er do-wellers on my eggshell walls. A black candelabra of which Cloris Leachman would be proud.
I'll be the first to admit that it's maybe a little odd that i so love All Hallows Eve when i can't even watch a predictible pile of horror like Saw IIII without a lot of closing my eyes and humming Dave Matthews. I have some pretty awesome memories of Halloweens gone by. If there was a Ghost of Halloween Past, she'd be the cute one wearing two different colored socks and three pigtails knotted in a rainbow of ribbons. I remember a few nut-ball costumes, certainly, and the joy of the year as a kid was always the parentally-sanctioned seizure of literally pounds of sugary treats in a single night. There was something else though. Something that was just as much fun as bouncing from door to door in the slight chill of a Massachusetts October/November divide: decorating the house with my family. Competing with my brother to come up with the most complicated and original jack-o-lantern design -actually pulling it off was another matter. We'd spent hours plunging our scrawny arms well past our elbows into huge bumpy vats of pumpkin guts. Planting something sinister in the candy bowl. One time dad rigged a rubber skeleton to swing down the stairs at unfortunate souls who rang the doorbell. Another Halloween we stuffed one of his old shirts and pair of dingy overalls, sat it in a vague human form, in a chair behind the front door, and gently laid a green shrunken head in it's lifeless lap. Then there was the year we ran out of candy so my brother drafted a huge sign that read "We are Amish, we have no candy" or something like that. No doubt well lit by the electric light at the front door.
I have a lot of great memories of Halloweens past. I know there are more to come. When sweaters start to appear, and people start leaning into the wind, and you can almost smell the apple pie in the oven, you'll find me elbow deep in pumpkin guts, grinning like a, well, like someone else's jack-o-lantern. Mine will have StrongBad on it. Take that Adam. :)
1.26.2010
Day of 220
i'm watching Julie & Julia. While i love the unwavering consistency of blogging for an entire year only about one thing, i could not do it. I love too much going from Poulet saute aux herbes de provence straight on to costillas de res a la mexicana. How boring to cook the same thing all the time. (That and wouldn't you think the people who read my tweets would get bored?) Granted, if you're going to cook the same thing all the time, French food is a great way to go. As we all know, butter = goodness. OK, not for our internal organs but for everything that is holy in our tastebuds, it is indeed, goodness.
And on the heels of that rave on the health benefits of fat, i'm announcing a new move i'm making. I've decided to reduce my meat intake. There's no manifesto behind this move. I'm just trying to be a bit more aware.
This movie is really cute. It makes me want to write. And eat.
And on the heels of that rave on the health benefits of fat, i'm announcing a new move i'm making. I've decided to reduce my meat intake. There's no manifesto behind this move. I'm just trying to be a bit more aware.
This movie is really cute. It makes me want to write. And eat.
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