Great Expectations

I'm at Maverick filling my tank when a Collie that has come loose from his yard is roaming not only the parking lot but crossing the busy intersection, then crossing it again to come back barking at people bewildered at the circumstances. There is rope training behind and he is clearly lost and looking to get home. People honk at him. He turns and goes the other way. I go inside and ask for the phone book so I can call animal control, which is of course closed for the weekend. I have to call dispatch and the very very kind young lady tells me that patrol doesn't come out for lost/wandering animals, only if they are dangerous. She is making the "Awwwww" sound while I tell her the story so she describes the dog as likely to cause an accident, so that would guarantee patrol to be on its way.

Not 2 hours later, after I go shopping for my Halloween costume I go through the drive-thru at In&Out for a veggie sammich and fries. There is a Magpie sitting next to the curb, not moving. The order-taker-guy and I are worried that he is injured but after some gentle encouragement, he flew off. Of course I told him my story of the day and he told me his own. He is from L.A. and a woman near him tried to help a black lab out of the street that was loose and SHE was hit by a car and killed.

I don't know what happened with the collie, he ran north on Washington. Maybe I have bad juju. Maybe there should be animal control on the weekends. Maybe I expect too much, then don't even deliver myself.

Now I am home with my safe, adorable and naughty bunnies. Honeycrisp Apples all around boys.

Pooped

Coming over to let the doggies out for their afternoon constitutional while the Parentals take a mini break with the new trailer, and to what do my wondering olfactory senses appear? A major diarrhea blowout of epic proportions in the front room. Bud greets me but has no interest in the front of the house, and Cooper? He is lying flat on his stomach hiding.

Hours later: shovel, gloves, cut up t-shirt, bucket of soapy water, hydrogen peroxide, Todd getting kicks, lit candles, open windows and Coopie escaping the back yard twice, I am now on the couch with two happy snuggly pooches at my feet while "Baby You're a Rich Man" plays over the stereo.

Todd said cleaning this mess would give me perspective. It has. Bunny shit rules.

Dating Rocks

I'm going to preface this blog entry with the truth that there are MANY reasons I have not been on a date in, yes count them 13 years. Among them being that I feel my health baggage is a lot to foist upon an unsuspecting dinner date when they ask "So, what do you do?" When even after all of these years the only answer I have concocted is the breezy and amazingly limber description of my status as "Successfully Unpublished Writer." What I am about to share with all of you is still bewildering to me, a shit ton of funny and more than a bit sad.

I went on a date last night. I'm good for the next thirteen years.

This fella met me VERY briefly through my parents while he was selling them their new trailer, then asked for my number the following day. My parent's obliged (more on that later.) We spoke on the phone after a majorly bizarre game of phone tag that included his calling my parents twice. It was like eating an awkward cake, with uncomfortable frosting sprinkled with more awkward. We were going to meet on Wednesday, somewhere to be determined.

Wednesday, he never called. I have no idea WTF I am going. I call him, and he decides on MacCools. Fantastic. I get there, sit at the bar and the staff start asking me what is up. I tell them all just the top of the story (date is late) so they start to tell me horror stories of girls stood up, and other girls taking dates for huge tabs. The waiter tells me I need to fire my parents, then says "well this lucky guy gets a date with a beautiful lady eh!?" I tell him he's smooth. Bartender gets me my drink and then says "this is why I don't date." I'm really wishing I was back home with my DVR and the bunnies, right then he comes in. He starts asking if he can bring in his guitar and his aboriginal drum and play an acoustic set for everyone. I try to direct him to a booth as fast as possible. The waitress had the funniest look on her face. She kept giving me the "I am so sorry" look all night. She even mouthed it once as I walked by to go to the bathroom.

Within 2 minutes of sitting down he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crystal that he wanted me to hold so that I could be blessed by its powers from it being bathed in the moonlight. But wait, there's more. He had a total of six bags of stones and crystals on his person. This DOES NOT include the necklaces, rings and bags within the bags. He told me the name of every stone, every crystal and what they do, for him and what they guard against. Mostly his ex-wife and her negative vibrations. He was bitten by a dog recently and he couldn't decide if he was just a buffer for the universe or if his ex sent it. When I was able to speak I would comment how the stones were very pretty, and that some of the names sounded familiar. In my head I was worried that every time he handed me a stone all of my "HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT" energy was going to rub off and ruin his next higher plain meditation. But then I took another drink of beer.

In the space of two hours I learned about suicidal tendencies, aliens, plans for congress, court earlier in the day, his ex-wife's need for his seed and that he is going to hold a benefit concert while singing the song "Black Widow on My Back" (which he tried to sing to me) cuz that is what ex-wives are.

As we were leaving, I went to the bar to pay my part of the tab, but he had paid. The bartender looked at me and said "You can't win 'em all eh?"

As I fidgeted with my keys, he asked if it was too late to come back to my place to play some music. I said very bruskly "Yup. Going home. Going to crash." I hugged him goodbye. Pity hug. (so mean of me to say, I know.)

He called my parents today to tell them he had a good time. My parents are on suspension.

One Mom to Rule them All

So, today was a "crazy I can't believe how much this hurts right now you have got to be kidding me where did I put that bat so I can knock myself out" kind of leg day. By late afternoon I still hadn't been able to get out of bed, so what does my Mom do? She comes over to make sure I have something to eat. Not just that, she takes the bok choy and bean sprouts that are in need of use, and stir fries them up to perfection. She takes my other stir fry leftovers and with my limited input, made a giant batch of Spicy Chinese Soup. THEN, she makes her most famous Zucchini Soup, but totally vegan, with Almond milk she bought on her way over.

During cooking stretches, she sat with me on the couch and watched one of her favorite shows "Project Runway." This most awful contestant was on screen and I asked who he was. She said so cute and snotty "Oh, that's Ken. He is such a bitch. We hate him."

My Moms people. She will cut up all the veggies in the kitchen, and she will cut you with her sweet words.

Amazing

On my way home from having coffee and chit chat with a friend; with the windows rolled down, the wind in my hair, goofy grin plastered to my face, Sarah Bareilles' "Brave" playing obscenely loud on my car stereo and the simple yet magnificent pinpoint fact of being alive is pulsing through me surged by the three shots of espresso in my latte. I decide to stop at the Asian Market near my house to search for some sweet soy sauce. I meander through the market (as I do on every shopping trip) reading labels and considering options. There is a family of four in the store with me, the two young children are very excited seeing so many unusual items and asking a lot of questions. The older child, a girl ran away from the father and he ran after her scolding her which made me giggle quite a bit. The family had just checked out but right as I placed my basket on the counter the mother and daughter were trying to negotiate the bubble gum machine close to the door.

Mother "Okay, here it comes. All you have to do is turn the handle."
Daughter "Okay." she turns the handle and then there is a pause.
Daughter "Did you SEE THAT? THAT WAS AMAZING?"
Mother "Yes. Yes it was amazing."

It was amazing. Everything is amazing. Everyday. Bubblegum machines. Asian Markets and the sweet lady that helps you find the sweet soy sauce. Friends that meet you for coffee. Friends that love you no matter what, no matter where they are. Friends that are family and family that are friends. Being alive after the two year mark of being diagnosed with cancer. Amazing. We forget to be amazed. I forget to be amazed.

Tonight, I'm having a stir fry for dinner. It will be amazing.

Barenaked Crowing

Note to self, and everyone else: After a whole day and night of crying, before dancing in your living room to Barenaked Ladies first put on a bra.

I have been stifling a serious cry for about two weeks now. I finally let go last night when the right song was playing while I was in the right/wrong state of mind. I have been in this perpetual grateful temper since the whole Cancer began and I think I made a move to stretch my temper beyond thin. I Facebook stalked Neil. He is on his third marriage, happy and a step father to two boys. At first I was "Oh, of course he is. That is what he does. Nothing to see here." Then, two weeks went by and after not sleeping, being irritable for no reason, just stupid sad for no reason then this Barenaked Ladies "Off the Hook" song comes on my car stereo as I am coming home from my parent's last night and BAM I knew what it was.

He has no idea. I decided to love him how ever long ago for how ever little the speed bump of time it was in his relationship marathon of a life, I dared to give him myself. I gave him parts of me no one else has seen, and that includes the sexual part. He is free and clear living his life, while I literally carry the scars of sleeping with him. There is no way to make it even, no way to even make a dent. I was actually disappointed in myself for wanting to find a way to hurt him in those few moments while I was driving home, because I knew all it would do is hurt me.

The dancing came later, after much late night self reflection, friend and of course Mom talk. I put the song on my stereo and decided I would listen to it again, in the light. I started to dance. Then I started to cry. Then while I was dancing and crying my unchained breasts started to flap against my chest and I started to laugh while I was crying thinking how ridiculous I was to be crying in the first place.

Grateful Temper restored.

Bra to be determined.