Oh, it's just been a pisser of a day for no real reason. I woke up cranky and was mean to my husband over breakfast about basketball on TV and not really mean, just sort of rude. But then I gave him a half a piece of my bacon and I think he forgave me.
He's been working like a demon all day long on that bathroom and I have no idea what in the world he's going to do when it's done. It'll probably be hunting season by then or at least it'll be time to go plant turnip greens for the deer.
See? I'm just being so snarky today. And I can't ever, ever, ever again blame being bitchy on PMS and haven't been able to for years so I guess I am just a snarky bitch or at least I am sometimes.
Well, goddam it, who isn't?
So I worked in two areas of the yard today, pulling invasives and other weedy things and some of it required a shovel and some of it just required a trowel and being on my knees and it was hot and the mosquitoes are already fierce and at this moment, right now, I just don't even want to see another plant in my life unless it's in a beautiful blue or green pot, maybe in the lobby of a beautiful hotel. I smell horrible and am filthy and for the past hour I've been working on Gibson's monkey and watching Queer Eye and listening to those sweet men tell their guys-who-need-help how important it is to at least make an effort to look nice for your loved one and I never do that and I feel ashamed and like I've just given up which I suppose I very much have.
I mean, I try to make an effort when it comes to things like clean laundry and good food and a relatively tidy house and remembering to do little things that show I care but when it comes to appearance- well, about all I can say is that I do take a shower before bed every night but that's pathetic and just basic hygiene. It is not what the Queer Eye guys would call making an effort. I shudder when I think about what they'd say about my clothing collection. Somehow I doubt they'd believe me when I told them I had to wear overalls all the time because I need all of those pockets and I do a lot of gardening.
Really, girl? they'd say. And how do you explain these holey T-shirts? And what's with the collection of linen dresses that all look alike? And why do you even HAVE this make-up? And these tweezers? Have you ever considered actually using them? And stop. Wait. Do you even own a pair of shoes that aren't Crocs? Sweetie, thank god we're here. You don't need pockets. You need us. You really, really need us.
And then I'd cry and they'd embrace me and tell me that I am truly beautiful at heart and we'd all cry together and it would be awesome and maybe they'd fucking clean my house or buy me a new rug or something.
Ah well, it's raining, finally, and it smells of sharp ozone and wet leaves and I'm tired and so is my husband. I found out that the dog named Lola who has lived in the town square of Cozumel for years and years and who has been fed and taken care of with so much love by residents and visitors, too, has died. What a small thing, and yet- not really small.
Lola wanted nothing more in life than to snooze wherever she wanted to snooze and walk about wherever she wanted to meander and whenever I saw her, I felt as if I'd seen a celebrity. So many people knew who she was and took a moment to pet her if she wanted to be petted, to say hola, Lola.
On my first trip to Cozumel, back in the eighties, all of the dogs on the island looked like Lola. I heard them referred to as "Cozumelian sand dogs" and they looked as if they had all descended from the same two original canines on the island, perhaps from the days of the ancient Maya (not to be confused with the days of the Modern Maya) but now there is every sort of breed of dog on the island. Lola seemed to hold the spirit of all of those original dogs within her and also- the spirit of the people of Cozumel itself who are caring and kind and who for years made sure that a sweet doggie named Lola was taken to the vet and fed and sheltered and also allowed to live her life in the manner in which she wanted to live it.
It's supposed to rain all night and all day tomorrow.
I do not mind that at all.
I wish I'd planted some beans today instead of spending so much time pulling up plants which I'll never actually get rid of.
Well. Hold a thought for Lola and if it is raining where you are, take time to listen to its patter, to smell it as it falls and mixes with the air around you, cleansing and cooling it. I will sleep with the window open above my head and maybe it will soothe my rest into a sweet, soft gray dance of holy water and my dreams will be as calm as the clear blue water surrounding a beautiful island where a dog named Lola lived for a very, very long time.