The true dog days of summer and yes, I got up this morning to find dog shit and pee in the house. Last night at some ungodly hour in which I could not sleep due to the stupid doody-head body twitches I get that wake me up over and over and over again but hey, I'm not complaining, what the hell? just a part of getting older, I guess, I read an article in the New Yorker about dogs and how they may have evolved from the wolves and I am no more enlightened today than I was before I read it.
Yes. Dogs evolved from wolves and we don't really know how but it would seem, according to this author, that something major occurred in which dogs gave up their wolfness in exchange for being kept by humans and forget that shit about them being our noble companions. Dogs are here not only to be pets but for us to literally pet and they are more like infants than companions and all those cute and wonderful things they do are merely nature's way of ensuring that we'll keep feeding them their damn kibble. It must be working. Not only are my dogs still alive and being fed, but I saw an advertisement on the TV yesterday which referred not to "pet owners" but to "pet parents."
Then I read an article about the mission in which Bin Laden was killed and a dog was part of the team. I am not sure what the dog's function was but perhaps to attack. Yeah. Probably.
Maybe it wasn't a dog at all. Maybe it was a wolf.
As you can probably tell, I have been restored unto myself by some alchemy or another.
I spent about one and one half hours on the couch yesterday watching what is NOT the best of reality TV and then I girded my loins and went to town and took care of Owen. Since his parents weren't getting off until late at night, it made more sense for me to watch him there so that he could go to sleep in his own bed, which he did.
I mostly was a poor excuse for a grandmother although I did build towers of blocks for him which resulted in the very satisfying exclamations of "Wow! Wow! Wow!" and took him outside for swinging and sliding and see-saw riding (Owen, this is not really good for Grandmother's knees)
and I let him watch way too much Barney. We ate frozen pizza for dinner which we both enjoyed tremendously.
The best part was when he was bathed and sleepy and we'd read our books and I'd told him his Peep nap story, cleverly altered to be the Peep Night-Night story and he still didn't really want to get in his bed so I rocked him for awhile and he put his head on my old bosom and we talked about fishes and boats and all sorts of good things and he stroked my old woman arm and he said, "Nice," and then he got into his bed and went to sleep, just like that, his bug light making stars on the ceiling and walls and and the fish tank making comforting burbling noises.
I could have pretty much died right then and it would all have been worth it.
So, like I said, here I am today and that ratbastard depression slipped out of an open window or a crack in between the floor and walls, I do not know and I do not care, may he rot in hell and not torment anyone else but of course, we know that will never happen, plus he'll be back for me but maybe not any time soon.
Suddenly, my home and my yard charm me again to the very gills of goodness. I do not think I am bipolar because I am not what you might call manic or ecstatic and I sure don't want to go buy new shoes or actually, I do not want to go anywhere to buy anything although I sure do need a bag of onions.
There is a very handsome man in my front yard this morning who speaks very good English with a completely charming Mexican accent who is laying, with his companions, extremely orange and extremely large cable. This cable is as big around as my leg.
I just asked him what sort of cable it is and he told me that it is fiber optic cable for "very fast speed" of the internet and phone. Wowzer! In Lloyd!? Next thing you know, we'll be able to get cable and pizza delivery.
Although I am not holding my breath on the pizza delivery.
The chickens are all well and good. I have a lot of watermelon which has passed its human-consumption prime and and I am looking forward to handing it out to the lovelies. We still don't know which of the new ones may be roosters and which may be hens. They are neither laying nor crowing yet. They may actually all be hens, which would be amazing.
They already recognize me as a prime food source and come running towards me whenever they see me.
That's every one of the chickens except for Miss Bob who is on the nest. She is such a dependable layer. Bless her heart.
Mr. Moon and I are probably just going to stick around here this weekend. He has many projects to work on.
My bathroom sink still looks like this:
You don't realize how important your bathroom sink is until you don't have it any more.
Another project Mr. Moon has on the docket is tractor repair.
Yep. That's my yard.
I believe that to a man like my husband, that engine right there will provide more entertainment than a week-long pass to Disney World.
Can you imagine what my laundry is going to look like?
He is also planning on going out and buying new tomato plants and bean seeds for a final summer planting. You know what this means- I need to get my overalls on and go out there and prepare the planting areas. You might as well just shoot me now and get straight and quickly to the obvious result of such labor in this heat. There are only two things worth keeping in the garden right now and here they are:
The zinnias and sunflowers in a tiny corner and Bethany's gourds.
Yay, gourds, zinnias and sunflowers!
We can't eat them with our mouths but we can surely enjoy them with our eyes.
And so it goes in Lloyd today. The rest of the world is doing what it does and I am letting it. There are great injustices happening and I can't do one damn thing about any of them. I keep thinking of the poem by Jack Gilbert our dear Elizabeth posted the other day. If you have a moment, if you need solace, if you, like me, have some fucking misfortune to worry that only in our suffering can we find meaning, please go HERE and read the poem. It is worth it and if you do, you will probably go back and read it again and again. I have.
Here is my favorite line:
To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
Now. Tuck that under your belt and keep it at hand as you go through your day. I am.
Happy Friday, y'all.
Love...(The Almost Back To Normal) Ms. Moon
This post calls for a simple and cheerful "Good Morning" I think.ReplyDelete
I like yer gourds :)ReplyDelete
I didn't think the wolf-to-dog thing was a mystery... I thought early humans domesticated wolves and bred them down into what we have today. This article says it was them that made the change and trained us into taking care of them? Seems just as likely, I guess.
Delighted to see you're back and better! Great gourds, yes :)ReplyDelete
Nothing wrong with being recognized as a primary food source; I am convinced that is why my kids stick around. That, and according to Owen my hair smells delicious. Go figure.ReplyDelete
Your rat bastard depression is now sitting on my own front porch. Fucker. He comes to me in the form of anger AND tears.
Or maybe it's just because I am 2 cm dilated and having contractions that GO.NOWHERE. Maybe.
Elizabeth- And good morning to you, although it is already afternoon here and thank-you so much for giving us that poem to be read.ReplyDelete
Stephanie- It's confusing. Just as confusing as why I tolerate these animals.
Jo- Wow. It is GOOD to be back. I feel slightly reborn.
Kori- ACK! Keep me posted! Try and get some rest.
And I am going to write something real warm and fuzzy about dogs. My diesel engine does provide hours of entertainment. But so does the dog.ReplyDelete
Goodbye and good riddance, ratbastard!ReplyDelete
At my house we are very very very fond of using the term ratbastard. Then when someone uses the term we all wail "no no, not the ratbastard". It is quite entertaining. Depression is a ratbastard and I'm glad he's left.ReplyDelete
The title of this one sounds like a lost Pink Floyd track (with a friendly nod in Syd's direction).ReplyDelete
Happy Friday, Mrs. Moon! And gosh it's half over already on your end of the continent. I'm just beginning here-having devoted the morning to endorphin production and rat bastard banishing.ReplyDelete
I read the article in the New Yorker, too. I miss my dogs but not the poo on the floor which happened a lot at the end--but had to forgive the poor thing because as my daughter kept reminding me, the dog couldn't help it that her ass wasn't working right.
So! Happy chickens, happy gourds, happy zinnias, happy knees. Happy Friday!
Glad the cocksucking black dog has decamped. What a fucker.ReplyDelete
I'm so glad you're coming out the other side. I hope your orange cable does bring you pizza delivery. We had some tonight and it's the best thing when thinking about making dinner makes you want to crawl under a rock. Which it does at least once every couple of weeks with me.ReplyDelete
Thanks for your comment just now. I am trying to find some courage somewhere. X
i'm glad the rat bastard is gone!!!!ReplyDelete
I am feeling more like myself. The storm has passed. For now. I love your yard. What a glorious yard! I love the blue tractors. The white barn/shed. Flowers and chickens. Keep pulling weeds. You pull on my heart.ReplyDelete
Syd- And I mucked up your post with my comments. Hey! I'm just telling the dog-truth.ReplyDelete
Lulumarie- Your lips to god's ear...
Jill- I NEVER use that term. It just appeared to me and I used it. Maybe I am channeling your family?
X-Ray Iris- Yeah. They were always into that esoteric shit.
Denise EC- My ass ain't workin' right either! Ha! That's great.
Ms. Beloved- You know it, darlin'.
Mwa- Just do it, baby. Just do it.
Maggie May- Me too, that damn soul-sucker.
Jaye- I have the great fortune of living in a very beautiful place. And I know it.
Good Gourd. I am so happy to see those green bottles hanging on your fence, you have no idea. Lovely lovely perfect. And such a treat for me. I loved so much about this post. I wish I could just highlight my favorite lines, the "extremely orange and extremely large" the whole thing about why you're not bipolor and needing onions. Owen of course, the bug light, stars, bubbling tank, him stroking your arm. Engine like disney to Mr Moon, you fretting about your laundry. Such good stuff. And your little corner of zinnias and sunflowers. Ah you... So glad you're feeling better. Please don't go nuts in the garden, it's too hot.ReplyDelete
Bethany- Bless you, my dear. Bless you. And I think I am going to give the garden a pass today. Tomorrow will be soon enough to get back in it.ReplyDelete