Category: writing woes

I’m Going Solo Again

It’s just like old times. It’s just the dogs and me, facing life all alone in the wee hours of the morning. It has been eleven weeks since my foot surgery and one week bootless. This morning was the first morning that it was just me holding both leashes wandering around in the predawn hours. It was a nice quiet morning all by ourselves, no critters or other vermin about. It was a slow walk much to dogs dismay, my foot is still stiff and a bit tender, but I’m walking, and that is a wonderful feeling.

Charlie kept an eye on the road ahead as usual always on the hunt. Orso snatched as much tall grass to munch on along the way as always. The world is his “All You Can Eat Buffet”. I’ve never had a dog that will eat just about everything he comes across. Tall grass, mulberries and wild blackberries in the summer, acorns in the fall and hackberries in the winter are all on the menu, plus the undesirables, goose poop and deer droppings are quite the delicacy. Yuck.

This morning was quite uneventful and for that I am very grateful, because I know in the not too distant future, something will be out waiting for us. Waiting to run in front of us or make a noise in the dark and the dogs will lunge and drag me around like a boat anchor, and hopefully my foot will be able to take it, not to mention the rest of my body.

But there is hope, our wonderful friends that walked the dogs for me while I recovered also worked with them daily, training them to heel, do stupid pet tricks and not lunge at other dogs on the walk. I intend to carry on and continue the training; otherwise we’ll have dog stew for dinner. Just kidding, we don’t eat stew in the summer.

It felt good though, almost as though life is almost in balance again.

Wanted: A Big Honkin Guard Dog

We have a prowler. I made this disturbing discovery last evening when I went outside to water the tomatoes. I found a beer can in my garden outside our bedroom window and a cigar butt about five away from the beer can. The beer can still had about a quarter of beer left in it and the cigar had been smoked down to about two inches left. It still had the cigar band on it. So somebody stood outside our bedroom drank beer and smoked a cigar, and our two “watch” dogs never made a peep.

Can you believe it? There is somebody out there that has the nerve to stand outside our house drinking beer and smoke cigars, or maybe I should say the stupidity to stand outside drinking beer and smoke cigars. What did they think they would see? The windows are closed and the blinds are drawn, it’s summer, moron. It is hot outside, the air conditioner is on.

But more importantly, our pampered pooches didn’t make a sound. No they were sound asleep in our bed snoring away. Charlie snores louder than Mitch and Orso sleeps like a puppy, totally unconscious. I’m not going to get any help from Mitch either, because he can sleep through a gun shot, so I either become a lighter sleeper or get a bigger dog.

So I think I might place an ad in the paper:

“Wanted” A big honkin guard dog. Looking for the biggest, baddest, watchdog. One with fangs three inches long and jaws with a two thousand pound crushing force. One that can run faster than a speeding bullet and jump higher than six feet (I figure the creep can’t be too tall) and have an impact force of a runaway freight train.

Maybe if I get a dog to fit that description no one will come and hang out in the dark again

Monday Morning

The alarm clock shrieking in my ear
Head pounding a leftover of last night
Sitting upright slowly with great effort
Feet slow to hit the floor.

Shuffle to the shower
Stinging spray brings a gasp
Adjust the faucet to a more tepid degree
Shampoo in my eyes causing tears.

Stubbed toe getting out of the shower
Could this day get any worse?
Getting dressed and nothing matches
Monday morning has come to visit.

Naked!

The boot is off! I am a free woman. Oh what to do, what to do? Now I can do all the things that I have put off for nine weeks. Now I can go get a pedicure, go shoe shopping, do all those mundane glorious chores that I haven’t done for the last nine weeks. I can get back to hiking, working in the yard and walking the dogs among all of the other things on my to do list. Right now even vacuuming sounds fun, sick huh?

After a two hour surgery, five screws and a plate, thirty-six stitches with bones moved and removed and nine weeks of recovery, I am finally completely healed. My doctor said I did awesome on the healing and recovery. He asked if I brought a shoe and I pulled out a pair of three inch strappy sandals and said that I was planning on wearing them home. He looked at me like I was nuts, and I said that it was a joke, that I had brought many pairs to try on. We settled on the mate to the one I already had on

What I couldn’t believe was how weak my leg is and how tender the bottom of my foot is. I went to stand up and my left leg almost collapsed from the weight and pressure. My foot is still a bit swollen and my toes sort of jut upwards, but the doctor has assured me that they will lie down as I walk more. Toes pointing towards the ceiling, cute huh? I have been walking around in a walking boot for seven weeks and thought that shedding the boot and going back to shoes would be a piece of cake. Not so, this is going take bit of time getting back to a hundred percent. I guess this means I’m not running in a marathon next week.

Poor Frankenboot, what should I do with him? Maybe we’ll have a giant bonfire and burn Frank in effigy, Viking style or have him bronzed like parents used to do to baby’s first shoe. Or on a more practical note, maybe I should save him for future use. At the rate I’m going, I’m pretty sure I will probably break something in the future that would require a walking cast. I could even sell it on EBay and maybe get ten dollars for a slightly used black neoprene walking boot.

You have no idea how excited I am to be mobile again. I feel like I’m coming out of a kind of suspended state where most of my life has been on hold and in reality I guess it has, I’ve spent most of my energy healing. Now I’m ready to get back to full steam ahead, even if I have to take it a little slower than I originally planned.

It’s the Little Things

It’s the little things that count the most. The unexpected thoughtful acts say, “I love you” more than flowers or flashy jewelry. I’m talking about the most mundane daily actions, like bringing a cup of coffee to your partner, just because you made one for yourself. Simple thoughtful, considerate boring actions that truly say, “I love you.”

I know that Mitch loves me, he has to, to put up with me but that’s beside the point. It wasn’t until my foot surgery and total dependence on him, did I realize just how much. He could have gone through the motions and did only what was necessary, take care of the dogs, feed me and chauffeur me around. He didn’t, Mitch did the little things, the deeds that you don’t notice until one time it gets missed and you realize how special it is and how much you depend on him.

Since my foot surgery, I have to shower in the guest bath, because it has a walk-in shower stall, easy access for me. And every morning Mitch carries over my hair turban before I get in the shower so I don’t have to crutch back across the house with wet drippy hair. I don’t see him do it, the turban is just there when I get out of the shower. I never even asked him to do that for me, he just did it. What man would care or even notice that a woman would want a hair turban to make a difficult experience a little easier to deal with? This is just one example of so many silly mundane acts that Mitch does without being asked.

This says more about someone than all the expensive gifts in the world. This says that he’ll be here through thick and thin, good and bad and especially when I’m at my worst and can’t even take care of me. I think this what the great marriages and relationships all have in common, sensing what the other needs or helps make their day a bit more comfortable and easier to get through a difficult situation. I am truly lucky to have him in my life.

I guess I’ll have to step up my game when I shed the boot.

Cry Baby

I am a crier. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a big sissy or a baby. I don’t let the little things get me down. I don’t whine and pout when I don’t get my way, which happens often in this world. I’m not even a super emotional person. I can watch the evening news and see the horrors that “man” wreaks on innocent victims and I usually just shake my head and wonder at the senseless acts. Maybe it’s because it is man doing it to man that I don’t get that emotional about it. Maybe it’s because I’ve been lucky to not have witnessed any random violence first hand or maybe there is something missing in me, the empathy gene.

But watch something on the news about acts of cruelty to animals and the tears just roll. I get so angry that someone could hurt a creature that trusts and loves us; it’s probably a good thing I don’t get to face the offender. It would not be pretty.

See a sad scene in a movie and I’m a basket case. I cried through the whole movie “War Horse”. I didn’t even want to go, but Mitch did so we went. I love the sappy chick flicks, maybe that’s where I show all of my emotions. It’s not real so it’s okay to let loose and feel the moment. No one is there to mock me for my tears, but Mitch, and he doesn’t count.

Watch a sappy or cute animal video and I can’t even talk after. My voice gets husky and breaks. So what is wrong with me? I cry for puppies and love stories, but not for the horrors of real life. Maybe it’s because there is too much horror today and not enough puppy videos. Or maybe that is the only way to not succumb to the wretchedness of man and sink into a deep depression. Who knows maybe I’m just a heartless woman. I can ask Mitch, but he says he’s afraid of me. I don’t know why.

Whoa What a Ride!

Everybody has lived through one of those “I can’t believe I survived that” moments, in fact I’ve had a few. Sometimes I marvel at the fact I’m still here. Mitch and I have more than our share together. I think together we have done some really stupid things. Of course you don’t think about that while you’re in the midst of your adventure.

One of our many dumbest moves was years ago, when I was going through my Divemaster training. It was my first open water work weekend at Table Rock Lake, about four hours south of here. The plan was that I would ride down with another divemaster-in-training student on Friday, do my water work on Saturday and Mitch would buzz down after he closed the dive shop on Saturday evening. Then we would drive back together on Sunday.

Well no one told Mother Nature that we wanted a nice weekend, so instead we got cold wet rain on Saturday. Someone would say, “Well you’re in the water anyway, what’s the big deal?” When you get out of the chilly water you want to get dry and warm, but that didn’t happen for us all day. I couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel room and take a long hot shower. Mitch showed up soaked to the bone about midnight, after closing up shop. Of course he had ridden his motorcycle.

Sunday morning Mother Nature decided to help up out. The morning dawned sunny and much warmer. Training was more pleasant but we had a lot to catch up on that didn’t get done the day before. By the time we wrapped everything up, if was about two in the afternoon and we had to get back to KC in order to check in the dive gear that other students had checked out. It was decided that a friend would drag my gear back for me and I would ride back with Mitch on the back of the motorcycle.

Mitch trying to make up for lost time, was flying down a two lane highway at breakneck speeds, passing cars like a madman, doing around one hundred miles an hour. Me, I was so tired after being in the water for two days, fell asleep behind him. That’s not entirely true, I always fall asleep riding in a car, and riding back seat on a motorcycle isn’t much different, right? He only figured out that I was asleep when my helmet banged into the back of his helmet. Can you imagine the jarring effect of getting whacked on the back of your helmet when trying to maintain control of your motorcycle at a hundred miles an hour? Mitch jerked and banged his helmet back at me and yelled for me to wake up. Easier said than done, I tried, but kept dozing off whacking Mitch in the back of the head for the next three hours. I finally woke up about the time we hit Kansas City. Luckily we survived the ride mainly due to light traffic, Mitch’s skill and in spite of me.

We beat the other divers back and Mitch finally relaxed about an hour after we checked in all of the rented gear.

Early Morning Photos

Silly geese swimming toward us
geese swimming

Charlie and Orso checking for new smells
the boyswater reflectionwaters edge

Calm waters in the early morning

Sunday Verses

A couple of poems

Fire

Hot winds fanning the flames
Pushing the fire onward
Burning all in its path
Reducing everything to ash.

Animals great and small
Racing toward the edge of the forest
Trying to outrun the carnage
Fear of fire greater than fear of foe.

Thunder on the horizon
Rain marching in
Enemy of fire
Brings salvation to the forest.

——————–

Rain

Gentle drumming on the wind pane
Causing runnels down the glass
Grey skies overhead
Spanning across the horizon.

Rain dances in the puddles
Splatters reaching upward
Filling birdbaths to the brim
Overflowing in the ditches.

Rain soaking the ground
Plants drinking up the moisture
Roots swelling up filled with water
Giving life to all.

The Storm – Part 2

Part 2 of The Storm – I hope you enjoy it.

Camilla turned and walked out of the kitchen, head cocked slightly, listening carefully to catch any sound of the intruder. Lightning streaked across the sky and before the crash of thunder ended, the power went out in the house, plunging Camilla into darkness. With the darkness, Camilla could not follow the muddy footprints to the hiding spot of the intruder. The intruder was now at a disadvantage, he could no longer see her and was unfamiliar with the layout of the house, while Camilla was quite at ease in the dark and knew every nook and cranny of her beloved home.

She heard a sound coming from upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Slowly Camilla started up the stairs in search of the source of the sound. She stopped at the doorway of the first guest bedroom listening carefully and looking for any sign of movement. No one was in the room, so she moved on to the next bedroom. No one was hiding in that one either and Camilla moved on to the master bedroom.

Walking into the master bedroom Camilla sensed a presence there with her. She moved to the center of the room and turned slowly around full circle in search of the intruder. Standing next to the bed was the dark form of a man. She stood stock still for a moment, deciding whether to stay and face the intruder or flee. Camilla moved deliberately and slowly closer to the intruder and the danger of the unknown.

As Camilla closed the gap, the man moved to meet her at the foot of the bed. He closed his arms around her hugging her tightly, close to his body. He turned lifting her body and laid her on the bed. Lowering his body on top of her, he looked into her eyes. There was no fear in her eyes, in fact she met his gaze with a hungry look in her eyes.

Without any words between them, the man unbuttoned her blouse slowly caressing her skin as he pushed the button through the buttonhole. Moving downward he unbuttoned Camilla’s slacks, unzipped them and slid them down over her hips slowly, his hands lingering at the small of her back. As he pulled he slacks down past her knees, Camilla sat up toward him pulling him back down on top of her. The man positioned himself above her and moved in thrusting deep inside her. Camilla met his thrusts and moved with him slowly at first, together they moved faster and faster. Camilla moaned a long low moan and clutched the man tightly to her as she rose to a climax. The man spent, relaxed against her and closed his eyes. Camilla laid beneath the man satisfied for the first time in a long time. It was too bad it had to end so soon. Camilla pushed at the man trying to move him off her, but he just laid there breathing heavy.

Part 3 the final segment will post on Thursday. Please come back and read how it turns out,