Poor Dusty

 It's Friday. Fridays are hard on my little girl - first comes Mama's physical therapy, which she feels *requires* her presence in a supervisory (or possibly a continuation of her secret service) capacity.  Next comes Kim, and (shudder) water torture.  She loves running around in the rain, but god forbid she get a shower... This week, the other two puppies just followed along, but Dusty? She hid until she thought she was safe, and then when discovered, attempted to make an escape. Roger grabbed her up and put her in air jail, but her little legs were still attempted a 100-yard dash while suspended in midair.  My girl - she's determined even if thwarted.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

"Last Night, I Had The Strangest Dream"

 

Thanks, Pete Seegar! Writing this up at the request of Mom

Whenever I take the first of a new batch of gummies, there's always a titration issue - is one enough, are three too many... five is right out, incidentally. Anyway, last night's batch was particularly good, and sent me straight to dreamland.

Just as I was slipping, I could feel my soul (for lack of a better word) leave my body. I felt... that old childhood game - Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board? My essence was just a glowing light rising up - no control, but I didn't want control. Just peace and warmth. As I rose, I noticed a glowing mass in front of me... and I swear I heard a ka-chunk, like the opening of a bus door. But nothing was particularly clear visibly, just a round mass emanating calm, happiness, welcome, joy...  Mostly welcome - a sense that yeah, this was where I was going, and that it was going to be an incredible party on the way to my next destination. 

 I tentatively tried questioning the driver - felt a lot like Mr Rogers, but not in a gendered sense, just in a love everyone and make them feel comfortable sense.  They reassured me that yep, I was on the good list - reminding me that we're always our worst critic in the short term, but that the long view sands down the nicks and scratches, and that the Universe loves me as I am. Considering my situation, this was an incredibly comforting thing to hear, but the more comforting thing was... they asked me if I was ready for the next thing, or did I want a few more turns around the dance floor? (Well, ok. They told me that I'd shouldered burdens they wouldn't have tried, and my survival showed that I had vaginal muscles that wouldn't quit (Betty White said "Why do people say, 'Grow some balls'? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you really wanna get tough, grow a vagina. Those things really take a pounding ... But I get uncomfortable taking credit for my survival... end of parenthetical bowl stacking)).

Anyway, after congratulating me on my fortitude, they mentioned that it was a choice. I could go on to the next thing, and it would be a party like no other... or I could stay a while longer. It would involve some pain and suffering (I may have snorted at Bus Driver Rogers... I apologized!), but I get more time in this particular skin. This skin that I'm still uncomfortable in after 59 years, but that I'm starting to forgive. So, I waved him off, politely, and I felt this pulse of warm love and starting sinking back into my shell, feeling the aches and pain returning, but also the connections to this life that make it worth continuing - the rings of love around me. Family, friends, the rest... the going up is worth the coming down. Just not yet. As they left, the driver said "See you when I come back around in a few..." ka-chunk.  I didn't hear the last word. I'm sure it wasn't hours, but I doubt it was decades...  I'll take a couple of years.

Birdbraining

There's a photograph/meme going around that got me thinking. It talks about a hen who sat several duck eggs. When the eggs hatched, because baby ducks are very similar to baby chicks, she just treated them like you would any other baby...  essentially, they were assigned chicken at birth. But... and it's a big but. You put a baby duck in the water, it's happy as a lark.  You put a baby chick in water, it drowns. You can imagine the first trip to the farm pond, poor chicken was running in circles, clucking her head off, "oh, god, my babies are gonna die..." But apparently, by the third trip, she accepted that her children identified (correctly) as ducks, she accepted them... and now, if the farm has any duck eggs to hatch, they give them to her. 

Things You Don't Expect

 Roger and I were going through the evening "time to go to bed" routine... when you're married 24 years, you definitely have a routine. But anyway... life changes happen, yada yada, a catheter appears.

I am incredibly grateful for the catheter, but it can make for some odd moments. Like tonight, for instance. Roger had just emptied my (excuse me, any gentlefolk) urine out of the... well, pissbag.  (His phrase - can you tell he's a vet?)  

Anyway, suddenly change the commercial right in the middle of an ad... just in time to hear them say "Do you need help with vaginal moisture?" Nope, nope...  doing just fine.

Box of Pricks

 I did not have a good relationship with my father for a lot of reasons, but a big one was his last wife. I had to live with them for a year when I was 15, and the neurosis that year inspired... Anyway - Dad died of Covid a couple of years ago. I probably would not have gone anyway (middle of a pandemic, plus... just didn't like him) but I felt the need to do something. 

So, I called a local flower shop and ordered a succulent garden. Well, that's what they called it - I referred to it mentally as a box of pricks. It did my heart some good to find a way to both express my condolences and be a sneaky snark. 

A couple of weeks later, Brandon (my half brother), calls and tells me that my stepmom loved the cactus because it was something she could keep in Dad's memory, where the flowers died and fell away,. but for some reason the cactus had all just died. You could call it Karma. I just called the florist and arranged for a replacement.