Of course, I came around and we visited. The one in the upper left corner is one of CW’s adult Basenjis. The rest are the foster puppies. I fell in love with the brindle, named Amber (upper right corner), but I was good and did not bring her home. Just so you know, as I write this, my heart is totally breaking about having left her there instead of coming home with us. Another friend of mine has already adopted one of the tawnies. She’s a big Basenji lover, too.
Someone else has claimed another one of the puppies, but wanted to be sure she was gentle with little ones, and that’s where we come in. Toots and this shyer of the pups were wonderful together. In fact all the puppies really gravitated to Toots because she is just about their size. Captain Comic noticed and commented about it.
Captain Comic loves dogs and researching about different breeds. He was really looking forward to going today. He was especially interested in hearing the barkless dog’s yodel.
Mr. Cynic didn’t say much, but I just know he was totally squeee-ing on the inside.
Here’s a bit of our adventures in Basenji Central:
Yesterday, I sent Toots along with Grandma for her morning workout. Toots likes the play room at the YMCA. I think she needs more peer time than she gets around here. I left the boys to their own devices and told Mr. Cynic to keep Captain Comic out of trouble by playing cards or something and then taking him to the neighborhood pool. It’s a really rather nice possibility now that Mr. Cynic is a pretty responsible teen.
I went to the library and, admittedly, it was hard for me to get started on the manuscript, as it had been about two weeks since I last worked on it. I was also at quite an emotional chapter for my main character, one in which he reacts uncharacteristically angry over something unrelated to the bullying that is pressuring him. I still feel like protecting him like he’s one of my actual children. The difficult parts of the book for him are particularly difficult for me to watch him go through for the umpteenth time, as I write it, hopefully a little better with each edit. But when I got down to business, it seemed to flow really well and the minor changes moved quickly. I added a little more internal feelings without being too expository. That is one of my main issues with the last draft. I missed the mark on conveying what he was going through via the context of the scene itself, or my writing of his emotions was overwrought for a twelve year old boy – one extreme or the other.
July is around the corner, and so is the boys’ summer travels to their father for a month. I am hoping to work more consistently, once again, on the the manuscript and finish it before they come home. I hope to get it to my writing group for a last hurrah critique, then out to children’s agents and publishers.
What’s that old adage about best laid plans? I really hope that July is a quiet month. I really want to finish and send it out. I’ve been working on this far too long already. I practically could have grown the main character from birth in the time I’ve worked on this ten days of his life.
But Honey and I went shopping in a specialty store together yesterday and came home with bags of sugar crap, including this:
It’s exactly the color of my bedroom until age seven, which permanently put me off to the color pink. It’s Pepto Bismol. It’s darker than cotton candy, but cotton candy flavored, in a cute box, marked half off.
I think that was what did us in. Half Off.
I feel sick to my stomach looking at the batter. I think this was the moment that Mr. Cynic said, “Brought to you by Barbie.”
Of course, he was riffing from my, “Today’s snack selection brought to you by the color dayglo pink!” in my best announcer voice.
And then the frosting.
Neither could he:
The one to enjoy the pinkitude the most had just awakened from nap, and was a little slow to eat them.
I am not telling you how quickly mine disappeared. Nope, I just won’t.
I think this week was an exercise in finding a routine amidst overall changes.
I have not watered the garden consistently, because it seems the rain will really pour, then not much happens. Then I think the rain will come overnight, and it really doesn’t. And it’s tougher to drag the hose around the yard with this dang boot.
Captain Comic wants to learn poker, badly, and I want to teach him. Poker was a big influence in my family life when I was a kid, I love playing cards, especially with my dad.We sure had some good Gin tournaments, mano a daughtero. But I know I need a good visual aid for Captain Comic to see all the levels of win, etc. Somehow I need the time and focus to teach him the multi-step processes of poker, when he is compromised in multi-step processing. It will take more than one session, that is for certain. Much frustration will have to be abated, on both parts.
Honey and I had a late night date at a combo pub cinema place last night for our fifth anniversary. We arrived a bit early for the showing of Bridesmaids, and sat at the bar. While we waited, I learned the difference between us and how that difference is a good thing. We were quiet for a moment, so I asked, “What would you like to see in the next five years?
Honey: What do you mean? I can’t see into the future.
Me: What would you like to see. What do you want in life?
Honey: I don’t know, I’m pretty good. A hot meal, a warm bed, a chance to relaxed a little more.
Me: Really? That’s kind of nice.
See, I am always looking around the bend, aiming for something, having big dreams, wanting something, looking for the next adventure. In his way, Honey is content to just be.
At times, this can be a source of frustration for both of us, but I think, at other times, it works to both of our advantages that we come at the world and each other from different angles. I get him off of his butt for an adventure. While it may take a little initial effort, he always seems to appreciate it after the first push. Conversely, he gets me to stay in the moment and just chill and realize that not everything needs to be done right now, not everything needs to be planned or in constant motion. A little stillness is a good thing.
So we find our balance.
I need to find a way to fit writing into the week while the boys are home. I think I will manage that a little better next week, when I don’t have so many appointments. Also, Grandma seems to be feeling a little better today and will likely get back to her morning exercises routine, away from the mayhem of home. I know how important her exercise routine is for her. She’s better about keeping one than I am.
I have written a summer daily schedule and hung it up for Captain Comic to have a reference as to what this hour of the day is for. Poor guy kept floating around not knowing what to do with himself, leaving a wake of difficult relationships, snack scraps and random detritus until I did.
Toots needs a little more interaction than I’ve been giving her this week, while I’ve focused on my medical stuff and whatnot. There’s been a bit too much PBS and Netflix children’s program selections going on. I think if the forecast perks up to the sunny side, we’ll get to the pool more next week. This will be good for the Capt., too.
Mr. Cynic has been a big help this week, and found ways to hang with his friends and girlfriend. He’s getting more and more independent, even if he is still hesitant on the learning to drive sessions.
And, even after all these years, Honey and I continue to learn each other, and how to negotiate what it is that simultaneously drew us to each other, and what drives us most crazy on a daily basis.
Ain’t love grand?
It’s summer. I think by now, all schools across the country are out for the season, the days are long on light and open hours. Don’t forget to enjoy them for what they are, a chance to relax a little more…and maybe have a good adventure,or two.
That’s my guy, Honey and me, five years ago today. I think this was taken right before our first married kiss.
Everyone should be so in love and able to do this. Sure, marriage isn’t all happiness and light, contrary to what fairytales would have us believe, but it is worth the work it takes when you love your partner and can be recognized fully in that, no matter how that love is packaged.
You can click the picture for a link if you haven’t heard the tale, but about a year ago, I hurt my ankle pretty badly. I haven’t really recovered. In fact, from favoring the initial ligature/tendon injury which was never properly diagnosed, I developed tarsal tunnel syndrome.
Click pic to read about it.
Then from not dealing with the tarsal tunnel syndrome, I developed tendonitis on the posterior blah blah, a tendon sheathe along a muscle that runs from the knee down behind the calf muscle, close to the tibia. I lost track when the doctor was talking yesterday as he gave me a cortisone injection for tarsal tunnel syndrome. I left the doctor’s office and drove in circles (yes folks, it is my driving ankle) to find the place where I was supposed to pick up a boot to wear for the next month, and found it just time for it to be closed, thanks to it’s lack of signage. By the time I got home, my foot was on fire up to my knee, and felt dead and asleep, like it was trying to wake up, but never did except partially sometime around five o’clock this morning. Needless to say, it was a sleepless night. Before I went to bed, I asked a medical friend if my foot/ankle/leg should still feel like this several hours after injection, and she replied that it sounds like I had a classic steroid flare. Yay me and my weird anatomy.
So this morning, I got to drive all the way back across Newport News to find this boot place again and now my fashion statement is this:
May I pass this lesson onto you?
Listen to your body when it is giving you clear signals to see a doctor and take care of yourself, for goodness sake, because if you don’t put yourself high ‘on the list’, this is the sort of thing that can happen to you.
Ironically, in the waiting room, my reading was Hot (Sweaty) Mamas, by Kara Douglas Thom and Laurie Lethert Kocanda, an enthusiastic book about making personal fitness a priority in your hectic life as a mother.
I neglected to mention previously that this book was a win from Kate Hopper’s blog, Mother Words:Mothers Who Write. I am incredibly grateful, Kate, thank you. Once I can get back on both feet, I am so on this!
In fact, even before I am back on both feet, I am starting a belly dancing class next Monday.
Last week’s storms broke Grandma’s hanging tomato plant. The remaining tomatoes are ripening on our kitchen counter.
I chopped some garlic as I started to scramble the eggs. I gave the swiss chard a few licks with the knife and tossed those in. I took a small tomato from the opposite counter did the same. A little salt and pepper later, and voila!
Garden fresh swiss chard and tomato scramble, from garden to plate.
This is why I love to garden. Everything you grow yourself inspires and tastes better, from plant to table in ten minutes.