A Bad Parody or Why I love Him

You know how phrases can date you?  The man who stole my heart asked me if I wanted to “get jiggy” with him the other evening.  Now I’m sure he meant it as a way to create a “mood”,  but probably not the one he did.

Jiggy is not a word I expect to come from his mouth.  Not ever.  Jiggly?  Sure.  I can buy that.  But jiggy?  Not so much.

It’s the same when he says he’s hanging with “his crew”.  The man does not have a crew. He has mates.  Sometimes he calls them blokes.  They are not ever a crew.  Unless a group of middle-aged academics who wear scarves around their necks and carry bags are considered a crew.

He never grew up in the ‘hood, although the areas he grew up in is similar to some of the projects I’ve seen in North America.  Minus the gun violence and the crack cook houses. He grew up poor, the violence was more with knives and fists and they weren’t gangs involved with drugs, more likely drinks, but hey!

And there is no way this man could ever be living the thug life.  Not when he corrects people’s grammar and word choice.  What type of bad guy says please and thank you and knows when to use who versus whom?

Not that I’m complaining or yearning for a rebel without a cause.  I’m rather taken with this man even though he isn’t what I would have thought I wanted.  Not if you had asked me before I got to know the man behind the cardigan with leather patches on the elbows.

No he may never use the certain words others can pull off, but then that’s fine with me because he’s a good guy who is bad at trying to be bad!  Think of him in terms of a really proper version of Vanilla Ice! 😉

 

Animal Side

Someone once told me that my totem animal would dictate certain things in my life such as foods I liked and typeof spaces that would make me feel most comfortable.  Now given these guidelines my tastes run towards cheese, nuts, pasta, cake and citrus.  Near as I can tell we are aiming for a rat, a big old city alley rat when it comes to food.

As far as space goes, well I like wide open spaces, wonderful views of water, hills, mountains and History!  I must have my own space and would prefer to have some serious separation between myself and others.  Potentially still looking at a big city alley rat.

Of course I learned my totem animal is a beaver,  basically a water-loving rodent that has huge teeth and a rather large tail.  I don’t enjoy the taste of wood and am not one of those water-babies that seem to be normal occurrences in nature.  I’d prefer to. To have large teeth or a flat tail because I’m not sure what to do with a tail.  I do rather like the way a beaver doesn’t care about anyone else when it goes about building its dam.  That’s a bit of a bonus!

Beloved discovered his totem animal is hawk.  And I’m a bit jealous of that.  I mean a hawk is cool, a beaver?  Not so much.  Not that I’ve known Beloved to eat rodents or small birds and he has a limit when it comes to heights.  It does make me wonder how someone ends up with the totem animal that they do.

I’ve told Beloved we will need to stock up on seeds and nuts and cheese and of course pizza to feed my totem animal.  He is welcome to head out and hunt for whatever it is that he desires to eat! 😉  (I refuse to eat wood and have decided that my totem animal is a city alley rat that happens to be the size of a beaver!)

 

Garden Gifting

I like to say I harvest from my garden, in a very small sense.  As in I pick the herbs for cooking, I take the ripe tomatoes and peppers, pull the rhubarb when it’s ready and basically pick the colorful flowers now and then.  That’s the extent of my harvesting.

Beloved’s sister truly harvests from her garden.  She goes tomatoes, onions, carrots, beets, potatoes, peas, beans and has an apple tree.  She weeds, waters, tends and nurtures.  And this year she added squash, cute little squash.  Squash that she has grown from seed.

His sister is a lady who knows how to use and preserve everything.  She cans and pickles.  She freezes and sauces.  She is a dynamo in the kitchen to my struggling attempts.  And generous too, is she.  For she will share with many people who garden’s delights.  She will praise my growing, marvel at my use of herbs and hand me jars upon jars of her garden’s  bounty.

In turn Beloved and I will use her gifts too cook with, sharing our creations with her and her family.  She claims this is the true gift of her garden, the sharing and bringing together over food and good times.  I tend to agree, as long as you aren’t counting on me to grow much…I’m still trying to figure out what is a weed!

Wandering Soul and Free Spirited Passion

Beloved can’t understand my wandering nature.  When I tell him I have an urge to hop in the car and just drive to wherever, he looks ay me as though I’ve just come in from another planet.  He doesn’t understand this need to just go, go somewhere, any where.  He can’t fathom not having a set destination and reason for a trip.  And I, I can’t fathom not just following wherever the road takes me, letting the adventure simply be what it will.

Some days I just don’t want to go to work or wherever.  Some days are just made to drive and be free.  Okay so my soul says every day could be made for just seeing where the road takes me.  The bills however say something different.  They remind me I’m not as free as I want to be.  I’m tied to things like work because I have is weird habit of wanting shelter and food.  And unfortunately I’ve never figured out how to work for me and make my living that way.  I dream about it…oh how I dream.  But I never get it.

Belived can’t stand he idea of simply following a whim with no end goal other than ending up somewhere.  Going on a trip?  One should pre plan everything.  Sure you can have a few down hours here and there.  But whole days?  He can’t cope with it.  Too much freedom makes him feel uncomfortable I guess.

So some days I hop in the vehicle alone, heading into the wide unknown for a few hours because I know he worries when I do this and spend more than 24 hours away, just because I can.  Give me huge swaths to travel, new places to check out and beautiful days to heal my soul and fuel my passion and I’m good.  Now if only I can set Beloved’s soul to enjoy free wandering without needing plans etc!

It’s Naturally Humorous But I Don’t Get It

Can someone please explain to me how, or why to be more exact, that the weather knows when I’ve just cleaned my windows?  Without fail, the minute I’ve managed to get my windows clean and free of steaks s huge wind will come up to out dirt back on my windows.  And of course that isn’t really enough so it rains, just enough to make a mess all over my windows again.

Beloved watches, and I mean watches, the weather to ensure it will be dry, sunshine filled before he tackles with windows.  And the minute he does, it’s as if the forecast changes.  Pretty sure nature does this as some form of a joke.  Only I’m not laughing. Yeah I know, that’s my issue.

Of course the same thing happens when I rake leaves.  No sooner than do I get them all raked up and in the bag for a moment to admire the green grass which had been lost under the leaves and the wind comes along and gives me more.  More that aren’t even from my trees.  Because my trees don’t have leaves that shed.

Now I know into every life a little rain, dirty windows and leaves must come.  But why, oh why I ask you, does this always have to be a fight with me and nature.  With me always on the shorter end of the stick.  Anyone?  Anyone at all know?

Remembering

Memories are a strange thing.  You think in the moment that they will remain crystal clear and sharp always.  But the mind slowly makes things fuzzy and blurry, especially when it comes to people and animals that you’ve loved and lost.  Maybe it’s a good thing.

Some memories are easy to recall, taking back to a time and place.  Others take me to a feeling. I can’t imagine not being able to recall my memories, they are a part of my very being.  They are my history, my experience and basically help to form the person I am today.

And yet there are diseases that rob you of your memories, leaving you with an empty slate.  A part of you not there any more, not like you were.  And sadly for those who love people who have lost their memory the memory that is left is of their loved one lost in some other place.  So in a way the memory loss affects two or more people even though only one has the disease.

I can’t imagine life without my memories, and a part of me lives in fear of the what if.  What if I lose my memory?  Beloved once jokingly told me that I wouldn’t know that I had lost my memory, once it was lost.  If only that were the case, if only there was some easy way of managing this, but alas that doesn’t seem to be the case.

We joke, Beloved and I, about losing our memory when we forget where we placed the phone or the keys.  We joke because these are small things, typical things people forget all the time.  Innocent moments.  But are they the hint of something more?  You see here is the rub, we could get tested, but we are afraid.  Afraid of a potential outcome, allowing fear to paralyze us and hold us in some strange dance.  A dance that maybe has us waltzing with faded memories while listening to unfamiliar music no thinking we’ve always known this tune.

Cold, Empty Arms After A Last Ride or Why My Dog Is Better Than I ever Will Be

It’s funny how empty your arms feel, after you know you will never hold a particular loved one again.  All the times you’ve taken that warm, sweet, comforting weight against your body and just took it for granted that it would always be there.  And then one day, one hard day, it isn’t any more.

I don’t think I will be able to erase the cold empty feeling in my arms grinds.  I’ve tried, oh how I’ve tried.  But I’m cold and empty and I don’t think my heart can be fixed any more.  You see today we noticed one of our beloved four-footed friends struggling with walking on and off.  And then it was breathing became a problem which resulted in the last ride together.  The last set of cuddles and kisses, hugs and a struggled tail wag.

Holding my Sweetums for the last time while the medication took hold.  The medication that put my faith companion, the one full of unconditional love, to sleep for the last time.  And while I had my friend, while the medication went to work I thought I’d never lose the feeling. And yet I did.

The house is empty, too still and too lonely in some way.  And my arms are ever so dreadfully empty, a strange feeling settling in that may never go away.  And yet I’m blessed for this darling animal provided me unconditional love, support and a truth about filling life with all that you can in the moment.  And now I’m empty from that.

The sweet weight of that warm body, the louder than normal snoring noises at night, the little barks in sleep and the demand to be included on every trip out the door…those are gone.  But they live on, painfully right now in my heart.  I know that as time goes by it will be easier and I also know I’m a better person for having been loved by my sweet friend.  But it now, right now there is a void I can’t seem to fill and an emptiness that makes my very being shake.

did I hold on long enough?  Did I hold on too long?  Is it okay to let them take the loved one shortly after the procedure or are you supposed to hold on longer?  To each their own, and yet we all go through this.  Even though mentally I knew we were starting the long goodbye a few months back. Always I held out hope.  And maybe hats why after a few moments I was willing to let the body go, for the life and the spirit of the animal I knew and loved was already gone.

This is why love sucks, this is why loving a dog is so hard.  Because at some point we have to say good-bye, and I wasn’t done learning all the lessons yet.  But the schedule wasn’t mine to make and now I can only try to recapture that feeling and hold a sweet bundle of tail wagging, unconditional love in my heart and memories.