The four-footed one decided to take a nap on my shoes. I have no idea why she thought is would be comfortable or enjoyable. Maybe she was too tired to make it anywhere else. Maybe she was overcome with exhaustion or such and simply collapsed where she was. Then again she may have passed out. You see she’s developed this cute habit of sticking her head into people’s shoes. If her whole head doesn’t fit, she pushes her face into the shoe as much as possible and seems to inhale deeply. Yes I know, gross. Yes I know, she’s my dog, but it is still gross. N my shoes do t have a strong order to them, but that’s not the point.
For the record, I found her on top of the shoes, not in them or near them, but on them. And she seemed, well, peaceful I guess. So the question was, what to do. Should I leave her where she is or move her?
Since I am not a fan of pain for no reason, I opted to leave her. Yes she’s the size of a shoe box and yes she’s well under 20 pounds, but when she’s sleeping, she is a heavy weight. Also when she is roused from her slumber against her wishes she likes to let you know by putting her teeth on you. Not a true bite, but enough of one to let you know she’s not happy.
So I left her there, on my shoes, looking like she had passed out and left for whatever. I figured that Beloved could deal with her if it was an issue.
There is a tiny red flower that always grows in the spot each year. Regardless of the weather, the politics, the horrible things that happen, this red flower still grows.
For as long as I have been there this flower grows. And long after I leave here, this flower will carry on doing what it does. It will disappear when winter comes and when spring comes it will reappear. It’s like a bit of magic, nature’s way.
This red flower has been a sign of hope, strength, smiles and curiousity for me. I’ve sat beside it on nice days when it seems the world is not what I remeber or want. This flower has been why I’ve gotten up and gone outside some days. And why I’ve yelled at the four-footed one who soemtimes lets her energy get in the way of seeing things like a delicate red flower growing through the cracks.
I’ve debated cutting it some years, to bring it in the house as soemthing to cherish on my own. I’ve never done it, something always stops me and reminds me that it belongs where it is. To cut it, to take it into the house would be to turn it captive to my whims. It is meant to be where it is, free and wild and simply being what it is.
Today I saw the bud of the red flower, just getting ready to unfurl itself into its marvellous bit of magic. In a day or two it will open up its magic, throwing itself out into the sunlight, the breeze and the curious nose of one small four-footed companion. And in a few days I will read beside this red flower while the four-footed frolics in the fresh grass. Because sometimes all we need is a red flower, growing in the cracks to be reminded that things continue, that magic exists.
There are so many things in life that just sort of happen. Some of them happen without us really noticing and other happen under our watchful gaze. And some of those many things are things we dream of, hope for and wish for. Other times we don’t even recognize these things until long after.
Today th four-footed one tried puppy icecream as it was called. She throughly enjoyed it. Well until she suddenky made an odd noise, flopped on her back and started thrashing about. I picked her up, held her upright and suddenly she coughed up some puppy ice cream. It was just one of those things. A simple thing. A dog enjoying a safe, normal dog treat.
And it was another of those things that just sort of happened. The ordinary became anything but. The Adeline kicks on, the panic following close on the heels. The fear or anxiety that refuses to leave after things go back to being, well one of those ordinary moment to enjoy. That was it.
There are things that, but for the blink of an eye or a minor change, would just be an ordinary thing. And there are things that should be ordinary and straight forward, yet they become anything other than that. My four-footed companion just sort of happened into my life. A joyous thing! Also something that I easily take for granted. Until something like today happenes and then it’s not an ordinary thing or just a thing.
I hate having to check myself before I do anything. It feels oppressive, unfair and wrong. And yet I do. Check myself. I check myself before I comment on how I feel or mention if I’m doing something “normal”, or potential energy consuming. There is no law, at least not one on the books, that says I need to do this. But I do. Because I have lupus.
Trying to get people to understand lupus can feel oppressive or unfair. Because it takes up precious energy and uses emotions which take up energy and I have lupus. So it’s oppressive in some way. But I talk about it, I try to help people understand. And I feel the weight of responsibility, which can be oppressed.
Trying to balance hanging out with friends, having a vacation and living with lupus can feel oppressive. But I’m not dead. I have a job, a life, love and such. And now and then I feel almost like who I used to be. So I do things I used to do. And then feel guilty about this because I have lupus. And that guilt is very oppressive. I’m not sure if this again is a self imposed law, but I can’t seem to shake it. I have guilt because I can do things I know other lupus patients can’t. I have guilt because just when people sort of understand my lupus, I do something so normal that it’s like I’m saying my lupus isn’t that bad. I have guilt because friends and loved ones have to deal with the rapid change of lupus and our plans. And it’s all so oppressive and unfair.
So I check myself. I edit my actions and words. I edit my dreams and my choices and I feel the oppression of all of this as well as the weight of being sick. It’s unfair to those in my life,because I am never able to be completely free. It’s wrong because I want to be transparent, but I don’t want to create more worry. So I check myself. And it feels oppressive and I hate myself for knowing what I’m doing and still doing it. And yes, I just checked myself again before sending this off.
Have you ever wanted to run away from your job, classes, responsibilites etc.? It’s okay, you don’t have to say it out loud. It can be our little secret. I won’t tell, I promise.
Have you ever wanted to ignore the rules? Speed? Park wherever you want? Maybe you want to ignore this polite lining up thing people do? Maybe you want to be served first, or as soon as you arrive. It’s okay if you have answered yes. It’s natural to want these things. You are human after all. (I hope.)
Have you ever wanted to tell someone exactly what you think? Maybe you want to tell them they need more deodorant or the hair color they chose really isn’t working for them? Perhaps you’ve wanted to tell a certain young man that he needs to pull up his sweat pants and realize no one needs to see his undies. Or maybe you’ve wanted to tell your boss that there is a difference between attention to detail and micromanaging. Maybe you’ve wanted to tell you coworker that no one should watch her with her half chewed food moving around in her mouth as she imitates a cow.
It’s okay if you’ve ever wanted to do any of these things or more. Completely okay. Completely normal. It’s okay to even imagine you doing thee things if it helps you move forward. It is not, however, usually okay to actually do these things. But sometimes, sometimes, it’s okay.
We all need to tilt at windmills sometimes. Now and then some of those windmills are bigger than others. Some of the tilting we do is more wild than other times. It’s just the way things go. We’ve seen it, we’ve learned it and we’ve done it.
Sometimes the tilting we do doesn’t make sense to others, it’s as if we shout into the wind and expect it to carry our pleas to where they need to go. It isn’t always cut and dried or clear. Some days what we do doesn’t make sense to others, but it still provides us with results. Or because it’s magic, up because it’s impossible to know everything or understand everything.
And sometimes, well sometimes none of it makes sense. It just is. Not that this is a justification for oppression, violence, death or hate. There is no justification, none at all, for any of it. And yet sometimes we have these things to deal with. So we do what we think is best, shedding light, gathering strength and awareness. Maybe, just maybe, as we shout into the wind and tilt at a windmill our voices will be carried and a monster tamed. So sometimes we just keep going because you never really know, even when you think you know it’s going to be alright. And sometimes if enough of us do it, at the same time or in the same way we can right the wrong, remove the weight and show the strength of love.
A small table. Two chairs. A nice bit of cloth. Some sparking glasses and a pitcher of something refreshing and just right. A patch of sunlight. A gentle breeze carrying the music softly as it makes it way along. So perfect for what we wanted and needed.
No it wasn’t anything super fancy. No servants to fill the glasses or bring the food to us. But that’s okay because we aren’t that type of people anyway. I’d not know what to do with someone to pour my drink, wait on my every whim. Besides if it happened all the time, I’d take it for granted. Not to mention forget how to do it for myself.
So yes it wasn’t the south of France, heck it wasn’t even that far away that we couldn’t hear the traffic. But it didn’t matter. Love is like that isn’t it? It’s taking what you have and somehow realizing that love makes it all that much more special and perfect.
It’s stolen moments in a hectic day. A quick touch as you pass in a hallway. It’s the dishes and the chores. It’s the boring stuff as well as the exciting times. And it’s a small table with two chairs set up waiting for two people to simply sit in comfortable silence, enjoying each other for just being there.
A bright, shiny, darling young thing slowly made her way to where he stood holding a drink while talking with some other people. Being young, bright and darling her confidence was high, her steps sure and her hair with just the right bounce. A quick pause, a light hand and she asked him if he wanted to dance.
He smiled, spoke to her gently and shook his head no while pointing to something across the way from where they stood. He smiled, waved and gave me that look he saves just for me. I waved and smiled and watched her make her way quickly away from the scene. She surprised me the way she made her way to where I was sitting. She smiled at me and said she was sorry, she had no idea he was “taken”, she had only wanted a dance with the charming professor.
The charming professor normally loves to dance, rarely misses an opportunity. Needless to say I was a bit surprised that he had turned her down, except she was one of his students. As I would learn shortly after she left and he joined me. He sat down and to,d me he didn’t want to dance. Not with a student, not with anyone. He was content to visit, spend only a short time here and then take me home so I could rest my lupus plagued body. I knew, when I got home, he’d dance by himself as he got stuff ready. And it’s a lovely thing. Almost as good when we table dance or bed dance.
The four-footed one has been listening to frogs call out to each other. It’s that time of year where boy frogs seek the companionship of girl frogs, so they call out or do whatever it is that frogs do to draw attention to themselves.
The problem with this is that sometimes the frogs draw attention to themselves, but it isn’t attention they want. Such as hungry birds looking for the delicacy of frog legs and such. Or the attention of a curious dog who needs to get closer whenever possible. As in close enough to touch, or taste as the case may be.
But the frogs must ignore the risks, some will be a sacrifice and others will hook up with frogs to carry on the lineage. Some of the sacrifices will be flown away to be honored by being consumed in branches, and sadly some will be eaten where they are found. And then there are the ones that the four-footed one found.
She tried to pat them and give them a kiss. Who knows maybe she was looking for her prince charming. She chased them and caught them in between her paws. She was having a ball. The same cannot be said for the frogs who encountered her. Or for that matter Beloved, who was holding onto her leash and thus had as much frog fun as he ever wanted in life.
As we made our way back, a small frog hopped out of the cuff of Beloved’s pants. I guess it’s a quick way to get from one place to another, especially when an overly excited dog wants to be your friend and you are just looking for sexy time. Who knows, maybe the frog got lucky in more ways than just surviving time with the four-footed one.
The four-footed one and Beloved took a leisurely stroll around the lake today while I curled up with a book, a nice drink in a comfortable chair with an amazing view of the lake. It was a bit windy when the two of them left so I wasn’t sure how long she’d walk with him.
Evidently being in the new place, this lake at the Inn, was enough to overcome her dislike of the wind as they were gone longer than I thought. Beloved loves to ramble along the edges of places like this. Of course he loves to go the the Loch Ness too, so this isn’t that much of a surprise. The four-footed one on the other hand, isn’t a fan of these places typically.
When they returned, Beloved smiling and the four-footed one ready to simply flop, a plate of warm scones, a tea pot and some tea cups appeared on the table beside me. Apparently Beloved made arrangements to have scones and tea brought to where I was once he came back from his walk.
A girl could get used to this. She could actually get very used to this. She might not mind the limitations lupus placed on her while she was in a place like this if she was taken care of this way. At least this girl could. And why not, I had a good book, my two favorite companions, freshly baked scones and a delightful view all there for me.