All entries must be received by March 8 for the Second Annual Isabella Dog Biscuits Short Story contest –
Monthly Archives: February 2014
If I read one more story about how great it is to be a woman today I just may go postal out of sheer frustration. One more story about how “she deserved it,” one more picture of a beaten kid, one more rich, white dude complaining about how his life sucks because he has to pay child support. Gaaaahhhhh!
Here’s some Jo Dee Messina. She says it like it is…
My eyes snapped open before the alarm this morning. I couldn’t breathe. My heart started to race as I tried to drag in some air around a huge obstruction. Raising my hands to my throat, I encountered a mass of fur that wasn’t there when I went to sleep. It felt like a hairy snake and immediately began to purr. Seems Revy decided to sleep across my neck, sprawled out with his belly resting right on top of my windpipe.
This shouldn’t have been possible, seeing as how I’m normally a side sleeper, but obviously the new bed is comfortable enough that I turn onto my back at the same hour Revy decides to start his wake-up routine. Threat of suffocation is, evidently, the latest in a long line of tactics designed to steal my sleep and get kibble into his bowl in the least amount of time. Guess this means I better not drink before bed or maybe I won’t wake up in the morning.
Spring is in the air and it was a very busy weekend. Thursday, Friday and Saturday saw me awake at 0530. Wide awake and listening to the birds outside. Revy is beside himself with joy. Apparently, his training methods are finally paying off and breakfast is being served on time.
I sewed up a bed for the dog, low in the center with a soft, raised edge, something I thought I could use as a training tool to make her be still instead of barking and having a fit when someone approaches the trailer. You know, train her to act like a Real Dog? As you can see, it was not received as planned:
Revy finds it perfect – a fort to defend against canine insurgents, a bathing platform and soft bed to sprawl upon after racing around like a maniac. The dog has been exiled to whatever small space she can find:
The good news is that the furniture is finally arranged to my liking and the silver insulation has been removed from the windows, letting in the beautiful Spring sunshine. Of course, the brisk Spring breezes now have easier access, but one has to take the good with the not-so-good, no?
Is there any other kind?
Awana came over and I instantly commandeered her van to haul a new mattress and “bunky board” back to Towanda so I can at last have a Real Bed! I haven’t slept in it yet because surely poor Awana deserved that pleasure more than I did – I ask her to come over for a little R & R and then proceed to drag her all over the county for my own ends. The project is finished and I’m quite happy, though. I also rewarded her with many episodes of Dexter and lots of tea and knitting time, so I hope it wasn’t too bad 🙂
More projects to come!
Sabu and I went to the dog park on Friday between work and knitting class and found it flooded. She went for a swim and had a great time. Awana and I went back yesterday and conditions hadn’t changed:
The park slopes down 3 or 4 feet towards the fence, leaving maybe 2/3 of it high and dry. On Friday there were geese swimming here. Inspired by having an audience of two, Sabu began to wade out towards the fence:
And kept going:
If you’re guessing that I waded in to save my stupid dog from her folly, you would be wrong – it was cold and starting to rain. I walked away and she remembered she knows how to swim. She wasn’t happy about it, but what choice did she have?
Towanda smells like wet dog, but we all survived. Sabu is due at the dog groomer’s tomorrow and now the groomer will have to earn her fee 🙂
Here’s another illustration that refutes the narrative narcs and their ilk constantly spout about how “special” or “superior” they are – they all follow the very same playbook and my ex was no exception. You would think that such an exclusive club would at least have some variety in its membership!
A Quick Guide to Hoovering for the determined domestic abuse perpetrator – and those of us determined to make that permanent break from our abuser.
I’m an abuser. Why do I need to hoover?
Yes, ordinarily you have a woman to do the vacuuming. But if you wish to keep her at the kitchen sink, you’ll need some ‘hoovering‘ skills of your own. These are a set of tactics designed to suck a target back into an abusive relationship.Finely-honed hoovering skills will be enormously useful when your partner makes a bid to shake you off – or, unbelievably, actually leaves you.
To successfully hoover, you need to leave…
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Here we are again at the second most commercial American Holiday. For those of you not aware, this is the red hearts holiday, as opposed to the red and white candy cane one.
I’ve always had a problem with V-day. It’s so fake. So contrived. So commercial. So fucking stupid. Even as a kid, I resented having to give everyone in class a cheap little card when mostly I hated them all. Oh, Miss Sofie had no use for the imbeciles she was forced to spend time with every day. If she could have stooped so low as to use curse words, she would have sounded like a sailor describing the wild animals in class.
But this isn’t about childhood trauma. This post is all about that most “romantic” of days – Valentine’s Day.
God I hate the hypocrisy of V-day. Last year was the first V-day in 25 years that I “celebrated” as a single woman. The liberation was as sweet as the darkest fudge brownie, rolling across the palate like a fine Merlot, scenting the air with the fine fragrance of a hot lavender bubble bath.
And then the narc started in with his bullshit. I did my best to ignore it, celebrating Galentine’s Day with Awana instead, but the narc was persistent. When I failed to respond to his offers of love, he got mad. And then I got mad. I quit being civil and started telling him what I really thought of him. I had to explain to people why I wasn’t broken up over the ending of my relationship because everyone thought I was nuts for not being miserable to be spending V-day alone.
Ha! You know, I can’t recall a happy V-day. A box of chocolates (cheap, stale chocolates, usually) and/or an impersonal card do not a happy day make. It’s like the men in my life felt obligated to get these things for me but there was never any sincerity behind their actions. It was so obvious to me at the time, but I ignored my gut and thanked them. What a chump I was!
I could go on and on about how if two people love each other, every day should be romantic and loving, but fuck that shit. Being single rocks! I have everything I need with none of the obligations and pleasing another person to contend with. It’s all about ME now and I’m still loving it.
I don’t miss having someone to cuddle on this “most romantic” of days because I know there won’t be any obligatory sex on the agenda either.
I don’t miss being chastised for my lack of romance or abysmal gift-giving skills.
I sure don’t miss being told “it would take eight of you to keep me entertained.”
Fuck all that shit. I’m sorry for you singletons out there who are unhappy about your relationship state – I can’t relate, but I do want everyone to be happy 🙂
On this day, go forth and love the one you’re with, even if it’s just you…
And quit being influenced by the media hype over this stupid day – it’s all bullshit designed to make you feel Less Than whatever the current trend is.