"She’s not stupid." I said to Husband, my voice full of scorn as Husband scolded me yet again for leaving Tigger the Dog on the deck. “She won’t jump off. She’s not that dumb.” He reminded me again, his Scottish accent becoming thicker and more unintelligible, that the deck was not level and was slowly sliding down the side of the hill. That there were boards that had popped up from the shifting and general decay. That the railing was low enough for TTD to jump over, should she be so inclined. That she ran through the electric fence chasing a fox and would likely jump the rail if a chipmunk teased her, wiggled it's tail and told her to jump. “Serioosly. Hoo dumb dae ye hink she is?”I asked, totally mocking his accent. “She wulnea jump!” The discussion closed, I moved onto other things. Days passed. Seasons changed. The sky stopped spitting snow, the sun came out and the world became green again. And then yesterday was a beautiful sunny morning and the temperature was just right outside to air out the house so I let TTD out onto the deck to lie in the patch of sunlight as I cleaned up the kitchen. Then I, out of the corner of my eye, I caught her, up on her hind legs, paws on the railing, head outstretched, tongue trying to get at the bread I’d put into the bird feeder that was attached somewhat precariously to outside of the rail. She was on her toes, her nails the only thing keeping her from sliding forward on the deck and tipping her top-heavy head over the side and into the mess of a garden below. I hate it when Husband is right. Meanwhile, the baby Owls are growing... Harpo still likes to play hide and seek with me. I seldom see him but Zeppo and Groucho are all over the place, hop flying about the treetops. They made it safely through the storm - albeit looking like total soggy and miserable puff balls the whole time. It is possible I might just be projecting their feelings just a bit. It was seriously wet and windy as I stood under their tree trying to eyeball them through my binoculars, the rain sneaking under my big umbrella and right down my neck.
Anyway, I’m not sure how much longer they’ll be in plain sight. Mr. or Mrs. Owl or the sibs Larry and Moe are no longer hanging out on the branches near by. Or maybe they are and I just can't see them. The leaves that have finally filled in the branches hide their daytime sitting spot. When I’m feeling lonely for owls, I check in with the ones in Indiana and see how things are going with them. They are far less fuzzy than when I first found them. It won’t be long before they fly away too. Sad morning thoughts; the Owls flying off to explore the world and Husband being right about the stupid dog. This is not the best way to start the weekend. Especially since I’ll be playing lovely assistant to husband as he builds a staircase. I'm going to snap out of it with a little Bill Cosby - my audio father growing up. I was telling a friend about listening to Bill Cosby when we were children because we didn't have a TV. This is just an audio clip Part 1 and Part 2 but worth a thousand smiles sure to cure any sad morning thoughts. Enjoy!
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Yesterday morning. I’ve been up for almost three hours. I’ve completed my morning routine of letting the dog out, chugging a glass of water, and writing my blog post. I’ve even managed to eat breakfast; making a delicious BLT out of the three slices of bacon I’d made for Husband the night before. Three slices that I’d left for him while I was off at rehearsal. Slices he was to use to make his own BLT for dinner after returning the U-haul truck he’d rented to pick up stuff for the stupid basement stairs. But he opted to eat a pizza instead. I’m not one to judge. Okay, I lie. I totally am. How he could choose pizza over bacon, I do not understand but he did and so, when I went looking for breakfast, there they were, three slices of bacon begging me to become part of a morning BLT.
Anyway, I’m sitting at the counter, script in front of me, trying to drill lines, empty bacon container to the left of the empty plate in front of me. I hear Husband’s footsteps coming down the hallway, into the den and notice the change in pace from a somewhat hurried stride to a toddler temper tantrum as soon as he spots the empty container. HUSBAND: Noooooooooo!!! You ate the bacon! ME: Sorry. HUSBAND: You. Ate. The. Bacon. ME: I'm sorry. He shifts his body from foot to foot, shoulders dancing dejectedly, his pouting face whining as he mimes the making of his sandwich with his hands. HUSBAND: Bread, bacon, HP sauce, breakfast… ME: I’m really sorry. You didn’t eat it for dinner... HUSBAND: But you made it for me-ee-ee. It was my bacon. ME: I made it for you to eat at dinner but you had a pizza so I thought it was fair game. HUSBAND: But… But… (He mimes the making of his sandwich again; whine reaching a pitch only dogs can hear) Bread, bacon, HP sauce, breakfast… What I said next came out of my relatively straight face without a hint of snarky tone - ME: Would you like me to make you some more? What I didn’t say but my totally laughing and pointing self was thinking - ME: Remember when I went to the fridge last week, all excited to have a slice of my Terry’s Dark Chocolate Orange Ball and found nothing but a empty wrapper and some chocolate crumbs and you laughed at my pain and suffering and I vowed revenge? Well, my dear husband, how’d ya like them apples? But I’m a good person. So, I didn’t say it. I thought it but I didn't say it. And honestly, he would have asked me what the hell apples had to do with it and I would have had to explain it's a saying and he would have said he hates apples and the conversation would have gone onto several more tangents of randomness... so I just quickly made him some bacon for his “Bread, bacon, HP sauce, breakfast…” sandwich and went about my day. But I was smiling. And my day was unintentionally better. Because sometimes, when you’re not even looking for it, the universe presents you with just what you need. You only have to keep an eye out for the delicious moments that karma brings you and sit back to enjoy them when they smack him in the face. |
AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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