on noodles.

we always had a couple, hoarded around the outside of the pool, barracading us against the unassuming canine or grandparent, keeping the intruders out and the fish in.
they were always made up of some sort of metal piping and white strips of rubbery plastic, burning our un-toweled backsides, warranting no sympathy from the "i told you so" looks of our kitchen aid mother.
so what if lounge chairs didn't float? it only took a couple of hurricanes for us to realize that sitting on a chair under the water was much more exhilarating than holding your breath above.
which is exactly what she was doing when i walked in to the sanctuary yesterday. her stretcher was padded, albeit with a meager foam pad and blankets, but underneath the cushion were the same plastic strips and metal piping.
her lifeguard was a gentleman who appeared to be in his early eighties: one pair of bottle cap glasses, two aids for hearing, a smattering of liver-spots on his hands.
i watched as he quietly propped her willowy frame up against the back of the chair. i smiled when i saw that her velcroed shoes still kept time with the music, that she only nodded off a few times during the sermon.
but mostly i caught his head...tilted just a little bit further to the left than normal, caught the frames of his spectacles focused only on his one, tiny swimmer.
and some thing the pastor said about a big lake and a very small fishing boat and no luck all night.
keeping the intruders out and his fish in.

on frustrations

since when did 68.4 kilometers become so far?

In Defense of the Canis lupus

I was born into the fold of black sheep.
Therefore, I believe I am allotted at least one major pitfall or setback in the next few years.
I have yet to cash in my token, but believe me, I am sure getting antsy.

Baa.

on losing, pt ii.

I don't so much mind that we are estranged,
that we never write,
or talk: never swapping stories over tin-can-phone-strings.

I don't mind so much that you are older,
that your job consumes time,
makes money: some thing I have yet to manage wisely.

I do mind that in the span of less than five years,
I have forgotten to call you my brother,
and friend: and in so doing never quite manage to grasp
sister
as tightly.

a parting thought.

"I bend my arrows now in circles & I shoot around the hill
If I don't get you in the morning, by the evening I sure will.
By the evening, I sure will."

re: feral cats

I guess I haven`t been giving myself much space or time to write lately. Mostly, I have been occupied with observations about people and animals and interactions. I am trying to have more grace with all these things.
Like some days this tattoo still looks very dark on my wrist, even though I can't remember the artist's name, I have d to remind me. And some times my heart feels very heavy, even though I really didn't know you that well.
I suppose it is recognizing that I am no better and no less than my neighbor, even if I do like walking dogs. And that it is okay to communicate slowly and more thoughtfully than some one else may think is normal.
I cannot speak for you or your family, animals, or friends. So I speak for myself when I say that if there was only one thing I could do infinitely well for the rest of my human existence, it would be to live with too much grace.
Yes, I am a cynic on many levels. But, I can still try!

on naming things.

I spent the better half of the past two weeks transporting my self around town by any means other than Jetta. Jetta was spending some well deserved vacation time, housed in a garage, having her insides examined and receiving new organs as needed. I spent the majority of that time either begging rides off of e, or riding my bicycle from point a to point b. Let me tell you some thing about bicycles. There are a few different kinds; mountain, road, hybrid, commuter, to name a few. Giant is a sort of crossover, not purebred, but some mix of the above. I have had this lofty notion in my head for several months now that I will soon be trading in Giant for a SSS (sweet, sleek, sexy) Bianchi. Though we have never met, Bianchi and I will be good for each other. Sometimes a girl just knows these things.
And so I faithfully rode my Giant up and down the coastal highway two and three times a day, convincing myself that if I am "still riding this old thing!" (after a year?!), that probably means I will be the perfect candidate for Bianchi in the near future. (I can barely feel its weight as I sling the frame over my shoulder and climb the stairs to my apartment...)
Alas, I am brought back to reality as I lug Giant's deadweight up to the safety of our second-floor balcony.