Bender is old. Bender has lumps. Bender has what I'm nearly certain is skin cancer on her belly. I google-imaged to be sure, but quickly wanted to barf (don't ever, ever google-image that term, I mean it). And it breaks my heart, but brings me immediately back to the first point and the way all old dogs break all our hearts.
Every day the old Bender and the Sophie puppy chase tennis balls and run together and I adore the way their soft-black-ears flop in tandem.
It's a day early, but I've surreptitiously acquired The New Album from The Contentious Band (the one connected with that a-mazing continent quote I sent you last week), and so my brief-ish road trip down the what lately is becoming a very-well-traveled road will be a better one. Although I do wish it were a better destination this time than lying in a brain-scanning claustrophobic tunnel for 12 minutes, but maybe that will lead to some answers about my scattered-ness, or not.
I've never loved summer, as the blog-audience surely well knows, and again it occurred to me that it's another thing rooted in control. I can't control being too effing hot, to the point of stifle. I can't control the outcome of the garden, whether it will be high-yield or lagging, whether the tomatoes will like the way we tied and staked them (this year, not so much - #pinterestfail). And I especially can't control the insane weed-growth taking over the flower beds. I mean I could, if I had enough funds and/or stamina to haul in 2 tons of mulch redo the whole thing. Which will in fact happen at some point I imagine, but not anytime soon? And so that continues to vex me as I throw the ball and adore the floppy ears. Adore-seethe, adore-seethe, is how it goes.
The preschool room will be painted Pineapple Delight, which isn't nearly as manic as it sounds, and even though it was my third choice color (the other two were blues and greens and so much calmer...), at least it was a choice of mine? I mean, let it go Penelope. How many people get to all but dictate the entire look of their classrooms from the start? My lovely third choice is better than like, Schoolbus Spectacular, or some other imagined horror.
We finished Orange is the New Black (SO. good. brills.) and also through some luck reinstated direcTV - something about, well, football is starting, and we have a credit, and oh now there's another ginormous credit through the referral program. Like we won't even have to pay for it all for 2 more months? I waffle on the "need" for any extra forms of entertainment - it's not a need at all, what am I saying - but as far as luxuries go. We by no means have the Cadillac package, more like the Ford Focus.
Well anyway, my love - it's time to go. adieu adieu, til next time.
p.s. did we both order ravioli then? Because I seem to distinctly remember also having that. And, we were not given a very good table. By the wall, definitively out of the action, all but squirreled away. I expect the shoe baron to land us a better spot, to see and be seen, dammit! when the day comes.