the where

Indeed I do think that's the better question, the where are we and how do we meet. I did have to take a day to think about that and return to it as for whatever reason yesterday morning I set about on the wrong foot with it and everything else really. Preschool teeming with full-moon driven children who threw toys and upended baskets for sport. The normally docile ones shoving each other and filling each other's clothes (even a diaper?!) with playground mulch, all admonishments falling on very deaf ears. More ear problems then plagued the afternoon with pulling the children from school early to visit the Expensive Specialist for KLo's persistent complaints. Although I liked the new nurse practitioner there, a ponytailed, vest-wearing, kind of mystical man? He left a lot of space between his thoughts, the effect of which was calming. But also was very amused by us, which in turn amused me back. The remaining KLo ear tube was removed, canals were vacuumed and KLo behaved like some rented child, hired to be angelic. Otherwise, results were inconclusive as to why she's having ear pain, aside from an extremely stuffed nose. So now she's theatrically downing Mucinex (tastes bad!) and taking it upon herself to administer nasal spray in a similarly theatrical manner. Except that she sort of enjoys the spray.

This moon (wolf?) is a very, very weird one.

We returned home post-appointment to find our yard spray painted to indicate utility/cable lines, as well as the neighbor-who-hates-us' yard - what. I imagined her constructing a barbed wire border between us to keep our infernal dogs off her property once and for ALL. And I was half overjoyed, half irritated at the prospect. Like at least tell us you're having work done if it involves our yard? Because that spray paint was pretty much on top of our house in the side yard. So I had to call her and ask and she had no idea. Then J.Lo found the work order in his systems (handy) and uncovered that the spray was for cable installation - at another address. duh. I do hope they figure that out before they start digging. Something else to prespire vaguely over.

Back to the question of our meeting place. What is the answer. In this season of life I admit that I don't miss writing or feel any level of commitment toward it. And I feel distantly like I should feel something about that but then I just shrug and continue plowing through the day. Creating is an important element, yes, and words might be the medium, but they don't have to be necessarily. It's like the way I, seemingly without any forethought, gave up twittering well over a year ago and then a few months ago, instagramming. Which was sporadic at best anyway. There was no why to it, it just suddenly wasn't. And all I've done is shrug over it. 

But I miss you. (duh!) Somehow we must renew our commitment to the conversation, I think. Or the narrative, or whatever we want to call it. Apparently the word writing causes me to flee like a scared, winged thing, but I'm not going to ponder that one too deeply. for now, anyway.

This morning (it's a day later that I'm finishing this, of course - yesterday I was pecking the draft out on my phone while inexplicably eating a Sonic breakfast sandwich in my car - I was that desperate for a moment alone before work? - and today I'm in the living room next to a puppy with Game Show Network on the background, oh the 70s...), an idea popped in my head. I don't know if it's a bad one and probably it's the result of coffee energy but sometimes some of those go somewhere! so they are worth having. Anyway, I was thinking about questions or lists. Kind of like those buzzfeed quizzes are so addictive, except as a side note, all of my recent quiz results have been bizarre: mental age, 24. The place I should live, Cape Town. the fuck? Because I'm the kind of person "who never sits still for a moment." Right. And then the Muppet version of me is the guy who throws fish? You know, the one kind of dressed like a clown. What the hell.

Questions, lists, snippets. How I love them so. And I like this idea of throwing them out to each other like a prompt. Like the "What's Making Me Happy this Week" segment on my favoritest podcast. Well maybe it's dumb, but -

From me, of late:
1. Biggest feat:
Finding a Very Lost Library book. In a place I looked five times already - book shelf in the two-year-old classroom. Literally I was losing sleep over this thing, this book with the happy bunny and his damn happy rainbow, because it's not so much the fine of being overdue (nominal), but the inability to take out new books while it's MIA. Unacceptable! And then the unfinished business of either replacing said book or paying some inflated, standardized replacement fee - bah.

2. I might have a problem with:
Larabars. They've been on sale at Target for at least two weeks now and I can't stop trying new flavors. While I have no interest in Blueberry Muffin, anything with peanut butter or chocolate chips can't be beat. Or cherries, that wasn't bad either. They're the best-lunch-ever when sitting down with a table of tiny people who need assistance at every turn. They're ugly enough that no child wants to steal a bite. They're filling enough that I'm not starving my face off half an hour later. And I really can't delight more in such a short, protein-packed ingredient list that eschews GMO things and supports fair trade.

3. I have the sads about:
my dying Bender. She really can't even run anymore, or shouldn't. We leave her inside while throwing ball for puppy and she cries for the length of this torture. The lumps and bumps grow, the limping and creakiness increase. Watching her lay down or attempt to stand is a cringe. Though we've made her more comfortable with some painmeds. Mental snapshot: Bender on Christmas morning, Giving Up in the midst of the chaos by collapsing in a pile of wrapping paper.

4. Most amazing discovery:
The sketchy-looking business near Food Lion isn't actually a human trafficking operation/illicit massage parlor, but an upstanding adult toy shop. (It's called "Shhh... !ntim@cy on a New Level.") Which actually has a ch@nge dot org petition associated with it, but to keep the place open, not shut it down for human trafficking. Apparently it's way too progressive for this community, to sell toys. Oh, the irony! But really, they ought to choose a better name. My mind ran in circles for months over it.

5. Favorite Downton moment:
Lord Grantham and Carson's faces over the prospect of dining with a singer. YES. What would they talk about, after all..

Your turn?
love,
pen

somethings

as they come to me, so no particular order ~

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. And now I can still watch Survivor.

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.
xoxox

dear m-and-cath,

How you ladies persevere! over the strife of bad hotels and tourist ripoffs (the French are the same way about napkin usage - wtf people?) and somanystairs. Mostly it sounds like you're both rolling with the hot and the sweat and embracing the ride, vanbreakdowns and all. I love hearing about candy-making and random snake-handling and tour guides addicted to Facebook. Also, let's not overlook the fact of a guide named Cornelius, which makes me think of the Rudolph special and Yukon Cornelius checking his pickaxe for gold. (There's an old-school Christmas special reference in EVERYTHING.)

It's been two weeks with Sophie and after her morning bout of Puppy Crazies, she's resting in my lap. Aw, puppy. She's a good one. Loved and loving. Smart and so far an oddly good little puppy student, although there's of course the obligatory streak of stubbornness and spite, with a dash of punk. Would things be interesting otherwise. And Bender, dare-I-say, is making a full recovery with YuckBattle 2013. One would think canned food and meds would be a giant pain in the ass, but that she's a heedless wolfer-downer-of-mushy-food, this has all been mercifully easy. So Bender lives a little while more. ThankyouGod for that. Because she's a spaz, that one, but need I emphasize my love for the creature.

Oh, I feel like I traveled to you last night in my dreams! Like I did some high-five with Cath as she left, and I appeared, and who knows what country we were even in or going to, but it all made sense in the dream. I met M, I feel like? And some other K teachers? There were boats and hotels and sunsets. Cityscape. Lots of glass and water. And it seemed improbable even within the context of the dream that I was there, but somehow there I was and you were like, here's where we are going, come along with me.

Bells was not as epic-long as I had expected, because I'm not in fact playing Sunday (the next Sunday instead), but tonight shall be some silliness in which our director will pretend to be very arrogant, direct us badly, get fed up, direct a recorded performance instead, during which we walk out - then we play for real (hopefully well) without his help, but then he takes a bow for our performance, taking credit. And gets a cream pie to the face. For realsies.

J.Lo has The Snarfle now, adding a high-maintenance wrinkle to weekend events, but whatevs. I think he'll still rally and participate as penelope requires. He did build me the awesome planter box after all, complete with wheels. And I've been gathering Easter Garden supplies, although according to Mom I'm still on Wilmington time with my expectations of what the home improvement store should have available this time of year. Slim pickings, but I'll make do. Yesterday I harvested moss from the yard(!) (will it live!), made a cross from string and sticks, purchased a $4 clay, stone-esque pot MADE IN VIETNAM that will serve as a tomb. Rocks from the yard have been collected. Today I buy dirt, and drainage rocks, and pansies and some succulents. And take it all to the church in the Starship Lo.Co.

My. However will it all be executed. And I'm still in my pj's. But to be fair, I've already baked the dessert for tonight's churchsupper (that I should have baked yesterday) and K.Lo was operating on a 2-hour delay for school. Because that's what we do every time a snowflake falls somewhere in the county (which is the size of Rhode Island! and therefore increases chances of snowflake delays). Also, I'm feeling all productive and hopeful about the second job I applied for, the envelope currently laying-in-wait in the mailbox, even though I feel like it will be a lucky break if they even glance at my application. But it's a library job, developing youth programs, and that would be kind of awesome, right?

Eventually employment will happen, according to the laws of odds, or so I keep telling myself. Will I be a Hardee's biscuit maker, or something more? it's out of my hands...

Coming soon: the blogpost about gremlin caterpillars.
love to you both across the seas,
penelope

PEn-

Holy shit about bender- I totally get where you're going with that. Zep was a host of nerousis too. You have to maybe get with the dog whisperer on this one- I don't know. When zep growled at me once i picked her up by the scruff of her neck and chucked her outside. I'm not quite certain with what to do in your case as i'm sure bender is like my cat marley- with the hurt/bad hips- they're already set to agitation level high... downers maybe? Fuck though. I guess though boundaries, decreased stimulation, not setting up bender for failure in stressful situations because she can only be and do what she does, not more, and this worked with zep, not trying to pet them or comfort them when they're freaking out- that actually just reinforces that they feel they should be freaking out- hence me coming back from chi with an agoraphobic dog- mom will totally vouch for this one. But ick man. Straight to my heart.

Otherwise i've had a terrifically shitty day, mostly centering around deleting all my music files in a haze of stupidity and flu this am. really need to figure out that file share thing. capped off with trying to get sushi and it taking an hour, ending with soggy rice and too spicey chicken tonight. But whatever i'm sure tomorrow will be fine. And yes, we can get back to the book. Can we say end of week though? I think mentally. I understand about all the tasking the church can impose- it's all about asking Jesus where he wants you, where your gifts are so that you can focus your energies there otherwise it's all too much right? i hope that's not a kiss off but really- good boundaries, focused martialled whatever-

Also really the color of that frosting is delightful... makes me wish i could a. find butter. I'm sure it's somewhere in some container that i cant recognize and b. syrup maybe... i don't know. I should start a list. There will be a long list- oh also, yes, brooms are easy to find- cheap plastic things- but i'm almost out of money. It's like food, or the power strip, food or the broom, food or the trashcan. Fuckitright? Because then it will be food or bus tickets etc- it's not going to get that bad. I get paid a little something on the 10th i hope??? I'm not sure when they start or end the cycle. I get reimbursed in 2wks maybe- mom is helping with bills but still- yikes. It all adds up- detergent, toilet brushes, fuckinghangers, closet shelves... blah.

alright ive got to spread myself out.
love- m.

Dear M,

I’ve been eating Cheetos. Do I care that the cute little corn graphic on the back of the bag tells some such lie about growing the best snacks on earth? I mean, they’re tasty. But let’s not get carried away. My garden’s a shambles in this heat, between the mystifyingly tough okra, the green tomatoes that Bender keeps stealing, and the cucumbers that withered away before fruiting. And the second round of zucchini we never planted. I await cooler temperatures in order to do anything of substance outdoors.

I had a lovely weekend away. Purchased a new phone. Brought home bread that reminds me so much of NY, but I won’t torture you with the wheat-filled details.

Today was lazy. But productive. But lazy. As I filled too many minutes this evening seeking a tiny wallpaper for my phone and lamenting said phone’s refusal to allow “The Office” theme as its ringtone. Whatever. I’m overitalready. The wallpaper is there and is perfect, and I’m moving on.

I made chicken salad with grapes, and watched Mamma Mia! maybe twice. Dragged the company back to the pet store to exchange the wrong-size filters for the right size, but never did clean the tank. Perhaps tomorrow.

Bedtime calls…

xoxo,

penelope

B-dog update

Bender is pitiful after her surgery, shaved and sliced like a punk-rock animal, but recovering pretty well it seems. K.Lo, N.Lo, and I skipped town while most of this surgery/initial recovery was happening because a) my Grandma and aunt were up at my parents' house, and they had not yet met N.Lo, and b) it kind of worked out better for us not to be there and in Bender's way. At least for K.Lo not to be in Bender's way. When we arrived back home in the afternoon, B-Dog Girl still had on that cute but horrible cast, which caused her to whimper profusely. She also wasn't eating or drinking much of anything, and whatever she did take in came right back out in gluey little puddles everywhere. Which I stepped in once or twice with my bare feet.

Once J.Lo took her to get the cast taken off, she was still pitiful, particularly with that shaved back leg and sewed-up incision now so exposed, but already she whimpered less. Because of the excessive vomitation, we severely cut back her original pain med regimen and waited to see if that helped.

She woke up in the morning much more spry, much more Bender, and ate. Whimpered not at all, really, and has been putting some weight on the bum leg. She is not allowed to run, really should stay off the stairs and couch as much as possible, and K.Lo the Two-Year-Old Tornado of Destruction should definitely stay away from Bender and that leg, but in the end, I think she's going to be okay. She's already barked and thrashed her head around a little at the Old Guy Next Door, and dropped a tennis ball at my feet, as if I were actually going to throw it. We're taking care of her the best we can, with J.Lo doing the saintly work, me taking on the better part of the Day Shift, Bailey being the loyal best friend, and K.Lo tossing in her own words of comfort now and again, something about the Boo-Boo Leg and Feeling Better Soon. Love ya, Bender. I think you might just make it through.

W just bought my dog a new leg.

We should get our rebate check next week. Originally, I flaked and thought for some reason the last 2 of the SSN in question was 09, but it's 99. So sad. But not really, because by now I would have had the thing spent, and that would have been bad. Because my dog, my Bender-dog, my B-dog Girl, needs to have surgery. She's been limping around for a few weeks now, not appearing to be in any pain, but clearly not using the one back leg. She's still running, playing, not wincing, which is why we waited to take her to the vet. You know they pretty much rape your wallet for making eye contact with your animal. And our wallet is scheduled to be dearly raped on Monday. The ligament that holds Bender's knee together is completely blown. The other back leg may not be long to follow. It's degenerative, nothing we could do. And she's less than half her life expectancy, only 5 1/2 years old, so of course we are going to fix her. The poor thing. She's not going to move the same again, but hopefully will respond well to the surgery. Which is the "cheap" surgery. At $1,100. So, um, thanks W. Consider this our little contribution to help recharge the economy. And our dog.