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Friday

Apr262013

happy hour

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Spring is insanely beautiful. Insane, in that wonderful way that makes you want to DO.EVERYTHING.NOW.OUTSIDE. Chasing rabbits insane!

I love my porch year round. Spring means a daily spritz and sweep to remove layers of green pollen (which is not fairydust, though that was a great attempt at a reframe by my sweet hippie friend) but it's worth it. Cocktails or light dinner on the porch, letting the sky darken around us until the candle really makes all of its sense evident, that's perfect.

But daily, the pull is greater. Off of the porch and onto the stoop. Until step by step I just find myself somewhere under a trees, gnarly root the best pillow in the world, looking up at dangling Spanish Moss, my almost-favorite growing thing (second only to succulents.) How does Spanish Moss do it's thing? It's so expansive and airy, so ancient, so flexible in meeting its needs, such a beautiful Borrower. Let's be like that, let's live like Spanish Moss.

Damn it, I am a hippie too, aren't I? At least a tree-hugger. Salut, Spring!

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Sunday

Apr142013

This Guy

Deb Rox

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I respect ya if you're a cat person, I do. But I just don't understand you.

A dog, now a dog? A big dog? Will drive around town with you. Windows down, classic rock station blaring. River likes to go to the bank because they give him a biscuit. He gets ansty if we pull up, just like my kids used to when they wondered if they'd get sucker, but knowing it would be poor manners to say that wish outloud. River doesn't have to feign delight, nor hid disappointment if the hoped-for surprise doesn't come--he'll be momentarily confused but will move on in a second. But if the biscuit arrives in the fwoop of the pneumatic tube, he knows he's a prince of a Good Boy for a minute.

Cat people don't have a co-pilot at the ready. Maybe that's fine with them, or just a loss they live with. I sure don't want to.

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