Monday, February 10, 2014

Yum yum potential salmonella...

"Well here's something," I say pulling down a bag of cookie mix. I stood to open the lower cabinet, pulling out a pan, "This is the best thing about being human," I say, "Cookies." As I quickly shove the falling pile of tupperware back into the cabinet, I stand, "Well, actually, I'd say brownies, but these are pretty close."
I open the fridge, stare at the dying pepper, the bag of marshmellows, four containers of butter, some spicy sauce, mayonaise and three eggs. "Lucky for us we have all the supplies!"
Killing the last of the aluminium foil, I prep the cookie sheet. The packet open, I spoon up some nice yummy cookie fluff.
"You could almost just eat this stuff and skip the butter, egg and cooking part," I mumble, mouth full of dusty powder.
I peel the wrapper off the stick of butter, slice it in half to fit in the bowl, throw it in the microwave, all the while talking to Orion, "I know you think this stick of butter is for you but it's not." Orion, "But it could be..." I bend down and hold the butter wrapper. "Here, you can lick this because I'm eating the cookie dough," he starts licking away, "but, you're going to get kisses the whole time," I chuckle and start annoyingly throwing down kisses on his head. Butter in, I have another bite of cookie dough. "Trouble is, once we add the egg we can't really eat any more..."
Cookies on the pan, my hands are covered in the sticky dough. I eat off most of the dough then reach down my hand for Orion.
"Well buddy, if we're going down, we're going down together..."

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Sign me up to be a hermit, but let me have my dog please.

There are some days I'd rather just hang out with my dog.
I'm going on at least three so far.
Really I'm going on seven but that sounds worse so I'll round to three.
There's something about just having my conversations with him, sitting on the floor, with a mug of coffee, while he's curled up on a blanket, seemingly asleep but really astutely listening that beats having to go out and be around all the people for whom I have very little to say things to.
So we hang, dog and I.
I talk with his head on my head, as my sitting with coffee has turned to slouching with coffee.
I ask him if he thinks we'll have to move back in with the parents. If he thinks we should move in general. We discuss the merits of coffee. We discuss being hibernating bears. We discuss sunshine and how someday we'll be splashing in the pond behind our apartment again, provided we don't move. Maybe someday, I'll buy you another big bag of rawhides, I say. When my bank account resumes normalcy. Remember when we could do that? Go to Petsmart and shop for expensive treats and a new toy from the fancy toy shop? I sigh and slouch lower. I pat his head.
You're a good listener, I say. He moves his head to my shoulder. We talk about going to library school. We talk about having to remember I just turned thirty. We talk about how it is nice that I don't own my farmhouse this year because I'd have had to plow or shovel a long driveway. Unless we were bears. Then we'd have been hibernating and wouldn't be bothered by the long untouched snowy driveway.
There are just some days, it's better for me to hang out with just my dog. Zachary, my old neighbor, would say I must be having an artist day--the kind where I'm meant to be alone. He'd have been right, but it's harder to tell adults what my nine-year-old buddy grasped in a moment.

Sunday, February 2, 2014


It's morning and I'm sitting on Maggie, my sister, while giving her a back rub. (I got one last night since I'm not a night owl--in exchange for her morning one bc she's NOT a morning person). So I'm rubbing her shoulders and her arm is dangling off the bed.
Orion steps up and puts her hand in his mouth. He starts to move up her arm.
"OW!" She says.
I laugh.
"He's just giving you a massage his style."