Monthly Archives: February 2006

Year of the Dog…

I was awakened by a shrill WOOOO at 2:05 this morning.

The WOO was a commentary from the Malamute, elicited by the fact that all bedroom doors in the house were closed. That’s right, humans were not mingling with either cats or dogs last evening.

I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence, but it seems like the boys (cats included) have all been much more ill-behaved since they learned that 2006 is the Year of the Dog.

Yes, I think it’s safe to say that they have all copped an attitude.

Before I continue, let me state unequivocably, that I love my boys. Each one of them is unique and special in his own way. Imagining the house without any one of them is a thought that makes me sad.

Although by 3:28, I was starting to imagine what that house might be like.

Yawn.

Happy birthday, Dash!

What can I say about my best friend? Only that I am blessed to have such a wonderful relationship with someone who understands my weird sense of humor. 😉

kevin_kelly.jpg

I want a ‘do over’

I’ve been wallowing in self-pity this morning (OK, more so than in the past six to twelve months!) and wondering why I can’t just have a ‘do over’… You know, a new chance to make amends with the person who I was meant to be. I don’t know how I’ve become the person I am. I used to be a fun loving free-spirit, willing to take risks, do things that might not be conventional, had passionate dreams and friendships with like-minded individuals whose energy mixed with mine and fueled even bigger dreams for the future.

Not anymore.

I’ve severed the ties to the people of my past – or, rather, I didn’t work hard enough when they started to slip away. The slippage was mutual – as so often happens with friends, you grow apart when new loves, new interests come in to the picture. Or, if you’re like me, you suddenly don’t like the person you’ve become – and when you start to rebel against yourself, the same people you trust the most, don’t accept the new you. And the rejection is like a swift kick in the gut, except that the boot is stuck as a painful reminder…

I’ve become a stiff shadow of my former self that reluctantly gets up every morning when the alarm clock sounds (and hitting the snooze is no longer an option), sluggishly gets ready for another day at the dead-end job, slogs to work on the same route that I’ve been driving my entire adult life (it’s pretty bad when you know every single rut in the road and could, if needed, drive with a blindfold – which, ironically, is what it feels like at the moment!). Every.Single.Rut.

My body is more honest in its reaction to life than I am. When the stress of everything gets to be too much, my body always sends me a very clear message that’s impossible to miss – it’s in the form of a cold sore on my lip.

This morning, I awoke with a big honking cold sore.

Accompanying this lovely lip zit is a painfully pea-sized swollen gland just behind my chin. Ouch.

And, if that weren’t enough, let’s throw an exclamation point on this morning in the form of an eye twitch….

It’s probably a good thing that I’m not in a relationship at the moment. I feel like a hideous monster. Just call me Quasimodo.

A silent participant

I have not been keeping up with posting here about the Artist’s way because I’ve let life (read: work) get in the way – and I haven’t had the strength to fight back. I have been working through the AW book on a regular basis, writing my morning pages (man, most of it is pure junk – I’m feeling guilty about wasting good paper), doing the various exercises and trying to touch base with the other participants via the many blogs – man, you guys really ROCK!

I’m going on an Artist’s Date this afternoon – a visit to the bookstore. Since I tend to purchase most of my books via Amazon.com nowadays (“cheap” has become my middle name), my weekly trips to the bookstore have been a long-time coming. And, honestly, very much missed. (Is it just me or is there something magical in the touch/feel of a book in your hands?)

It’s funny how much I long for the weekend lately. Actually, it’s pathetic how much I now wish my life away. Monday always seems to come too fast – the middle days of the week drag, and along about Thursday I am practically praying for 5pm on Friday. Don’t get me wrong, I like some aspects of my job – it’s the unknown/undefined/ill-defined aspects and political games in the office that are taking a toll on my spirit and suffocating my soul. Drama Queen? Certainly sounds like it! In comparison to those folks who put their lives on the line every day to preserve freedom, I’ve got it made… Perspective is everything. So I’ll stop whining now and just enjoy the weekend.

UPDATE: Made it to the big box bookstore (B&N) for my 2 hour artist date. It was extremely crowded. Most of the people were ‘browsers’ – you know the folks that plant themselves in front of the new books and touch every book, break their spines, crease the pages… But never buy anything. They’re just killing time before their movie starts down the mall.

I bought about $30 worth of used books from their used book annex – books that were all best-sellers and in good condition. Saved a bundle.

I feel charged up – excited (almost) to attack the computer tonight and tackle the start of a short story.

At the risk of getting kidney stones…

I take a shower and wash my hair every morning (to say that I can’t function unless I shower is an understatement). Afterwards, I will occasionally indulge in a quick spritz of lightly scented perfume; nothing obnoxious or overbearing. Barely there. Subtlety is key. (I am absolutely opposed to those folks who marinate themselves in pungent, overbearing scents that linger in hallways for hours and leave everyone else in the office fully aware of exactly where they’ve been – I swear that I can see the fog lingering…) Usually, though, I carry around just a clean-from-the-shower soap smell and whatever laundry detergent and dryer sheet scents linger on my clothes.

That said, I have to wonder why in the hell the little automatic air freshener spits a peachy blast into the air every single solitary time I walk in the door of the Ladies Room. Every. Single. Time.

What are they trying to tell me?!

Stupid thing.