The tickle factor
I do love to laugh – always have, and always will. At anything and everything… whenever appropriate, that is. I’ve never been the kind of person who will giggle at anothers expense, though; like when someone trips, falls out of a chair, etc. Guess I just never found humor in a situation that had the potential of embarrassing another individual.
Last night my guy and I found ourselves in a discussion on being ticklish. Not actually tickling, just discussing it. 🙂 So it seems that the older we’ve gotten, the less ticklish we’ve both become. Has anyone else run into this?
Even in my twenties, I was very ticklish in many many areas. But now… well you really have to catch me on a good day to implement the ole’ tickle factor. Unless, of course, it occurs during a romantic moment when I’m trying to remain serious. Yes, it does seem to only happen a ‘whim’ nowadays. This seriously saddens me!
There’s already a shortage of laughter in the world. But to see yourself losing that every-faithful ‘auto button’… well, let’s just say I’m taking that one pretty hard.
Searching
I’m still at a loss for words – for this I am sorry.
My nieces take my breath away with their beauty… both of them.
I see my own daughter, her father and family completely torn to pieces.
As am I.
My thoughts go every which way but loose. What set of problems could penetrate the mind so,
that this would become the only answer.
It has all become a mind game to me – of whether this really happened… or not.
There are far too many people depending on your strength for their own selves.
You are way too young to exit.
All the people who turned out tonight love you so… and the tears of tough men abound.
I wish you and I had talked before you left. I so wish for that.
A little bird sits on the window sill, watching me type… and still I think of you. I do believe you must be happy beyond words right now.
And at peace. Finally, at peace.
Left Behind
I am at a loss for words this morning. Nothing that I write will be able to convey my thoughts in the right context at this very moment. Nothing.
My sister in law took her own life last night. It can’t be real, I’m thinking, even this morning. There’s just no way this can be real. She has two daughters, the oldest of which will graduate from high school this upcoming school year. Two daughters who are now motherless. The other heartbroke family members left behind include her mother, her father, her brother (my soon to be ex) and sister, two nieces and a nephew, and many cousins, aunts and uncles.
Knowing her as I did, the pain and anguish in her life had to have been excruciating for her to do this. This whole thing is horrific and already has proved to be so very damaging to the loved ones she left behind. I pray for God to bring them all peace in the midst of this tragedy, and soon. Please Lord, wrap your ever-loving arms around them all so very tightly…
If you really knew me…
Even recently, I’ve seen a few posts of this kind. I find them intriguing, and thought I’d take a stab at it myself. I’ll be the first to admit it really worked the ole’ brain a bit. If nothing else, it forced me to take a step back and take a good look at myself – which isn’t a bad idea to do from time to time…
If you really knew me, you would know: That every day I make a valiant effort to laugh heartily at least once. Laughing is my favorite thing in the world to do, and nothing else has ever matched the euphoric feeling it brings me.
And over here, in the darker corner… we have the times that I laugh in order to keep from crying.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I despise a blatant liar. Unless I believe the truth will really hurt your feelings, I’ll be completely honest with you. I know there are exceptions that run the gamut on this… with that said, I simply cannot justify not getting that same truth in return.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I’m really somewhat of a loner. I hate crowds and even large groups of people. I would be perfectly content to come home from work on a Friday afternoon and not leave my condo again until Monday morning.
If you really knew me, you would know: That as cliche as it may sound, all I’ve really ever wanted in life is to be loved. Totally, completely, wholly and without reserve. I believe this particular type of love to be easily recognizable by it’s recipient.
If you really knew me, you would know: That my tolerance for small children is marginal at best. Not just any small children… but the small children of today’s world. The children who are bribed, petted and spoiled by today’s parents in order to semi-behave.
If you really knew me, you would know: I love the ocean and it’s inhabitants so much so, that I can get really emotional just talking about it if I allow myself.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I abhor drama – in any way, shape or form. If you bring drama close to me and I see it for what it is, I will most certainly turn my back on you and walk away. Because I can.
If you really knew me, you would know: That the ability to write means everything to me. It doesn’t matter to me that I don’t write professionally. If I go one single day without writing something, anything – I feel like a huge part of me is missing.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I’m very opinionated on two subjects: politics and religion. It really doesn’t pay for me to argue the subject of either one, because I’ll stop at nothing to prove my point. By then, my blood pressure has usually skyrocketed past the safe zone.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I’m one of those dreaded perfectionists. I struggle daily with this debilitating trait that so often makes my life more difficult than it should be.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I strongly uphold marriage vows, and I believe that there are ZERO excuses for infidelity within a marriage. The pain that results from this type of cowardly betrayal may lessen with time, but the scars will remain forever.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I feel just as strongly about domestic violence. In fact, maybe even more so. I’ll have to get back with you on that one.
If you really knew me, you would know: That I worry way too much of what others think of me. I do know I’ve literally spent a lifetime trying to reroute this warped way of thinking. At this point, any improvement in this area is looking kinda shady.
And over here, in the lighter corner… I’ve come to realize that shade trees sometimes provide an incandescent lift…
Cat of the Day
I have the sweetest cat. Thank you, Lord. Don’t get me wrong, even if I’d had the misfortune of having a mean one I’d just deal with it, since I don’t believe in giving up the animals you made a commitment with unless something is really amiss. Of course I realize there are extreme instances that do warrant replacement, and by that I mean re-homing.
In any case, both of the past two cats I’ve owned are simply… well, female. My Sadie who passed in 2006, was a Queen. She never knew a stranger, and would come up to non-cat persons and make a spot on their lap – providing them with the added bonus of making biscuits. This always got a giggle out of me. Camille, my current babygirl, is a Princess. She however is an introvert, and takes much time to acquire the trust of any person. The two personalities couldn’t have been any further apart.
I’m quite aware that there are loads of cat-haters out there. I even read a post of a favorite blogger recently about how loathsome this person thought cats were… he wrote of how they ‘lurk in the shadows’ and ‘don’t ever show theirselves unless it’s to attack’. Sweet bejesus, nothing could be further from the truth. This person obviously neither a) never owned a cat, b) had a feral (wild) cat, or c) lived a party-like-its-1999 lifestyle where the animal was just plain afraid to come out.
How about this… my girl meets me at the door every day. If she’s not there yet, then she’s running (yes running) from the back bedroom to the front door to me – bleary-eyed as hell from her afternoon-long nap. It’s the same ritual every day… I scoop her up on my shoulder and start talking baybay talk to her. She, in turn, starts snuggling my neck as if wanting to almost crawl into me. I walk her around the condo bouncing her like a baybay (should I be embarrassed?) (have I mentioned how very vocal she is?). She is so vocal during the rest of the night that I’m beginning to realize I need a laptop BAD. The crying that goes on during my time behind the iMac is absolutely unreal. All the instances in-between this are… well, let’s just say that we never lack for conversation. The word spoiled pretty much sums it up! I need to add in the fact that she absolutely LOVES my guy. And that, ummm… she owns him. 😉
I entered Camille in the Cat for a Day contest on a local country station, Kat Country 96.9 (wkktfm.com). While I believe that most entries secure a spot on the calendar, I was surprised that my entry today made tomorrow’s calendar spot. So, therein lies Camille’s 15 minutes of Limelight.
I’m proud of my July 29, 2010 kitty…
A New Head
Last night’s fortune: (opened today)
Oh, don’t worry, Netherworld, I won’t lose it. But be advised – I also find beauty in the most loveliest of things as well… 🙂
Ironically enough, it was only recently in my forty-two years of living that I was educated on the fact that the word ‘head’ was coined by sailors when referring to a bathroom on a ship. Back in the days of the Sailing Ships, the Navy (and all vessels) placed their bathrooms at the front (the bow, or Head) of the ship. (The “Head” is also a reference to the ornate decorations of Mermaids found on the bow of many vessels).
Anyway, you might think it funny to place a bathroom at the front of the ship. Each time the ship moves, the smell should flow back over the rest of the ship, right? No, because this was in the days of sail. In order for a ship to move, the wind had to come from behind, catch the sails and move the ship. The wind would always move faster than the ship, thus carrying any odors arising from the ‘Head’ away from the vessel. So now that this little image is fresh in your ‘head’…
For many years, I have had a bathroom fetish. I simply love looking at beautiful bathrooms. One could really spend a ton of money on the design and construction of one so gorgeous, and many do. It would be a dream to design one of my very own someday, although you’d probably have to pry me from it on a daily basis. Being as how I live in a leased condo, it shall remain a dream for now. Thought I’d share a few to fourteen very favorite pictures that I ran across.
Back to the beauty.
A Voice
I have a good friend that’s decided to bite the bullet and start blogging. Not only is she an extremely smart and beautiful lady, but well-versed. I’m willing to bet she will enjoy it – and I look forward to reading. I’ll be sure to cue you in on the page when she gets it up and running.
Many of us have been subjected to broken trust and loyalty throughout our lives – some more than others. The last thing you need is to keep it all to yourself… what you need is to be heard. An outlet, a source which you may unload on every once in a while. A while back I suggested that a blog might be the very venue my friend needed. It provides an opportunity to be heard, a chance to voice anything and/or everything you’ve wanted to say for a long time now. She asked me ‘do you think the word bitch in my title would be offensive and draw negative feedback?’ To which I replied chuckling, ‘ya know, there’s always going to be something that offends someone out there.’ And that’s true, no matter what.
It got me to thinking about life in general, and how it is we’ve arrived at the point of being a functioning adult human being… exactly what it is that has made up the mindset, emotions and character of who we are now. Do I believe that we continually change throughout life? Yes. Do I believe that what we’ve been through in the past actually shapes the person we are today, as well as the person we are to become? Absolutely. We will not be the exact same person a year from now as we are today. These changes will be determined by the events and occurrences within our lives, and how we choose to react or deal with them. Like my grandmother always told me… ‘bunny-rabbit…it ain’t always easy’.
You’re a Grown Man. Man Up.
Last night I had dinner with a good friend that I haven’t seen in far too long. Four hours just wasn’t long enough to catch up on all that’s been going on in our lives, but I’ll have to say we gave it our best shot.
Of course, the big topic of the night – men. The men that were, and the men that are. And realizing that there is no being out there that is perfect, man or woman… it, ummm… got me thinking.
Dear Gentlemen:
Security really IS everything to us. This isn’t just something from the era of our parents and grandparents; we want to be assured someone really does have our backs. This doesn’t mean we don’t want to work ourselves – it simply means we don’t want to be the only one working.
You should never allow your lady to get out of the car at a convenience store when you see a person of compromising interest lurking approaching others in the parking lot. This is the equivalent of putting her in a dangerous/deadly situation. If you’re not the one who’s willing to make the run inside, drive to the next store down the road.
Making the suggestion of hopping onto your lady’s cellphone plan to save you money is not a good idea, no matter what day of the week you do it on. You are the man, get your own plan. (If you’d like to take this a step further, when you get your own plan you can suggest her hopping onto yours, to save her some money.)
Under no circumstances should you allow a female ‘friend’ access to walk into your house unannounced while your lady is there with you. This should go unsaid, but apparently it still happens. Ladies don’t like sharing the house with another woman even if you do own the place.
A good mode of transportation is a must. This includes the ‘luxury’ of heat in the winter and a/c in the summer. I think I can speak for most ladies when I say we don’t want to be taken out on dates in our own cars. Not every time, anyway.
Sincerely, the Ladies
An awesome blog to follow is http://youareagrownman.com/. The combination of truth, humor and common sense makes for a great blogger – and he has my utmost respect. I try to never miss a day of it. 🙂
BREATHE
I recently received an email entitled “Courage”. It got me to thinking. What exactly is courage? Furthermore, what about the courage to love?
Fairy tales? No such thing. Forever afters? Hac-tuiii. Pardonne moi….
I have to laugh to keep from crying, more. For the past couple of days my face has resembled something monstrous and I’m growing weary of it. Quite simply, my heart is breaking. Right now I just feel like retreating inside my cave for, well forever.
The Courage to Love. I’ve always been a firm believer of the old saying ‘If you love something, set it free – if it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.’ Well… up to a point, anyway. One should never go so far as to allow their selves to become a doormat for anyone else.
I guess I’m old fashioned, I’ll admit that. I am southern, after all. I’ve never been one of these feminists who mandate equality of the sexes, and never will. It’s my belief that women shouldn’t ‘chase’ men – it should be the other way around. I also believe that if a man loves a woman enough… I mean really loves them… they won’t let her go without a fight. They’ll do anything and everything to keep her – anything less than that simply isn’t real. Call it what you will – it’s an illusion. Don’t fool yourself. Life’s too short.
Hey, self – remember this: I Myself, will NOT… break. Already been through Hell and back once – and I ain’t planning a return trip anytime soon.
Spoof Factor
What a beautiful weekend it’s been. Today K’s family is coming over to swim and cook out (his brother, sister, and their families). After that, I’ll have pretty much had my pool fix for a while.
Off to the grocery store since we exhausted what little supplies we had left yesterday. We’re even out of ketchup. No homemade anything by Bon today, there’s not enough time.
Yesterday was my clutz day. Ever have one of those days where everything you touch or make contact with results in some sort of accident or injury? That was my day yesterday. I’m hoping today will be different in that area – but since I’ve already stumped my toe at 9:30am, that hope is rapidly diminishing. Wish me luck – and remember, no news is good news.
Post Fourth
I finally got out on the water again. After three long years, to the very day… ole’ Bon was able to partake in a day at the lake.
I never will possess the ability to fully explain the depth of my love for boating. When that boat pulls away from the dock, any and all troubles are left on land – it’s the most freeing feeling ever imaginable to me. I can only assume that bikers get this same euphoric feeling while on the road, as I’ve heard it explained to me, anyway. But as for my love, my haven, it will always be the water – and this will remain so forever.
There’s something additional about the fourth of July on the lake. I’ve only had the opportunity to experience it once, that was back in 2007 in my ‘old life’. We drove a little further down to a different sandbar, one that wasn’t so centrally located in the ‘mainstream’ of things, and hung out there for a couple of hours. We had a good 40-minute drive back to the River Hills area where the fireworks were being launched, and being the lucky souls we are, actually found a empty dockside spot at the local TBones. Dinner was great, and the fireworks were amazing afterwards.
Upon leaving, thank God for all safety equipment being in check (well, almost) because before we even reached the main channel we were pulled over. Anchors and line, check… personal floatation devices, check… first aid kit, check… licenses, check… navigational lights, NOT ON. Shit. We got off with a warning though, yes sir and thank you officer.
Back to the basics today, hope everyone had a happy and safe holiday!!
Rest, Relaxation and Reality
I got a full night’s rest last night without waking up even once, until about 0830 this morning. My guy took me to see the movie Eclipse last night, what a great movie. No, I am not one of those over-40 women who gush over the boy stars (but umm, let me say there’s only one that I still consider a boy…) 🙂 I think what I love so much about the saga is it’s the perfect mix of action, drama and romance. And let’s face it, it’s unrealistic – so the Piscean in me basks in that dreamy part of it too. Anyway, I won’t spoil it for you – just to say if you haven’t yet seen it, it’s a must-see.
A day off, finally. What a joy to not have anything to do or anywhere to go. Pressing, that is. Time is at my own pace, and come what will. The weather is cooler, humidity is down, sun still shining, and hallelujah Praise God I’m off for three whole days. Even a simple trip to the grocery store and to tan was enjoyable this morning. Rode with the windows down and my hair blowing, just like it was spring again.
Now, if someone would just invent a Virtual Vacation to the beach, I’d be just peachy. Everyone I know is either en route there, or on the way back. I’m serious when I say everyone. Well, almost. Most of my friends on facebook are, my daughter is, my cousins are, I don’t need to go on. Guess I’ll be there one day soon, hopefully. My friend is getting married at the beach on August 22nd, so I’ll definitely be there on that day even if I have to drive down alone for that. She so deserves this most perfect day in her life and I’m so happy for her.
I do love fairytale endings… and they happen so rarely in Real Life. Hmmm, maybe the fairytale is what I love so much about the Twilight Saga. ♥
Mellowing out
Although there have been multiple studies done that actually suggest the opposite – it’s my own experience that we get more emotional as we get older. I’m not talking about the more generalized emotions – being happy, angry, fearful, etc., but the more ‘philosophical’ ones. The types of emotions that tend to make a person ‘linger’ a bit more on the past, or ‘delve back’.
Is it true though? Do we get more emotional as we age? I can only comment on what I’ve seen personally, which is that I’ve seen more than a couple of mature men cry when reflecting back on certain times in their lives – in particular, times they wish they could go back and change. In each instance, the individuals appear different now than how I was told they used to be. Different how? It’s kind of hard to put into words. Softer-spoken, and rarely if ever angered – just to name a few.
What changes in us chemically as we get older that tends to make us more ’emotional’? And is it ever possible for a person to ‘change’? I don’t know the answer to the first question. As for the second one, I believe wholeheartedly the answer is yes. Maybe I’m wrong, but I consider being more emotional and ‘in-tune’ with yourself and others to be change. One thing I do know – the pill of regret is seldom swallowed. One of the saddest things you’ll ever see is a person reflecting back on losing the best thing they ever had in life.
My Freshly Pressed Appreciation
Each weekday, my beloved blogging site WordPress handpicks eleven blog writers to be featured on their front page. Eleven. Out of Millions. They refer to these chosen blogs as “Freshly Pressed”.
This past Monday, 21st of June, was the day. My day. The blog I had written, Summer Solstice, was chosen to be featured in the much-coveted Freshly Pressed section – the headline page of WordPress. I sat there with unbelieving eyes when I received the email stating I had made it.
Little old me making Freshly Pressed status? The news hit me like a bombshell. Many have long sought after and still continue to seek this temporary but prestigious spot. I know enough to be extremely appreciative of it – and I am. I never expected to ever be cast in such a prominent spotlight, and was completely unprepared for the many extras that accompanied the ‘status lift’. I had well over a thousand hits the first day, along with many comments, pingbacks and requotes. I value highly the many public opinions and inquiries that were made, and remain so very deeply humbled.
I’ve always loved to write and those closest to me are aware of how very deep that love goes. One thing’s for sure – this experience has showed me there’s a whole other world out there… one in which the possibilities are endless.
Thank you, WordPress – and all you readers and writers out there who make the site what it is.
Summer Solstice
A solstice is an astronomical event that happens twice each year, when the tilt of the Earth’s axis is most inclined toward or away from the sun, causing the Sun’s apparent position in the sky to reach its northernmost or southernmost extreme. The name is derived from the Latin sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still), because at the solstices, the Sun stands still in declination; that is, the apparent movement of the Sun’s path north or south comes to a stop before reversing direction.
The term solstice can also be used in a broader sense, as the date (day) when this occurs. The solstices, together with the equionoxes, are connected with the seasons. In some cultures they are considered to start or separate the seasons, while in others they fall nearer the middle.
A common misconception is that the earth is further from the sun in winter than in summer. Actually, the Earth is closest to the sun in December which is winter in the Northern hemisphere.
As the Earth travels around the Sun in its orbit, the north-south position of the Sun changes over the course of the year because of the changing orientation of the Earth’s tilted rotation axes. The dates of maximum tilt of the Earth’s equator correspond to the Summer Solstice and Winter Solstice, and the dates of zero tilt to the Vernal Equinox and Autumnal Equinox.
The reason for these changes has to do with the Earth’s yearly trip around the sun. For part of the year the Earth’s North Pole points away from the sun and part of the time toward it. This is what causes our seasons. When the North Pole points toward the sun, the sun’s rays hit the northern half of the world more directly. That means it is warmer and we have summer.
The day of the summer solstice is the longest day of the year. The length of time elapsed between sunrise and sunset on this day is a maximum for the year. In the United States, there are about 14½ hours of daylight on this day.
~Wikipedia.com, Calendar-Updates.com
She’s gone country
I love country music. It calms me… soothes me.
It amazes me how we all change with age. The fact is, we all do change – even if it’s only something others recognize in us. If you’d told me even a year ago that I would want to listen to nothing but country, I’d have slapped you then told you to go find your mama. Seriously though, I was a metalhead growing up, all the way through my twenties. Still love that era, and pretty much all the 80’s music. Once in my thirties, I increased my musical genre by adding in alternative to the mixture. As well, I’ll always love my alternative. None of this will ever fade or go away, I’ll always consider it my musical ‘roots’.
It amuses me to watch people’s reaction who haven’t seen me in a while when they hear me singing or listening to country music. ‘I can’t believe you listen to country now!? All the time?!’ (jaw dropping in succession). ‘What on earth made you change to country?’
Hmm. Good question…
Back to my theory that we all change in time. Well, sometimes that change comes about in unexpected venues. My most recent ‘growth’ just happened to manifest itself within my music selection.
I find myself craving it. There’s almost always something a song offers that I can relate with. The morals seem high, the love always radiates from them, at times they can be hilarious, and they’re not shy about their love for our Lord. So many of the songs actually mean something personal to me, or signify a person or time in my life. There’s too many instances like this to even start listing, so don’t worry, I’ll spare you the boredom.
The sweet melodic tones of country music seems to soften, or at least take the edge off of life. For me, anyway. 🙂
Six legs too many
It’s spider season again. Time to break out my double-wammy industrial-strength pow-wow… ummmmm, concoction.
Spiders??? Oh Bon, surely you can’t be talking about now… it’s June!!!… simply can’t be. In any case, I’m sure the problem is minutely miniscule…
Ahem. Never mind the Fall season when you see all the Wolf ‘writing’ spiders. Ole Bon’s spiders say the time is now. Every morning I go down two sets of stairs looking like a zombie – left arm filled with my workbag, purse, lunch and sometimes trash, and right arm waving back and forth in front of me like a freaking moron. If I try to throw in a glance around myself to make sure no one’s watching, I lose balance and almost fall down the steps – it must be hilarious to watch. As recently as this morning, I was clotheslined by yet another invisible web on the second floor. I promptly **dropped** everything and completed two full 360’s all while appearing to have a seizure, all done in order to entertain the average viewer. You are welcome.
This takes me back to when I first moved in my current residence. It was May of ’08, and the first thing I noticed was a spider infestation. The couple that resided here for ten years prior to me were elderly, and it didn’t seem to bother them. Enter Bon. Believe me when I say it did bother me. Apparently my predecessors either a) didn’t care about the spiders or b) literally couldn’t see them. I’m shooting for the latter. I mean, these people were in their 90’s…
I was absolutely horrified. Here I was, finally, in my own little condo – perfect in every way except for a spider infestation. The balcony seemed to be the worst, so that’s where I picked to start. I made a trip to the local hardware store and bought a gallon-sized industrial strength pesticide which even came equipped with a strong pump-stream system. Just pull back on the external trigger nozzle until completely loaded, and that baby’ll spray for a full 20 seconds at warp speed. Once I positioned myself on the stepladder and started spraying through the rafters, I completed the first two walls rather quickly. All the sudden the damn things started coming out by the dozens, spinning their long silk and swinging towards me. I immediately felt like a character out of a Stephen King book, already visualizing myself taking that accidental fall from a ladder over a third story ledge. I’m not talking small spiders – the littlest ones were about the size of my thumbprint, and that doesn’t include legs. These ‘things’ had been allowed to infest the place for so long that they had ‘morphed’ into some sort of amazon gargantuan thing not from this planet. A mega-spider, if you will. I panicked screamed. Ducked left, ducked right, and finally ducked inside – all while cursing myself for spraying more than one wall at a time, in turn pretty much barricading myself out of my home. Finally, after a couple of days of exterminating (one wall at a time from here on out, thank you) the porch was wiped clean of spiders.
Ahhhh… I am victorious!! And so was born the quest for a huge superhero applique for the front of my t-shirt. SB, for SuperBon. Or maybe even SpiderBon.
What I neglected to address in my extermination efforts was the fact that I may well have pushed some most of them indoors. Maybe they existed beforehand, I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that within those couple of days, more and more spiders began making their glorious appearing indoors – and that didn’t work for me. One night, I pulled back the comforter and sheets to get in bed – unveiling two very large black spiders smack-dab* in the middle of my bed. Realizing their newfound exposure, one shoots off to the right and the other to the left (again, like something fresh out of a nightmare). To this very day I maintain those things were mating in my bed. I managed to kill one, but never found the other. As for me, I remained in a light-filled room sitting upright in the fetal position for the rest of the night. Tucking my knees under my chin, I balled my eyes out. And come morning, I was completely unrecognizable by the people closest to me – although by this point it was questionable as to whether I had actually been bit by spiders and might be having a bad allergic reaction that swelled my entire face up.
I can laugh about all of this now. It wasn’t at all long after the ‘bed incident’ that I was completely spider-free… thanks once again to the heroic efforts of SuperBon/SpiderBon.
(But I wouldn’t want to do it all again.)
*Southern Slang definition of the day: Smack-dab: squarely, and directly.
Visit from beyond
I was ushered in through the foyer, past the living room and down the hallway. The doorknob to the right was turned, and the door opened for me to enter the room.
Their room.
The room itself was bigger than I remember, and had a radiant, almost heavenly look about it. I immediately noticed that it was cleaner, whiter, and less congested. It was almost pristine – with much extra room to move around. Just as quickly as the door closed behind me, they appeared.
The dogs.
My dogs. The dogs I had to leave behind through a marriage separation, now well over two years ago. And they were smiling. C’mon now, no bashing… any dog-lover out there knows what I’m talking about. They DO smile.
I don’t remember actually getting down on the floor, but in the next moment that’s exactly where I was, and where I remained. Chance and Rebel were all over me, and I was all over them. They were both clean as a whistle and smelled so good. There also was no gray in them whatsoever. The dogs weren’t pups, but they certainly weren’t old men, either! Along the empty sides and corners of the room, there were lots of clean blankets and sheets, all neatly folded – there must have been 8-10 of them scattered throughout the room. As time went on I kept grabbing them, unfolding each one and spreading them out for us, all while continuing to love on them. I remember thinking, ‘boy is someone gonna be mad at me for unfolding and messing up all these linens…’, but the dogs were loving it, and loving me. All three of us were so happy and comfortable, in that room.
The tears continue to fall as I write this. This particular visit occurred in a dream I had last night, on Tuesday night.
I believe it all started when I asked my daughter to take a picture so I could see them. I was at work Monday when I received them, and it immediately made me cry. My girlfriends at work saw this and were very sweet and caring – they are good friends and fellow animal-lovers to boot, so they understood without even saying anything. Just to see how gray the little and big guy’s faces had both gotten in two years was shocking – in particular Rebel’s, the boxer.
I’ve tried to force them out of my mind for a long time now because it’s just been too painful to think about. That still remains the case. I guess somehow, unfortunately, love really is associated with pain. Whatever the case is, I do still miss them greatly.
It was a good visit. No, it was better than good. The visit was awesome, even perfect. I hope they visit me again soon. Or should I say… allow me to visit them.
One of the pictures my daughter sent me
Birdland…
Yet another family of birds have ‘flown the coop’. It was the sweetest thing. We got up this morning and I notice K veering off to the right to open the front door. All the sudden I hear “I knew it, I knew it!! They’re gone.” Sure enough, his last family of birds nested under his porch had finally all spread their wings and left. We were wondering how much bigger the babies could get… it was comical to still refer to them as ‘babies’. They had gotten so big that only about two of the four could fit in the nest at one time. They sat up there looking like big lugs – baby birds on steriods. K could barely get out the front door anymore for anything since the mama and daddy birds were in instant protect mode of their ready-to-fly-at-any-given-moment babies.
We’ve stood here and watched bird after bird go for a drink in the birdbath. He decided it needed some clean water – the birds are now having a bird field day. 🙂
Nature is so cool… yet often sad, and always unforgiving. We were talking about it last night and he told me a story of how he recently witnessed a hawk swoop down and score a dove, carrying it off in it’s huge beak. Many birds of different species tried to come to it’s rescue, in vain. The Hawk only needs one split second to complete it’s task. In this case and most others, it got it’s prey. I was told there are still a bunch of feathers were the ‘incident’ happened.
Here’s a link I’d like to share on yet another woe of Nature. This is a bit graphic at the end, and throughout the 4 minutes can really get your heart pumping, but I promise you won’t be sorry you watched it. 🙂
Peace.
Life of Bon 
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