Pebbles

That's all you're gonna get today. Pebbles. When I'm walking along the beach and I can't find anything big and interesting to gather, pocket, and drag home, still I never go away empty handed. I will sit down in a gravel bed, nose inches from the wet sand, and find interesting pebbles, some no bigger then large sand granules. It's not the size, it's the fun of finding something. So, that's what you're gonna get from me today in this blog. Little pebbles and bits of sand.

Because, I'm feeling restless and uninspired blogwise. But I know how disappointed I am when I go to someone's blog and find..... nothing new. Bummer. It's like calling on a friend and not finding them home. I could do a meme, but I'm not feeling very meme-ish. I considered doubling up on my Wordplay posts. I even said I was gonna. Maybe tomorrow.

Speaking of sand, sitting on the couch next to me last night, William lifted his elbow suddenly, looked, and found sand in the crook of his elbow. He said "I think it's San Diego sand." He stuck his hand in the pocket of shorts and came back out with a pinch more sand. "Yep" and then added "but I'm not sure how it got inside my elbow." Me neither.

I woke up this morning to find a chihuahua on my head. Pretty much an every day thing, really. Rosie starts out under the covers by my feet each night and in the morning, when I get up to pee, I come back to bed to find her curled up in the middle of my pillow, like a little chocolate mint the maid left for me. (maid - snort - I wish!) She looks so adorable that I can't bring myself to push her off. Instead I lay my head on a corner of the pillow and she slips down around my head like a furry black crown and we go back to sleep for another hour or so.

This morning though, I noticed that Rosie has a swollen neck. Not throat. Her neck. Of course it's Saturday so there are no vets available in town. I called my sister. She's a vet. I figured if it was something that sent red flags up in her brain, I'd be driving to Reno today. I told her Rosie was acting completely normal, just had this swollen neck - maybe a spider bite? Vet Sister ran through a list of possibilities, none of them dangerous, told me what to watch for, sounded reassuringly calm, and I hung up feeling a teensy bit better. But geeze, this is the sort of thing that makes it hard that she's so very tiny. On a bigger dog, I doubt I'd even have noticed something like this. On her, to quote a friend's son, it' "ginormous"! And makes her seem all fragile.

I hate that feeling. Of the world being fragile. Because worrying about one thing spreads, like grease, and gets on all my other thoughts and pretty soon I'm worried about my cats, and then my kids, and my husband, and my siblings, and the country and finally the entire planet. This would be a silly thing, if the frightening truth wasn't that we have reason to be worried about our planet just now.

I went to Safeway yesterday and bought all the fixings for a Citrico margarita. I've been craving one for a week. When evening came though, I just wasn't in the mood. I was too lethargic to make it for myself. And my stomach was a bit upset. Plus, there was no one to drink with - hey William, want a margarita? Uhm, that's not gonna happen. I don't even really feel comfortable having a drink with my adult kids. Triggers too many parental buttons I guess. So, maybe tonight? I need a girlfriend's night out.

I could have asked my hubby, but that would assume I was speaking with him last night. He was in the dog house with me because of a comment he had made earlier in the day. It was a small thing. I won't say what it was. I'll just give you this - The man watches Fox News. I know, it's so embarrassing. I can't stop him. When I come into the room, he flips the channel and pretends he didn't. This comment yesterday - I know it was born out of two strong influences - a) the fact that he was raised and grew up in a very wealthy community (and has long, long, long ago fallen from the white towers of the rich) and b) he works in a prison. Both these things skew his view of the world in strange and terrible ways. It's not who he is in the center of himself, but it's how he reacts to his fears. Sometimes I can ignore the odd things that come slipping out of his mouth. Sometimes I can even laugh. Yesterday, it shocked me in a way that made me unable to speak. So I didn't. All night.

I didn't have a margarita, but I did have cherries last night. We've had a local bumper crop of the shiny, gothic red, sweet, fingerstaining little fruits. Several neighbors have knocked on our door this week to offer us some of their backyard bounty. We have had more cherries then we can handle just from our neighbor across the street. My vegetable bins are filled with bags of cherries. Today I'm going to go in search of a cherry pitter so I can try to freeze some of the harvest for later.

In the meantime, I've been eating cherries every night. I started simply eating them whole. Then I began to slice them, pit them, cover them with ice cream and pour waaaaay too much chocolate over the whole thing. Chocolate covered cherry ice cream. Heaven! But wait, last night I took it up even a notch higher. I discovered I had some cherry mead in the fridge. So I pitted the cherries, soaked them in mead, and then made them into a sundae. I'm sure the creation was an entire day's worth of calories, but who the hell cares!

Another decadence, the family went to the fair the other night so we could have our annual Indian Tacos. This year was particularly good as they offered both vegetarian and regular. We sat inside the building under the bleachers where they had giant swamp coolers going. We sat right at the end of a long table directly in front of the fan. It was blowing so strongly I had to hold my hair back so I could eat without it flying in my mouth with every forkful of taco. It was wonderful. Both the Indian taco and the swamp cooler.

Afterwards, William convinced his father to go on a carnival ride with him. I was completely shocked, Jeff does not do rides. Ever. At all. But hey, it's not for me to remind him of that, nor to stand in the way of father/son bonding. So off they went. I wandered around the fair by myself listening to local bands, people watching, petting goats and rabbits in the animal barns. I bought this hanging crystal from a booth. It's really odd. First, near the top of the string, there's this little Japanese-ish flower made from colored cord. Next, hanging sideways through it's midsection is.... I can only describe it as a crystal hydrocephalic snowman. I know. Lastly, and the reason I wanted it, at the bottom of the string is a cluster of little, red, glass chili peppers. I was going to just take the chili peppers off but now I dunno, the thing as a whole is so bizarre, maybe I'll just leave it the way it is. Eventually Jeff and William found me, and we went home, Jeff complaining that he was gonna throw up. The next day he was still holding his stomach and complaining of vertigo and swearing he'd never ever go on a ride ever again. Well, duh.

I've been drinking cold bottled Starbucks vanilla lattes for breakfast every morning. It's too hot to want anything to eat. You'd think it would make me feel wakeful. It doesn't.

The weather is so frustrating. I spent all winter wishing for the warmth of summer and now that it's here, I'm just sweating it out, listlessly waiting for summer to be over again. Not true. I don't want summer to be over. Just this frickin' heat wave. This area never used to get this hot. No one has air conditioning. Who would need it!? I've/we've taken to hiding out at air conditioned coffee shops midday. I/we sit, munch on a salad, I get all perky and animated and think, whew, I feel much better, let's go home and tackle some project. I walk out the door and WHOOMP, the heat hits me and all my enthusiasm and energy evaporates within seconds.

Last night the storm clouds finally whipped up a cool breeze. I was sitting on the couch with the windows at my back and the wind was gusty enough to blow the curtains back and forth. They'd fling themselves inward, wrap themselves around my head, and then relaxing, slide back into the windowsill. The storm couldn't manage any real rain, but the wind did carry little spatters of raindrops. If you stood outside you'd feel one hit your arm, then a few seconds later another on your face. It wasn't much, but it was still lovely.

This morning the clouds have completely dissappeared. Hot, endless blue skies, punctuated by the whump-whump-whump of the ever present fire fighting helicopters. Yesterday, driving on a road that runs along the edge of town, I noticed a spray painted sign at the entrance to the old mill. As I got closer, I read it - "Creek Hellbase". Sunnydale? We have a Hellmouth now? Not only have one, but we've got a sign for visiting demons and monsters?

The oddest thing wasn't what I thought the sign said, the oddest thing was that upon reading it I wasn't terribly surprised or confused at what it said. At least for a split second. As I got closer I realized it really said "Creek Helibase." The recent fire was named the Creek Fire. So this was where the helicopter base was situated. Well, that makes more sense. I mean, I seriously doubt that they'd put up a sign for a hellbase.

I gouged my fingertip yesterday, reaching into my purse for my checkbook at Walmart. I'd gone for a) the air conditioning and b) to look, for the six hundred and eleventh time, for a pair of shorts that fit. Apparently they only make women's shorts for skinny, buttless teenagers or women with very ample asses. They don't make shorts for anyone in between. I mean, really, they don't. I've been looking for a pair for two years now. It's ridiculous. Again, I didn't find any yesterday, but I did find a cute pair of shorts with a matching t-shirt for my grandson Joshua's upcoming birthday. Paying for them is when I gouged my finger. I looked and rummaged and couldn't figure out what it was that I stabbed myself with in there. There doesn't seem to be anything in my purse that could have done so much damage to me. I've got this really odd, hair-on-the-back-of-my-neck rising sort of feeling that it was a gremlin of some kind. Or a "sign" that I shouldn't be shopping at Walmart. I mean, I already know I shouldn't be shopping at Walmart. But the next nearest place to shop for clothing is over a hundred miles away. So you gotta cut me some slack, -k-?

Hubby just came back home from an errand, baring a soy latte. It's shorthand for "I'm sorry I'm a stupid white man." Unfortunately it's a hot soy latte. But it's the thought that counts. I guess I'll go doctor it up with some sugar and ice. Apology accepted. I don't have the energy to stay annoyed any longer.

Anyone want to fly in tonight for margaritas?