we piddled together through the mart
antiques, novelties, glove sizers
didn’t buy a single thing
except lunch — (we bought that)
fly in her water
didn’t keep it
sent it back
ordered
wine
Piddling
Morning Games
I see his figure
peeking around the sage chair
looking right at me
acting non-chalant
resting briefly to lick paws
he stretches out, yawns
as if he does not
have a burning agenda
playing me a fool
his ball rests nearby
then a thump of his black tail
and a sudden pounce
an invitation
to an early-morning game
that I can’t resist
camping pets
Camping families
more than half of us have pets
(One official stat)
An I Miss You Dodoitsu
the day after Open Writes
when we go back to writing
without the company of
friends makes me miss them
my little buddy
when the others are getting
breakfast treats in the kitchen
Fitz stays with me
my little buddy
when my husband
leans in to kiss me
goodbye on his early
to work days
Fitz emerges from the
covers with warning
snaps ~ firm reminders
of who is who
when it comes to me
he goes where I go
sits where I sit
sleeps where I sleep
thinks where I think
eats where I eat
and is our only rescue
who has never bitten me
my little buddy
he snuggles me
when I read or watch tv
and catches popcorn mid-air
and gazes into my eyes
like I’m his whole world
my little buddy
my soul dog
my Fitzie
Still Life: Black Dog in Brown Chair Nonet
On any given morning, my family members in different group chats begin swapping random photos on a theme one of us starts. Saturday’s theme was our dogs. Dad sent a video of his schnoodle, Kona, getting her 5:30 a.m. treat from a friend at Parker’s gas station on St. Simons Island on their early morning routine walk. My brother sent not a photo of his dog, Kasa, but of the veterinary table where she was getting her shots (she’s a gorgeous Brittany, and I’d show her off every chance I got if I were him). I looked around and caught a glimpse of our aging rescue schnauzer, Fitz, sitting contemplatively in the brown velour chair that has become his window gazing chair.
This chair, one of a pair, matches nothing else in our house, so we have had it listed on Marketplace since bringing it home from one of Dad’s storage facilities to sell. But Fitz loves it so much that we may just keep the velour pair for our three schnoodle boys to call their own. I mean, next to a Velvet Elvis, what could be more of a conversation piece in a home filled with a blend of modern, farmhouse, and antique furnishings? What I noticed about the chair, though, was the variegated colors and the way the light played with the fibers and Fitz’s coloring. Immediately, I envisioned an old painter with an easel, painting a still life of a beloved family dog.
It was my picture to share in the group text.
Dad sent it to a painter friend named Carol to see if it could become an affordable masterpiece. She replied that it was compelling, and that she was glad to receive the photo – – that it will become a master watercolor.
I urged them to note the crossed front legs, showing a recent shave for a dental cleaning, the basking in sheer comfort, the deep reflective thought and philosophical consideration, the way the light plays with the wisdom of old age.
I hadn’t woken on Saturday thinking that Fitz, in a moment of silent reflection, would become the subject of a still life.
But here we are, rocking the reflective moments of life.
note the front legs crossed on the armchair
philosophical reflection
the way the light plays with age
salt and pepper mixed hues
he needs a top hat
and an old pipe
and a lap
to call
home
As the day wore on, I took a few more photos to continue the theme of the day, but the brown velour backdrop on the first pose was the best Fitz shot I was able to capture.
How I Beat the Heat
Hallmark’s Christmas in July movies
high velocity fan, full blast
pretending there’s a blizzard
piping hot black coffee
wrapped in sofa throw
Schnoodles piled high
all of us
beating
heat
The older I get, the less I can endure the extreme heat and humidity. Give me a blizzard to handle the scorching heat! I’ve found that a good snowy Hallmark Christmas in July movie with love instead of hate, free from the problems of the world, is my ticket to a better day! Raising a mug to you – Cheers! Stay cool!
Cleaning Out!
we’re cleaning out a lifetime of stuff
making room for new adventures
goodbye to all the clutter
farewell to odds and ends
we’re clearing the air
ready for new
memories ~
coming
soon!
Slice of Sadness: Raw Truths
sometimes I suppress memory
sorrow, disgust, guilt, misgivings
I should probably take more
action on like those
twin mattresses we delivered
to that young single mother of
five dirty children in a photo we saw
in all the mess
and a filthy home last week,
mattresses practically new
we no longer needed, so I listed them
on Facebook Marketplace for cheap
the young mother didn’t have a person
or a way to get them so we delivered
them, left them on the
wheelchair ramp to her mobile home
sat in silence for a few moments staring
at the dump of the place, the broken
chairs and table, the dilapidated pet
cage (minus a pet, thank God),
plastic bags of strewn clothing,
home tattoo kit in a bag with needles,
smashed toys, headless dolls, trash
shattered bottles, crushed cans,
upturned cooler, bricks, dishes, wet papers,
random things everywhere destroyed
by rain and weather and wondered
(tried not to judge but it was impossible)
then a man came out with a bike helmet
and we asked if he was the boyfriend
meeting us to receive the beds
and in an offended tone told us no way
he was only there to fix a leak
with force like we’d slapped him
so we left them there in all the filth
right by a trash heap and wondered
whether to call DFACS or mind our
own business (remembering: I’m mandated
even outside of my own county, I’m
mandated as a human being for
reporting deplorable conditions)
I know they’re inanimate objects
my husband turned to me
confessing a hard truth
as we backed out of the parking space
but I almost feel sorry for the mattresses
I swallowed hard and admitted:
I keep telling myself that there
are five children who need a place
to sleep and these may be the
only clean beds they’ll ever see
(and maybe the only beds at all)
sobered by the experience
of this hardship case
rattled to the core, speechless,
we drove 23 miles back to clean
trying to forget all we’d seen
wondering if we owned enough soap
but still asking: did we do the right thing?
should we return with groceries,
does she have services in place?
because tears do not cure hunger
tears do not clothe children
no, crying doesn’t change a thing
Note: we only saw photographs, not the actual children.
Birthday Cake Breakfast Haiku
my favorite cake
Publix buttercream-frosted
sliced birthday breakfast!
Today is my birthday, and already it has started better than I’d expected! I awoke to a birthday song recording from a member of my writing group and birthday cake on the counter. I’ve spent quiet time writing and watching birds, and the dogs are snuggled, fast asleep, next to me. The best part? I have no looming deadlines or plans today. I can write, I can read, I can drink coffee and eat cake and enjoy the day off here way back in the woods at home.
What’s better than that for a birthday?
Perhaps this is the best day of all to say thank you to YOU if you are reading this blog post. I experience life more richly when I can write about it and share the stories with those who read about it. Thank you, friends, for all the joys of another journey around the sun!
Common Threads 