Rabbit rabbit!

Pinteresting

I love the tiny glimpse into people's lives I get from what they're pinning on Pinterest. Is Holly thinking of getting an Airstream trailer for real? I know she's mulling over lesson plans and jewelry making. Zoë is making lots of salads, or at least dreaming of salads. She rarely pins recipes for sweets, but when she does, it's something fruity. Emily is excited about her new house (a fixer-upper), and is particularly focused on the bathroom. And the yard — the new place must have a well. Jeannette's been knitting, Amy may be thinking of adding chickens to her flock and swapping out bedroom furniture. Erin covets a beautiful new rug. Megan is still singing, Ella's contemplating a bullet journal. Several friends are interested in bourbon drinks and butt exercises.

Small things

There have been recent reports of people being bitten by rabid foxes — not here, but in a nearby town. This makes me so sad for the foxes, on the one hand, and has also caused me to rethink my emotional relationship to the foxes I (rarely) see in Portland. A couple of weeks ago, I was walking both dogs at night when I saw what was probably a fox across the street (Gus was barking his head off, so probably a fox), and instead of running off like they usually do, it just stood there. Which seemed odd, unless it was maybe a cat.

Not so long ago, I drove past a dead gull on the street. It was on its back with its little bird legs sticking straight up in the air, like a dead cartoon gull.

Even though I had to drive around the block twice and ended up parking blocks away, and even though I had to turn over my debit card to the tune of $100 for flea and tick tablets, and even though I completely forgot to make Theo an appointment for his yearly stuff, I had a great ten minutes at the vet today. Some days, the things that make Portland feel like a small town are so sweet. Todd the receptionist, who's married to Tommy, who owns the cafe where Isaac worked one summer, asking after him. And Ina the receptionist, who's worked at the vet forever and is probably the kindest person on the planet, asking how Gus's joints are doing. Small things.

I started training today for Crisis Text Line, and I feel like I'm in college.

Rabbit rabbit

Mermaid

I've just been thinking about the walk we used to take beside a reservoir on a path lined with mica, and how Zoë would stick flakes of mica to her arms and face so she would shine with mermaid scales.

There's a photograph of her mermaid face somewhere — I need to find it!

Insensible losses

Insensible loss must be the most beautiful medical term ever. The smoke your breath becomes when it's bitterly cold? That's an insensible loss. Peeing? That's a sensible loss.


I have a pile of library books to dive into. I've walked the dogs, extra walked the little one in the woods, watered the plants, and cleaned the litter box. I started my day with homemade butter coffee (butter is basically ice cream, you know), homemade granola, yogurt, and sweet, ripe strawberries.


Here's my latest Google Street View idea: 

Kid, immortalized

I don't know — something about people who are caught unawares by the Googlemobile or whatever it's called. Maybe involving thread.*




*this is basically how my creative ideas go.

My life was the size of my life.

Yes Itch

Poppin big green antibiotic pills and guzzlin kefir over here!

I got a hot, raised, red infection in my arm instantly after all the manual labor this week, evidence of my delicacy (I used to while away childhood hours imagining I'd been born a British princess). Tuesday, after returning the tidily-swept truck, I showered, diligently soaping and scrubbing the dump-dirt away. Mark and I had consulted each other a few times on the date of our last Tetanus shots ("We're up to date on Tetanus, right?" "Uh, we must be. I think."). I disinfected all the scratches and scrapes on my (tender) forearms too, even applying antibiotic ointment and Bandaids. It was hot, but I wore long sleeves to dinner because my arms looked so bad I was afraid I'd trigger someone.

And yet, I knew yesterday that one scratch was infected, and I did have cellulitis once, which supposedly means I'm at a higher risk of getting it again. So last night I went to urgent care, a little apologetic about the mere spot of infected skin I was sporting.

The first nurse spoke so softly, it seemed like she was deliberately making it hard for me to hear her. "Have you ever used chewing tobacco are you safe at home," she whispered.

I hate the idea of taking antibiotics. Every time I do, I think I'm one step closer to MRSA.*





*don't Google that