Monthly Archives: January 2009

She lived to tell the tale, and will henceforth be called Conehead the Barbarian

We were at the park, and Rocky was throwing a frisbee to a woman’s big Australian shepherd-mix dog.  I was sitting nearbye with little Sunny on a leash.  The big dog noticed Sunny and came up close, bristling and stiff, and we heard a low snarl begin in the back of its throat – and then it was attacking, I heard Sunny’s muffled yelp of pain, and Rocky was screaming and running away, and somebody body-slammed the dog and got it in a headlock, pulling it off Sunny – and then I realized the person was me.

The dog’s owner pulled it away by the collar, Rukan grabbed up the wailing Rocky, and I retreated with Sunny to assess her injuries.  At first she seemed okay, but soon blood started to well up from her forehead, soaking into her yellow fur, and more below her eye.  That fucking dog grabbed her by the head, and got her good.  I turned my attention to Rocky, who was sobbing like I’ve never heard.  I called her over to me and held her.  She cried, “Mama, I have such a bad feeling in my body. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my whole life!”

I took Sunny to the vet immediately, and Rukan stayed with Rocky at the playground.  The owner of the other dog came too, and put the bill on her credit card before leaving.  She felt very bad.  Sunny got a shave, and I got to see the damage the dog did – three deep gashes in the top of her head, and at least one nasty one below the eye.  They washed the wounds out and gave me a bottle of antibiotics and a prescription for painkillers, because apparently dog bites are very painful.  The vet didn’t give her any stitches, because he was afraid bacteria would get trapped inside and cause infection.

Sunny’s been a very good sport about the head cone.  Sito’s been sneaking her crackers and probably bits of whatever she’s cooking, and even Ru’s grumpy old dad has spared That Dog a few pats.  Sunny says a dog bite never felt so good.

conehead

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10 Years Later

Today Rukan and I are celebrating 10 years together.

That’s, like, half as old as I am.  Happy Anniversary, us!  We went out for a lovely dinner at a traditional Ethiopian restaurant last night (ate with our fingers from a basket and everything).  She gave me a beautiful sterling silver and blue topaz Celtic knot Goddess necklace.  Ru knows what makes me happy.  Here’s to ten more.

Postcards From Lebanucky

This white, powdery stuff is falling out of the sky.  It’s very cold, and if you look real close, there are these beautiful, tiny round-shaped pointy-end things that sparkle.  On the way home, the asphalt had a strange sheen on it, and the truck kept doing this wacky sashay all over the road.

It seems that I can sense some vague memory of this phenomenon, from somewhere in my past . . . but ten years in the Vortex sucked everything that’s not hot and sunny and topless out of my brain.  Holy crap, what’s that??!  Out the window, under the eave – a translucent stalactite!  And look there – that man’s four fingers have merged into one.

Lebanucky is a strange, strange land.

Game of the Day

Bruno Gets Pregnant, in which Bernard the ceramic basset hound, husband of Bruno the ceramic greyhound, catches each baby as Bruno gives birth.  “Pshht,” says Rocky, as each baby shoots out into Bernard’s waiting hands.  That’s the sound of babies coming out.  Then Bernard brings the baby over, and Bruno names it.  “Dimble”, says Bruno, pleased.  Next, “Pretty.”  Next, “Bastbruno.” Bruno keeps popping out babies, all girls, until she has, at my estimation, about 20.  “Lilyblossom … Kelpie … Dazzle … ”

Then come the boy puppies.  Bruno hurries to get that over with, and names them “Snotty.  Poop.  Boogerface.”  Et cetera.  (Apparently Rocky’s not much into boys right now).  When it comes time to nurse the babies, Bruno informs Bernard, “I will nurse the girl puppies, and you will nurse the boy puppies on your penis.”

!!!

“Rocky,” I tell her gently, “my ceramic dog is not going to play that, because we don’t play about anybody touching another person’s penis. That’s Bernard’s special private part.”  I was imagining Rocky over at old Mrs. Strong’s down the street, telling her about this fun game she plays with Mama …

“But I want the boy puppies to nurse on him!”    “Well, lets just pretend Bernard has milk in his nukins, okay?”

So Bruno nursed the girls on her nukins, and Bernard nursed the boys on his nukins.  I thought, it’s 2009.  If a man can have babies, a ceramic basset hound can lactate.

1/11/09: Quote of the Week

Rocky: “From now on, I’m Jewish.”

Mazel Tov!

New Year’s Wishes

For the most part, I’m really here.  I just don’t look back much.  It’s what I’ve got to do to keep panic at bay.  Every once in a while, though, I catch a faint scent of Austin . . . running across a photo of coots on Town Lake, for example, or a sudden memory-flash of Ev’s delightful sunny laugh.  Then mourning washes over me, as I look out on the dim sky and gray landscape of urban Kentucky winter.

It’s nothing like it was before I started meds.  I feel like I can finally start living, now.  And though I miss my life and community in Austin terribly, and have not yet found anything familiar to cling to here, I can still see the big picture, why we needed to come here.  The familiar will come.  Making that happen is my personal goal for 2009 – for me and Rocky, and for Rukan, a new familiar.  And for Aza, some really sweet waves, no fistfights, and a girl who thinks nice guys are sexy.