Sunday, September 20, 2009

The Mighty Huntresses.



Wednesday, September 16, 2009

What's the Timmy in the well?





About six months ago, I had just finished a yard and was putting the invoice on the door when the door opened and a booming voice bellows, "Braaaady get back here!" I froze for an instant because this was the first time I had been to this house and I became unfrozen when a giant yellow lab is leaping towards my head. "Brady get down, now!" It turns out that Brady is a very very friendly and playful dog who loves to greet everyone by jumping on them. The customer goes on to tell me all about how they moved here from Boston and all about how they are huge Patriots fans and all about how they named their dog after Tom Brady and all about how Brady is a really special dog and all about how to be careful to always keep the gate closed because Brady just loves to dart out and wander around the neighborhood and this is the part that gets me- he says,"Yeah, Brady here has a wanderlust about him."
Today I found that to be quite the understatement. I had the gate open to drag the hose through and saw his grinning self looking at me. He was sitting about twenty feet away from the gate just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me so I figured he's not gonna try anything radical today. I turned my attention for a split second and POOOF he dashes for the open gate. He stops right outside the gate just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me again. "Brady, get back in here," I plead to no avail. I slowly approach him and he's still just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me. I get to about three feet from him and POOOOF he dashes out through the front yard and down about three houses where he sits under a tree waiting for me to approach just kind of wagging his tail and smiling and as I get closer POOOOF there he goes again full speed through the neighborhood all the while taking time to look back at me and smile and wag his tail.
Logically I know that there is probably nothing to it, that it's just a damn dog getting out that I have to chase down and bring back. Realistically I should think it's just a damn dog wasting my time, ruining my day, and giving the neighbors something funny to see from their windows. But I swear that somehow this is something more. Like Lassie leading everyone to find Timmy in the well. Like it's me chasing myself. Like it's me trying to show myself something.
Brady leads me probably about a quarter mile through this neighborhood into the greenbelt where they have a walkway and an area with old railroad ties as a retaining wall covered with honeysuckle exploding in it's last days of the season. He goes into the shade of a cottonwood tree and sits down just kind of wagging his tail and smiling at me. I approach him and he doesn't bolt or run. He just sits there and lets me walk up and sit next to him.
I pat my head and ask myself what is this all about? Why the chase? Are you running away from something or running to something? Is this about my wanderlust? Are you telling me to go home, pack up the everybody in the van, grab the rent money from the counter and just go?
My canine self is being real stubborn about just giving away the secrets, so I continue to pepper him with questions.
Is it the honeysuckle growing three weeks past season? Are you trying to show me something about resiliency? Am i supposed to hang on to something when logic would seem to show it impossible? Is this about God vs logic? Hmmm? Is it? Maybe it's taking time to appreciate beauty instead of being concerned with American efficiency? Should I blog about this? Would you like to be viewed in Laos? Is this about my writing? What should my next project be about? Hmm? Since your not answering, are you trying to show me that sometimes maybe we can't really know? That maybe it's better to question than to know? Hmm? Hmm? Are you trying to show me how crazy I truly am? That I'm talking to a dog as if somehow it is me? Are you saying I should embrace this kind of behavior?
At this point, I guess he got tired of me not hitting the mark and decided to help me along, so he rolls over on his back and I rub his belly. Maybe this is it huh? That you need your belly rubbed? That sometimes no matter how fiercely independent we may try to be, that ultimately we need people? That we can't tickle ourselves?
And just like that he got up and started trotting back to his yard.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

my life is average

the alarm makes its first scream, well actually it's a whimper because i've had the same alarm clock for at least ten years but that is totally irrelevant, so the alarm makes its whimper at 4:30 which if i get up immediately is the perfect time for me to eat a bowl of cereal, brew some coffee, take a shower, get dressed, check the radar, check facebook, let the van's carburetor warm up, gather the cellphone and cigarettes, and make the 35 minute drive to work to be there at 5:45 which is the perfect time because the other techs aren't there so i can fill up my tank without waiting in line, and then beat the morning traffic and be on a yard at or before 7 and have an awesome jump on the day, however i typically hit the snooze about 5 times while having irrational thoughts about how the alarm isn't really going off or i incorporate the buzzing into a dream for an hour, which gets me up at 5:45 which usually cuts out the shower, the breakfast, and the coffee, and at this time when i start the van it wakes up emma and she comes droggily down the starts and mutters something incoherent about a dora dream and then says she loves me and wants to watch me drive away so she sits on the porch with a blanket and watches me drive away so i go around the block to make sure she doesn't fall asleep on the porch and gets back inside so i have reveries about how awesome she is and how awesome the violette is and how awesome theordore is and how awesome effie is and how awesome our family is and as im heading up northwest expressway i can usually catch a glimpse of the sun peeking up and i tell it hello and thank it for lighting up the sky in such a brilliant and clockwork manner and i usually have the same thought every morning about how neat it is to be hurdling across the earth at 55mph, how i've been riding in cars for 26 years and the concept is still neat to me and how thankful i am for the magic van that should realistically not be running, but by some benevolent force it just keeps blaring and blazing away day after day and gets me to work and gets us to the zoo and gets us to the store and i can't get over how neat and amazing it is and how neat and amazing everything is, then i get to work at 6:58, two minutes before the requisite start time so the other techs are there and i wait my turn to fill up and i look at my route for the day and always have the highest aspirations to do every yard, so i head out and must make the first 7-11 stop for the day for a donut and an energy drink since i didn't wake up in time to make cereal and coffee, so i mozy through traffic down to norman or moore or yukon or mustang munching on the donut sipping on the energy drink puffing on a cigarette thinking how neat it is to have a job that pays the bills and even a little extra for smokes and energy drinks and friday night papa johns and random thrift store or garage sale treasures and all the small little blessings waiting around the corner and at this point i usually think about how tonight is the night that i'm gonna start the short story that has been in my head for three weeks or maybe start on the new novel and then i have a war with myself about what's the point of spending three months of my time and energy for a novel that three people will read and then i curse myself to oblivion and tell myself that i will do it because i like doing it and how many people read it is irrelevant and i usually come to the conclusion that yes tonight is the night to start the next big project or at least crank out a poem or a blog so i want to get home a little early so in my mind i shave off two or three yards because they aren't going anywhere any time soon, they'll be there waiting for me another day, so i get to my first yard and settle in to the routine of two yards then cigarette, three yards then cigarette, mix in lots of calls to and from the hilarious the nefarious the all consuming effie, one yard then cigarette, one yard and now it's time to caffeinate again so its to 7-11 for a dr pepper and some sunflower seeds and i'll look at the clock and the big ominous stack of yards left and decide that a couple more need to be shaved off, a couple of yards here a couple of yards there a few yards everywhere and before i know it it's 4:00 and i've done enough to be passable as a decent employee so i start the journey back to piedmont scanning the radio for something something oh anything decent to listen to but npr is rambling on how tough it must be to be poor and it makes me want to vomit and the modern rock station is playing one of their ten songs and all ten are lifeless dregs and the country station likes toby keith more than willie nelson so i'll settle on the sports animal not because i'm the biggest sports fan in the world or even care about sports really at all but it's slightly entertaining so i cruise back and at this point i'm not so fond of the sun anymore as my truck has no a.c. and i'm not so fond of the neatness of driving because i've been doing it all day and there are just so many damn cars and who are all these people and where are they going and who are they talking to on their phones and what are they saying and i realize that i have no grip on humanity and i'm starting to wear down and wear out and i just want to be home to play with my wife and kids and eat something that didnt come from 7-11 and oh yeah i'm gonna write!! tonight is the night to pull down the typewriter and get to clickyclackin but what do i have to write, i don't understand the rest of humanity in the slightest so i get back to the shop and get out of there and while i really enjoy my job, by the end of the day i want nothing more than to forget the place exists so i meander down 122nd to avoid the psychosis of nwexpressway at 5:30 and hop on hefner parkway and glance over at the lake and wonder why are all these people running around and around why are we all running around endlessly and aimlessly and why cant we all move to the woods and eat twigs and berries follow a single ant all day and sing folk songs by campfire everynight but then i remind myself that this modern life is a beautiful mystery to be embraced just the way it is and i get home and open the door and my spirits are sky high to see the girls smiling shouting "daddddyyyy!!" and we say "cranddaaalll claaannn" and have a giggle and a tickle and i have a hug and a kiss with effie and we all hear about our days and we have an "at home cigarette" and then some delicious dinner and put on some good music and i'll hold theodore and ask him if he's ready to go fishing yet and we'll watch the girls jumping from the couch and being in a state of general mayhem and usually get frustrated that they won't listen to anything we tell them but at the same time be so proud of their independence and general hilarity and at this point i'll remember that i'm starting that novel or at least that short story or at least a poem or at least a blog but instead i'll check up on facebook and we'll watch a couple of episodes of lost on netflix and i'll swear that tomorow morning i'm gonna get up at the first whimper of the alarm and tomorrow night will most definitely bring about the first pages of that novel and as mom used to say "my sleepy hits" and i get grouchy real fast usually snap at effie or the girls and realize that i better go to bed before i say anything too incredibly smartassnasty, so i'll head to bed dead tired but in general completely satisfied and grateful for my family and my life and can't wait for 4:30 when the alarm will whimper and i will most assuredly hit the snooze...