Fun Facts

Since September 7 of this year, Sully and I have ridden 51 miles in just over 9 hours.

I can’t walk into the kitchen without at least 3 items falling from my hands, off a shelf or counter, or out of the refrigerator.

Seeing bugs of any kind en mass, in life, in pictures or on television, gives me instant gooseflesh.

I am impatient. I wish I weren’t.

My favorite song at the moment is by Canadian actors Paul Gross and David Keeley. It’s called Cherry Beach.

I detest reality television.

I frequently procrastinate on simple tasks and then wonder why on earth I did.

I think pranks are unkind, and I would never play one on anyone.

I made this this afternoon:

It is pumpkin. I was born and [mostly] raised in the South, and I think sweet potato pie is a crime against nature.

That is all. For now.

Cathartic

The last time I got my hair cut was right before our anniversary last year, which would have been sometime in November. Some weeks, even a measly $12 for a haircut cannot be squeezed out of the budget, so I decided (and these decisions are always easily made as one faces the cold winter months) to let my hair grow out and save that little bit of money for something more fun, like, you know, eggs and milk

Prior to this 10 month experiment I’ve kept my hair short since I was about 11 years old. I suffered from frequent headaches as a child, and had hair that fell somewhere between the middle of my back and my rear end, at times it being long enough to sit on. Mom always helped me with it first thing in the morning, and always put it either in pig tails or a ponytail, and that’s how it stayed till bedtime.

When getting her own hair done, mom mentioned that she had a daughter with long thick hair that suffered from frequent headaches, and the stylist suggested getting my hair cut.

Sure enough, headaches cured! I’ve more or less worn it short ever since.

It’s been a hot summer. And I’m active. My hair never dries underneath in this weather between morning horseback rides and evening bike rides. And I’ve been having more and more headaches. I can’t stand to have it down on my neck, but by the end of the day of wearing it up with clips or combs, my scalp is tender and throbbing.

I told Steve I would gladly mortgage the dog for a haircut. Luckily for the dog, it did not come to that. And, as I always do when I make a drastic change, I found it a cathartic and relieving experience… ah. It’s very nice to be light-headed again!

Biological Clock

It’s a widely held opinion that as a woman reaches a certain age (mine, perhaps?) her “biological clock” begins ticking. It’s the countdown to the day when suddenly having babies is no longer an option. I can’t begin to count how many “wise” women have informed me that one day, sooner or later, that timebomb that apparently erases all reason will start its deafening tick down to detonation. Somehow, this will suddenly change every belief I hold about parenthood, strong feelings that have been with me almost as long as I can remember. I actually cannot remember a time when the idea of motherhood appealed to me. I know I played with dolls as a very young child; even then, I wasn’t their mama, more like their childcare provider. Their imaginary parents payed me handsomely to keep their brats, too. They even allowed me to name them all Susie. Wasn’t that nice?

I suppose it’s always been in the back of my mind that once I hit 35, I would suddenly desire nothing more than a child, or sixteen. It would be an overwhelming sensation that annhilated all those other reasons for being childless.

I’m still waiting. It’s been roughly 492 days since my 35th birthday. I’m straining to hear any kind of ticking. My clock is busted.

Except…

Kitten (Photo credit: Bjørnli Foto)

Wait, I do have the insane urge to cuddle something baby-like. Something cute and helpless and tiny and… furry! Every couple of years, I am beset with the overwhelming desire to raise a kitten. Does this mean I do have at least one nurturing tendency, buried amongst all those other traits that make me unsuitable as a mother? I think it does!

Kittens are really perfect. What is cuter? They grow up quickly, within a few months. They don’t eat much. They are inexpensive. And as adults, they hang around for a few years (in my own experience) and then they just disappear. Aside from the occasional instance of prying one from the slobbering jaws of a hungry German Shepherd, or scraping one out of the road with a shovel, yes, always sad, but there’s always another kitten.

I’m sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with this post. Me? I’m off to the pound.

Dogs

I’ve never called myself a dog person, as in cat vs. dog. Both have their strong and weak points, and as with everything else, I tend to go on an individual basis. I’ve known nasty dogs and cats, and sweet dogs and cats. Growing up, we had a couple of dogs. One very vivid memory I have is when Dad brought home a little 3 month old Golden Retriever pup. She was the family dog, but my responsibility, which was so cool to an animal-loving eleven-year-old. I remember the day we took her in for her first vet visit to get her shots, and sitting in Dad’s old green Dodge truck beside him while he filled out her registration paper. He asked what we should name her. Princess Sandy of Patrick, I said, and he laughed and wrote it down on the paper, and Sandy it was. I remember the vet prescribed heart worm pills, and Dad showed me how to put them way back on her tongue and rub her throat to get her to swallow them. That was my job, too.

Other than Sandy, who we had for several years, we had mostly cats and the occasional hamster. Maybe I’m a hamster person? I do like hamsters. They’re cute and soft and don’t smell or chew up your shoes or furniture or pee on your house and make it stink.

I did have a point, here. I rode my new bike over to feed this morning, and one of our neighbors has this huge, ill-tempered Golden Retriever who jumps out and snarls at you when you go by. In addition to this untrained menace, they have recently acquired two additional puppies who are learning adeptly from Lucky (the retriever) how to also be societal menaces. The little black one ran out at me and followed me up the road, snapping his teeth at me every time I looked at him. I snapped back. And I said loud enough for the neighbors to hear, “You threaten me, dog, and I will eat you alive.” People should control their pets. If you can’t keep them from threatening people off their own property, you don’t deserve to have a pet. I will be getting some pepper spray.

Blue, on the other hand, may be my favorite pet ever… well, perhaps second to Sully. It depends on the day you ask me. Blue is smart and obedient. He’s loyal. He’s quiet. Sometimes I wonder if he’d have been the same dog with the same traits had he grown up with someone else. I am very firm with him. When it comes to pets, whether it’s a horse or a dog, the fun goes out of the animal when they don’t listen and become more work than enjoyment. I keep him tied in my yard because the one thing I don’t know how to teach him is to stay at home, and I don’t want him pooping in other people’s yards or being hit by a car. He’s my responsibility, and if I can’t control him, I don’t deserve to have him.

I realize I’m unique in these views, because we live in a world where animals are better treated than people. That’s a whole ‘nother post, for a whole ‘nother day, though. I will say this, I get more compliments on my animals when I’m out with them, both Sully and Blue, because they do what I tell them and they are, largely, a joy to be around.

Cats… well… my cat is pretty well-trained, too, but we’re not often seen together. She spends her days as a house cat, but I’ve taught her the bathroom is outside. She also knows that if I catch her on a counter or table top, she gets smacked. But she’s a cat. She sleeps to the beat of her own drummer, and I’m okay with that. Most of the time.