The pup pup

End of February came, and my doctor told me I was going to have minor out patient procedure. The process was painful, but I was fortunate enough that on a pain scale from 1-10, my pain was slightly over 5, so it could have been much worse. The drawback was that I was not allowed to lift anything over 20 lbs. Which is great, except I am a full time student lugging around a million pound school bag, work at a daycare with children needing to be picked up, and live on the third floor of my apartment building in which I have to lug groceries and bags up. So not lifting anything for a week became impossible.

The hardest part of this whole thing was that I felt alone. Many people try to be tough, and I find myself trying to be as well, but there are times, when even I cannot fake myself out. While I love my life here in Columbia, with school and the friends I have made, I find myself wishing I could be done, over with school, and on with the whole thing called life. The one bedroom apartment that I live in can get very quiet and at night, stupidly creepy. I can basically sit in my bedroom and see the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, the front door...nothing could be stirring around in here without me knowing it. But still, sometimes the dark and the quiet is just a little much, and I find myself wanting noise. Warmth or something close to hold that has a heartbeat. So, a week ago, my boyfriend and I purchased a puppy. A nine week old vibrant pure bred springer spaniel. Black and white, almost a complete saddle back, we named her Pairie Madysan (Pronounced Perry Madison). Little cute precious snuggly Pairie came with her own set of personality traits. A set of sharp teeth, a bark that will echo endlessly in these small walls, and four hefty paws that will support a one day hefty dog.

I was shocked when Pairie learned almost instantly to sit on command. To not use the bathroom in the house, and to dance a jig to signal it was time to potty outside. She had an obsession with toes and a fear of climbing steps. those little droopy eyes always peering about to catch the next big thing. The first night we had her, she curled up into her bed and slept a solid 7 hours. I was shocked. The next night she trumped herself and slept 8 almost 9. I had indeed bought the miracle dog. She was an angel.

Now a week has passed. She has grown about an inch, eaten more puppy chow then I can keep up with, and spilt more water bowls then I can keep full. But after all, its only been a week, how much trouble could she have really gotten into? Let me tell you.

Well, her first experience being kept in the bathroom during school hrs gated in by a baby gate resulted in a spilt water bowl mixed with dog pee smeared all over the bathroom floor (don’t worry, she got a bath as did the floor, thankful for Clorox!); she then felt the need to attempt to demolish the ONLY thing I had neglected to put out of her reach, despite having a plethora of toys to chew and play with, she picked the toilet cleaning brush. The next thing to fall to her little mouth was the door stop. I still can’t fathom how she got the thing off the wall. But there it lay, screw and all, glistening slobbery metal with teeth marks, the rubber tip chewed to shreds.

We went for several days without a mishap due to Pairie, she barked a lot yes, but finally got the point of playing with her own toys and entertaining herself so I could get some work done in the evenings. Her spunk spirit and cute disposition made it easy to come home to, yes there was stress from her being so rambunctious and hyper, but long walks next to the river would wear her out for hours on end. Everyone at the rive seemed to love little Pairie. Often times thought there would be confusion as to her name and gender...or even her breed. To me, when people asked what type of dog she was, it would humor me, because she is obviously a spaniel. The markings, the docked tail the crimped ears, doesnt it all point to it? Maybe its not as obvious to some people, which is fine.
Everyone wanted to pet “him” and I would respond, “Oh you can pet her.”

Which was undoubtedly followed by, “Oh its a she! What is her name?”

“Pairie.”

“Hary? What a cute name for a fluffy dog!”

“No,” I would say, “Pairie, with P, pronounced p-e-r-r-y.” I wouldn’t bother with telling them the spelling, I think it would have been to much for some of them.

She is a clumsy dog but well behaved if she has something to do. Pairie loves for her belly to be rubbed and her newest fascination is the buzzing cellphone and ice cubes. I have regarded her as a loving to play puppy, but not bad into everything. Her white crooked nose constantly twitches as sounds of cars and people mull about downstairs, but yet she has never attempted to be utterly destructive. A huge people pleaser she melts at the word no and begs for forgiveness upon being bad.

Saturday was a prime example of her mischievous side coming out apparently I hadn’t given her enough time to showcase this “cute” attribute.

We went out for a quick trip to Wal-Mart and to grab dinner. Having propped the baby gate up in the kitchen, surely, we thought, Pairie would not be able to escape and roam the house. The house was left completely un-puppy-proofed. Upon return, there sat Pairie, next to the door, excited to see us...the house...a mess. Apparently she had discovered a way to knock down the baby gate and attempted then to chew everything in site. The trash which was waiting to be taken out, now was strewn about the floor. Cascade, organic pizza packaging, napkins, empty bottles, and a bag of half eaten stale chocolate cookies. Yes, my dog helped herself to chocolate and lived. Deodorant from the bathroom had somehow made it to the living room, the bathroom towels were tossed and turned all over the floor, and the trash can, affectionately on its side. Pairie made her final grand stamp on the apartment by leaving no room untouched by peeing on a white t-shirt in the floor of my bedroom and pooping decidedly on a pair of pants. Thanks Pairie, we missed you too.

Did I fuss at the little ham basket? No, I simply laughed at her. Who could be mad at her? After all, she didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to do that. She was having a blast without us there. Oh, what I wouldn’t have given for a camera on the wall as she pranced around with her treasures and fun new toys. She is a baby after all.

Tonight, things are a bit more settled...kind-of. theres the nightly wetting of the floor the mins after I have walked her outside (she must have the world’s smallest bladder) she has found the vacuum most amusing today, the wheels especially. There is the pinecones in the basket on my coffee table, now those are really fascinating. And there was the glass of water that she knocked off the table and shattered into a million pieces about an hour ago.

But somehow thats all ok. Because right now, Pairie is snuggled up next to me, making snoring sounds, her head resting on my lap, her pudgy little belly rising and falling with her breath, her sweet tangy puppy breath.

I am one of the most happiest and luckiest girls in the world. Pairie is a handful, but there is a joy in being needed, dependent upon, loved unconditionally by something so small that makes it all so worth it. She is my silly little ham of a puppy, but she is also going to be one good life long companion.

Spring

Chalk. Pollen. Flowers. Dust. Perfume. Even the puffing lint from the tissues, irritate my nose. No doubt it is spring. I like spring, other then the allergies, its not bad! When spring is thought of, what do you think of? For me, walking the street to class, I smelled fresh cut grass in the muggy heat and reflection off the asphalt. That me riding my bike or scooter up and down the road as dad cute the grass. My bare feet skim onto of the rough black top from time to time, leaving behind specimens of skin, creating rough and sometimes red spots on my toes. Passing a Bradford Pear tree recalls thoughts of scooting up underneath the corn Pear tree on our house, scouring for caterpillars. Taking clear plastic hermit crab cages, I would create the optimal dwelling space for the little multi legged creature. Their plump elongate bodies with grey brown and yellow stripes were dropped into a maze of rocks, twigs, and leaves, with a splash of water to create humidity. There they would sit until they spun a cocoon or died. I can still smell that strong tangy smell of hovering over the cage and taking in the sight of nature taking its course. When I return to my apartment, my new puppy is sitting eagerly waiting to go out and romp around the river. Her playfulness and spunk brings back the thought of my most faithful dog, Bama. The hours he spent outside with me. The times we dressed him up, and the befuddlement of me at a young age as to why we could not name a boy dog Alison. But in the end, it all worked out, and that was simply the best dog I have ever had. I love spring. I love fall better, but spring is the next best season.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold:  when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.  ~Charles Dickens

He said it best. Thats this time of year in a nutshell. Summer in the light, winter in the shade. Its that time of year where a sweater it needed in the morning and a tank in the afternoon. When last night rolled around, a warm thick breeze blew as I walked Pairie around the dog walk. The air smelled heavy of purple Wisteria, small snowflake grapes hanging down from a vine. Nothing seems to be complimenting the night, its meshes, but doesn’t reflect the darkness. Illuminated and warm, nothing like the cold black nights that have been the norm as of late. Later that night a spring shower flowed through. Being on the top floor I was able to hear the patter of water splattering on the top of my building and windows. The last walk of the night was ushered in with a cooler breeze. The rain had brought the lower temperatures. But soon, all will be hot and muggy, thick and pasty. Warm in the day, morning, evening and night. It will be a heat that suppresses yet stirs to action bugs and aunts.
So enjoy the spring. The sneezing and the coughing, because soon the allergies will be gone, and the heat stroke will be here to stay.

Stop writing your future!

March the 17th. It is the year 2011. It is also St. Patrick's day. I'm sitting in history class, am I paying attention...probably not as much as I should be, but after all, it so pretty outside, and she is rambling on and on about WWI and WWII.

I feel like this spring is going to bring so much more greatness then I had originally expected. The plan, (who ever really follows the plan anyway?) was to be in Europe. To be productive. To be growing academically and bursting into a creative writing frenzy and passion. Yeah, well long story short, none of that happened. Now the tables have turned, the pages of this plan have altered, and I am more excited then ever to be embracing the new “plan” which is more like a pencil sketch with plenty of holes and eraser marks.

There is a saying someone close to me tells me often.

“Stop writing your future.”

This phrase usually passes between us when I am stressing out over “the plan” of life. He simply wants to bring me back to the realization that life is best served as a covered dish, unordered and full of zesty surprises. This has done me a great deal of good to shake off the stresses of “having to” and “must do” life is now about learning to enjoy what I am doing, embrace it, and attitude is everything. Even if you have to do it, feeling happy about doing it will make the deed more enjoyable.

I feel lucky, somewhat spoiled, and majorly blessed, to have someone in my life thats patient with me and teaches me to laugh at the stupid and serious alike. It’s go with the flow time. Nap when tired. Pile the clothes up, no need to stress about them being unwashed just yet. Eat the cupcake. Take the walk outside. Beat the history paper. Buy the puppy. Wave at the random person. Excessively wear stretchy pants.

It is all such a wonderful way to view the little fleeting moments we call life. Do I still catch myself stressing, oh ya betcha! But its not about not being under pressure, it is about taking it as it comes. Running wild and throwing that pen away that I used to use to etch the ending. I had so many endings to small things, to big things, splurging in a whole lot of question marks a long the way. But now, sometimes I’ll sketch it in pencil, but it doesn’t get grained into a stone wall.

So what are the things that I feel able to conquer this Spring and Summer? Well there is school to wrap up, the doggy to house train, the house to finish getting together. There is an internship to hope for and fulfill. A possible trip to Alabama to spend time with family. Rivers to kayak. Book to write. Many things. New little people to meet. Walk around happy and proud. And maybe land a little bling bling (hoping!!) One never knows.

Things are sketchy. Not in the sense that they are unsure and bad, but its a large piece of paper with small pencil sketches of what my life could be.

There is a house. There is a dog, a family, a writing studio. The house has a beautiful red wooden door, arched at the top, doorknob in the middle. Flowers bloom around a swing in the left hand side, and inside small bare feet tap against a hard wood floor. On the back porch a spaniel lies in the sun, soaking it up, passed out from the day’s romps. There is a bookshelf in the writing studio, full of my favorite books, Sylvia Plath, present on my desk. My leather journal from Italy sits at a slight angle on the edge. John Mayer plays in the background. I am lost somewhere in the house, barefoot, and more then likely in stretchy pants. Maybe I am bent over an amateur painting I’m slopping away at; maybe I’m playing a game with kids; maybe I have my bare feet snuggled between those of my husband’s on our big oversized couch reading, talking, watching television, my head fitting perfectly between his chin and chest.

There is an ideal sketch in the making! But thats the future, this is now. I will get there I am sure, but right now, it is more placid, sometimes lonely, but always interrupted with surprise flowers, great hugs, and humor to make me laugh until I cry.

But even now nothing is for certain for tonight’s events. The only one sure thing is that I will be eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. After all, everyone needs a rainbow and pot of gold on St. Patrick’s Day. Happy Spring everyone!

Why cant I hear the Music?

As I walked down a muggy, damp brick paved walk way from one summer class to yet another I found myself walking with ipod in, tuning into a cadence and looking around at things I have passed hundreds of times. Why, on a Tuesday, in mid July did it stick out to me? Maybe it was the absence of people, how the walk way was clear, the air thick, no sound but that of a guitar in my ears, or maybe it was me inside myself peering out wondering at it all. Yet, as the world around me was empty it was at the same time full. Maybe, just maybe, it is me that is empty, and that is why the simplicity of the world stunned me. So much lately has been buzzed, confused, altered, a slow yet steady decline and build up at the same time if that is possible. Moment-by-moment I watch things slip away, things I thought I had a grasp on, fettered to my abilities, to promises, to goals to achievements I haven’t lost them, but they are not so tightly strung. I see months diminish into weeks between me and leaving America for London. I see single digit days till summer school is out, till goodbyes. I saw my dog dash away before I had a chance to grasp the idea, blessed enough to be able to hold and love on her one last time. So much has changed yet still in slow pace I see it emptying out, wondering what will be filled in return.
We move on and we grow, we fall behind and we bend when we are to stay straight and we achieve things we never knew possible. Not all loss is bad, some is good, some makes you stronger and some makes you realize just how weak you are, but yet, you are still standing, you may be as empty as you ever have been, but that emptiness is a great place to start. Emptiness is not a frozen state, unless you make it. Sometimes the ability to still stand while holding nothing is greater then holding the whole world in your hands, invincible and confident. But there is no denying that the emptiness is a lonely and dismal place to be. For me, I find it is when I become most expressive within myself and I find ways to say things I never thought to say before. I scold myself for the faults that I allowed in, for the people that I let have a chunk of me, the trust I so unknowingly gave away, for talking when I should have listened, for crying when I should have been thankful, and for loving when I should have stayed guarded. But then I tell myself that it is ok, for as a friend told me last night…it is not that we are stupid for any of these things, it is staying in that situation that brought you to these realizations that would make us stupid. We don’t always get to pick our circumstances, sometimes they are thrust upon us before we turn our heads straight, and we are handed a bucket of issues and blame that optimism and hopeless romanticism prompted us to ignore. But can one really be at fault for wanting to feel full? I think not, I think it is basic instinct of any person, tough or spongy, hoping to never be left standing wondering and empty handed.
So I keep walking down this walkway…and there is a squirrel perched on the brick wall eating some odd-looking fruit. The fruit’s segments are all split up, little red pulpy beads with green knobby tops. He ignores me, dedicated to consuming his precious morsel. I stand there watching, humored by his desperation over the spread that is before him, he is unaltered by my presence; this little guy is simply sitting there shoving this fruit in as fast as he can, frantic that in a blink of an eye…that his paws will be empty.

Let's take a walk

Come on, let’s take a walk. Where exactly are we going? You will see.

First we put on out shoes. Shoes are important, may not be the most comfortable thing to wear, but sometimes that just how it is. Discomfort can breed protection. What? You do not want to wear them, but sharp things can stick in your foot, like the seeming harmless acorn, but that little sharp prick at the end can swindle its way into your flesh and create a slice that irritates you for days. Or you could step on glass or metal, something more sharp then you were prepared for, and then you will have to have recovery, stitches, maybe even shots to heal the wound. There’s also dirt, your feet will get muddy, dusty and grimy. And at the end of the walk, your feet will be cut, stuck and scummy. Those beautiful white feet…is that what you want them to look like? Good, you put on your shoes.

Ok well, let’s open the door and go. Oh? You want to know what is behind that door? That no one knows, but the reaching for the knob is half the struggle, and the next step is to swing the door wide and see the view from the present threshold, it is just the stepping over, in taking that view on the opposite threshold that is the hardest chunk. But once you step over, take my hand if you feel wobbly and we will walk on. Now you want to know where we are going. Why must you always have a plan or a map, why cant you just walk, look up from your feet and look at the view around you? If you raise your head and look around, you will see marvelous things that you have never seen before and that you will take in a view of life, a different take, a different perspective, will equal a new way of life.

And let me reassure you about that way of life you left behind. All good things in life, if they are truly yours, will be there for you always, or better yet, they will walk with you, behind you, beside you, you will not be alone. So don’t worry about that door, walk through it, don’t close it, leave it ajar just incase one or two want to slip through with you, or if you ever need to go back for a glimpse. But never forget, never stay, press onward in the walk, I am here, holding your hand, so let’s take that first step.