Category Archives: Bartleby

Vero Beach

13 Thursday Oct 2016

Posted by in Bartleby, Grace, Pets, Travel, WIP, Zelda

≈ 2 Comments

I’m attempting to bore myself into writing. So far… eh, it might be working, but if so, it’s going slowly. Maybe by Monday I’ll have made some real progress.

I’m staying at the same campground for ten whole days. And not a beautiful or fun or inspiring campground — a parking lot campground. In fact, when I first got here, I thought it was creepy as hell. I wasn’t sure I was going to stay even for two days, much less ten. The next day (aka yesterday) I realized the creepiness — a general impression of a ramshackle, disheveled ghost town — was the result of the hurricane. It’s actually been sort of fun to watch them clean it up, one stretch after another going from debris-strewn to neat and tidy.

Plus there is a lovely huge fenced field labeled a dog park. I’ve been working steadily during the past eleven weeks on improving the dogs’ stays and recalls and a big space gives them a chance to really practice. Alas, status quo remains: Z is a rocket scientist and B has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. I tell Zelda to stay and she sits and trembles and waits as I get farther and farther away, until finally I turn and point at the ground and she barrels toward me at joyous hyper speed, her ears trailing behind her, as if she actually thought I might leave her behind. B, on the other hand, bounces along two steps after me no matter what I say or do. But hey, eight more days in this park gives us a lot of time to practice.

Especially because I’m trying really hard to not let myself do anything but write or knit. No reading, no television, no internet browsing. Walking dogs and any form of exercise, okay. Eating, yes (obviously!); planning and cooking elaborate meals, no. I’ve given myself permission to write anything so I’ve written lots of personal babble, but I’ve also done plenty of staring at Grace. And enormous amounts of daydreaming. I wish more of it was daydreaming about Grace, but at least some of it will work its way into future stories. I love lines of thoughts like “People who feel rejected do stupid things: if Fen felt rejected, I wonder what she would do? If you had magic and felt rejected, hmm…” And off my brain goes. It’s so nice to feel like my daydreaming might be useful.

My sister tells me that I write about Z a lot and rarely about B. I’m not actually sure that’s true but just in case she’s not the only one who wants to know how they’re doing with the traveling lifestyle…

B loves it madly. He is more energetic, more rambunctious, happier and bouncier than he has ever been. He gets adored in campgrounds: all small children instinctively gravitate to him and he takes their attention and sticky hands as his due. He has entirely stopped hiding under furniture and in closets, perhaps partially because there aren’t a lot of places to hide in Serenity, but he doesn’t even try anymore. Instead, he cuddles up next to me and suggests I pet him. And he’s looking great, too. People have commented that he’s lost weight and he might have, but he also just seems sleeker and shinier and healthier. And happier. In Massachusetts, I very confidently said, “B doesn’t play,” just as he tore across the room and grabbed a tennis ball ahead of Z before returning it to my uncle, tail wagging.

Z, on the other hand… I think she likes parts of it. She likes our morning walks. She likes exploring new places, sniffing new smells. But it also seems to stress her out more than I expected it to. She’s gotten even pickier about her food, often rejecting her kibble entirely, and she’s seriously clingy. She’s always been a very attached dog — the feeling is mutual, I’m very attached to her, too — but her level of worry that I might disappear entirely seems to have increased. As long as she’s touching me, she’s calm, but she seems more high-strung and anxious than she used to be. Her separation anxiety isn’t manifesting as destructiveness, thankfully, but it’s hard to leave her. Although now that I’m analyzing this, she has adjusted to Serenity as home. She’s fine about being left in Serenity now. She’s just not fine about being left in other people’s houses, which I’ve had to do because it’s been too hot to leave her in the van when I can’t run the AC. Hmm, so I just need to go to colder climates to keep the dog happy. Works for me. 🙂

But not until I finish writing Grace, so I had best get back to it!

Gettysburg Farm RV Resort

08 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by in Bartleby, Pets, Randomness, Zelda

≈ 6 Comments

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I can tell already that the campgrounds are going to blend together. Less than two weeks and I was struggling this morning to remember which one had the concrete pads, cracked and broken, with grass springing up in the ridges, and which one was like parking in a field. A nice field. With a lovely walk for the dogs. (Ans: St. John’s RV in St. Augustine for the first; Bass Lake in Dillon, North Carolina for the second.)

I don’t think I’ll forget today’s campground soon, though. There are goats! Lots and lots of baby goats, wandering around the driveway like they own the place. As, in fact, they might do. It’s a first-come, first-served campground, so after I picked my site, I wandered back up to the front to turn in a card with my site number on it. I brought the dogs, both because they needed the walk and because, like apparently a lot of campgrounds, one is not supposed to leave pets unattended. (I suspect I’m going to have to break that rule upon occasion, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.) We were headed back when we startled a little white and brown goat that had been browsing in the bushes by the mini-golf course. It bounced away like a Superball, surprising both dogs. Z looked mystified, but B was all set to charge after it.

B has been seriously rambunctious lately. It’s quite a surprise. I expected him to tolerate traveling while Z would like it, but Z’s been anxious while B’s energy level has skyrocketed. At my brother’s house, he was playing, chewing on a blanket that wasn’t his, mouthing my hands… not at all the “hide in closets” puppy that he used to be. Serenity has a screen door that I suspected would be no deterrent to Zelda if she saw a squirrel, but Bartleby was actually the one who barreled right through it — and for no other reason than that he thought it was time to be outside! He wasn’t chasing anything and he didn’t need to be walked, he just didn’t feel like being in the van so shoved his way out the door.

Or maybe he wanted to check out the campsite. I chose a spot that looks onto the water, and instead of pulling in or backing in, I parallel parked Serenity, so that she’s alongside the water. Well, I didn’t literally parallel-park. There was plenty of room, so I just pulled in as if I was parallel-parking. You can see the view from my window on instagram (because I am having trouble uploading files to wordpress.) Having trouble taking photos, too — my phone stopped letting me save photos, which is possibly the universe telling me that I shouldn’t bother? But it’s hard to resist the temptation.

So I’m going to be here for a week. It’s my first test of real life in Serenity. I’ve been living in her for two weeks already, but it doesn’t feel like it at all. It’s been two weeks of driving and learning and visiting family. I’ve felt busy and on the go. This is my chance to slow down, take some deep breaths, and get back to work. I wish I could say that the weeks in which I’ve not been writing have been inspiring me, the words piling up like water behind a log jam, but alas, such is not the case. I suspect I’m going to be off to a slow start. Still, better slow than not at all.

Family time and campground days

31 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by in Bartleby, Personal, Pets, Randomness, RV, Serenity, Travel, Zelda

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My Saturday night was an exercise in contrasts.

It started out great. I’d had a really nice day, filled with family time. Hanging out with my niece, working on a jigsaw puzzle from my childhood. Video games with my nephew, including introducing him to World of Warcraft. Running errands with my brother. The farmer’s market, where I bought fresh kombucha and spicy radishes.

We even watched some bike racing at the Velodrome. (I mostly felt sorry for the bicyclists — it was a hot day to be dressed like they were, even without the biking really fast in circles in the sun part. bike race . )

After dinner, the whole family watched Guardians of the Galaxy. And at 10:30, my niece, sister-in-law, and I headed to Barnes & Noble for the big Harry Potter release. My niece, M, was probably one of the youngest kids there, but stayed resolutely awake. I got to sit and color with her at the Ravenclaw table while her mom waited in line.

Such a nice day.

But when I went to bed, Serenity… well, smelled. Bad. Like something had gone wrong with the black tank, where the sewage accumulates. I tossed and turned, worrying and sleepless, making plans. I’d get up, take her to a dump station. Or no, maybe a full hook-up campground would be better. I hadn’t dumped the tanks before, so I wouldn’t want to be figuring it out and maybe messing it up if I had to hurry. Still, how could it have gotten so bad, so fast? Maybe a week in the heat of summer was too much to let accumulate? But (if you’ll excuse the TMI), there wasn’t a lot in the tanks to cause a problem — I’d mostly been using the bathrooms at rest stops and campgrounds and my brother’s house. However, clearly it was enough to get bad because it was bad.

But it shouldn’t be. But it was. So was something wrong? Toss, turn, toss, turn, worry, hold my breath, try to sleep, toss, turn, worry, repeat endlessly. At 4AM, B wanted to go out. Sometime after that, maybe 5ish?, Z wanted the same. I think I finally fell asleep for a while after the sun came up, which meant I missed my chance to go to a coin show with my brother, much to my annoyance when I finally got up around 9.

And, of course, when I did get up, I discovered that the black tank was fine. One of the dogs — or maybe both of them? — had had diarrhea under the bed while I was out. Ugh. So not nice to wake up to. And made even worse by worrying about them, of course. B has been scratching himself into a scabby hairless mess and Z has been refusing to eat her kibble. I honestly think that both of them are going to love this lifestyle eventually, but at the moment, they’re both really stressed out by the change and uncertainty.

My big plan for tomorrow — one week after the house closing, the first of August, the day I had determined was going to involve lots and lots and lots of writing words — is to find a Banfield and take B to the vet. I would take Z, too, but based on my past experience with Z having digestive troubles, they’d want to keep her for observation and right now, I feel like that would be a truly terrible idea. If she’s stressed, the cure is not going to be to make her more stressed. (The first time I took her to the vet for digestive stuff — years ago, now — the vet wanted to keep her until she was eating and going normally again. After two days, they finally said, “We don’t think she’s going to eat while she’s away from you.”) So as long as she’s still enthusiastic about walking (she is!) and giving me happy smiles, I’m going to give her a few days to mellow out. The long car days weren’t good for her but the campground days are.

So yes, campground days! I stuck to my campground plan, in part to empty the tanks and in part because the house electricity in my brother’s driveway was just about enough to run the AC consistently, but not if I did anything else that took power. And it only worked if I was parked in his driveway, close enough to the house for a single cord to reach Serenity, but on a fairly steep slope. The extension cords weren’t capable of handling the load if Serenity was in the street. (I’m learning more about electricity than I ever needed to know before, including that long extension cords are not good.)

Anyway, I’m now parked in a KOA campground about twenty minutes from his house. It’s expensive, but very nice. Lots of families here — there’s mini golf and a swimming pool and a nice playground, plenty of grass and trees. The spot I’m in is huge for Serenity, with a picnic table and fire pit and big tree. We’ve gone for a couple walks, chatted with some of our neighbors, and I ate my dinner — an antipasto plate, basically, with olives, dates, prosciutto, cheese, crackers — outside at the picnic table. The best part, I think, is that Serenity is backed up to a stream. Zelda saw the stream and immediately waded right in. B saw the stream and immediately sat down and refused to move any further. So typical!

Bass Lake, Dillon, South Carolina

26 Tuesday Jul 2016

Posted by in Bartleby, Serenity, Travel

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376 miles today. I do not intend to do days like this often. I kept passing places that sounded intriguing and wanting to stop: historical sites and parks, beaches and artisan stores. But I just kept driving by. It is NOT the point of my adventurous life to always be moving. Well, sort of it is, but not moving without stopping at the cool stuff along the way. Once I get to Pennsylvania and unload the things that are making life in Serenity a little too complicated — she’s not really sized for carrying Christmas ornaments, china, and a large-screen television — I’m going to be slowing way down. When I see something that sounds fun, I will stop.

Not, however, when it’s a restaurant. What is it about road trips that makes unhealthy food seem so appealing? I wanted waffles today. And pancakes. McDonald’s french fries. Fried chicken. BBQ. Every time I saw a sign for restaurant I’d never heard of, I wanted to stop and check it out, and every time I saw a sign for fast food that I once liked and haven’t eaten in years, I also wanted to stop. I wasn’t even hungry most of the time. For breakfast, I had gluten-free rice Chex with fresh blueberries and coconut milk. For lunch, I had prosciutto-wrapped dates and cherries. And for dinner, I had turkey slices rolled up with peach-honey mustard, avocado, and arugula inside, with sliced radishes as a side. How could McDonald’s compare? And yet…

One of the reasons that I drove so far today was that it is seriously hot. I thought about stopping earlier in the day, but with the van moving, both of the dogs were in the front seat area, AC blasting on them, as the back got hotter and hotter. I knew if we stopped in the heat of the day, the AC would be hard-pressed to keep up. It can drop the temp about 20 degrees, I think, less if she’s sitting in full sun. So with the temp breaking 100, stopping earlier would have meant sitting inside an 80 degree van, at best, or staying outside in the heat. I could have done it and Z probably would have been fine, but poor B does not love the heat.

I accidentally gave B a full Benadryl tonight. I don’t know what I was thinking — over-tired, I guess — but I stuck the whole pill in the peanut butter and handed it to him and only thought, “Oh, wait, I usually cut it in half,” when it was already in his mouth. Not like I could get it back at that point, but I was filled with maternal anxiety. Not about whether it would be bad for him — a double-dose of Benadryl’s not going to kill him — but about whether his reaction would be stoned dog or hyper dog. Either was possible. I am feeling exceedingly fortunate that his eyes are glazed and his head nodding. I’m not exactly in the mood to entertain a bouncy ball of enthusiasm although it would be sort of fun to see B have crazy energy. It’s not his usual style. I should probably drag him out for a last walk before he completely crashes, though.

And then maybe I’ll start planning tomorrow’s journey. The question will be: zoom through North Carolina and well into Virginia, or take it easy and stop early? Except VA, it turns out, is only 3 hours away, and that seems like a pretty short day. But maybe that’s what I’m ready for. Decisions, decisions!

To-do lists

02 Monday May 2016

Posted by in Bartleby, House, Swimming, Zelda

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I looked at my to-do list and with the exception of one ridiculous item — finish writing this damn book — it is very close to being completed. Most of the items on it are either things that I am waiting on someone else to do or things that are optional. For example, wash all the windows. Well, that’s a nice idea, because clean windows look good. But if I don’t get around to washing all the windows and someone doesn’t buy the house because the windows weren’t clean, they probably weren’t someone who needed a thirty-year old house anyway.

Yesterday’s chores included buying six bags of mulch and spreading it on my front garden; organizing books and items in the garage and taking a load of books to the library donation spot; going to Lowe’s and buying lightbulbs for the overhead kitchen lights, then dragging out the big ladder to change the two that were burned out; scrubbing my bathtub to within an inch of its life (it’s still doesn’t look spotless, but it never will); and much playing and splashing with the dogs.

The last part was fun. It was a beautiful first day of May and the water was perfect. B, I think, finally really likes swimming as long as I’m close to him. He’s like a toddler in the water, running around all excited on the edge, then super-cautious about how he puts his paws in, then always checking back to make sure he hasn’t gotten too far away from safety. And Z, of course, loves the pool and playing with her basketball.

2016-04-26 13.06.13

It definitely gave me pangs about giving it up. I had the gloomy thought of “I will never find another house that I love as much as this one.” French doors to the patio, high ceilings, my window seat, my kitchen cabinets… and then I thought, yes, this is true, I will never again have to be responsible for yard work or worry about termites. Leaks I will have to worry about — apparently, water is the big problem for RVs and getting a leak is both eventually inevitable and the problem that you have to watch out for. Yes, I’ve been doing lots of reading about RVs.

Today’s goals: finish the damn book. But that brings me back to my original thoughts on writing — that goal never moves, because I’ve made it too overwhelming. I need to make it a series of smaller goals. So today’s goal: finish the scene I’m in, write the next one, figure out what happens in the one after that. And, at least temporarily, let go of worrying about the house and the RV and the future and all the things that are driving me away from the story, and concentrate on Grace.

Ironically, I thought my trip to Sarasota on Friday would be really great plotting time to finalize the order of these last scenes and maybe get some real words imagined but I spent most of it daydreaming about Fen. She’s having such great adventures in my head. I seriously am so looking forward to getting back to writing about her. First, though, Grace. And even before that, a Monday morning, a dog walk, some healthy breakfast, and so on. The fingers are warmed up and ready to go!

Towels

25 Monday Jan 2016

Posted by in Bartleby, Boring, Personal, Pets, Zelda

≈ 8 Comments

I did laundry this weekend and actually washed ALL the things. Sheets, towels, tablecloths, clothing — by the end of the weekend, all the fabric in my house was clean. Go, me!

Except it turned out to be a terrible idea. I was also freezing all weekend long, wondering whether my heater was broken. I didn’t have two feet of snow, but the temperature was down in the 30’s and 40’s, which for us is cold. It was only on my last load of laundry that I realized that my thermostat is on the wall outside the laundry room. With the dryer running all weekend, the thermostat thought the house was lovely and warm. In my bedroom, I thought socks under the covers were barely enough to get by. Grr… or maybe I should be saying Brr…?

Post all the laundry, I needed fresh towels in my bathroom. I went looking for my favorites, the ones that belong in there. They’re blue, soft and thick, and big. Bath sheets, really, not towels. I’ve got plenty of towels, of course, but those two are the best. I couldn’t find them. I checked all the places towels might remotely hide. The other bathroom, the cupboard, the linen closet, my closet… no towels. I hadn’t seen them for a while but I’d just been assuming that they were somewhere — in a laundry basket or in the laundry room — but no.

And then I remembered — before R went back to school, he asked if he could take towels with him.

I told him, sure, of course.

He asked whether it mattered which ones he took.

I told him to take whichever ones he liked.

He pushed, said, “Are you sure? Any of them?”

I said, “Yeah, we’ve got plenty of towels. Take the ones you want.”

He started explaining to me how he really didn’t like the towels he had, because they weren’t absorbent enough and they didn’t dry fast enough and he liked softer towels, and I, frankly, tuned him out, because a) towels, not the most interesting subject, and b) I was in the middle of getting ready to have people over and thinking about food and cleaning.

In retrospect, perhaps I should have paid more attention.

There’s a part of me that’s annoyed — if I had not thought that MY towels were safely in my bathroom or laundry, I would not have told him he could take whichever towels he wanted. But mostly, I feel a mix of pleasure — I have raised a boy who is aware of the importance of quality linens, ha — and amusement — that teaches me to not pay attention when R is talking! He might even have specifically asked about the blue towels when he was telling me why the towels he had at school were not good enough. Oh, well. I do have plenty of towels, so I’ll survive.

Have I mentioned how much B loves the blow dryer? I don’t usually use a blow dryer but I’d gotten it out recently when I had to leave the house and it was cold and my hair was wet. B danced with delight. Up on his back legs, which he does not usually do, to tell me how excited he was. He knew exactly what it was and he loves it. Since then, I’ve been blowing him dry after his bath. It’s his favorite thing. Z watches us from two feet away, a little jealous of the doting attention that B’s getting but also really reluctant to come near the thing that makes noise. She’s not fond of noisemakers that might be vacuum cleaners.

Anyway, the other day we went for a walk in the rain. Typically, B refuses to walk in the rain. That day, he thought about it at the door and decided to come with us. I was surprised, but when we got home, he went straight to the spot where I’ve blown him dry (a floor outlet) and sat down. It was a very clear demand. My dogs have me so well trained.

A magical dog ability

25 Wednesday Nov 2015

Posted by in Bartleby, Pets, Zelda

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How is it that when your day is mapped out to the minute — when you’re planning morning writing from 9-10, yoga at 10, grocery store at 12, cranberry sauce on the stove and simmering by 1, furniture rearranging, bathroom cleaning, vacuuming, silver polishing, dinner planning, picking up the kid, table arranging, dinner, clean-up, potatoes prep, all on a time table that includes no room for anything extra — how is that on that day the dog can magically wander through a plant that leaves dozens of tiny burrs in her fur? On other days when I’m feeling scheduled to the max, she’s been known to roll in opossum poop, which demands immediate and extensive bathing. No way around it. And the burrs shed little black seeds which means the morning vacuuming that I already started is being defeated with every step the dog takes.

Sigh. It’s like a toddler knowing exactly the wrong time to throw a tantrum, exactly the moment when you are least able and willing to be patient. Of course, that’s probably some psychological principle along the lines of always thinking the line you’re in is the slowest — not objectively true, but just the way it feels. But it does feel like I don’t want to spend the next twenty minutes pulling burrs out of Z’s fur.

Reframing for positivity — how lucky I am that I get to spend several minutes caring for my darling dog. Admittedly, she’s not so enthusiastic when she sees the brush come out, but she likes the petting at the end. We’ll both survive.

R comes home today. I woke up feeling happy and joyful. B came on the long walk with us and never flagged — my positive messages to him of how strong he is, what a survivor, so healthy are maybe getting through. At least to me, since I am, in fact, the person who decides how long a walk he’s going to get. But he did great, stayed with us the whole way and never pulled his sit-down-and-refuse-to-move protest.

And that’s all I’ve got, because I have to go pull burrs out of the dog’s fur now. Wish us luck!

Hepatocellular vacuolar disease

15 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in Bartleby, Pets

≈ 4 Comments

Scary name, isn’t it? But as far as I can tell — as far as my google-fu can take me anyway — it means “something’s wrong with your dog but we’re not sure what.” Ironically — and really oddly — one of the possibilities is an over-abundance of copper in the liver. (Ironic, because that was a major plot point in A Lonely Magic. It will be very sad and extremely weird if my dog dies the way Fen’s mother did.) However, since B is behaving normally, eats like a cheerful piglet, enjoys walks and swimming, and in no way acts like a sick dog, I’ve decided not to worry about it. Well, after several hours spent worrying about it and trying to decipher vet materials that are extremely way far over my head I’ve decided not to worry about it.

Given that I’m writing about it, I’m actually probably still worrying about it.

But I’m going to stop. I’m going to use the ACT technique and every time I start to dwell on it, I will remind myself that I’m worrying and try to identify the emotion that goes with the worry. It’s an easy call on the emotion — fear. I dread the thought of losing either dog.

Last night, I hung out with a friend who is a believer in the law of attraction. I … well, sort of think it’s a silly concept. I don’t think thoughts have energy. But as we talked about it, I could see ways that it’s worked for me in my life, even though I didn’t know I was using it. Especially with parenting — I think it’s enormously more powerful as a parent to notice and appreciate the behavior that you like and dismiss the behavior that you don’t. You get the behavior you focus on. I’m not actually convinced that it works, but I intend to start thinking of Bartleby as a healthy dog who’s overcome lots of problems instead of dwelling on all of his issues. He’s a terrific little guy, strong and tough and a survivor. My new mantra. I’m going to make a sign and post it on my wall and remind myself to say that every day.

Also to be said every day — writing good words is fun. 🙂

Winter

14 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by in Bartleby, Boring, NaNo

≈ 2 Comments

Winter has finally arrived. My neighbor was out putting blankets over his bushes, which I assume means that it might even freeze tonight. I haven’t bothered to look that up, of course, nor will I make any effort to save my bushes, but I don’t think he was doing it to dress up the house.

Given that it’s the middle of November, I suppose it’s about time, but it was really nice to get to swim so long. Summer swimming was pretty miserable this year, because it rained so much and so long. If I hadn’t swum by about 10AM, chances were that I wouldn’t get to swim at all until late August. One can, of course, swim in the rain, but in Florida, rain generally comes accompanied by thunder and lightning and swimming with possibility of lightning is a no-no. I assume if the pool gets hit by lightning while you’re in it, you basically get cooked, but I have never looked it up.

Huh. Now I have a gory fascination with the idea. Off I go to google… well, I did not find any graphic descriptions of people dead from swimming during lightning storms, but definite internet consensus that yeah, it’s stupid to swim outside during a storm and yeah, the lightning will kill you if it hits the pool.

Side note: why do we call them thunderstorms when the thunder is meaningless? Noticeable, of course, but lightning storm feels so awkward and yet the lightning is the dangerous part of the storm. Storm alone could, of course, simply mean heavy rain and wind, so I understand the need to clarify that we’re talking about electricity, but I think its strange that we think the thunder is the meaningful part.

Ahem. Moving on! B was a very good dog at the vet yesterday. He had many things done — blood drawn, his ears cleaned, an ultrasound, a biopsy of the liver — and apparently he was well-behaved throughout, even when he was getting his ears cleaned. I assume they put a… whatever their fancy name is for a muzzle… on him because he has a clear notation at the top of the file warning the tech that he may not be so nice. But he was nice. I’m proud of him, but it’s funny to try to explain to your dog that you’re proud of him for behaving well. B gets that I’m talking to him and paying attention to him and thinks that means he should try to lick my face a lot, which disrupts the glow of good behavior pretty thoroughly. Still, two years ago, he would growl and snap and try to bite, so having the vet tech tell me he was a sweetheart pleased me in the same way that parent-teacher conferences used to please me.

Words… well, didn’t do much yesterday. I did make it to some understanding of why I’m stuck, but I didn’t get unstuck and today — well, it’s 5:39 and I’m still writing my blog post. But I’m hoping to get a solid hour of writing in, so I’d best get to it. Good luck, fellow NaNo’ers. I hope you’re doing better than I am!

Mediocre dog mom

13 Friday Nov 2015

Posted by in Bartleby, NaNo

≈ 2 Comments

I took B to the vet this morning and dropped him off and it’s thrown off my whole schedule. Nearly forgot about writing a blog post entirely!

He’s getting his liver enzymes tested again. They were too high a few months ago and he’s been on liver pills ever since. I wish I could say that I thought he was going to be all better, but I have a sneaking suspicion that what he really needs is to lose weight and to not get any treats. I, however, lack the willpower to make him stick to a diet. He’s such a beggar and his eyes are so eager. The moment when his ridiculous fluffy tail starts to droop instead of frantically waving just gets to me every time and I succumb.

That said, he’s in such great shape compared to how he was when he came to me. His fur is gorgeous and sleek, his eyes are bright, he doesn’t hide, he lets me clean his ears and put my hands by his food… I wish I was the perfect dog mom and he got nothing but kibble and the occasional greenie — oh, and got his teeth brushed every day! — but we stumble along in our mediocrity.

Managed to get some writing done yesterday, although only a few hundred words. This morning I’ve written 103. Not NaNo numbers. But I’ll persist. I keep reminding myself to just tell the damn story, but I’m finding my current scene really difficult. I can remember, years ago, having a therapist very patiently ask me, “But what were the feelings?” and to whatever I’d answer, she’d say, “That’s not a feeling. Try again.” That’s what’s happening in my current scene. Grace is having feelings and I don’t know how to name them. Fear led to anger led to… ? Self-recriminations, I guess, but maybe my problem is that I’ve gotten there too fast. Anyway, I’m going to get back to it — I hope all my fellow November writers are doing better than me. More words!