Talk Thursday: A Proclamation To The World

What on God’s Green Earth do I have to proclaim to the world? I’m fairly at peace with my existence… unless I am bitching about the amount of kindling and firewood my Grandmother goes through weekly – she goes through at least a banana box of kindling and she used (easily) four cords of wood last year. If you don’t know how much a cord is it is split wood stacked four feet wide by four feet high by eight feet long (they make travel trailers that size.) Four of them, yes it’s a renewable resource, yes I burn wood, but excuse me, four friggin’ cords and I’m the one who trudged them into her fire box each Sunday while Ducky filled her kindling boxes. Why do I do it? Because if I didn’t my mother would and that’s just wrong.

Okay, so I have nothing to proclaim except I’m a sorry excuse for a granddaughter who begrudges her 91-year-old grandmother a trailer house toasty warm at 95 degrees in summer. Don’t even ask me about her electric bill and yes, she’s got her heater on at the same time.

I need to go take Jen’s twelve-step program for becoming unattached. My life lesson is anger, and apparently I’m not learning it because I easily become annoyed. What’s that all about? I am an easygoing person, I don’t hold grudges, I love people, I love peace, I am really learning to love fishing. I love my stinky dog for Pete’s sake, and boy he stinks.

The dog, I don’t know about Pete. Why does my dog, who is allergic to grass, insist on eating grass? Why? If he doesn’t smell like doggy staph infection then he smells like doggy Cyclosporin. Neither smell good, you know how a person who took Lunesta or Ambient the night before to sleep have that chemically pungent breathe all the next day? That’s my dog… except it’s from Cyclosporin. With the onset of fall it’s now cold enough at night that I can build a fire and give him a bath without fearing he’ll catch his death of a cold. And I only burnt one cord of wood last year if you’re keeping count. Psam none, my mom none, me one – and grandma… well you heard. It would all be easier if Arlo like water, but folks this is a dog who can’t get his feet wet.

“Ooh, ooh, it’s raining outside, I’ll just poo right here on the sidewalk.” He has a whole kennel, but no he will poo on the rug in front of his crate before risk getting his paws wet. What a manly dog.

So my proclamation is that I have nothing new to proclaim, so I will reiterate what I’ve already said, many times… I love my husband, I love my daughter, I adore adore adore my grandson, I love my mother. I am blessed with a job I love, I have friends who are the most amazing and diverse people, I have a roof over my head, good food to eat, and a hat to wear when I am gardening or fishing. I just don't have enough to say or to blog about. Life is good.

Sith,
Cele
ps the spiderweb was just kewl. Oh and I do love my stinky dog.