SUENOSDEUOMI'S RUMINATIONS AND PERSPECTIVE
The Wedding Party
On a roll, with love still in the air, the wedding party approaches, informally formal, 5 males. The boy kept his arms clasped behind his back while he ascended the steps to the cathedral. One boy amongst men, one can sense the importance of the occasion. Excitement seemed to scent the air, linger and infect others.
Slice of My Life
While my pups were picked up 7 a.m. for a 12 mile run up on the mountain, I took my time with a breakfast of 2 fried eggs (rare for me) with Swiss Chard picked yesterday evening from the Community Garden, enhanced with roasted green Hatch chile peppers. I must admit, more protein with less carbs, no matter how complex, help with irrational pangs of hunger.
Home alone for a whole morning felt strange and has become rare since I brought my Isabella-girl back to my den, rescued (who are we kidding?) from the shelter 4 years ago to the month. Our pack since expanded with the additions of Sumo, a Yorkie/Poodle/Maltese and an escape artist, and Saemi. the Pretty Kitty. (I ought to mention the chatty white Parakeets that moved on. Yin died prematurely from a swollen brain and Yang preferred the company of a male with whom she recreated herself many times over in the shortest of time.)
So home alone, I listened to soulful music by Leonhard Cohen (I'm Your Man) and Otis Redding (Satisfaction) and busied myself with the homely activity of mending what needed fixing from a pile that had been sitting and waiting for my attention for way too long.
So home alone, I listened to soulful music by Leonhard Cohen (I'm Your Man) and Otis Redding (Satisfaction) and busied myself with the homely activity of mending what needed fixing from a pile that had been sitting and waiting for my attention for way too long.
By lunch time my pups were not yet back, so I fixed myself a whole wheat pancake with a topping of my own home made applesauce and whole milk yogurt followed by a strong cup of black coffee with added cinnamon, a sprinkle of ginger and vanilla, Jeff Bridges' Fallin' and Flyin' filled the air and made my muscles twitch. I love that song. It is so not my normal listening style. Not since the early nineties when I gave up on an obsession of a few years with Country Western dancing. Eventually I had to accept that I would never fit in to a Country Western crowd and that that was o.k.. (I ought to mention that the gay Country Western and Salsa crowd in San Francisco did make me feel at home, because it was such so wild and diverse, lively and over the top scene, hilarious and such fun.)
When my pups returned they were covered in something, I was afraid shit like last time, but it may just have been underbrush, but all over, entangled and it took me two hours to get them acceptable again for indoor living. So worth it though. Now they are, still damp, conked out on the couch, pooped, but looking very fluffy, cute and extremely relaxed. Jeff's Brand New Angel smooths out whatever wrinkles may still linger in my soul - for at least this very moment.
The day concluded with an impromptu purchase, a gorgeous, long haired, multi-colored, eco certified sheepskin, the best and most luxurious protective cover for my new sofa I can imagine. Currently both of my pups seem to kinda blend in with the fur, Sumo on his back barely distinguishable. Will try for a shot in tomorrow morning's natural light.
I luxuriated in the feel of the fur draped over my arm rather then stuffed inside a bag, on our way back home. But a detour beckoned and we entered a bookstore to listen in on a poet's rant, a performance, about our drug culture. More then his words I admired his body language. The guy was so centered with a pleasing economy of movement that exuded a strange appeal on me. What a rich day it has been. Life can be good in a calm kinda way.
The day concluded with an impromptu purchase, a gorgeous, long haired, multi-colored, eco certified sheepskin, the best and most luxurious protective cover for my new sofa I can imagine. Currently both of my pups seem to kinda blend in with the fur, Sumo on his back barely distinguishable. Will try for a shot in tomorrow morning's natural light.
I luxuriated in the feel of the fur draped over my arm rather then stuffed inside a bag, on our way back home. But a detour beckoned and we entered a bookstore to listen in on a poet's rant, a performance, about our drug culture. More then his words I admired his body language. The guy was so centered with a pleasing economy of movement that exuded a strange appeal on me. What a rich day it has been. Life can be good in a calm kinda way.
Sumo's Birthday
Sumo on his first visit with us when he was only 1 1/2 years old. Tomorrow he will be 5, time flies.
The celebration started with a nice long bike ride this morning. He raced ahead as usual, and made it a challenge to keep him on my side. I figure it is his nature, he is a natural athlete and needs that forging ahead, expending his energy, exploring new places.
For a treat I got my furry ones Sardines in oil, as Sumo can use the extra energy from the oil, while Isabella is more in danger of putting on the pounds and looking suddenly round. The Pretty Kitty snubbed the offer, no sense in arguing about likes or love and hate. Tomorrow there will be an extra large helping of chicken and something special I will figure out to do with just me and my Sumo-boy, likely by bike.
The celebration started with a nice long bike ride this morning. He raced ahead as usual, and made it a challenge to keep him on my side. I figure it is his nature, he is a natural athlete and needs that forging ahead, expending his energy, exploring new places.
Pretty Kirsten - Pretty Kitty
Pretty Kirsten, who rented my home during my 6 years of living in California, visited town and stayed with us last night. Exhausted from a full day, maybe overcome with emotions, she rested on our new futon couch, hugged the Pretty Kitty, while Sumo insisted on inclusiveness and being part of the action. It was a sweet moment that I hope comes through in this manipulated image.
This morning Kirsten tried to visit her old stomping/stamping/jumping grounds, Saturday's Afro-Haitian dance class, a weekly ritual we had both adhered to almost religiously over a number of years, but instead she had felt the need to turn away because tears streamed down her face. This girl gets emotional every time she is in town and every time she recalls the good times she had here in the City Different.
It is nice to know how much she appreciated then, and still appreciates now, not just Santa Fe, but also my sanctuary, my haven, my home that had suited her perfectly then, and still delighted her these days. Actually Kirsten threatened me with serious repercussions if I dare change some of her favorite features. It's nice to be friends with what used to be my renter. It is sweet to welcome a guest in to our abode. Sumo agreed, and had no trouble deserting me for a night in favor of not leaving Kirsten's side, literally, with his butt pressed against her side, all night long.
Finally, after all these years I learned that pretty Kirsten is a celebrity for whom some folks will stand and wait in long lines so as to gather an autograph of hers!
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