The Mystery of Misty's Mishbehavior

Misty has been a bad dog. This past week, her old grass eating habits have reemerged and her barking has been almost unmanageable. In an unprecedented act of rudeness, she left a huge round wet spot in front of the bedroom door.

Usually, doggie transgressions stem from doggie angst. Why would her nerves be a wreck? Is the neighbor’s bloated tabby tomcat taunting her? Are the adolescent boys who peep at me throwing rocks again? Did the blue moon call forth an ancient and eldritch beast that exclusively menaces mongrel Border Collies?

Actually, the truth rather surprised me. Mid-afternoon, I tramped out back to reposition the sprinkler in our overgrown grassy area. A loud electric crackling startled me. It was the kind of loud, threatening noise you would encounter in a digitally re-mastered Frankenstein movie.

It repeated twice before I could pinpoint the source. A trio of roadrunners stalked the south wall. These were not the amiable cheeky sort of roadrunner that would permit an inept coyote to chase them for sport. These were the fierce avian successors of velociraptors, bold and territorial. The dominant male flared his crest and darted towards me audaciously, sizzling like a high voltage wire. Stupefied, I stepped back several paces.

The two smaller birds joined him expectantly, as if a major chase was about to commence. My heart skipped a beat. It was similar to the momentary terror you experience the instant a squirrel unexpectedly snatches a sandwich remnant off your plate at the park. When I recovered, I thought, “Damn! Where’s my camera?”

Of course, by the time I lugged it out, the show was over. The pursuer became the pursued. I captured a fleeting shot of the two smaller birds fleeing across the yard and a multitude of blurry photographs of the roadrunners treed in a mesquite bush. From the relative safety of the mesquite, the dominant male still flared his crest ominously and continued to sputter hostilely. No wonder Misty was freaked out.

Camera shy.

 
I swear he was more sinister in person! You can see a second R.R. blurred in the background.

 

Buttcracks and Bruises!

Back to posting pics. With the advent of hot weather, we've been wanting to introduce our wee one to the pool. So, compliments of Tanya, we are starting with baby steps, or rather a baby pool:




The plumber's butt is pretty obvious, but can you see the constellation of tiny bruises on baby? Much to my horror, the poor little devil has been knocking himself about the head and limbs trying to stand up.


 
Those stars look way too freakin' cheerful.

Sunroom Horrors

“Men should stop fighting amongst themselves and start fighting insects.”

—Biologist Luther Burbank

Spiders are creepy, black widows in particular are sinister, and nothing will whip me into an insecticidal frenzy like a thick, greasy trail of ants. Yet, I have recently become impervious to the horrors of creeping and crawling things. While Fontessa visited us, I spent thirty days sleeping in the sunroom.

The sunroom hosts six oversized and under-insulated windows, a leaky door to the backyard and the grand entrance for all living things with more than two legs—the dog door. The dog door combined with following my mother’s example of shunning pesticides has made our sunroom a resort for the six and eight-legged crowd. I never thought much of the scattered insect carcasses in the sunroom until I began sleeping in the room itself.

When I arose in the mornings, a collection of black, lifeless rice-size bugs speckled the sheets. Initially I was alarmed, assuming the tiny bugs were mouse droppings. But their daily accumulations soon made their appearance mundane.

 

An incident with a scorpion occurred during the full moon. From the corner of my eye, I saw it scrabble from Misty’s water bowl to the middle of the room. I stealthily fetched the dust mop to whisk it safely out the back door, but my efforts were useless. After a brief, squeal-inducing excursion over my left little toe, I mashed it repeatedly before it could scramble for the safety of the adjoining library.

 

The sun spider episode required husband intervention. Sun spiders are big, gangly devils that move like the wind. I’m not certain if they are poisonous, but they certainly look deadly. Anyway, a four inch sun spider zigzagged across the sunroom floor while I tried to coax it out the back door with said dust mop. It whizzed up a wall, I smacked at it and it fell on me. I shrieked. And if sun spiders could shriek, I am certain it shrieked too.

Tennisfiend removed it with a tissue. Brrrr. Another night as I read in bed, a rather largish wolf spider skittered up the side of the bed, over the blanket covering my knees and stopped mid-mattress, as if to contemplate  the mystery of not making me scream aloud. He then dashed away to the wall where he disappeared behind some blinds. I laughed. I was becoming tougher. When he returned three days later for the same sojourn and vanished under the mattress, I rescued the little bugger from certain squashing, liberating him in the garage. Go figure.The above image is from Wayne’s World. Click for a larger image. I dare you.

Gummo

“If you make people think they’re thinking, they’ll love you. But if you really make them think, they’ll hate you.”
—Don Marquis

Odd I should encounter this quote the same day I watched Gummo. Riveted and disturbed by the film, I identified many vignettes from my own life. I suspect this was the director’s point.  I’ve sat in living rooms piled high with unwashed, unwanted clothing. I’ve witnessed troubled youths tormenting animals. I’ve even eaten spaghetti in the bathtub.

I believe most of us could point to multiple scenes (even the disturbing ones), and say “I remember that from my youth.” What crawled under my skin, however, was the director’s skill in making the film so credible. Even the absurd elements fit together smoothly, enhancing the realism of the piece.

So, hey, I liked the movie so I spent some time surfing the net for reviews. I was surprised by the hatred and disgust people had for Gummo. Then while reading a history book later in the evening, I came across the quote above and thought, “Ah-ha!”

Scrutinizing the mundane and pathetic in our lives yields an acknowledgement of the nihilism of our existence. We question God, Humanity and Purpose; a quite unsettling proposition for most. But of course, not for me, the agnostic, who refuses to make any idealistic commitments whatsoever. Does this mean that Gummo only made me think I was thinking?

More Reception Photos...

Look at these two sweethearts! I'm still fiddling with the mountain of pics I took last night, but here is a shot or two.



The bride before the toast. Notice the lovely rose corsage!

Tkil delivering the main toast. I should have asked him for a copy to post for the bride and groom!

Best Friends!!! Much thanks to Food4thoth for the pics.

I do have more pics, I just got to get 'em in shape and on line!

Wedding Reception!!!

"Tee-hee! Photos are silly!"
Whee! Congrats and !!!! More pics and text to follow!
will kill me, since I went for the goofy pic. Forgive me, dude, but you look adorable! Ewbliette and Brotherkurt's reception was a blast! Tennisfiend and I started early with a mid-afternoon visit to show off monster baby. Tkil and Nirikrss were hanging out in the living room, drinking some fine stout and gabbing. TF sat silently,his usual reticent self, while Tkil talked camera tech with me (my brain still feels tiny!). After Ewbliette and Brotherkurt showed off their cake, we took off, ostensibly since baby was fussy, but truthfully since TF is really introverted!
The delicious coconut wedding cake. I must add that the spread of goodies the happy couple put together for their guests was stupendous! A half a vineyard edged the buffet in the dinning room. Beer enough for an Oktoberfest was lined up in coolers in the back yard. And the food! Good Lord! I think I was too focused on the wine to remember... Oh yes, there was food! Ummmm. Chips and, err, BBQ pulled pork sandwiches!!! And, of course yummy wedding cake!
Nirikrss and his Greyhound Escorts. Three of the sweetest doggies ever!
 As we left, Nirikrss took his three lovely greyhounds for a walk in the park adjacent to the Brotherkurt household. I had a chance to visit with his puppies later in the evening, feeding them doggie biscuits I took along for them. BTW, Nirikrss has the thickest, orangest hair I've ever seen!

Hail Storm

I passed a few wonderfully pleasant hours with Ewbliette today, ostensibly to help decorate for tomorrow’s monster wedding reception. Instead, we had an amiable gabfest and I trundled home to spend a quiet evening with Tennisfiend. Baby fell asleep early and easily, so the two of us read drowsily until the weather turned really bad.

I suppose the ordeal originated with sharp, gusting wind. Then again, house-shaking wind is so commonplace; we ignored it. When I heard the first few “pops,” I was curious but unfazed, until I realized what it was—hail! As the pops became bangs, I raced out into the storm to pull my precious SUV into our garage, nearly taking out a portion of wall and barely missing Tennisfiend’s feet.

The instant I turned off the engine, the hail transformed into a solid sheet of water, a heavy and violent deluge. We had only an instant to think of all that needed to be done to rescue our sunroom from an unprecedented flood. TF swiftly sealed the backdoor with duct-tape as I wrangled the industrial mop bucket into position and tossed last weeks flood towels on the floor. Donning my dad’s gortex jacket, TF situated our water transfer pump out the porch window to prevent water from inundating the sunroom via the dog door. I snapped the above picture right before water began to slither in through the back door, despite the duct taping.

Actually, we’ve endured worse downpours. The water only rose two inches above our back door, dampening but not soaking the sunroom. Plus, not a drop seeped in from the dog door. On an even brighter note, I won’t have to water my garden for a week!

Oooo-veedimsa Skora! (We'll be seeing you soon!)

 Tennisfiend’s mom flew out to Philadelphia for a week of fun with an old girlfriend. The following week, she'll return to Moscow. So I must keep several things just as she left them for good luck (my own neurotic superstition).

We'll be seeing her again soon, her next scheduled visit is in early fall. While TF drove Fontessa to El Paso International, I met with my folks and their best friends who were in town for the day. The short restaurant stop didn’t induce any baby crying and I had a chance to check out some lovely wedding pictures of their daughter's wedding ceremony. I spent the balance of the day washing sheets and rotating bed linens so I could return to my old digs. The air mattress was comfy enough, but never underestimate the joy of having a bedroom door to close. The house seemed so quiet today, even with the baby making his usual racket.

Just between us sexy bitches...

The week before Tanya arrived; I had a nagging suspicion that this would not be a peaceful visit.I had overheard her quizzing Tennisfiend over the phone. She was concerned about how I fed Tyoma. Why was I giving him finger foods so soon? Why wasn’t he was eating (cow’s) milk or wheat products? Was he sitting up when I fed him? And so on.

I took a deep breath, attributing the session to her pre-travel nerves. Her last visit had left me feeling frazzled, but I attributed that to my then undiagnosed PPD. So, she arrives and is as sweet as ever. During her first hours here, she brings up her concerns about his diet. She repeated four times that TF ate wheat and cow’s milk products from his third month on, and that it is very healthy and necessary for growth. I thanked her each time and responded that it is too early to start him on such a diet according to my pediatrician (and my own copious research).

The next day, she brought it up again and I was visibly aggravated. I suspect TF spoke to her, since she did not bring it up subsequently. Two days later, a major blow-up occurred over Tyoma. Tyoma was protesting over being put to bed.  Fontessa is a “no cry” person. I am a “some-cry person.” We butted heads. She told me she knew about babies and that I didn’t understand--my baby needed to be comforted and she would take care of him. I replied that it was typical of him to cry for a few minutes before falling to sleep, especially after a stimulating day, so please leave him alone. It got ugly.

I’m not going to re-hash all that happened, but the end result was a tearful apology to me. I find such emotional turmoil insufferable. I prefer logical, rational discussions. Brrrr. During her last visit, we had some minor control issues. I frequently felt monitored by the Secret Police, but this was new. Anyway, this scene set the tone for the next two weeks.

We had another battle a week later over Tyoma. Again, I’ll spare you the details, but I was spitting mad. She got into my face and continued to harangue me about what she thought was right for the baby. After she locked herself in her room I tried to calm myself down, but wound up absconding with Tyoma to my parent’s place to cool off. It’s been years since I was so pissed off. Afterward, we had another happy family reunion, this time without the tears.

Was I beginning to detect a pattern of drama/reconciliation? TF did tell me that a hallmark of his mother and step-father’s relationship is a three hour long passionate argument, accompanied by tears, slammed doors and joyous reunions. Nonetheless, they love each other very much and are very, very happy. The hallmark of our relationship is a long tranquil evening spent reading, gardening, or sharing a movie; often punctuated by rational discourse or random goofiness. We, too, love each other very much and are very, very happy.

TF observed that the beyond the obvious differences in dramatics, we differ in the amount of tolerance we have for each other. No one is trying to change anybody in our home. TF reads philosophy books non-stop, while I am a Richard Dawkins kind of gal. We listen to each other, applaud the other’s insights and go back to our favorite pursuits. No one gets into the other’s face to make them think or act differently. Maybe it transcends interpersonal dynamics and becomes a matter of culture. TF said that such heated discussions are a part of the Russian way. Hmmm.

Anyway, back to the Fontessa story. After the second incident, she ceased to impose her baby-raising beliefs on me, avoiding me whenever a conflict might arise. Tennisfiend would remove her from the house as needed.  She could not bear to hear Tyoma cry. This irritated me, because it is not about her, it's about what is best for Tyoma in the long run.  A great deal has changed in baby raising over the decades, not to mention the differences in culture.

She says, "I raised two sons!"  This gives me pause, but there is a great difference between E and his brother. And E was raised in part by his grandmother, since Tanya worked. I don't think she was a bad parent. I just think that her time to parent is over and I resent that she doesn not trust me and that she tries to impose her will on me with theatrics.

TF and I reached an agreement concerning her next visit: only three weeks long, with a focus on the quality of her time rather than the quantity of her time here (I came to this conclusion after my second needy visit to Ewbliette, who suggested that paying more special attention to Fontessa would cure all my ills—she was 100% right).

In conclusion, I don’t want to give the impression that Fontessa was an impossible woman. As my Dad said, “It’s not like she’s Hitler.” Aside from the above events, she was quite sweet; cooking TF’s favorite meals, sewing plush decorative pillows, and helping me with the gardening. It’s just that I felt on edge around her more than was necessary and I became suspicious of her instigating incidents to meet her level of drama/attention. Ultimately, I think I need a few weeks to digest the whole visit. I think I especially need to look at myself and not blame her for all of the conflict.

Apologies and Applechunks

Please forgive me if I accidentally flooded anyone’s friends list with my back-dated posts. It was a brief, but startling miscalculation on my part. Anyway, I’ve been back-posting a sizeable amount of material which can now be viewed only on my main journal page and not en-masse elsewhere! Currently, Tennisfiend’s mother is visiting again and Tyoma is exactly nine months old today. To celebrate his “birthday” I thought I’d share his "joy" of applechunks with you.


















The little guy hates the texture! I guess for now we will stick to apple sauce!