The Circumference of Flourish

The Circumference of Flourish

My husband is always clean, well dressed and likes the rooms of our home to look tidy. I often find him neatening up throw blankets on the couch. I tell you this, so you don’t get the wrong idea about the problem. When he peppers his food, he doesn’t seem to understand the basic, and to me so obvious it need not even be learned, concept that the pepper is to be ground within the boundaries of the circumference of the plate. So, if some food, maybe the outer edge of a scrambled egg, happened to be right up next to the edge of plate, you would have to accept that bite of food not being peppered. Well, that’s not how he sees it.

To achieve a robust and even peppering, it’s okay with him that pepper goes all over the table. I’ve called his attention to this, but it hasn’t changed anything. He values peppering food above all other concerns. Though I really like a neat table, I also really like him. He is so peculiar!

He did this illustration for me. Thank you, Hon!

On another note, Sidewalk Face prints will be back for sale very soon! I am going to be offering them as ready to hang on the wall, glass-less “standouts” (the merchandise nomenclature). Stay tuned!

Hello Little Stranger

Hello Little Stranger

I can’t stop thinking about a recent serendipity. At a red light I turned to the car on my left and made eye contact with a young boy in a car seat, maybe 6 years old. Without thought, I smiled and waved at him. He broke into a big grin and waved back. It was awesome. A few stop lights later it happened again, both of our faces lit up at the unexpected display of friendly acknowledgment.

Why does this memory endure?

Why was the event so pleasurable?

I want to live in a world where I feel safe and other people feel safe, where people feel welcomed and wanted, where cheerfulness flies from one face to the next, a gift received and returned as fast as a game of tennis. I want to contribute to that outcome. I am grateful this human was receptive to me and allowed his joy to show. Such a small moment and yet it has fed my spirit for days.

Can I go on a minute about dogs?

Can I go on a minute about dogs?

Dogs are the best. Sometimes I think the meaning of life is dogs. When we return home, whether from an hour away or days away, the dogs go completely crazy. The overwhelming joy shuddering their small frames as they jump, hop, shake, and shimmer with relief fills me with awe. Who else has ever been this exhilarated to see me?! 

We look forward to leaving just so we can return. As we approach the neighborhood, we are all like, Oh my gosh, the dogs are going be so excited. The anticipation of the event is building in all of us and is a frequent topic of conversation in our family. This ritual is one of life’s great pleasures. The sentiment was put to poetic perfection in 1978 by Peaches & Herb:

Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited ’cause we understood
There’s one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited ’cause we’re reunited, hey, hey

This love is not without demands. Decaf, my male dog, insists we take it to the couch.

Hey, let’s unwind from this strenuous display of affection by plopping next to each other on a pile of cushions. What say you?

I watch him hot step it to the couch while craning his neck back to see if the pack is taking his lead. I almost never want to go directly from car to couch. Yet I frequently do even if only for a minute. He’s burrowed next to me before I even fully release my weight to the sofa.

I know he is just a mammal, but I can’t see how a mystical creature could be any more attuned to me. He is my familiar, medieval European folklore is alive and well in our house. We are bonded. We are bonded with super glue.

How do I deserve this? I don’t. I could never give them as much as they give me. Not that we don’t care for them. We consider them and think about their needs and make all kinds of adjustments and concessions. But I don’t feel like I am loved because of THAT. It’s not like:

Thanks so much for letting me sniff out that patch of grass next to Patty’s place. I so appreciate that you didn’t jerk me away. I don’t totally feel like pressing my warm little sausage body next to your side for three solid hours while you do French, play Woodoku and watch tv and but I’ll throw you a bone just this once.

He just wants to be there. And for those precious moments, I am not alone. My hand on his warmth, we are briefly one thing and not two things.

Sidewalk Face 1294on sale now in my shop.