Let me tell you 'bout the bears and the bees

Cocoa's been wheezing, coughing and puking.  I worry about the old dog.  I'm afraid I'll wake up in the morning and find her lifeless.  Yesterday afternoon I called the vet from work and made an appointment for the evening.

It was a glorious summer like day. They set a record in NYC with 90 degrees. I wore my favorite comfortable, turquoise, Indian print sun dress to work, where it was damn hot.   Those big black and yellow bumble bees that hover seemed to be omnipresent out doors.  I think they're carpenter bees, but I can't find a picture that illustrates the phenomena that abounded yesterday.  They were outside my house when I left for work and they were outside on camp when I got to work.  It must be the time of the season for buzzing.  (Nod to Rod Argent and the Zombies.)
 

The hovering bee phenomenon....  It reminds me of a recurring dream I had as a very young child.  It took place in front of the house I grew up in in Glen Rock, NJ.  I was standing outside and a huge bee, much like the ones I saw today, except with distinct yellow and black stripes, hovered nearby.  I don't remember fear, but my mother came by with a carving knife and sliced the bee into sections in mid air - where it continued to hover.  I figured it was something about my mom trying to always protect me.  Was this some sort of castration symbolism?  I was really too young to get that when I dreamed it - but the image has stayed with me my entire life.  I digress.....

Back to yesterday -- as the day wore on, the computer at work got glommed up and things were frustrating.  It was hot, my head started to ache.  I muddled forth doing one thing at a time.  Finally, it was time to drive home.  The AT Oil Temperature light came on in the car.  It stalled....  Thankfully it started back up and got me home.  I can't afford a new car.

I arrived home and was happy to see the greening which has taken place in my yard.  One day of sunshine makes a difference.  I opened the door and Cocoa and I wandered around my property.  She decided to take a romp in the swamp out back.  She wouldn't heed my calls to come back and the tethered pit bull on the other side of the block started to bark at her.  Cocoa was so happy to have her paws wet and be outside seemed oblivious to my calling and to the neighbor's dog who seemingly wanted to tear her apart.  She started to head back, but got herself stuck in a deep spot where the swamp starts to turn into the pond.  I called and called, she couldn't get herself out.  Damn it, I was forced to walk out through the muck and help her out.  At least it was warm out.  I hooked up the hose for the first time in 2010 and sprayed her down - sprayed my feet down too. After a bit of toweling off and brushing, it was time to go to the vet.

Poor Cocoa has bronchitis....  We stopped at the A&P and purchased some braunschweiger to make taking antibiotics a more palatable doggy task.  We got home and she got out of the car (getting in and out of the car is becoming increasingly difficult for her) and headed towards the back yard.  It had gotten dark and the peepers were singing loudly in the pond.  Next thing I heard was Cocoa barking loudly and aggressively.  I couldn't really see in the dark but damn it if Cocoa wasn't chasing something.  I ran after her as she went around the house and I saw her chase a huge bear up the willow tree.  My adrenaline got rushing and I managed to get Cocoa inside.  I think I went way too close to the bear trying to retrieve Cocoa.  Maternal instincts directed at my faithful canine companion.

A little dinner and a pill for my increasing migraine, and I went to bed early.

The weather and the wildlife made Cocoa forget she was old and infirm for a while.  But she's back to wheezing and whining and she woke me up.  She wants out and in -- and treats - which I will not give her in the middle of the night.  Even I have limits to how much I will spoil my precious dog - there are no rewards for waking me up.

I'm going back to bed.

Never too old....

"Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine."  So said Patti Smith in the 1970's.  And if this clip is any indication, she'll still be screaming it when she gets into her 70's. And that gives me hope and inspiration....

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I recently said I was a late bloomer and was aptly told that it's better than to never have bloomed at all.

That's all for now.  Happy Easter <3

Peepers and Polka Dots

I'm listening to the peepers singing out on the pond.  Catbird Lake is welcoming spring....


This is just like what's out back!

I'm really thankful for my beautiful surroundings and for the friends that have returned to me via the internet.  I'm remembering all sorts of stories from my misspent youth....

We used to hitch hike.  Nice girls like us, we used to hitch hike.  It was 1971 -- nice girls -- a little free spirited, but we needed to get from the dorm at American University to the Safeway to buy groceries.  We didn't have cars -- we were freshmen. (Or, maybe fresh women -- certainly fresh meat -- and yes, there were predators.) My friend, Robin and I were two 18 year old hippie chicks -- both of us voluptuous -- a red head and a brunette.  Can't remember if we were wearing patched jeans or cut offs with peasant blouses or granny dresses.  Whatever our get up, we would have stopped Robert Crumb dead in his tracks.    

It was a beautiful spring day, a day much like today.  We walked across campus to Nebraska Avenue and stood on the grassy slope adjacent to the road, thumbs out.  Birds were singing and flowers blooming -- everything seemed right with our little spot in the world. In short order, a small, unremarkable American car stopped.  A plain, unremarkable young (but not to us) man in his late 20's or early 30's leaned towards us and asked, "Want a ride?"  We started down the slope.  As we approached the car we saw him point down at his lap.

There, protruding in all its splendor was his perfect, pink, penis - presented to us with a red polka dotted silk handkerchief wrapped ever so smartly around the base of the shaft.

"Still want a ride?" he asked looking at us for our response.  We backed away from the car. He pulled away, one hand fiddling with the handkerchief.

To this day, I can't see red polka dots without revisiting that scene in my mind.  But it makes me chuckle.

So, did we wise up?  Did we go back to the dorm and call a cab?  Of course not.  And the next car that stopped was a vintage Jaguar with leather seats and wood dash.  It was gorgeous and driven by a gentleman.  We did our shopping at the Safeway and made it back to the dorm.

And we went on to hitch hike again.  Hitching is not the safe way! More tales to be told at a future date.  I want to bring Robin in as a guest blogger.

I moved to Massachusetts from DC after college -- my hitch hiking days were over.  Safeways turned into Stop and Shops.  I've since moved back to NJ, but I still always drive with the radio on.


Love ya, Jonathan, miss ya Joey.