I’m sitting outside on the porch, because it’s one in the morning, and it’s finally cool out here. According to the thermometer inside, which I think reads low, it’s 94 in the house. Lala’s asleep in the bedroom where the small air-conditioner sings, but I’m not tired. Instead of going to bed, I soaked my clothes in cold water and I sat on the couch in front of the fan and watched the Daily Show (Jon Stewart is my boyfriend. Lala’s boyfriend is Stephen Colbert, and she can have him, all small-eyed and smarter than me. No, I like Jon’s slow appeal. I don’t have to work as hard. Call me lazy). You know, John McCain gets points for going on Jon Stewart’s show more than once. I almost like the him (yes, I have pronoun problems. Again, lazy. You figure them out). You can tell he REALLY wants to say what he really thinks about the administration, but can’t, and won’t. I can respect that.
Digit just came up on the porch. He’s happy it’s cooler now, too. I actually dunked his head in water today, which he hated and then immediately loved.
It’s been interesting, the way he now rules the house. In the condo, he stayed on top of cabinets when Lala’s dogs came over. He was scared. In the new house, he overcame his fears, and now, with the large new addition to our pack called Clara, he has NO fears. Clara chases Adah, yes. Adah doesn’t care much, just jumps on something and demands food. Clara chased Digit once, and there was a dog-ish scream, and some blood, and now Digit controls her just with his eyes. We’ve seen Digit sit just outside the slider in the kitchen – Clara will be dancing, crossing her legs she’s gotta go so bad, but she won’t pass The Eye of the Digit. And good on her. Digit’s got way more claws than most of those pussies out there.
Also this: I was on the couch, lazily watching my boyfriend be funny, my arm draped over my head as one does in heat that makes one want to chew frozen peas, and suddenly I screamed. What WAS that dangling near my head?
Oh, yes. My hand. That I had placed there.
Oh, it’s nice out here in the coolth. The dogs are very dead at my feet. I sure like these dogs. I sat on our godson Dylan tonight (he never woke up), and Lala called to ask what to do in case of a partial obstruction. This is something, as an EMD, I answer quite often. I hate the question, since people panic when they think someone they love is choking, and they don’t listen to you. You can tell it’s a partial obstruction, since you can hear the patient gasping and talking in the background, and you can also hear the sound of pounding. “Don’t hit him on the back!” “What?” “Don’t hit him on the back! It can push it farther in!” Slap, slap, slap, you hear in the background. Urg.
Anyway.
So Lala asks, and I think, how strange. I don’t think anyone is at the house with her, just the cats, and the DOGS!
My heart raced and my stomach fell to my feet. Isn’t it weird what the body does?
Harriet now seems fine – she may have choked on something before we got home since she acted like something was still in her throat, but she could breathe and drink water and jump around and wag. Her throat, when manipulated, doesn’t seem to bother her. We’re watching her, but I think she’s fine.
But the fear! How do parents do it? I checked Dylan’s breathing five times in the two hours I was with him tonight.
I learned this today, too: Dogs can be really gross. I caught Clara rolling in a DIAPER at the beach. I thought it was an empty paper bag. Then I got close. Ew, ew, ew. She is now bathed. But eeeew.
Okay. I’m now officially sleepy, and I’m out of wine. This ole porch swing has been with me through three houses now, and I don’t get enough time just sittin’ in it. This was nice. Off to bed. Goodnight.
Awww. What a lovely, ramble-y post.
I refer to Thor Hushovd, the winner of the Prologue and last stage of the Tour de France as “My Boyfriend, He Just Doesn’t Know It.” Of course, that’s far less about the smart/funny and more about the cute Norsky boy who goes really fast on a bike.
oh oh oh. watch out with clara and the dirty diaper thing. dogs are so totally gross. rocky used to eat the cats shit out of the litter box if he got a chance. ugh. just typing that is gross.
i hear you about jon stewart. colbert was the smart kid who made you work too hard to keep up and made you feel just slightly stupid because you didn’t always get it. stewart is the smart funny boy who’s humor made him sexy and being around him made you feel wonderful and smart and beautiful.
Good night. I hope you still have elctricity when you wake. 🙂
Oh, I love the wet-clothes idea. Just wish it worked here, though — the humidity means I’d just be wet, not cooler.
and maryse is the girl who always said it better than you could!
I loved this post. I especially loved the part where you said “sat on Dylan” and it took my uncaffeinated mind a few seconds to figure out what the hell that meant.
My pooch once rolled on a rotted fish one early spring (it had been there for awhile- but it was pretty, um- gooey). The, after rinsing her off, I had to put her in the car and drive the hour or so home with her. EEEEEOOOOOWWWWWW. Gross. But a diaper? ugh.
What a nice post. Hope you had a cool sleep. (And dogs are wonderful, but totally gross. I guess that’s where the expressions “you dog” or “don’t eat like a dog” come from.)
I’m glad Michelle got it faster than I did. I had to read for several paragraphs about partial obstruction before I realized what you meant and that sitting “on Dylan” had nothing to do with choking. Heheh. Ok, more coffee for me. Hope you’re having a good sleep 🙂
I think the fact that someone left a dirty diaper on the beach is way more disgusting than Clara rolling around on it!
love this post xo
(I’m not really here…)
I had a dog who figured out how to get the garbage cans opened and would destroy diapers and spread their contents all over the backyard. Ew! My sympathies for the stinky Clara.
Glad you’re finding a way to keep cool. It’s torture. And hey, I miss you! It’s been forever.
Once again, you made me laugh out loud. Watch out for those dangling hands, they might be your own!!!
Dogs love stink. I have known many that you would bathe, and the first thing they would do was go find something nasty to roll around in. I try not to think about it too much.
lovely porch ramblings. nothing like ’em. 🙂
heh – i think this might be your best post yet!
and you know, great minds think alike because just this morning i commented to a friend how jon stewart is my boyfriend! (and my bf loves him so much that jon might be his bf too!)
stay cool…
I’m with Jean–people are disgusting.
The worst smell I’d ever smelled was Tahoe after rolling in what had formerly been a deer. (Well, mostly dead deer. A deer died, and was left by EBRPD long enough to let its corpsy juices really soak in to the ground, and Tahoe and every other dog would visit the spot and pee and poop there, until finally one day, they’d cultivated the level of funk sufficiently & it rained and Tahoe got it all over. Worst smell ever.)
Love that post.
Umm, I have like permanent dibs on Jon Stewart, so if you want him you’re going to have to fight me for him.
Also, my dogs have magical abilities when it comes to opening cupboards and trash canisters in order to get out used maxi pads and tampons. Lucy’s poop once had a little braided cotton tail.
Thank you. Those were just the ramblings I needed to read tonight. Did put me in the mood for wine, though, when I really should just get to bed. 🙂
I’m with La on the Colbert thing. Stewart is a nice Jewish boy and all and would indeed be suitable for breeding purposes, but Colbert is da man for taking Bush to the shed to his face (see whitehouse correspondants dinner) and having the panache and style to use Helen Thomas to help him do it.
He’s the titan of the two and if I had Stewart’s baby I’d name it Colbert. For real. If I have a boychild ever his name will be Colbert.
keep cool, keep the dogs in the ocean as much as possible, eat popsicles, welcome to my world (hot sticky east coast). I actually find that a good ceiling fan is almost as good as an airconditioner. And the spray thingies with the fan attached to the nozzle.
Love to you and the wife,
Moira