Off to roller derby practice tonight. Tuesdays are "Derby 101", where new girls are able to come and kick the tires and see what it's all about, but regular derby girls are encouraged to attend as well, to show them the ropes and such. Since I took a couple of months off, I'm slowly getting back in the swing of things. I don't have a link for this, so get on Facebook and look up South Bend Roller Girls and join the site. If you have access to U.S.A. Skate Rink on Main Street in Mishawaka, show up at 8:15 on Tuesdays and check it out. Dues are $20/month and attendance is required at 66% to remain league-worthy. That's where I'm a little nervous, so I need to get some skate time in!!!
I finally finished the Truman Capote book "Summer Crossing". It was strange. The story itself was very good, the language -- once again -- was so intricate and beautiful. But the end! It was a train wreck. I don't mean that in the normal sense of "Ugh, did you see me mess up on stage? It was a train wreck!" I mean... something so totally different and unexpected happened that it felt like I just watched a train wreck. Then it ended. And I stared at my CD player thinking, "Did I miss something? Did that just happen?" I backed the CD up to listen to the last minute of it again, and it had happened. Wow. Very surprising. But in a good way. I will definitely read more Truman Capote.
I gave the dogs both baths this week. The difference between how well they take it is astounding. The big dog attempts to remove herself from the entire bathtub scene the whole time I'm washing and/or rinsing. She's not angry, or biting, or aggressive. She just surreptitiously slips a paw over the edge of the tub while I'm changing the temperature of the water, thinking I won't notice. Or she leans her entire body weight on the hand that is holding her, thinking I'll just give up if she keeps doing it, and let her out. I'm not certain she isn't part cat. I've never understood why she dislikes water so much. The little dog, on the other hand, shivers no matter how warm the water is, as if he's being punished for something. He is, however, stoic and takes the punishment he feels he deserves without attempting to weasel his way out of it. I have no thorough way of explaining to him that I'm not punishing him, he just smells like poo. Both dogs are, however, very grateful when they're finally out of the tub and back on solid ground, and neither dog will sit in the water, even if there's only an inch.
Speaking of dogs, let me tell you a little story about an Irish Setter. Friday we were on our way to the football game, because Zach is in the marching band and it was the first time we'd see what they've been working on. And we love, love, love football. As we're getting in gear to leave, I glanced out the office window and saw an Irish Setter going warp speed down our road. I looked out the front window, and he was gone. I thought not much of it, other than sad that someone's dog had obviously escaped. Then I went a few minutes later to get our dogs inside and lock up the house and there, on the other side of the fence, was the Irish Setter, sniffing at our dogs quietly. Our dogs, on the other hand, were broadcasting to the entirety of Elkhart County that a stray dog was near their fence. After we shut them up and took them in, I put the very exuberant Setter in the fenced-in area so he wouldn't get hit by a car, and brought him some food and water. He kept picking up sticks and bringing them to Steve. The only tag he had was a rabies tag, so we called the clinic and they still were open, and the nice lady on the phone said, "Does he respond to "Duke"?" I said, "Just a second," and hollered, "Duke?" Duke then shot me this amazed look, jumped in the air, and praised my psychic abilities. I affirmed to the lady on the phone, who then gave me the name and address of Duke's owner who lived just a couple of roads down from us. We asked Duke if he wanted to go for a ride, and he hopped in the van, and we drove over. We delivered Duke to a young boy, perhaps 9 years old, and looked rather sheepish -- his parents weren't home and we wondered if he accidentally let the dog loose while they were away!
After the football game, we came home, let our dogs out, and I went to dispose of the food and water. It was dark out, but I had enough light from inside to see. I picked up the food in one hand and poured the water out with the other. This is when I saw that, on the edge of the food bowl, was an earwig. Those of you who know of my intense fear of earwigs will either empathize with this story or laugh your buns off at me. I know which one you are, just FYI. Shivering, I dropped the plastic ice cream bucket of dog food on the deck to shake off the earwig. As I bent down to pick it back up, because I could see the earwig was gone now and I was trying to be manly about the situation, I noticed the crawling inside the bucket. Then I noticed the 8,000,000 other earwigs inside of the dog food bucket. Then I screamed and ran inside the house, through the living room, and threw myself against the far wall, brushing off my head and hair and face and legs and arms and chest to be sure nothing, nothing, NOTHING touched me... my skin was crawling, I was crying and hyperventilating at the same time, and when Steve came to ask me what was wrong I couldn't even tell him. I think I got out the word "earwigs" in the first five minutes. It took me a good half hour before I was anywhere near back to normal, but that included running into the bedroom and stripping all of my clothes off, and brushing off my body once again, and crying a little more, and shivering the rest of the night. Right now, just retelling this story, my skin is crawling once again. And I'm a little sick to my stomach, too.
This coming from one of those "tough" roller derby girls.
I started reading "Plain and Fancy" on audio book today. Not sure if I'm on an Amish kick, or what. I haven't gotten very far into it, so I can't even make a good judgment or tell you a story yet. I'll let you know when I get a little further.
Off to decide what exactly I should make for dinner. Only 20 more minutes of silence until the kids get home...
you made me squirm in discomfort thinking about the earwigs... ick!ReplyDelete
Don't worry Steph, I'll whack him for ya. Hugs!ReplyDelete