by Susan Lobb Porter | Life |
Sophie does. not. care. She is licking my lower leg…exfoliating it…as I wallow on the comfy chair. I cannot muster a firm enough MOM voice to convince her this is not a good idea.
I am coming back from the dead. From the land where fever and chills and teeth rattling shakes go hand in hand with THE PURGE. Twenty four hours of eternal gratefulness for indoor plumbing. Because without the modern marvels of fresh running water and the flushable loo there would’ve been no reason to go on. No reason to LIVE if I knew I was going to have to clean up after myself.
I believe the worst is past, KNOCK ON WOOD, despite the relocation of the Superbowl from Indiannopolis to the interior regions of my head. Grown men, BOTH TEAMS, are tossing themselves around between my ears. Large men, HUGE men running jumping smashing, crashing without ANY regard to my feeling on the matter.
All this whining has made me tired. Off to bed with me now. Tomorrow is another day.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Beloved Beasties, Dogs, Life
Two dogs by my side
dozing on this winter night
no long post tonight.
***
Hairy beasts snuggle
up against the macBook pro
no writing in sight.
***
Fluffy little poofs
of fur hide dogs with big hearts
can’t tell head from butt.
***
by Susan Lobb Porter | Food, Life |
I’m writing this post on Thanksgiving day. Got one pie cooked (pumpkin), another in the oven (apple). We did the turkey thing last week when family was in town. Today we’ll dine on roast beef. And veggies, LOTS of veggies. Carrots and onions roasted with the beef. Broccoli and salad served on the side. And pie. Don’t forget the pie. A lot of food for just the three of us–Mr. Spouse, Darling Daughter and myself. Enough leftovers to take us through the next couple of days. Which is good ’cause most days I’ve got better things to do than hang out in the kitchen.
Like make art. I’m itching to do that right now. And I quite possibly will. It’s a low key kind of day, you see. Guests were last week. I could slip away and no one would notice. Mr. Spouse and Darling Daughter are happy watching football while Studio Grande calls to me. It’s a good place to be on a rainy, cold afternoon. A quiet place for meditation, introspection, creation.
But for now I’m in the kitchen, sitting at the table. My favorite place to write. I can look out the window. See the forest. And the gray skies. Check out the ever changing parade of wildlife. Deer. Coyotes. Jackrabbits. Squirrels. Sometimes a bobcat or a bear.
Or I can look to the right, at the purple wall I managed to get past Mr. Spouse’s conservative paint sensibilities when we repainted last spring, and enjoy some of my students’ art.
Sophie was sitting on Mr. Spouse’s chair until she was displaced by the spouse himself, come to check his email. We both leave our laptops on the table, you see. Now she’s awake and concerned…there’s a couple of pies cooling on the stovetop–the apple came out of the oven since I started this– and she can’t have at them.
Sometimes it’s tough being a dog.
I’ve got a couple hours free now that the last pie is baked. Mr. Spouse is back on the couch watching the game. Sophie has given up on the pie. I’m heading down to Studio Grande to meditate. Love on Studio Quat. And quite possibly, paint.
Before I go I’m leaving you with this. A marvelous video courtesy of my friend Judy Shreve. It’s short, under 10 minutes. And watching it will change your day for the better. Guaranteed.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Beloved Beasties, Dogs |
Busy day. Productive day in Studio Grande. Six works-in-progress. YAY!!!
Comfy chair time. Nachos. TeeVee. Settled back to write my post. Post pics of the W-I-P. Then Sophie got involved.
She wasn’t impressed. Told me she could do better. Said she was way cuter than pictures of half assed finished art work. Which she is.
But she’s not a writer. She’s a napper, just like Ingrid. (Read about Ingrid here).
When she woke up she decided to eat her words.
Then she went back to sleep.
