Potholes In The Road

The first time you travel through a pothole, it may startle you because you never saw it coming. This is your chosen path-- over all others -- and you have learned to lean with the curves in the road. There's a certain comfort found in familiarity.

Second time around, you might get angry at yourself--because you knew it was there, right? What were you thinking? When the jolt rattles your teeth and upsets everything, you may blame yourself for not fixing the broken part of the road, even though you know you are ill-equipped to do such things.

So you continue traveling the same way, thinking you will see the pothole in time to drive around it. Such confidence! Inevitably, the scenery proves to be distracting and you hit the damn hole again.

No blood, no foul. So you just keep going.

At some point, it may dawn on you that the pothole is not getting fixed. Others may not find it as unpleasant as you do. There must be some who may actually like potholes and accept them as part of the ride. In fact, they may drive right through the potholes at high speed just for the thrill of the jolt. So what if it takes a day or so to get everything adjusted and back in line?

But soon you notice, those who seek the jolt don't get everything adjusted and back in line. The papers that are scattered by the bump stay scattered. What has fell off the dash and rolls under the seat, stays under the seat. Yet they continue to plow right through the pothole as things scatter and roll.

You may find yourself wondering what is wrong with me that I can't see the thrill in the jolt? Jolt seekers may suggest you are too rigid and controlling because you choose the comfort of knowing where items are, over speculating where they may have shifted.

You may listen, but ultimately you decide you won't be spending time retrieving anything from under the seat. It may take a bit more effort while traveling to look for the pothole and drive around it, but you realize this plan nets the greatest benefit.

But as you swerve to miss the pothole, you may realize this old path just isn't as scenic as you once thought. This particular path has lost a bit of its charm. You may even begin to believe the journey doesn't justify the swerve in the road.

He's The Love Of My Life

I have better pictures of Elijah Blue--I just can't put my hands on them right now.

This is how he looked before our move to Virginia in 2001.

He made the trip and has since, lost his sight. He moves around as if he hasn't, though. I admire his dignity.

What I love most about him is how he is always glad to see me, always forgiving and puts no other before me. He is my ever faithful companion, through thick and thin.

Makes me think of the saying "If you want undying love and affection, get a dog."

Happy Tenth Birthday, Elijah Blue.

Earning My Ride Out Of Town

I got flowers yesterday. One dozen yellow yellow roses, to be exact.

From my youngest, they were. She had sent flowers for my birthday last week. But when the florist delivered them, I walked inside, vase in hand--and became outraged. At this point and time I hadn't even pulled the card to see WHO had been kind enough to send the flowers. I was too intent on the brown withering edges of the white petals to notice.

I promptly turned around and went out the front door, appalled. I chased the delivery driver. I pecked upon his window as he was driving off in an attempt to get him to stop. He seemed shocked and more than a little put out when I stopped him.

After he had stopped his vehicle, I asked him how he could possible equate what I held in my hand with the term "fresh flowers." He pulled one brown-edged stem from the vase and scrutinized it more closely. Then he snorted "Give 'em back to me."
No apology. Nothing. Might I add this was an elderly gentleman which I understand at one point was actively involved with young men's civic activities (but it was later revealed, not in the best possible light).

He was gone by the time I had realized I hadn't even read the card. Who had sent these flowers with the best possible intent and had been inadvertently screwed?

So, I spoke to Miss Jeni and explained (after I got a voicemail saying she hoped I enjoyed her birthday gift). She phoned and demanded a refund and the went online to order direct from the best florist in town.

This is what I received yesterday.



The funny thing is, from what I understand in speaking with Miss Jeni today, the dozen yellow roses were actually was less expensive than the shitty arrangement that was delivered first go round.

It's so nice to get what you pay for.