stink

Nick and I saved a stray puppy from the brush and wilderness on Wednesday. She has two siblings that are still out there that didn't want to be caught. It breaks my heart thinking about them out in the wilderness, maybe slowly dying? Yeesh. That's a horrid thought. Sorry. Anyway, we brought poor little Stink (we can't name her something cute, we couldn't get attached! PLUS-- she did stink, real bad.) to our home and gave her a nice Dove shampoo bath. Over the days she's slowly stepped out of her shell and right into our hearts. Amanda says she has abandonment issues... Amanda has soft-heart issues. And that formula equals a hard decision. Today is the deadline for decision. Keep her or find a home?

People keep calling or writing us saying they want her. But none of them end up actually taking her. Story of her life, I guess. And I hate that. As I'm typing this I can hear her howling and whining from upstairs. She doesn't like being alone. Man, this stinks.

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She tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear as she dipped her brush in the paint. Her hand trembled as she put brush to canvas. She’d gotten used to the trembling, embraced it, even. She liked to think that her body was so excited to still be alive that it couldn’t contain itself on the inside any longer.

She loved to create. Beauty from the heart was the only way she measured her paintings. In her 91 years she’d honed this skill… the skill to see beauty, the skill to place things exactly where they deserved. Names didn’t matter, class didn’t either, it was just… a matter of perspective.

She finished the painting and took a step back. She smiled, her wrinkles taking their familiar places after years of laughing. At first glance this painting was… not breath taking. It didn’t look like the edges were finished and if you didn’t look hard enough the colors didn’t seem to mix. But oh, the depth.

Other friends, knowing her love for art, had bought famous paintings for her. Some were originals, some were copies... but all were highly sought after pieces, by the world’s standards. She picked up the painting and slowly walked over to the wall. With trembling hands she lifted it up and placed it among the others. She made sure that the painting wasn’t above and wasn’t below the one next to it. It was equal. It was just as good. “You deserve to be here,” she told the painting, patting it for reassurance.

Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she turned and slowly walked away.

burst

She stuck her head out the window and jetted her arms towards the sky. The air pushed at her, but she could take it. Sometimes the heart is just too full to be confined in a car.

2am... and we skype

"goodnight?"

"I want you to know that this whole 2am thing is your fault, because I tried to stop you at the globe when you were looking at India."

"Tara, it's almost time for MY bed time now."

E: "Hey, you were on Facebook when you were talking to me!?"

T: "You're on Facebook now when you're talking to me!?"

I'll sleep when I'm dead. But in the mean time...

also...

nick comes back on friday.

i miss my niece

We are intricate.