Waking up at 5 in the morning to a dog barfing in the corner of your bedroom in the dark puts you in a ‘mood’. I’m not exactly sure what mood – it’s not completely anger and frustration for having to clean up vomit first moment of the sun rising to start a new day – it’s not complete disgust, because we’ve all been sick at unexpected times -which leads to barfing, preferably in a bathroom commode – but life does not always provide a convenient facility every time. The mood I must admit was not even complete concern – as I hoped beyond reason, that she was dreaming, or had just a little something in her throat and was trying to clear it. That was before you heard the wet splat – and knew you HAD to get up, to check on the little brindle fox hound you rescued and your daughter loves beyond all reason. And – you had to get as much of the mess up because if you waited, you knew what that would be like later – and then you’d be angry. Angry at yourself, your dog, and the puke on the carpet.

So I turned on the light – realizing all the other dogs were sitting there in the dark waiting for you to turn on the light and take care of their adopted sister. They also had been unnecessarily awaken by the sound, but their concern of course was not the carpet – it was her. It made me give pause and squash whatever anger was bubbling up inside. “Like the dog did it on purpose!” Said a faint voice somewhere in the reasoning department of my brain. “She didn’t plan on barfing this morning either.” As the voice, or in my cases voices of reason continued their conversation, which included – “Well, now that you’re up, remember you have to pick up dog food before you leave next Saturday – and try to get to the hardware store for those brackets to store your husbands swords on decoratively, safely, conveniently out of the path of the copy machine in the home office, oh and by the way remember to stop by to get a pair of jeans before your thighs burn another hole through the fabric.”

Does that happen to anyone else but me?! I have the ability to rub the fabric thin, till at an unexpected, inconvenience moment – like climbing in my Jeep, or swatting in the kitchen to peer under a cabinet knowing that frying pan was here last time I needed it, I feel the tear more than hear it, as my thighs genetically inherited from my mother’s side of the family inhale and exhale their mass through the hole. What is really annoying is the rest of the jeans are perfectly fine. No holes, worn out parts, but theses worn through parts created by my thighs are also not easily reparable. I can’t put a patch there, I’ve tried to stitch them together, but these thighs can wear the repair through to nothing in no time. Maybe they were hot and tried to create their own ventilation system. Lord knows I can sympathize with them for that.

These increases in my inner heating element or hot flashes are insane – could they be regulated to come during the winter months? Hell no – they come at all times of the day or night or season. All I keep hearing is Helen Reddy singing – “I Am Woman”, which makes me want to slap her and jot down yet another note I want to ask God one day. Yes, I have a list – it may be silly, but I do not want to forget to ask things. Simple things, like what was he thinking with the various parts he connected together that a platypus must deal with, or what is the real purpose behind hot flashes? It can’t be medical or scientific, sounds more like someone lost a bet and women-kind loses! Why does gravity effect breasts even though their kept in bras for years of support – is that unfair and uncalled for or what?!

Anyway, back to the barf. Once my eyes have completely opened and focused on my surroundings and I see the other two fur babies around the young fox hound, who is looking very pitiful, tale tucked between her legs, ears pasted to her head, big anime eyes with white whiskers making her look a little surprised all the time, standing their staring at me, at the barf, and back at me. Unless you have no connection to animals (which is another topic in and of itself that I have some sympathy for that person, no empathy and no patience if that person abuses any animal – Uh-ho – now there is a topic which causes anger) you can see in her expression embarrassment. Harley knows what she did, she could not help what she did, but does not know why she did it, but she’s terribly sorry. Her rescued brother and sister dogs have decided that now that the light is on and I’m standing, it would be a good time to go potty. They all become excited and run around the bedroom as I go to the linen closet and fetch a roll of paper towels to begin picking up the chunks, and place several paper towel sheets in place to begin absorbing the mess until I can get what I need to scrub out the stain (Note: mix 1:1 ration of water to white vinegar – works like a charm and is very, very inexpensive).

Once this is done I go ahead and brush my teeth, pull on my jeans and take the herd out to potty in the dark. Outside the sky is that dark deep blue velvet, it is surprisingly cool on this day in August. I like the early morning feel – I realize some people are night owls, others can only function in full light of the afternoon. But I’ve always been a morning person – this means I annoy night owls cause I peter out so quickly, fall asleep during movies started after 9pm, and generally wake myself up snoring. Ugh! Must remember to add that to my God list – why do women snore? You know how embarrassing that is?! I can fully accept men snoring, but come on – we already give birth, are expected to age gracefully, gravity is not our friend, and we grow the these wire hairs on our chin, our upper lip or chest – what’s with that?!

I bring myself back to this cool morning moment in my back yard. The air smells sweet from the nearby pine trees, my three dogs wander about sniffing for interesting things. Their bladders emptied, Harley seems her old self again – she is the youngest of the three with enough energy for six! She has this love of life – you can see it – especially when she runs in the yard – fully stretched out like a thoroughbred, not on a track, but in an open field completely free and powerful as it churns the ground and flies through the wind. That is how Harley runs. But for now, she is happy she feels better after her barf. Ready to go back inside and curl up for a morning nap.

We all come back inside, I close the sliding glass door as the herd goes up the stairs and as I follow I think of what I should write about in my blog today – and quickly realize it is already written. There is yet another question – “God, this human brain, so complex and amazing, it can be taught to fix a dishwasher or repair a heart, we can have an abundance of acceptance and tolerance, or none at all. We have this glorious ability to put our thoughts on paper, or share them with someone we love a thousand miles away on a phone created by yet another remarkable human. So why can’t I remember why I walked into the living room yesterday?!”
My list gets longer every day.