The (Mis)Adventures of Daisy.

When we brought Daisy home so quickly after losing Betsy beagle, we did not want Daisy to be seen as a replacement dog. After all, Betsy was the unofficial mayor of the neighborhood and there’s no replacing a dog like that. Besides, Daisy’s personality is not nearly as big as Betsy’s was. We knew she’d figure out a way to make herself known–little did we know that she would do so in a front-page manner, nor quite so quickly.

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Introducing…..Daisy.

It’s been six weeks since we brought Daisy home. I’d love to write a glowing essay about how well she’s settling in, but the truth is, there have been a lot of stops and starts. Progress is made but for every step forward, there’s several back. We know this is par for the course with rescue dogs, that with time, patience and love, she’ll come out of her shell, but in the meantime, it’s like having a newborn.

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Methods of Procrastination

I had a fall gardening article due and somewhere between feeling inspired to write before everyone else got out of bed and actually sitting down with my laptop Sunday morning, the feeling disappeared. I suspect it was in the middle of getting another cup of coffee and actually walking up the stairs to grab the laptop.

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Hot Feet in February.

I woke up several nights in a row recently with inspiration to write something brilliant and swore I didn’t need to write it down, but come the next morning, all I could remember was the theme of “hot feet” and a vague gist of the direction that theme needed to go. The more I fleshed it out, the more I realized it was just shaping up to be similar to this time last year’s middle aged woman’s rant about becoming invisible and was quite obviously related to what had actually woken me up – a case of hot feet. Clearly, February is a lot in a good year – My Aunt Loretta used to throw a “Fabulous February Festival” because she firmly believed February needs a good party to get through it. And if there was ever a year that needed a huge blowout party to get us through the slog of February, it’s this year, the year in which we cannot have parties. Certainly not indoor parties, in February.

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A Shawl for 2020.

I have this thing about being productive – at the end of the day, every day, I like having something to show for myself. I’m not sure if this is related to how I have a hard time sitting still, although I’m sure people that have known me for a long time who have complained for years about my need to be productive/inability to sit still /certain level of constant energy would probably say these things are in fact, entwined.

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Life.

We are starting our seventh week into this quarantine and I must admit, we still haven’t really figured out our rhythm. Unless of course, insomnia counts as a rhythm, because even the dog has that down.

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High School Parking Lot Slow Roll, explained.

I intended on posting this at the end of the school year, which came very unexpectedly early. This was the backbone of our mornings these last four years and I couldn’t let my girl’s high school career end without one last word on the High School Parking Lot Slow Roll Facebook posts that have been a regular occurrence for the duration.

A portion of the graffiti wall at CHS, which stretches along side a length of the parking lot

I’m pretty sure it started with Freebird.

I’ve long been That Mom rolling through the carpool line at school with the music just a little too loud. I’m the sort of person who thinks that life is indeed a musical, that there is a proper soundtrack for everything, that people walking down the street are liable to break into a dance at any moment, that music should always be on in the background and yes, it’s probably a little too loud for some people’s taste.

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