my idyllic little life

Oh I'm stuffed. Its one of those weeks (pms, specifically) where i just fantasize about sugar, and all the types and kinds and shapes and flavors i could get it in. Its funny, because the week directly after the period is almost devoid of these maniacal cravings. I could survive that week on a diet of carrots and twigs, perhaps with a little hummus dip here and there, and I wouldn't think twice about it. But tonight, trying to show willpower by not buying cookie dough, I instead bought cinnamon wheat things and tried them out with maple syrup on top. Its delicious and it also makes me fear the gym in the morning, more specifically, the scale. I had done so good getting in shape to go back and visit NYC this Thanksgiving day weekend - to show everyone how happy and healthy I was. Now I will just have to glow from slightly chubbier cheeks. Like a cherub, perhaps. I hear its supposed to be chilly there this weekend. Actually, I hear its supposed to be chilly HERE this weekend--down to 48 or so--which my neighbors have determined rather conclusively means its going to be very, very cold "up there" this weekend.

My neighbors are very sweet, and probably did not need the Lexington bourbon chocolates or Brown County honey that I brought back to repay them (to be honest, I brought them the maple syrup too, but couldn't surrender it when the time came to give it up). They watched my little pets all weekend without any fuss and instead returned them fat, happy, and only slightly bruised (seems Garbo got in a scuffle with Foxy, the rather rotund dachshund that inhabits their house next door with her companion, Mr. Peabody, the slightly more elongated weiner dog - altogether more the appropriate shape).

I want them to be not so nice, these neighbors, to make it not so easy for me, so that i wouldn't leave and know that they're not only feeding my pets but inviting Garbo over for sleepovers and adopting her into the household. If they could just complain a bit, hesitate to agree, or ask for a little bit of compensation, or admit that their schedule interfered with at least one day out of the 5 I asked them to watch, and perhaps couldn't I get another person to come by instead? It would teach me a lesson, about not being able to handle pets now, like I was told, or being able to travel, or make it work just like I think it should work. But here they are, emboldening and enabling me in my little fairytale life.

Tonight I sat out on the edge of their concrete porch with them, Marco and Julie and little Niki, their two year old granddaughter, playing with the dogs and listening to the funnies and feats from the weekend. Apparently Garbo did not hesitate to jump on their bed and get comfortable - running leaps in fact (whereas the dachshunds had to stop, then jump). And she too was on the same sleeping schedule as Foxy and Peabody - 8:30 is time for bed. Nor was she hindered by the doggie door - she got that down fast. Marco was duly impressed. And I was impressed by the care with which the story were observed, held and then retold.

Meanwhile, back over at my house, Tom Morrissey had enjoyed the run of the back porch and the back yard. I've found him to be quite a qualified bug killer, at least I've found quite a lot of them mutli-legged/winged creatures, dead, belly-up on that back porch. But now, after 5 days without a cat lover around, he is quite affectionate and demanding now that I'm home. Still, he has brought one of his cockroaches into the bedroom tonight and I've been watching him play with it for the past few minutes. I think its really dead this time, dead like Garbo looks over on the other pillow, and even Tom too now - though he is on the floor, as if on cockroach final death watch.

Anyways, life is rolling along here. The fall is warm, at most windy. I don't miss the fall, at least now that I know the leaves have fallen. I'm comforted by the fact that the south will keep me warm all winter - especially since I'm on my own here. I guess my fat little pets could too - but they too will go back to carrots and twigs once the holiday is over and we return to our regular routine. I know why grandparents go to florida now - the winters don't seem too tough until you don't have to do it anymore. Its like a relationship that wasn't that great but you couldn't see it at the time. You say things like "I don't mind that he smoke, burps, makes bad jokes, (insert unsatisfactory trait here)." Sure the cold isn't so bad, its kind of romantic, but how could you ever really love a season? You all up there are like romantic players. You get one season, you love it for a month or two, and then you move on. Down here we get the best season and we learn to really enjoy it. 80's high, 60's low. We see that weather through for 6 months on end, I think.

Of course, it means I can't blame my belly fat nor that of my little furry friends on the winter weather. If its constantly beach season, there no excuse to slip out of shape, no sweaters to hide away in. But oh well. We are happy, and we are warm, and I am coming home in just two days, and my babies will once again go the neighbors, and keep careful watch on the bug population in the backyard until I come back. Life is rolling along, yes, just like Garbo rolled over on her pillow and _off_ the bed just now... I am happy to be here, its true. Its everything as I imagined it - and then some.