So, funny story.

Whenever we get a delivery, I got into the habit of luring the pups into the bedroom and closing the door to avoid the poor deliveryperson dealing with the bark fest.

For the longest time, this required treats (which, incidentally is another word that shall not be spoken at Casa de Wellman). Now, though, as soon as I say lockup, they fly down the hall, excited for their impending incarceration.

Tonight, we were watching Letterkenny, and I said something stupid.

Me- Looks like Squirrely Dan is finally getting a hookup.

Bree- perks, bounces off my lap and stares at me expectantly

Me and Rick–uh… Whut?

Me- what did I say? Hook up?

Bree, Zoe, and Jaina- ecstatic barks and borks and squeaks

Me- oh God.

Rick- What?

Me- they think I’m saying lockup

Bree, Zoe, and Jaina- even more racket, now accompanied by tippy taps and jumping

Rick- helpless laughter

Me- so I guess I will like.. Lock them up now? Cause they expect it?

So I am writing this with my goofy pups locked up cause Squirrely Dan might get a hook up.

Pitter Patter.

So… since I saw the Patrick Stewart doing cowboy songs commercial, I’ve had Rawhide stuck in my head.

Today I put it to good(?) use, and the next time someone asks me what I do, I’m going to break out into song like a Disney freakin princess:

Rollin rollin rollin
Rollin rollin rollin
Rollin rollin rollin
Rollin rollin rollin
Rawhide, rawhide!

Me- Hey Google, did you know you suck?

Google- Well, I am still learning, and I appreciate your feedback.

Me- Do you really?

Google- silent

Me- WIN!!!!!!

 

This is the game I play with Google Home when it ignores me on a first attempt to do something… I belittle and insult it until I get in the last word. I know it’s childish and stupid, but it makes me happy.. I’m a simple creature, really.

I feel really bad for whoever has to review my exception logs. My choice of language usually leaves a LOT to be desired. It is pretty creative though…

May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your nether regions, Google Home.

I want you to know that I mean that, truly.

So. I have been terrible about updating of late- it’s been a time is what I’ll say.

But- the holiday was so adventuresome that I can’t just *not* write about it! It has it all- customer service hell, heart warming bits, shock and terror, ranty moments, and a few laughs.

It was a well rounded few days.

Tuesday- Finding Tiny

Going out in November and December, like into public, with people… it’s not really my thing, so much. The idea of being able to order grocery delivery for all of my stuff pretty much made me a stupid level of happy.

And this happened.

OK.. fiiiiiine. We went out to dinner, and then when it was nice and late (and cold) we went and did the shopping ourselves. The largest fresh bird I could find was 10 pounds… so he became Tiny. Overall the trip was mostly okay, until the bag with all the canned stuff in it spilled open and the cans rolled under the truck. Rick is an amazing guy who really loves my mother, cause he crawled under that truck in 20 degree weather so she could have her damned can of cranberries.

 

Wednesday- Winter Storm Warning- hahahaha, right, and the Terrible Horrible Thoroughly Well Deserved Fate of Steve.

This was a mostly peaceful day with everyone wrapping up different work projects, Rick coming home early, and no muss, no fuss. We rolled our eyes at the winter storm warnings, cause, really, how often do we actually get snow?

Now, one of the reasons I’ve been a little especially on edge has to do with the fact that we have small, furry, very rude unneighborly neighbors who have been inviting themselves into my sacred domicile and helping themselves to things I’d rather they didn’t- my kitchen space, the dogfood dish, and then VERY inconsiderately dying off and leaving their mortal remains upon our consciences.

(Yes, I mean mice. I have a little phobia where they are concerned and prefer not to even say the word. So, I named them and for some reason that helps.)

Rick and I had been debating on why these uninvited guests insisted on shuffling off this mortal coil when and where they did- I was pretty sure one of the pups was overly rough when showing them to the door, and Rick was pretty sure they’d been dining on some of the arsenic laced provisions we’d set down for just such an occasion.

Well, Wednesday night, my little corg in shining armor ended the debate.

Steve was trespassing on the kitchen floor when Bree shot into action, quickly dispatching Steve and leaving him considerately at my feet.

Who’s the best corg ever?!

After the screaming stopped, my little furry guardian was spoiled rotten(er), praised, and all around declared to be the hero of the household.

No further sighting of Stevekin have taken place since, and that is a vast relief.

More winter storm warnings went off, at which we scoffed.

By bedtime, we hadn’t seen so much as a flake. Ba HA weatherman!

When I got up at 2, I noticed it was unusually bright.

You know, the kind of bright that happens when the streetlights are reflecting off a bunch of snow.

Sure enough… everything was covered with roughly 4 inches, and more was coming down.

 

Thursday- A quiet day with Tiny

We woke up to the roads completely buried- it was definitely going to be just us at home for the day and we definitely weren’t going out.

Into the oven Tiny went, and I knew there would have to be another bird on Saturday for the family.

We cooked and ate and watched movies and played games and it was amazing.

We needed it.

I have this theory that we all have three pillars to our lives- Home, Family, Vocation. And as long as two out of three are solid, we can handle most challenges that come our way, thanks to the confidence and strength we should be getting from the other two.

When two pillars aren’t doing so hot, it gets harder, and we center ourselves on that last one, but always with the knack of balancing just so, to keep that pillar in good shape.

Y’all, when all three are rockin… life gets freaking hard.

You doubt everything and you try and hold things together by doing the best you can, running as fast and as hard as you can.

And you know? It’s in these moments that you find out who you are.

For years, I’ve been trying to pare away the parts of myself that I felt were shallow and self serving and petty. I’ve fought against the pessimistic voices inside my own head and challenged myself to find the lesson or the good in every situation, even if I express it at the end of a long, long sigh.

So when I say that in the midst of all this, I feel like I uncovered a truth, I hope you won’t think I’m pretending to be some great thinker or sage- I’m not.

Heck, props to you if you’re still reading.

The truth was this- kindness isn’t conditional. You shouldn’t just be kind to someone because they are going through a rough time. What people choose to share versus what lies beneath means that anyone could be going through a rough time at any moment, and just getting by as well as they can. Being kind may be that moment that helps someone shoulder whatever they’ve got and keep on. It may be the reminder to someone else to pass it on. At the very least, does it hurt anything at all to put a little more kindness out into the world?

And if you justify being unkind to someone for whatever reason- that says a lot more about you than it does about them.

Before I close out here- yes, we’re okay. It’s been a rough patch, but you know? The roughest of patches pass. There’s been spots of funny in the horribleness of the past few weeks, and lots of care… there’s been multiple Thanksgivings in my kitchen because snow, random BLARCH discoveries (don’t need no cat, our Bree is a champion mouser /said with a huge TWITCH AUGH OMG WHY), Dr. Evil plans, no sleep, lots of sleep, good food, deep quiet, and, as ever, games and each other.

The night before Thanksgiving, as we all snuggled into bed and I had Zoe laying on my feet and keeping them warm, Jaina burrowed in between me and Rick, and Bree stretched out on my knees in a cozy nest as the snow fell outside, I really knew that it didn’t matter if we did end up snowed in and my tiny ass bird was dry as a bone and we ate it just with the two of us- everything was going to be okay.

And that’s mostly what all of us need to hear anyway.

 

Me- Hey honey, can you grab me a pair of socks while you’re in the closet?

Rick- Sure (tosses over a pair), and I even made sure they don’t match.

Me- Aww, you know me so well, honeybear. You know, maybe that’s a good sign that I’m taking on too much.. I looked down one day this week and there they were… a perfectly matched pair of grey socks with little rampant Lannister lions.

Rick- Oh the horror.

Me- I probably should have gone straight to a care facility.. “Doctor you must help me, I’m at my wit’s end and need to rest! You don’t understand.. I MATCHED MY SOCKS!” And the doctor would take me in gingerly and tell me yes, yes, that is sufficient proof of SOME kind of mental condition, alright.

Me and Rick- (dissolve into laughter)

 

Make it a beautiful day, friends… today’s goal is kindness without conditions!

Listening to a ska/punk cover of What’s This? from A Nightmare Before Christmas by Fallout Boy a friend posted to Facebook out of curiosity, and this ensued.

Me- I can’t believe they are playing this at Disney.

Rick–Well, it is that time of the year.

Me- NO NO NO, it’s not bloody Christmas yet!

Rick- it’s how people who want to celebrate Christmas do it on Halloween.

Me- FUCK that! No wonder, this explains everything!! This is why I hate that movie! It’s the Degothening! It seduces perfectly gothy goths into celebrating Christmas! Respectable Goths should be all about Longest Night! It’s dark and long and cold and gothy, dammit!

/shakes fist DEGOTHENING!

Yes, I know, I said today begins art. Before I dive into that though, I have a series of thoughts that need to go somewhere else.

Here seemed like a good spot.

Lately, there’s been a series of high profile individuals bashing on Marvel/superhero movies, denigrating them in terms of not being art.

Well, let me take this opportunity to say, “And fuck you, too.”

I remember very early on in our relationship, Rick asked if I was okay with hanging up movie posters around our putative future residence. Of course, I answered, it’s art. He raised a brow at me (this is the Rickly equivalent of a thousand things, now I know it means, oh really, pray tell) and I gave him my thoughts on how art, like beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What may be meaningless to me may hold a world of meaning for him, and it wasn’t on me to trash anything he found something moving in.

More years than I care to put a number to and my thoughts hold more or less along the same lines. If it moves you, it’s art.

Circling back around- the turbulent times we live in, the idea of there being flawed, interesting people with amazing abilities who take up the fight against forces of evil… yeah, Scorsese and Maron and Aniston, that’s art. It’s harder for us to connect with the antihero, the sour comedian clearly doing it for the money, or anyone who would make movies with Adam Sandler… but heroes? We can cheer for them, forgive them for their flaws, and watch the same stories over and over, and find inspiration.

It’s not like heroic sagas are anything new, after all- tales told over and over, daring us to find the best parts of ourselves in the darkest hours.

I’m sorry for the folks that don’t see the art in that.