1. In trying not to get too far away from my blog, I present this post.
2. Ogunquit, Maine. Halloween decor:
3. Monday is the day I found a dead rabbit in the side yard, a part of our yard where none of us tend to go. I didn’t touch or disturb the body, but it looked large, an adult; and perfect. It seemed too big for the cat to have downed. Hubby moved it yesterday and indeed said it did not have any apparent marks or blood on it.
4. What do you think about the rabbit (multiple choice):
a. natural causes
b. zombie apocalypse coming just in time for Halloween
c. at least twice in the 13 years we’ve lived here, the cats have brought baby bunny tributes to the door. Their fur is always perfect and thick and beautiful.
d. sad, even haunting
e. where should one put such a large, dead animal?
5. Though not completely recovered from recent injuries, I am still here and much better. I am learning that setbacks are part of injury recovery. It’s not all I’M BETTER AND BACK TO NORMAL ACTIVITIES NOW, FULL OF VIBRANT GOOD HEALTH (FOR FUCK’S SAKE). It’s more like CRAP, I TRIED SOMETHING I USED TO BE ABLE TO DO, IT HURTS LIKE HELL, AND CAN’T DO JACK SHIT FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS.
50th Birthday necklace, vintage
6. I know I talk about it all the time, but I have aged even more quickly due to my recent injuries (more rapid facial aging than from the last couple of years’ bouts with anemia). I offer the above photo as evidence. See the way I am not as present as usual, some part of me is withdrawn? That is the face of a body in chronic pain.
9a. Though you think you know me well, the next item may overstep any previous TMI boundary.
9. As we were on our way out of Provincetown in late August (our two night, last hurrah of summer mad-dash to the Cape), I visited one of the public restrooms; you know, the one near the huge public parking lot in the town center. After I used the loo,
I washed my hands and then cupped them to bring some water up to my mouth so I could gently rinse (see, TMI). I did so and spat in the sink. A woman (from New Jersey, mayhaps) standing near me said, barely audibly but definitely disapprovingly enough for my ears, REALLY?
Such a dare as that, how could I resist? So I said, very loudly: YES, REALLY!
New Jersey: That’s disgusting.
Me, Happy Valley: You’re disgusting.
or something like that. Let’s just say neither of us remembered our manners and the insults continued and heightened.
She “reported” me to the attendant and kept making quite the fuss even after I, head held high, exited the restroom.
The interaction was more in depth and lasted longer than what I have presented and I can’t remember much any more. Even immediately afterward, I couldn’t piece together the whole thing because I was shaken and stirred and triumphant and shocked and angry and embarrassed and righteous. L’il ol’ me, twinklysparkles, all of that, all rolled into one.
10. I really wish 40-something, overly-made-up women from New Jersey with big hair and clanky, not-inexpensive jewelry read my blog.
11. TRAGEDY STRIKES!
(some of you may have heard about this last week on Facebook)
All seven letters, perfect, ready for a 50-point bonus, but nowhere to place them on the board.
12. How would you feel if you didn’t have a place to put your vaginas?