Friday, April 9, 2010

Photo Bike Ride

Nehi and I took a Photo Bike Ride today which really just means that we took a lovely bike ride this evening, as par our norm and I just happened to remember to take my camera. I'm finding it hard to get back into the habit that I HAVE a camera again.
I couldn't help but make up mini stories for the things we saw, that I took pictures of.

So, the last few weeks, these strange pipes appeared in the neighborhood. No idea what they were, just all of a sudden there were digging up driveways and pipes everywhere. I finally asked a neighbor what was going on. She said that they were trying to drain off some of the groundwater. Because we're at the head of a nature conservatory with fresh water ponds, there was some concern that with all the rain we got this winter, that the groundwater was going to overflow into the neighborhood's septic system. Yuckers.
It turned out, as I discovered on one of our bike rides, that they (always the mysterious THEY that conjures up dark Orwellian images) were taking the groundwater from my neighborhood and had run pipes just two streets over and were dumping the water into another neighborhood. See how attractive it is being dumped into an overstressed drainage ditch? I know it's just groundwater, but it is foul, THEY did not dig out the existing drainage ditches to accomodate the overflow and didn't clear the old ditches of debris, so it comes out of the very attractive black pipe and gurgles to a stop a few feet away. YUCK!

Onto prettier images. I always love to imagine what the lives of people are based on their houses. I did it in NYC and always came up with some interesting stories. I think my favorite is this:
It looks so out of place at the beach, more like something that you would see in some secluded location for rich people up north. Beautiful ivy crawls up the fencing on either side of the driveway and the pine trees that flank the driveway. Every time we go past it I wonder who lives up the hill and what the house looks like.
This one is bizarre. It's on the route Nehi and I take for our walks and our bike ride. It's on a lot next to a regular house except one day all the pine trees were cut down. There's no contractor sign out front, and the people who live in the regular house seemed to be directing the lumberjacks. So this is what the lot looks like now. I find it a little sad and strange because of the way the trunks are cut, part-way through, but not completely taken away, just sad reminders of the grand majesty they possessed only hours before.
These little cotton balls live a few streets over. They bark ferociously and defend their yard vehemently which is funny every time we pass only because they are constrained by an electric fence and can't do anything other than bark their little Q-tip heads off.
 I still think this is creepiest children's playground I have ever seen. In the year that we've lived here I have never seen a single child playing here. It's set way back in the woods and I don't even know if people know it's there, which is strange, as there are a fair amount of kids in our neighborhood. I'm still percolating the horror story I'll set here. Sorry, I know it's twisted, but it really is the perfect setting for something horrible to happen. No kids involved though, I promise, I'm thinking dark, but not that dark.
And of course, what blog of mine would be complete without the wee one? Here she is as we rolled back into the garage after our photo bike ride. She's always very happy on the bike because she gets to run, and Mom doesn't run unless chased, although it took her a little while to get used to being hooked to the bike. Now of course, when I say bike, she practically bowls me over to get to the garage.

Nehi's Spring Break

Nehi has had a fabulous Spring Break. Here's how it went:
Mom not only is off for Spring Break, but she brought friends! There was this puppy that came with the red head. His name is Diesel and I spend most of the first day chasing him around the yard. I figured he just had to be pestered into playing. He finally got into it.

It turns out I am very good at playing. Diesel was funny, he would go and lay down like he was tired, but I knew he was just faking and REALLY wanted me to just go jump on him. So I did. He kept looking at his mom, and I just know that he was trying to tell her how much fun he was having. I learned that even though we were the same size, it was lots of fun to pin Diesel to the ground. Mommy and Diesel's Mommy laughed a lot and cheered us on. I'm sure Diesel was joking when he would make pathetic faces at his mom.
I didn't like when Mommy went out with Diesel's mom. It hardly seemed fair that Diesel got to play around the house while I was stuck in my crate. Diesel gets right up on the couch with his mom, but he didn't realize that the couch is mine, or at least the top half. I was nice though, I shared.

Diesel didn't like to share much, but I kept trying to teach him by showing him my toys. I even let him eat my food. I don't think he got it, but he was nice. It was so nice to have someone to torture, I mean play with for two whole days! When Diesel and his mom left I slept, because I was very, very tired. I slept for three whole days. I barely got up to do anything, and Mommy laughed at me a lot. I don't know why, but I was too tired to care.
The rest of Spring Break has been fun too, Diesel was just the beginning.
Mom planted 6 baby rose plants that she paid over $100 for and I took great delight in digging them up. Until she put that yucky red powder on them. Spoilsport.
Mom likes to get up on days off and quietly drink her coffee outside since she's not a morning person. I had to let her know that wasn't acceptable. Sometimes it takes several minutes of loud barking before she realizes we are supposed to be going for our morning walk and coffee can wait.
I like having Mom home. We got for our walk, spend all day outside although I occasionally have to bark loudly in her face so that she'll realize it's time to play with the soccer ball. Then we usually go for a bike ride at night, although the bike makes it hard to go after squirrels.
Mom planted pretty fruit trees and it's fun to knock the flowers off the cherry tree.
It's been very nice but very hot. Mom thought I might want some ice cubes, but I liked the plate she put them on more...

I'm ignoring the fact that she goes back to school Monday.

Thursday, April 8, 2010


The weather for my Spring Break has been heavenly, as though God himself knew that I needed a week of reading in the sun with Nehi in order to recover from the hellishness of the past few months.

As I have soaked up the rays of the healing sun, and seen my skin turn darker (all you skin cancer folks just go away) I couldn't help but notice the way that my scars are seen in sharp relief. This seems only right to me, in the same way that my tattoos fading into the background the darker I get seems right.

There's the deep, ropey, white scar on my right arm from where I put both my arms through a window during summer theatre at ECU. Amazingly, I walked out of that room with shards of glass sticking out of my arm like a horror movie freak, but this is the only scar I bear from that day.
On my left upper arm is a burn mark from baking cookies this past winter. A small, long line, that is darker than the rest of my skin.
On my lower right leg is my favorite scar- a heart shape if I'm being generous, a pizza slice if I'm not. I got this one from laying my leg against a motorcycle tailpipe (not on purpose) while getting off a friend's motorcycle several summers ago.

There are smaller ones that I look at and can't remember what their origins are, mostly on my hands. Most from repeated covnersations with a make board when I could find no outlet for my rage. While my hands always look like a small child's to me, they bear the scars of repeatedly being slammed into a two by four.

Scars, like tattoos, are with your forever. Some have great stories, some hold simply as reminders of youthful stupidity. They become a part of you and for me, become a way of marking time, and people and events. While none of them purposeful, they serve as reminders of where I've been and what I've done. As I look down on my darkening skin, it is a roadmap of my life. They say your life becomes written on your skin, although I doubt they were thinking of these two things when they said it.

To me, it's just me.