A Transplanted Tumbleweed

"The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love."

These words sting a little, but I'm not ready to put them into action. I'm not ready to be nice.

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I tend to think about writing stories when I'm trudging home through the cold, or driving across the wide-open nothingness, or in the quiet moments before I'm fully awake when the shower is pouring heat back into my frozen appendages. Often I notice something and will try to make a story out of it. Try to make a connection to something else, something deeper in my life. This tried to happen last night.

The battle lines were drawn and the ground rules laid. It was a battle of epic proportions. My littlest pet shop Go Fish. This wasn't the usual Go Fish game where you match a card with its pair. None of that sissy stuff for us, we played the cut throat game of needing all four numbers before you can lay them down. The rule was, when asked you had to give up all your cards of that number.

The cards were dealt and the game began. Her little girl fingers were full of cards by the third round, but she held on. Actually she dominated. Even when I took advantage of the fact that she held her cards so that anyone could see them, she still won. So I have no hope of being a Go Fish National Champion, what can you do? I personally think i'll live, but my mind still reached for some type of deeper meaning in being beaten by a five year old.

There was no deep meaning. No self-realization, just the simple fact that sometimes you are left with three 7's and no more cards in the draw pile.

Christmas

Her little five year old body pressed apprehensiously against my legs. It was her first time handing out programs she said. She was nervous she said. But this is what you do for Lighting of the Quad.

The people started trickling in and she got her wits about her. Her nearly four foot frame stood bravely in her wool sweater, tight fashionable black leggings and to-die-for pink plaid boots. She was comfortable holding two programs to hand out, no more, no less. The first family approached the door, she took a step away from the support of my legs, stuck her program-filled hand out straight and said...

"Welcome to Christmas"

The smile on my face reached from ear to ear as I realized, you don't need much more than that.

Soaked would be an understatement

My dog is really smart. And I'm not just saying that. She knows how to get out of every fence ever made, knows where the secret stash of food is hidden and will judge you if you eat them without sharing with her, and knows that the bathroom either means bath time for her or you. If it is for you she will help you lick the lotion off of your legs and make sure that you are clean enough by her standards, but if it means bath time for her she does everything in her power to get away.

So today was judgement day for my dog, see if Layla is good she gets to go to the park, have her leash taken off and she gets to just run. Her job, that she has been officially promoted to including taking secret dog oaths known only to her, is to rid the park of all the squatters. The squirrels, the geese, and even the occasional small child. She lives for this job and takes it very seriously. She checks every tree for squirrels, and is especially fond of the really fat ones. Her new found love though are the geese. When she sees a flock of them she is gone. Her ears pressed back, legs flying full force until she rounds them up and out into the river. They are not allowed in her park.

Getting the geese to the river however is never enough. She personally escorts them into the river, until she realizes she doesn't like swimming. So she goes chest deep into the cold river to keep playing with the geese until her attention is drawn by more geese still in the park, or a squirrel in a tree.

So after three days of endless walks with this dog and many dips into the river in pursuit of the fat geese she stinks. Absolutely stinks. It is a mixture of dog sweat, thanksgiving leftovers, putrid river stench and goose poop. The obvious choice is for her to take a bath. So today was the day.

I pulled her into the bathroom, tempting her with her favorite treat of toothpaste. By the time she realized where she was, I had the door closed and the water running. She gracefully hopped into the tub, deceivingly submissive, convincing me that this job would be easy. The water started, the shampoo was on and as I let go of her collar to fill up the pitcher she made a run for it. She jumped out of the tub, skidded across the floor and started scratching at the door for a savior. None came, but she wasn't going back in so easily. I imagine fighting with her would be the same as with a three-year old who doesn't want to take a bath either.

After a long epic drawn out battle, the dog is clean, the bathroom is dripping and I'm covered in dog shampoo and soaked from head to toe.

I'm not sure who won this battle, but I'm pretty sure the dog is determined to win the war because she is currently rolling in the dirt out back.

love

She stood as if in a dream. Present, but not quite able to take everything in. Her small broken frame was made even more miniscule by the fact that she was flanked by her one remaining son, who stood over 6 foot 5 and her husband who was passed years ago in the height department, but could still hold his own. She gracefully hugged well-wishers and thanked everyone for coming. When it was finally my turn, I stooped down to her height and grasped her tight, enfolding her little frame. She held me for a long time before whispered a few gentle words in my ear.

She whispered, "Never doubt that you are loved. Always know how loved you truly are by all."

The tears rimmed my eyes as I turned away. As I walked around the corner I knew, she had a new mission. In her grief she stood strong and sent the message she knows everyone must hear. It didn't matter that some manner of those words would be whispered into every young person's ear that morning. The power came from the fact that it was a message she longed to tell her son, but instead had to tell everyone else's sons and daughters. A message that she had sent him so many times in so many ways, yet could no longer whisper those most important words in his ear.

So fellow interwebbers. In this time of thanksgiving and blessing, know that you are loved. Each and every one of you. You are loved by all, and especially by me.

Enjoy your family, hug them close and tell them how much they really mean to you. Love on each other and be with one another, because the days are fleeting and you might miss an opportunity to let some one else know how much they mean to you.

physics and turkeys

I've tried sitting down to write three different times. I wrote about how i'm obsessed with turkeys and how the sketches of turkeys running away from their impending doom are splattered all over my class notes. I wrote about how the bags under my eyes are so big that they could hold all of a shop-a-holic's black friday finds. I wrote about a comment from a friend about how she was flabbergasted that someone as good at physics as I was could have such a tormented heart (her words, not mine). Despite all these, I just couldn't get out what I was feeling.

Unsettled is probably the best word for it. Anxious and a little worried. I've avoided certain people for quite a while now and I am going to be forced to see them face to face when we are most vulnerable. And the worst part is that we will be forced to go through the healing process together over the loss of a young friend.

I don't think I'm ready for that. I'm not the same person and I don't know if they are willing to see that, and that is not okay with me.

Is that selfish to be thinking of myself during this time? Probably, but I don't think I'm emotionally stable enough for tomorrow. I mean physics can only take my tormented heart so far....

This little heathen went to market....

Oh God of Science who presides over all scientists

How powerful and mighty you are.

May your experiments succeed and your hypothesis be proven

In vitro and in vivo.

Fill us this day with endorphins and adrenaline.

And connect our presynaptic neurons as we connect our postsynaptic neurons

and lead us not into contamination, but deliver us from failed experiments

for thine is the work over time and success forever

amen

-Yes this could be seen as a little blasphemous, but how else was I going to stay busy in the last ten minutes before my presentation? Every scientists needs a little help now and then. Props if you get the equation reference and I guess a cite to the Lord's Prayer should be given...