This week! Let's see -- there's the move. I should be able to enter Steffi's House tomorrow. And start moving things, at least into the garage, in the afternoon. That is the hope.
Then there's the heat: we aren't heading toward the broiling temperatures experienced in western Europe last week, but still, it's going to be toasty in the upper Midwest. Upwards of 90F/33C. Steamy hot.
And of course, it's the week of the 4th of July. I don't like the traditional markers of this holiday. Celebrating with fireworks, grilled hot dogs, flags and red white and blue garb, neighborhood parades of kids with festooned bikes (decorated by parents with a lot of red white and blue ribbons and bells and whistles on hand) -- I understand the fun in all of it, but for me, crowds, loud noises -- I'd rather pass. And of course, none of these traditional celebrations seem related to the fact that something happened 250 years ago to create a country. This country. We could discuss high and low what constitutes true patriotism, or if patriotism is inexorably intertwined with a support for democracy, but just the fact that there's not consensus on any of this anymore, tells you a lot about how pleasant that discussion would be. So no, I wont allow myself to be serious here, even if the 4th of July demands of us a moment of serious reflection.
But let me suggest something light for Ocean. Something that would still make us happy to be American with all our foibles and peculiarities and perhaps inflated ideas about our place on this planet. What, looking at the light side of things, strikes me this morning as truly American? What goofy habit is ours and maybe even uniquely ours? I have some ideas. They are not research based. No science behind any of it, at all. Just my own anecdotal observations. Feel free to disagree. Quietly. After all, disagreement seems to be very American right now!
So here's my "it's so American!"-ism for today:
Americans are besotted with their dogs. (I admit to being truly American in this way as well!) All people in all countries of course love their canines. But we are downright goofy about it. I visit a dog park in Paris. People let their pooches loose and stand around and socialize with each other. I go to a dog park locally, here in Wisconsin. You call your dog, she comes running and you're absolutely thrilled when she arrives! Your heart bursts with glee and pride and love. Good girl! Good job! Atta girl, you sweet muffin, you! Rub that neck, kiss that face, lean and lanky, or hefty and furry, maybe with a weird snout or with floppy ears -- no matter, he or she is the best dog in the world! You cannot live without her. Seriously.
Look at the treat selection in an American pet store: there are literally hundreds to choose from. Small bites. Bacon. Peanut butter. Salmon. Chicken. Venison. Parts of animals I'd rather not mention. Crunchy. Soft. Smelly. Air dried. You name it, it's there. (You should see my treat supply, left over from when Henry and Sadey ravenously devoured a handful a day. At least that. I was not stingy.)
Oh, I know what you're thinking -- the French are nuts about their dogs as well - they take them out to restaurants for dinner. We take kids and leave dogs at home. They take dogs and leave kids at home. But do they swoon over their pets? They do not. If you catch the owner's eye and say some sweet nothing about their dog, they nod and go back to their escargot and Sauvignon Blanc.The presence of a dog in a restaurant is merely a statement: I train everyone in my household to be respectful of food and use the right utensils. Even the dog. We, on this side of the ocean, don't take dogs out because our dogs are special and should have the freedom to be themselves and besides, we try to train them, but we really like it when they jump on the couch next to us, or snuggle in our beds, even if they take our favorite spot in it.
Why have we become so pup crazy? (Again, it's just my speculation -- there's no science behind any of this.) Probably because we are lonely and isolated and live in big houses or cramped apartments with nothing but our laptops and our dogs to keep us happy. And laptops are cold and sometimes spit out nasty things, whereas our dogs? Always there, always happy to converse and listen to our crazed ideas about the state of the world.
Dog infatuation. So American!
* * *
Speaking of dogs in a bed, mine woke up at 5:15 this morning and jumped down in search of something. Millie is not trustworthy with potty training in that she does not signal well when she has to go. If I take her out and she doesn't pee, I know that she has secretly peed somewhere in the house. She wont do it in my presence. She'll find a hidden corner where I cannot see her. So no, I was not going to stay in bed while she went searching for a good pee spot, especially since the upstairs is carpeted and therefore harder to clean. I got up with her, took her out, came back in, and went to bed.
Well that threw her off! The girl does not like unpredictability. But I held firm: I dont like being up before 6. I stuck it out, feigning sleep, and then we went downstairs.
Breakfast outside, but I can feel the steam rolling in...
(sweat peas from the farmette gardens)
Very quickly Millie settles down for her morning nap. Why am I not surprised! (5:15? Really Millie?)
As she seemed to really want to sleep (under the couch, as always), I decided to use this opportunity to put in a half a dozen plants in Steffi's Garden. I know what you're thinking -- why not pack up the house instead? Well that wont work: if I start prowling around, she will follow me with great suspicion. She knows something's up.
So I plant. And as I run the hose to the back, I see the garage door open at Steffi's House, and car drive out with a young guy in a baseball cap hiding the better part of his face. My tenant!
Will he yell at me for being in the garden every single day this week? I will stay calm! I have a good comeback: I'm taking care of the yard since you have not wanted to do anything with the lawn yourself.
But my renter drives away without a word to me. And did I see a light wave of the hand? The car is rather full. He is moving stuff out by himself, in a small car. I will forever wonder why he wanted this big empty house for two years.
* * *
Millie has a grooming appointment at noon. Oh, does she need it! Hair covers her eyes and her thick coat makes her pant anytime she is out in the sun. I drop her off and return home. To pack, yes that. And still I am not in a hurry. I've switched mail service, water, sewage, electricity, internet, all of it. I have boxes. I took down art. I packed up (more like threw in) all the glassware and most of the dishes. Ed is scheduled to come tomorrow with his truck to dump chips and move these initial boxes and all my plants over to their new home. Yes, there's lots more to pack but Steffi's House is so close that I can shuttle things back and forth easily this week, storms and heat not withstanding.
So I sit down and read a book -- light stuff: a mystery by the famed dog behaviorist Patricia McConnell -- who is a bit of a local celebrity) and think about my garden.
* * *
Millie, you look so different! Were you a good pup for the groomer?
My girl always looks completely transformed after a haircut (it's her third). This time, she was trimmed to a short coat because of the summer heat. My sheered pup!
She is hungry, she is playful. But she is also aware of missing carpets and stacked boxes.
I ignore her questioning gaze and feed her lots of treats. have to make a dent in my supply! Besides, I love this girl so much! My totally awesome little pup!
with so much love...
