Back again after a very peculiar Internet let-down, broken links to all my favourite sites and the pc slowed down to a crawl. I could read two or three Blogger blogs ( no WordPress) and could only access the sports pages (!) on CNN. The IT specialist arrived and said everyone was going through this, supposedly to comfort me.
Right now there are no strikes, protests or riots, but the situation remains volatile. Elsewhere in the country there are devastating floods, more rioting and drug busts.
A handyman came around yesterday and tacked chickenwire all along the lower sections of fence bordering the property. Not as unsightly as it sounds and I am hoping the Canine Escape Artist known as The Chub cannot get out. She ran along the fence yesterday evening looking for a gap and then cunningly began to tunnel, digging herself a neat deep hole. Her Loving Human Companion (me) turned into an Ugly Brutal Prison Warder and carried her indoors. It is like living with the Count of Monte Cristo or the Birdman of Alcatraz. The Great Dane, on the other hand, does not want to get off his sofa and go anywhere. He is the King of Doze. And my other small dog, the fluffy white belle of the ball known as Chloe, is hormonal and perpetually hungry. I have the odd fantasy about tunneling under the fence myself and taking a break from all three of them.
And it is all good. The quiet morning and climbing temperatures, the lively little dogs running around the house, the cuttings of myrtle, rosemary and fennel lying on the counter next to the kitchen sink. The poetry of Richard Blanco, the inclusivity of Obama’s inauguration, visions of belonging, togetherness, an end to prejudice. My idealism rekindled a little.
One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn’t give what you wanted.