dogs and trash

The trash. Everyday the trash. Does anyone else out there have to prep the garbage can before leaving their house? Find keys, sunglasses, make sure I have wallet, diapers, monkey (S's blanket) snacks (because my girls make every ones lives hell if there are no snacks. If I don't bring snacks, they'll steal yours. I give up) water (to wash down the snacks) lock the door, make sure the cat is in, then the dog prep. Make sure theres nothing edible with in reach, no glasses on the counter because they'll get broken in the counter surf that they would never dream of doing when I'm home, and prep the trash. Tuck the bag inside the lid, and turn the can so the hinge is facing out. I also have to check that the baby gate is closed and the dogs can't get upstairs because they've been known to bust open the diaper genie. You have not seen raging lunatic until you see me go into S's room to find a pile of shredded dirty diapers all over the floor. It smells like shit! Ha! But really really bad rancid shit. The diaper pail has teeth marks all around the lid. Anyway- that is the worst, yes the diapers- but the kitchen trash, while less repulsive is still a major pain in the ass. They're so good in so many ways- but the trash.

Inspiration

Like a balloon, my mind in terms of art. Start out deflated, get inspired slowing filling up with air. Full of air, productive, satisfied, complete. Then either get too full and pop, or too stagnant and deflate.
Have recently discovered this blog: my love for you is a stampede of horses. Incredible, inspirational. I'm filling with air.
Now I have to get to work.

A new day

S and I voted yesterday. I was afraid to watch the news or turn on the radio all day, but got the girls to bed and sleep at a record 6:30 so I could glue myself to CNN. Incredible. Hope! I believe! And I am one jaded cynical mess.

As I went about my routine today I thought people seemed a little happier. Maybe, quite possibly, its just me.

can't wait to vote

When to vote? I am having voting worry which is silly because I WILL vote, doesn't really matter when. I wanted us to go as a family to vote for Obama, but J has already voted. S is napping, at 9:30 am, unheard of. H is at school where she'll be voting weather she likes chocolate chip cookies or oreos better. So the family is scattered, and I am chomping at the bit to pull that Obama lever.

Also on my list today, the consideration of the yearly homemade Christmas gift I attempt. With varying degrees of success. Hat year went well, knitted scarf year, not so much. There are so many giftees though, that my good intentions turn me scrooge-like quickly. But hey, look at me, its just barely November and I'm thinking about it. This is familiar... just wait. Much like the Halloween scramble of earlier post. Check in around Dec 23rd for more of the same.

And oh! thanks to a cranky, eye rolling, heavy sighing fish store employee who tolerated my lack of fish know how, my fish are much better. As soon as I changed the water the way you're supposed to (which is obvious, but I don't know what I'm going) they started swimming around doing fish stuff instead of gasping for air on the bottom of the tank. Yay cranky fish store guy. Yay me for holding my ground while being shamed by the cranky fish store guy.

One fish Two fish

Today I need to get to the bottom of whatever it is that's killing our goldfish. First there were 2, Hannah and Hansom Creasom, they lived outside all summer in a flower pot I called a pond, with plants, no filter, no pump. They survived, thrived, even, it seems. Then I brought them in, to an aquarium in the kitchen so they wouldn't freeze. Then I got cocky and added 2 more goldfish. The white one who didn't even live long enough to be named was the first to go. I came down one morning and found it stuck to the filter, it was before I had coffee and it had been a rough night of no sleeping, so I ignored the tiny voice in my head that was blathering on about life lessons and saying goodbye, and threw the fish in the trash can. Did I think H wouldn't notice? Worse, she asked once where the fish was and then I saw her make a mental note not to ask again. Later I said to her:
"you know that white fish? It died. "
Silence. "Can I see it?"
"I already buried it"(what the hell is wrong with me?)
"What if its hungry?"
"You don't eat when you're dead. But the fish is in a good place now with its friends. Its soul is rested..."
Oh oh oh. Downward spiral. Sinking feet weighted with concrete. So not what I wanted to say. Failing miserably. Shocked by how horribly I'm handling this. I at least stop before I say "next time I'll let you bury the fish with me"
And now, dead fish number 2. Again I throw the fish in the trash. This time, the voice in my head takes control of my subconscious and I put it in a bag inside and empty container of ricotta. (Yes, I should have recycled it. I suck.) Anyway. Later I'm on the phone with my mother who scolds me for throwing away the second fish. She blast my denial by reminding me "Someday one of your big pets in going to die and that's going to be REALLY hard". So, I went out to go through the trash. Found the fish, and put it in the freezer. H has already asked about Aria- once. I have been trying to find the right time to break the news. I am such a wuss. Aria died on Day of the Dead. You would think having grown up in Mexico City I would not be as squeamish about dead as I apparently am. I am going to make an offering for Aria. We will bury the fish, with enough food. And some marigolds.