Awesome Joolie

A friend recently made an offhand comment that when she adopted her dog she made her a promise to never dress her in silly clothes. I cringed a little when she said that, because I used to think that way. But now I have become the kind of person who pays money for cute sweaters for her dogs to wear.

Here's the thing: Üter has very short fur. We noticed not too long after we got him last year that he would shiver uncontrollably whenever it got below about 45 degrees outside. So we got him a little shirt, and he stopped shaking so much and everything was great.

This year we had a cold snap kind of early and his shirt got filthy after just a couple of days. I thought it would be nice to have a few on hand in case we needed to wash one. So I ordered him another shirt. Then I thought I might as well buy him a sweater in case it got really cold--it does do that here sometimes. And then I figured if I was going to buy him a sweater, it might as well be a cute one.

Then I felt bad that I wasn't getting Willa anything. I mean, rationally I know she doesn't care and she doesn't get nearly as cold as Üter anyway, but it still seemed a little lopsided, and besides, what if it did get really cold outside? So I bought her a cute sweater too.

And then this happened.

And then it never got cold again, so I have a tidy pile of adorable dog sweaters in my office.

I also tie bandanas around their necks.

And take pictures like this. 

They don't seem to mind. I'm pretty sure they would tell me if they did.

I forgot to tell you about a nice thing!

I have a piece for sale in the window of Kruger's Jewelers at 8th and Congress downtown.

Stop by and see it if you're down there, and be sure to check out the company it's keeping, like this fantastic mosaic cactus.

It looks a little plain compared to the others, but I think it holds its own okay. (That's my friend Sam in the mirror, classing up the joint.)

It's the 27th anniversary of my mom's death.

When you live with grief for a long time you know you're going to feel all kinds of ways about your loss depending on the season or the day--sadness, acceptance, the sensation of being punched repeatedly in the solar plexus--and sometimes, for long stretches, not very much at all.

This year I mostly feel angry. I'm 40 this year, the same age my mom was when she died. That's preposterous, that this--this spot where I am now, where I have some things to look back on, and things still to look forward to, and things to regret forever and things I still have time to fix--this was all she got, and the last few years of that so frightening and full of pain to boot.

It's appalling. I'm so pissed. I've felt like kicking something all week, but there's nothing to kick.

So what can I do? Have lunch with my sister, walk the dogs, pull some weeds, pick out Christmas presents for people I love, cook dinner for Eric, text with my friends and family. Write an inadequate blog post. Drink wine, cry a little. God damn it.

This month went fast. And now I am no longer under a self-imposed obligation to post every day. Which I did do, mostly, although the writing was thinner than I'd hoped. I guess it takes more practice than just a few weeks.

Still, on a personal level, it was a very good month, and daily blogging lends shape to things. It encourages you to notice things more, to distill things into a few paragraphs--or, conversely, to find at least one thing to salvage from a shitty or utterly unremarkable day.

I do plan to write more than I have been, but I am not going to post every day in December. There are enough obligations in the month already. So I'll post when I feel like it, and be quiet when I don't.

Hey, look! By my clock it's just now December as I'm wrapping up this post. Thanks for reading. Come back and see me soon.