Muddy Meanderings

Muddy Paws Pack Life and Gardens

Zombies, a Love Story January 31, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 12:06 pm

If from merely human motives I have fought with wild beasts in Ephesus, what profit is it to me? If the dead do not rise, let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we are to die.1 Corinthians 15:32

The body sank in a macabre parody of swimming, its
dead limbs graceful as it moved through the water weighted
with stone.

The shark struck fast, multiple rows of teeth slashing
the body into neat chunks of meat. Viscous, dark, blood
melted into the salt water, a dinner bell calling in more
sharks.

An oyster lay in its bed patiently filtering its own
meal. Something small and sharp passed through the oyster’s
gills, irritating the soft muscle just behind them. The
oyster tried to get rid of it, but particle wouldn’t budge.
Rather than fight with the irritant, it began to seal it in
smooth nacre. The particle was wrapped in layers of dead
black, dark as a cave.

#

Mary sat at the oyster bar, twirling the straps of her
Coach bag, wondering why she was there. Her friend Nancy
insisted it was a great way to pick up guys, but all she
saw were couples sitting at small tables, slurping oysters
from the half shell. She rolled her eyes at the pair
feeding each other the blobs of snot. She poked at her own
plate of mollusks, drawing designs in the cocktail sauce.

A bald man, tall, and obese, looked harried as he
rapidly shucked bushels of oyster for the ravenous
molluskavores that crowded the small joint. Oh yeah, Nancy
thought that since she didn’t drink, an oyster bar was as
likely a place to meet a guy as the local tap. As if. She
rolled her eyes again as she caught her friend leaving the
restroom.

Nancy pulled out a stool covered in blue cracked vinyl
and started in on her right away.

“You could at least smile. Who’s going to give you
second look if you just scowl into your plate,” Nancy said.
She picked up a tiny fork and slid one of the oysters off
the plate, worked the delicacy off the shell, dunked it
into the inkblot of sauce and sucked it down– all in one
practiced movement.

Mary wanted to throw up as she watched her friend
swallow the tidbit like a snake consuming a mouse.

There was a tiny dot of sauce colored the corner of
Nancy’s mouth. Always conscious there might be someone
watching she dabbed at it with a napkin rather than lick it
with her tongue.

“Who told you there were men at an oyster bar?
Everyone here has someone except us. Well, we have each
other, but other than the mixed couples, the other tables
are all women. I’m so out of here.” Mary picked up her bag,
dug out a twenty, and left it next to plate.

“Why don’t you finish the rest? I know you like
slugs.” Mary tried to get away, knowing that Nancy could
easily sway her if she had the mind to. Mary didn’t have
the willpower to say no to her.

“Oh hon, don’t be that way. I promised you a nice
night out. You’ve been cooped up in that apartment of yours
since John, uh, never mind.”

“Just say it. Since John dumped me. It’s not your
fault I’m not great company. Maybe you’ll find someone to
keep you warm tonight. I’ll just get out of your way. I
hate men, they suck.”

“The good ones do,” Nancy said trying to cheer up her
friend.

Mary tried to push in the stool but a small flap of
ripped vinyl snagged on the soft pink silk of her dress,
running the cloth.

“Damn it, as if the night couldn’t get any worse.”
Without thinking, she sat back down on the stool, put her
head on her hands and started to weep.

Nancy looked at her friend and held out a paper
napkin. “It’s all right. John was an ass, don’t mess up
your face about him.” She looked around and returned her
gaze to her friend. “Mary, please honey, stop crying,
people are starting to stare.”

Mary looked up, mascara running down her cheeks in
long black tally marks. She covered her face with her
hands. She’d never been so embarrassed her whole life.
Without thinking, Mary picked up one of the oysters and
forked the bite into her mouth.

She gagged as something hard traveled down her throat
along with the soft body of the oyster. Mary couldn’t find
her breath, the world swam in a shimmer of colors that
didn’t match and she hit the filthy gray tiled floor.

Mary came to in a coughing fit. She felt drool, snot
and tears roll down her face committing the coup de grâce
to her make-up. She wondered if Nancy would admit they were
together. Forcing her eyes to open and focus, she saw she
was resting against the shoulder of a man she didn’t know.

She struggled to get up, as much to exert her
independence as to get away from the smell of rot and
oyster that emanated from the cavern of his mouth.

His head was dipped towards her, so she only could
see a portion of his face. What she did see made her skin
crawl. Deep red pockmarks scarred the skin, and filled the
creases of his hangdog jowls. Gray hairs sprouted from
scattered black moles, round as balls. His eyes were his
only nice feature, like the gods had taken pity on him.
They were a gorgeous, clear, turquoise blue shot with black
flecks.

“Miss, are you okay? Miss?” He gave her a little
shake, then eased up when he noticed her light brown eyes
had fluttered open. “Are you allergic to shellfish? Do you
need 911?” His voice was dark and thick as black licorice.

She found herself attracted to him despite his
appalling countenance and breath. She subtly relaxed in his
arms. Even his breath didn’t seem quite so horrible. She
rethought that. It was horrible. Maybe. She wondered if
she’d hit her head.

“No, I’m fine.” She cautiously touched her scalp.
There was something wrong with her. He was not the sort of
guy she would normally get hot and bothered by. Outside of
the obvious, she didn’t even know the man.

Nancy pushed towards her friend and pulled her from
the stranger’s arms. She felt the magnetic attraction
between the two and wanted to throw up. This so wasn’t what
she’d had in mind for her friend when she’d asked her out.

“Do you need help getting home?” The stranger’s voice
flowed over her, a warm bath after a good workout in the
gym.

“Mary, don’t be ridiculous, I’ll take you home.”

Mary looked between her friend and the man, who still
had a hand on her arm. The skin was rough with pustules and
open sores. She’d never seen anything so fascinating in her
life.

“I think I’d like you take me home,” she told the
stranger, feeling the sharp daggers shooting from Nancy’s
eyes.

“Whatever are you thinking, Mary! Do you have a death
wish? You need to go to the hospital and find out what just
happened, not go home with this…” she trailed off before
she said what she really wanted to say about the repulsive
man who was holding onto her friend’s arm so possessively.
“Stranger.” She completed her sentence. “You can’t go
home with a stranger.”

“Why ever not? Wasn’t that the plan? Find a nice guy
to hook up with?” Mary pulled away from both of them,
feeling like a bone between two dogs.

She turned to the stranger; in awe of the attraction
he held for her. No one had ever made her feel this way.
Was this what was meant by chemistry? Love at first sight?

She was dazzled.

“Thank you so much for helping me. I don’t know what
got into me. I’m Mary,” She said pointing to herself, and
then pointed to her friend. “This is Nancy. Sometimes she
acts like a mother hen and other times like a pain in the
ass. Most of the time she’s all right though.”

Mary picked her purse off of the floor, straightened
up and smoothed her dress. It was a total write-off, the
snag had run up the length of the material, and red sauce
and dirt repeated the pattern under her feet.

“I think I’ll just take myself on home. I feel fine.”
She gave a hard look at Nancy. “Stay here and enjoy
yourself. I can live vicariously for a while. Really.”

“Are you quite sure, at least let me follow and make
sure you get home safely.” He held his hand out, not to
steady her this time, though she wouldn’t have minded that,
but to shake hers. It was cold and clammy. It felt
wonderful against her hot skin. “I’m Mike. If you’re
worried I’m a stalker I have references. Er, not as a
stalker.”

Mike smiled; the wide grin exposed the rotten stumps
of yellow teeth. He took his wallet out from his rear pants
pocket and pulled out a white business card. The embossed
logo of a local biotech company was centered above his
name, position as senior scientist, and phone numbers.
“Perhaps when you’re feeling better you’ll call? Just
to let me know there were no ill effects from your battle
with the oyster. My cell number is on the card and I always
carry it.”

“I will, I promise. But I’m just fine. Nancy, I’ll
call you tomorrow. Late tomorrow. I know how much you like
to sleep in.” She waggled her brows at Nancy, realizing she
really did feel much better.

Mary gave Mike one last look, memorizing every aspect
of his appearance—thin, graying hair with patches of skin
showing through, rumpled work suit down to his worn shoes
covered in dirt. She couldn’t have answered why, but there
was no doubt. She wanted him, disgracefully. He wasn’t like
anyone she’d ever met. It had to be the eyes.

Then she looked at her friend, who rolled her eyes at
her but didn’t try to stop her.

Mary fluttered her fingers goodbye, stumbled awkwardly,
caught herself and left the oyster bar to catch a bus home.

#

Mary woke up with a throbbing headache and a
craving for…something. She rolled out of bed, slipped on
her new purple satin robe, and shambled to the kitchen.
She thought she’d put on coffee, but the smell made
her nauseous. There was nothing in the fridge that looked
appetizing either, though she’d just gone shopping and was
well stocked.

Shrugging, she headed for the bathroom. At least a hot
shower sounded good.

She stripped and inspected herself in the mirror. It
wasn’t surprising that there were assorted bruises along
her side and back. She remembered taking a hard fall and
remembered hitting the stool on the way down.

What bothered her was the rash that spread across her
body and face. There were oozing sores and cysts that took
her aback. She remembered the man who’d helped her the
night before. Was he contagious? Did he have, OH MY GOD,
leprosy? She checked to make sure everything was still
attached.

She ran her fingers lightly over the pus filled
eruptions. She was relieved to find they didn’t hurt.
Actually, nothing hurt–maybe she’d taken some painkillers
at some point in the night.

#

After she was done, she returned to the kitchen.
Nothing was new in the fridge and she still wasn’t
interested in coffee. Maybe she should see what the special
was at the corner café.

Her phone rang, and she located it under her bed where
it had fallen out of her pocket the night before. By the
time she answered it, Nancy had left a message on voice
mail. She decided not to call her back right away.
Except. The small white card was lying next to where
she’d found the phone so she picked it up. Why she tapped
in the numbers she couldn’t explain, but she needed to hear
the soft honey of the man’s voice. Mike’s voice, she
corrected herself.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, how are you? I
was wondering if you’d call.”

“Umm, how’d you know it was me?”

“You have the only number I don’t have an ID for. How
do you feel today? I wouldn’t doubt you have some
interesting bruises,” his voice skimmed over her body. She
could feel it, literally feel it touch her body. Yet, the
sores still didn’t bother her.

“I’m fine. I did have a question. Uh. Uh. This is hard
but, um, is your, um…”

“What? Is my what?” He asked, though there was no
confusion in his voice. He knew what she was asking.

“Your skin condition, is it contagious?”

“Not that… look, can we meet somewhere. I really would
like to see you.”

She thought about it, then decided the café would be
safe enough. “Yes, I was thinking about breakfast. I don’t
have anything to eat here.” Or at least, that she was
interested in. “Are you familiar with The Corner Café on
Ford and Nixon? They usually have decent food.”

“I know where it is. What time?”

She looked at her watch. “It takes me about 5 minutes
to walk there. What time would be good for you?” She put
the ball back in his court. The verbal dance between two
people deciding on a first date. Though she wasn’t sure
that what this was, it felt like it might be.

“Give me ten minutes.”

The phone went dead. She decided to use the few
minutes to make her bed before she left.

#

The sky was gray and the wind was strong, bringing in
a storm, she mused. Her front door nearly pulled her arm
off when she pushed it open. She found it peculiar that it
didn’t feel cold. Other than the swaying trees and the
gusts that tangled in her hair, she wouldn’t have known how
bad it was out.

Mike was leaning against a light pole, waiting for
her. His face looked like it was out of a surreal painting,
the skin almost running down to his collar. She wanted to
run her fingers over it.

“You look wonderful, none the worse for wear after
last night,” Mike said, with real appreciation.

“Thank you, but you’re a liar.” She gestured to the
rash spreading across her face. “Are you contagious?”
He took her hand, turned it over and then wrapped his
fingers in hers. She didn’t draw away.

“Are you really hungry for any of that?” He asked,
tilting his head to the café.

She glanced at the specials posted in the window and
decided she wasn’t and shook her head.

“Good, I’m not much into that kind of food either. How
about we just take a walk?”

Mary decided that was a very good idea, his hand in
hers felt so good, tingles ran up her hand and zeroed into
her brain.

Brains. She shook the word out of her mind.

“What’s wrong Mary?” He tilted her chin back.

“No…thing, nothings wrong. I think.”

“Good. I need to ask you what you might think as an
odd question. Did you have any bite marks along with the
sores?”

She stopped walking when she heard his question. What
on Earth? “No. Why would you think anyone has bitten me?
Unless… Look, I broke up with my ex last week. We haven’t
been getting along for a while, so it was time. No one has
BITTEN me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding
like that. I just wondered if you’d been in a fight or been
hurt recently.”

Unless you counted her heart, Mary thought, but just
said, “No, of course not. Why?”

“This kind of disease is carried in the saliva. It can
also come from eating…other things. Have you eaten anything
unusual lately?”

“What’s with the twenty questions. You and I didn’t
swap spit,” yet, she amended to herself, “and the only
unusual thing I’ve eaten was that oyster last night. Could
I be allergic?”

They stopped at a traffic light, and waited for the walk
sign. Conversation stopped until they were walking again.

“I don’t know how an oyster would have been
contaminated with the prion,” he murmured half to himself.

“Prion? What prion? What are you talking about?” They
walked through the gates that led into a small city park,
asphalt paths winding through close cut grass. The only
trees were on the decorative brick strips between the
sidewalk and the road.

“Our lab was attempting to find a cure for
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, it’s related to mad cow disease.
Very nasty. It’s caused by a prion, it causes disease like
a virus, but it’s mainly a protein. There isn’t a cure for
any of the prion diseases.”

The sun was bright, but other than Mike’s cool, clammy
hand, she didn’t know if it was hot.

“So what does that have to do with this?” She gave
into her need, and gently stroked down his face, the skin
melting into hers.

“It causes Zombification. You’ve already noticed you
don’t want to eat anything normal, but I can hear your
stomach rumble. I know what you need, and in a few hours I
think you’ll be ready for it.”

“Zombification!” She let out a little shriek. “Need?
What do I need to be ready for?” She pulled at his left
arm, and heard a meaty sound.

He led her to a green park bench and they sat
together, hip to thigh. He wrapped his right arm around
her, and placed a finger over her split lips.

“What you’ll be craving. The disease is progressive.
And we postulated there might be two strains, a positive
and a negative, attracting each other like iron to a
magnet. I think you have the other strain of prion, but I
can’t figure out how you got it. Are you SURE nothing
different has happened to you recently?

“Nothing. Nothing at all. What do you mean there’s no
cure! Am I going to die? What’s HAPPENING to me.” She was
screaming in hysteria, but he held her tighter, pushing her
head into his chest. As much to calm her, as to keep her
quiet.

The scent of corruption enfolded her and she sighed
and snuggled in closer.

“It’s going to be fine. I think that maybe you’re
ready for breakfast now. Are you up for it?”

“How do I know if I’m up for it if I don’t know what I
want?”

“Well, I think I need something caffeinated. How about
we go to that nice coffee shop over there,” he said as he
pointed across the street.

“I don’t want coffee, it turns my stomach.” She held
her rumbling middle.

“I’m not talking about coffee, dearest. I’m talking
about coffee soaked brains. Caffeine headaches are the
worst. Are you ready?”

Brains. BRAINS. Sweet brains bathed in caffeine, she
thought.

“Oh yes, yes. BRAINS!”

And they shambled off, his arm in hers, as he held her
hand with the one still attached to his torso.

The End.

The Moral: Don’t eat oysters in months that don’t
contain the letter R.

 

San Francisco in the Fast Lane. November 29, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 11:01 am

Or how to see everything in about five days. (Continued)

San Francisco

Weekend,

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Day Three

Late! Late! Late! 8:00! 8:00! 8:00! Dress fast, Tall Dude not upset. Why? Oh. 6:00. Go down to lobby, do e-things, have good coffee. See Ric, the Civil Engineer and talk. Invitation to Reno, call or email, given business card. Of his wife.

Puppy. Jump jump jump. Jump on woman, she starts. Her daughter looks frightened. Please move the puppy. She is scared. Mom says no, allergic. Her too. But HYPOALLEGENIC. Yeah, sure. Will be quiet. Nice soft cocker coat, not poodle coat. Won’t give speech. No, no, no. But. He doesn’t listen anyway.

Farmer’s Market, Embarcadero. Yum! Fresh Fruit! Fresh Flowers! Breakfast! What to have? Too many stalls. Lox again? More expensive. Too expensive. You’ve got to be kidding! Butternut Squash French toast with caramelized pears. NO WHIP CREAM! Yum! Persimmons 2.00 more than in China Town. Grin. Bargain shopper! Sample soft persimmons, eat grape as big as plum. Strawberries make the air sweet.

Stalls with weird alien mushrooms, twisted and thin, sponges, hassocks. Goat cheese. Sausages. Rotisserie chicken. Too early for that. 10:00 am must have eggs. Warm. Wind making hands freeze.

ORCHIDS! Mandevillea, Paphilopedium vini! Must have. Covet. Must have. 12.00 each. With pot! Sold! But going to flower market. Yes. So? Paph loses head. Oh Well, next year.

Ann, high school friend on phone. Where to go? Berkeley! By Bart. 2:00? Why so late? Tall Dude: She’s going to the Flower Market.

Go past vendors. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. No gloves. No wallets. WAIT. Ceramic dog pins. My breed? Yes, Cheap. Cheap! CHEAP! Buy two! Christmas Gifts. Maybe. Many real dogs. Buhund! Cool. Bichon, Basenji, Chihuahuas. Lhasa, Shih Tzu. American Eskimo, sheltie. Dogs through the Farmer’s Market.

Flower Market. FLOWERS! FLOWERS! ORCHIDS! Cheap. Cheap. CHEAP! Bug Out Eyes. One of this. One of that. How will I carry them? I’m good. Can pack. Uh, you didn’t have carry on. Tall Dude silent. Uh oh.

Only bought five. No, six. And a Protea. Good for class. Oh. No systematics class this year. Oh well, maybe next. Can I grow it? Must try. Pack it up.

Oh no. How to pack. Orchids don’t smush. Oh well. Can try. Buy another. Oh. I want the yellow and red Miltonia. Mustn’t. Didn’t.

Regret.

Nap. Crash. Best about vacations. Sleep! Decide no Alcatraz. TOO much wind. Too cold. Saw from pier. Always internet.

Train to Berkeley. Coffee at Tuttle’s, wait for Ann! Ann and daughter, she looks like mom. We were younger than her daughter when we were friends in high school. Shopping! Stuff. Tacky. Go to T-shirt Orgy. Or course. Home of a zillion T-shirts. That one, points Ann. Peanut Butter and Jelly. All out. Save 20 dollars, might be orchids.

Lunch/dinner? Brazilian. Ann speaks fluent Portuguese and talks to a man in a booth. Not a language I speak. Yes, the cafe is open. We walk, small restaurant. Order Tri Tips. Beef, onions, rice, ricotta, and cilantro stuff. Yum! Talk and walk. Who do you remember? Where are they now? He killed his wife and kids and himself. Nice. Her brother knew me? Oh, thru him. What else? Teaching, daughter. Not fitting in then. Now not caring. Can it be we’ve grown up?

Nyah.

Walk around UC—Berkeley. Sweetgum prickly balls, red leaves. Pollarded Sycamore trees. Tree Torture. Old buildings beauty, 70’s concrete blocks. Boxes. Sad. Nice green verdigris gate. Missed gardens. Hug Hug Air Kiss. See you soon? Maybe Christmas. Bye Bye.

Back on the Bart. Lyrical sing-song languages. Asian? East Indian? Wait, that one sounds familiar. ‘Don’t laugh o’ I crack yo’ head.’ But too fast to understand. Sorta English. Need to learn English English, American English, and what? Sorta English?

Back on train, under the bay. Uh oh. Tall Dude is sick this time. I’m fine. Take a break.

Where now? Walk around to Yerbe Buena Gardens in the dark. Art museum? Keep walking. Metron Mall. Boring. Endless arcades. Too hard to figure out unless a teenager. Or preteen? Back outside. Auto show. Walk away.

Yerbe Buena gardens continued on other side. Waterfall Monument. ‘I Have a Dream’. Poetic quotes behind the waterfall. Humans are human, no matter how small. No, more serious.

Walked on poems yesterday. Some were like Mario’s. Didn’t always understand, but I could feel them. Emeralds from the sun. Extinct trains. Brass plaques set into sidewalk at the N train platform.

Crave popcorn, none to be found. No peanut butter either, so can’t pray. Back to room. Look at display case. President Harding died here at The Palace of apoplexy under mysterious circumstances in 1923.

 

San Francisco, Black Friday, Nov. 27, 2009 November 28, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 11:10 am

 

San Francisco
Black Friday
November 27, 2009

Coffee in Palace Lobby. Civil Engineer, originally from Chili. Went to UWM. He says: You seem surprised.He met wife, from Steven’s Point. Small world. Lives in Reno, knows Lone Pine CA where Red the buppy lives

Alamo Square park. Look at painted ladies. Ooo, pretty. LOOSE DOGS. Vizla, Cardigan Corgi, Rhodesian Ridgeback. Corgi can’t keep up. Ridgeback runs thump thump thump to me. He’s nice. He sniffs. Warm wet leg. Yuck. He never pees on people! Just me. *sigh. Yuck* Tall Dude better not laugh, he had fish piss on him yesterday. Go back to The Palace on Streetcar and change.

Herds of zillions of people. Bargains! Bargains! Bargains! Don’t get run over!

Golden Gate Park. Conservatory of Flowers, modeled after Kew Conservatory. Met tour guide. Dracula and Masdevillea orchids. Architecture building at UWM is where her childhood home was. Former psych major, then to Madison, then Building Manager at UC Berkley. Small world times two. Beautiful. Can we stay. NO NO NO. Too much to do, too much to see!

Gift shop! Out door banners from last year. 10 dollars! Bargain! Buy! And SF glass ornament. Don’t break. Not charged for ornament. You didn’t. You sure? Oh, yeah. Shop quick. Don’t let Tall Dude see me. How I learned to pick out things fast! Cute middle aged guy. Flirt? Yeah, but looking at Tall Dude.

San Francisco Botanical Gardens. Primitive Plants. Cycads, Tree Ferns. Dinosaur Crossing. Scented garden. Eh. Japanese Gardens. Demons beware! Crookedy bridge. Humans caution on crookedy bridge. Big fish, little trees.

Golden Gate Park. Band shell, naked lady, not painted lady. Yellow Lab. On leash. Wants to say HI HI HI. What is with the dogs here?

Lunch. Inner Sunset Neighborhood. Homeless sheltered in doorways. Vietnamese! Pho for him, Five spice garlic chicken noodles for me. Yum! Vietnamese coffee. Yum. Real Cream. Uh oh. Cramps. Ladylike Burp. Garlic. Yuck. Return to Palace. Nap.

China Town! Bargains! Two Fleece for twenty. Two scarves for 17.95. Yes. Buy. Uh oh. Cheaper down block. Shrug. Persimmons! Cheap. Buy. Yum. Wups. Cheaper next market. Dead fish. Smell. Yuck. Pretty view. Take Pictures. Take lots of pictures. Alcatraz. Stand in street. Oooo. Pretty. Gallery, Glass works. Chahuli?

Ghiardelli Square! Pretty! Stores. No bargains. Go to pier. Take pictures of three masted ship. Old boats. Alcatraz. Golden Gate! Bay Bridge. Ooo, pretty! Sunset. Pictures bad. Some good. Yay. Wait. How? No more. Stand on pier. Crab fishermen get busted. Pretty lights, police car. How did it get on the pier.

Back to Ghiardelli. Buy hot fudge peanut butter sundae. Mmm. Yum. Too much. No CREAM! Eek. You must. Share. Beg. Tall Dude finishes. No dinner! Cannery. No bargains. Try to get on Trolley. Long line? Goes fast, let’s wait. We wait. We Wait. We Wait. Near the front. No Trolley. Why? Needs a tow truck. It’s broken. Four Trolleys backed up. One hour waited. Just bad luck. Too cold. Take bus.

Stop at Union Square. Tree lit! Insane.Whee! Ice rink! Whee. Big Deal. Walk back to The Palace. Download pictures later.

 

Day One, San Francisco, Thanksgiving, 2009 November 27, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 10:26 am

Day One

San Francisco

Thanksgiving, November 26, 2009

Ooo. Mountains. Take pictures. Funny colored water. Take pictures.

Off the plane onto the Bart. Do you have everything? Off the Bart and onto a street car. Get off here. Where is it, it’s supposed to be here. What? The hotel. What hotel. The Palace. It’s not here. That building has 20 foot high letters that read the Palace on the roof. Is that it?

Check in, the room is ready. Dump the stuff, impressed by the bed. Take pictures. Bottled water is 7 dollars. Don’t drink the water.

Go out. Forgot sunglasses. Back to the room. Get sunglasses, back on the road. Take the street car to the Embarcadero. Look for food. No food. Nothing is open you fool, it’s Thanksgiving. What is that? No clue, it’s closed too. No, it’s an ice rink. How stupid. They have to make snow and ice, do they the non-natives miss their homes?

Any food? No food. What’s that? Thai Crepes. What’s that? Chicken avocado pesto crepe and pop. Good enough.

What time is it? Don’t know, wait. My watch is too hard to reset. So subtract two. Street vendors! Cool. I need that stuff. Why? It’s for Christmas presents. It’s junk. Not. Real stone necklaces and earrings and ooo, llama wool scarf. Do llamas have wool?

On the bus to the Golden Gate Bridge. Big orange bridge. Up to Marin Headlands. Through old Nike base. Look, it looks like the one in Milwaukee. 1950’s Big scare. Forgot the camera.

Off the bus, to the restrooms. Wups, showers. Off to beach. Look, an ocean. BIG waves. Men on surfboards trying to catch them. Too wild, untamed, no rides. They paddle back.

Bi-black German Shepherd plays on beach, looks to his master and continues to play in the surf. Slide down hill to beach. Not very mature, slide on butt down hill. Tide coming in or out. Follow the beach. Should we take the trail? The wa…Tall dude leaps onto rock, too late. Wave catches him. Soaked legs.

Take the trail, coastal sage, mesembryanthemum, potentilla. What is that? Deer. A stork. Should head back. Orange sun stains clouds orange. Orange bridge sparkles with combustion engine fireflies. Ooo, pretty. There’s the bus. Wups, too late.

Back to city, where should we go? There’s a cafe. It’s open, we can eat. Not hungry, we ate only a couple of hours ago. Where should we go. To Fisherman’s Wharf. On the streetcar, and to the Wharf. Hawking wares, twelve dollar fleece. Five dollar sunglasses, only cash for crap. Spent on scarf and jewelry. Good thing.

Smelly fish, dead sea creatures. Allergic to shell fish, let’s get out of here. Hungry yet? Any turkey? It’s Thanksgiving, everything’s closed. A Thai restaurant. Hot and spicy chicken soup, barbecue pork for him. There are smaller spoons in basket. Bright red. Used wrong Thai spoon. Red faced, both waiter and me. Thai Iced Tea, ack! Teeth…rotting, melting. Yum.

Where are we now? Lost. I think we over shot the street. We are in the Italian section. Italian signs, chianti bars. China town is next. Don’t want to climb anymore hills, no China town today. What’s that? Transamerica Tower. Ooo, pretty. Men in building putting up Christmas Dreck at 10:00 PM, or wait, is it 8:00.

Hold your purse. It’s early, should be okay, but on edge of tenderloin district. What is that? Tenderloin is good, right. No, not sure why tenderloin. Don’t trip on the dude in the box.

City Lights Bookstore, on Kerouac Street. Big time beat buff, the tall dude recites. What?

Where’s the Hotel. This is what happened last time. The map is wrong. No, not wrong, we’re facing the wrong direction. We need a transit map. We need to sleep.

Breakfast menu. Coffee, 15.00. Bakery and Cafe across the street. What about WiFi? 27.00 in the room. Complimentary in the lobby.

Transcribe what I remember. Save. What’s on tap tomorrow?

 

She was special, not for her titles or her get. She was special November 8, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 8:44 am
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Charm wither her grandaughter

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I thought I was done with buppies

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Good night Charm. May 28th 1994-Nov 6th 2009.

You passed to your next path as you were born, perfectly. Conceived on my birthday, born 60 days later, given to me because I ‘deserved’ a healthy puppy, you taught me too much. All the firsts that Quark couldn’t accomplish, you did with joy. Other than that stupid bird luring you out of the tree by flying away, you never had an unhealthy day in your life. Even when we discovered you’d been competing with a ruptured disc, full of heart, the neuro surgeon was surprised you came back to complete your Agility Jumpers excellent title and your JH, and 40 more OTCh points. 3 years later, the scar tissue was severe but you were too antsy to sit at home, so at 12 you completed your RAE. Only then did you stay on the couch, saying goodbye to your kids as we left for a weekend of shows. You were the first ESS and one of the top 20 of any breed to earn a VCD title. You learned to hunt late in life, but adored it, to the point a friend had to haul you over ice because you had fallen through. You couldn’t get up because you wouldn’t give up the bird until I had taken it. I didn’t think you’d get your Championship, not even after Lauren put the five point specialty supported major on you. You kept the peace here well, other than a misunderstanding with a visiting dog, we never had a fight and we’ll miss your velvet paw. The end of an era, the end of youth. The breeder was right, she gave me a healthy dog, you passed with your vision and your hearing. Good night Charm, keep Quark in line.

Love, The Red Headed Lady and the Tall Dude and your pups, grand pups and great grand pups all over the country, wonderful pets.

Nov. 6th

We’ve lost some of the greats this year, all of an age we, as breeders, should
be proud of. Close to home, Colours and Charm, long time play mates (though as
puppies, Charm ran circles around him…he couldn’t get under the table at
Henriette’s house, where she planned her pounce.)

Sometimes I cry from grief. Sometimes from laughter. I didn’t always understand
pack dynamics, but with the many dogs over the years that came to visit, she was
very tolerant. Even the future stud dog that we had to use another dog to tease
her with, Alden. Logan was patient waiting to be able to do the deed.

So many stories, the dog who had no feet, who was carried everywhere unless she
was gaiting, heeling, running in agility or pulling in tracking, or bouncing to
hunt. Sometimes bringing me birds heavier than she was. Heart. I mentioned it on
a tracking list. My goal as a breeder was to have heart. She made my heart
bigger, so it seems fair for her to have taken a bit with her to the bridge to
hold for me until I get there.

I didn’t mention she passed next to my office chair, where she spent every
minute I was. Usually when I was gone, she slept in a sunny patch in the living
room. She left no mess, her eyes were closed, I only knew when I was feeding
everyone and she didn’t come out to investigate. If I hadn’t noticed her chest
not rising, she was perfectly peaceful.

I didn’t know how far flung her stories went, so her legacy, other than her
relatives, is wonderful to know. When Quark passed, I knew how he touched
people. It’s easy to forget how inextricably bound her stories were with his. I
thank you for sharing what you remember about her.

Mindy, how lucky I am, though now I miss having her granddaughter Cera bouncing
on me. She is so much like her grandmother and great grandfather, Charm, and
Colours.

 

Knock down, Drag out fight with the man in my life October 17, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 8:53 am

Nyah, not with the tall dude. We don’ t fight, we discuss and we change the subject to Quantum physics. Really. Not kidding. Or Samuel Beckett. Or Botox, anything that isn’t argumentative. Do you want a carrot?

Well, back to the subject at hand. My Garmin HATES me. I drove to River Falls last night. This is NOT the sort of place that requires a lot of turns. Hop on 94 and it’s a straight shot to the RF exit. Then town. Town, BTW has grown quite a bit since I lived here in the ’90’s. There is ACTUALLY a Mc Donalds! Who’d a thunk it!

I thought it might be interesting to use the GPS. I wasn’t sure where the Super 8/Highland Inn no star motel was, so it was my end point. And off we went.

All went well, other than the glitch it has with the ramp close to my house. It keeps telling me to do a u’ey in the middle of the ramp. I think NOT.

Continued down ‘94 until I noticed I needed gas. The next ramp was to Elk Mound, WI. I kid you not, Elk Mound. Get off, and the fun begins.

Garmin: Get back on 94 (Male accent free voice)

No. I need gas.

Garmin: Turn left on P.

I haven’t found a gas station yet.

Garmin: It DOESN’T Matter. (Recalculating) Make U turn.

I CAN’T. It’s another freeway. NO U TURN.

Garmin: Make U Turn now, you are 15 miles from 94, you have no choice unless you want a new destination.

FIND ME A GAS STATION!

Garmin: That is beyond the scope of my duties.

SCREW YOU (Turns my Dragonfly in Amber audiobook louder.)

Garmin: Turn that down. You’re lost, aren’t you,

*Sigh* Yes. No gas station and it’s dark.

Garmin: Make a u turn at Q

Does it have a sign?

Garmin: Does it matter? *Makes U turn. Finds 94* Are you happy now? Garmin: Continue on 94

*Finds another exit, gets off*

Garmin: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

*Get Gas*

Garmin: Where ARE We?

Isn’t that YOUR job

* Garmin: *mutter* Stupid bitch. (recalculating)

*Tosses Garmin behind me*

Garmin: *muffled* You’re not going to find the Super 8

I’ll find a bum and ask them. I am woman, I ASK for directions.

Garmin: Fine. Whatever. Stupid bitch.

Now I know why you only cost 60 bucks.

 

It’s all for fun… for someone September 6, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 7:05 pm

FOUR DAYS OFF! Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Friday as a furlough day, a day that is required off because they already docked your pay for it. Saturday and Sunday because my student help came back so I didn’t have to water, and Monday because of Labor day.

Whoohoo! Let’s do agility! Dogs and humans, flying with grace over green grass under blue skies, surrounded by a medieval tent city.  The human  in perfect sync with their canine partner as they guide them through a complex winding course filled with jumps, tunnels, A-frames, dog walks, and weave-pole.

That’s the theory, anyways. Then there are the klutzes who take wonderful dogs and confuse the hell out of them. I, the human half of the team, get to walk the twisty courses with sharp turns, planning my strategy to quickly get my dog through the mine field.

For me, it isn’t a brightly colored playground of dog toys. For me, it’s a mine field, where a wrong turn will get me raped by weave-poles, crash a jump into splinters, or trip over and wipe out my dog. The best I can do is stay out of my dogs way, try to remember where to go, and not kill either of us.

Eh. Fun.

The first course I managed to remember and Cera soared over, around, and through our path. Then, weaves. I felt her perfect rhythm suddenly lose a beat, then she missed a pole. A blade of grass? A butterfly? A ghost? Something caused her to lift her head and forget where she was…

End of the run. Another run, this time I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and while I actually remembered the course, we were so over the time allotted we might have been on a slow boat to China. It would have been faster.

The last game is a make it yourself course. Obstacles are worth a certain amount of points, and you design your route through the course to pick up as many points as you can, plus gamble you can send your dog away from you and to more obstacles. Cera proves she is more than just a pretty face and does rather well. Of course, we’re at a lower level in this game than the earlier day’s options.

Now, to be somewhat fair to myself, in addition to being born without grace or agility, I recently discovered my allergies are growing at an alarming rate. I have to take eyedrops in order to see and now I need an inhaler to even run. The inhaler itself is an interesting contraption, an expensive clear tube of plastic with the pressurized not as expensive medicine (Albuterol) stuck into a slot at the end. The idea is to inhale like it’s a cigarette. Eh, guess all those years of smoking came in handy, I know how to do that.

Guess I should have read all the side affects before I did all sorts of dizzying spins called front crosses in order to get in the proper position to guide my dog. Good crosses, Mud, but in the wrong place. Oh. Caution, may cause dizziness. Is that why I came out disoriented? At least I could breath.

And my emotional state may have been a bit off. I’d brought the last puppy, the pick, out to the trials for socializing. Instead of only getting out and meeting and greeting new dogs and people, she found her own people and dogs. I placed her, reluctantly, with the perfect home. The husband is an experienced springer hunter, the wife does agility and obedience light. The black tri I’d wanted since 1972 is now living on 30+ acres with 3 other dogs, and horse. This weekend she’s up north at their cabin.

Okay, bitch bitch bitch, whine whine whine. I totally demotivated Cera with my poor handling skills, yelling her name and sending her like an out of control pin ball all over the course. She gave up, put her nose to the ground and wandered the course. Weaves? You do it.

Last draw. I know I was the one to write the check, but she usually at least pretends to be interested and having fun. Since we already blew the run when she ran past the weave-poles, I decided to see if I could remember the labyrinthine course. I took off as fast as I could, doing pretend blind crosses (dog behind you while you take your eyes off them to switch them from your left to your right just by dropping a shoulder and swapping guiding hands). I flew like the wind, graceful as a ballet dancer. I wasn’t dizzy using this form of cross and didn’t miss an obstacle. I WAS missing the dog.

I could see from the corner of my eye the what-the-fuck looks on both my dog and the judge as I glided through the field. Cera wasn’t sure what to do, but toward the end, she managed to catch up with me and do a few of the jumps. The judge waited until the end before she blew her elimination whistle. What could she do? I wasn’t training in the ring. I just completed my run. Dog was with me when we entered the ring. Dog was with me when we left. So what if the dog wasn’t with me on the course? Nothing in the rules, but it must have been the first time anyone ever ran a dog agility course at a trial sans dog.

I felt great. Didn’t get lost or disoriented. I was breathing well, the drugs kicked in when I took it outside the ring. And my friends, who know I have a problem with memory, cheered me, yelling YAY Mud.

Cera still was puzzled, but I felt so good I fed her the rest of the 1 lb of hotdogs although she had ignored me on the course. I ate lunch before I packed it in to go home. I’d had a little problem with my new GPS system that morning, getting a touch lost because it calls the turns before you make them. A little too early…so I had to back track a bit.

Going home, all set to follow the pink line, I took off. Guess I missed the road, because the pink line disappeared. There wasn’t any replacement, and the machine male voice was silent. I made a series of turns and still, no pink line.  The machine glared at me, the male voice telling me if I was going to ignore his instructions, he was going to remain silent. And I bet smell the grass. They’re all in cahoots.

 

Jax/Red and Friday, a day at an agility trial getting burned is better… September 4, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 5:55 pm

than a day at work. Although I do like my work. And sometimes agility just plain sucks.  Today I count it a good day… I didn’t get lost once. Cera flea beetled on me…and I was in the wrong place and took too long on the jumpers course…but took first in Open Fast with a send out to a teeter! Good girl! Jess had a whole trial of people trying to take her home…aww.  One looks like I might let her go to…33 acres, horse, another springer and two other dogs…agility, obedience…hunting! We’ll see. Henriette insists she needs to KNOW who these people are.

Oh, Jax now Red? He is having way too good of a time in Cali…Go west young man….

This was the first picture I was sent. Poor guy, Springer Jail. What did he do to deserve that?

This was the first picture I was sent. Poor guy, Springer Jail. What did he do to deserve that?

But when you look at that face (after running thru the sprinkler...you can see the devil horns. Hey, we did amputate them at birth...the scars are still there!

But when you look at that face (after running thru the sprinkler...you can see the devil horns. Hey, we did amputate them at birth...the scars are still there!

Being ebil is Hard work for a bup!

Being ebil is Hard work for a bup!

Her last show with Auntie Dawn. She misses Dawn...she loves her more than she loves me. Course...Dawn fed her without making her DO anything for it!

Cera's last show with Auntie Dawn. She misses Dawn...she loves her more than she loves me. Course...Dawn fed her without making her DO anything for it!

 

Settling in… September 2, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 6:58 pm

The bups are settling into their new homes (except Jess, who persists here, much to her chagrin…she wants her OWN home). I pestered everyone for pictures, so here are a few of the bups with their new slaves.

I big enuff to beat older bother

I big enuff to beat older bother

What was in that incense? (Ford, Paul, Pixie...Dena must have escaped.)

What was in that incense? (Ford, Paul, Pixie...Dena must have escaped.)

Jamoke, now Bentley, with his new young slaveboy.

Jamoke, now Bentley, with his new young slaveboy. I lost my photo editing program when my PC crashed. Just turn your head a little More to the right. Crane...yeah, there.First day of school

Jess is 11 weeks. Her grandma Charmy is 15 years old. Sleep brings the generations together.

Jess is 11 weeks. Her grandma Charmy is 15 years old. Sleep brings the generations together.

 

On a Sunday with nothing planned. August 30, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — mudepoz @ 9:15 pm
Chicago Botanic Gardens: I so wanted to compare to the 'natural' waterfall, but I can't rotate it!

Chicago Botanic Gardens: I so wanted to compare to the 'natural' waterfall, but I can't rotate it!

Then we came home. Game du Jour was Tug Tall Dudes Shoelace!

Then we came home. Game du Jour was Tug Tall Dudes Shoelace!

First, we visited Dori and Jim, friends I've literally known most of my life
First, we visited Dori and Jim, friends I’ve literally known most of my life
Honestly, of all my friends, Dori would be the one I would have voted as LEAST LIKELY to sleep outdoors :) of course the Vardo IS pretty cushy.

Honestly, of all my friends, Dori would be the one I would have voted as LEAST LIKELY to sleep outdoors :) of course the Vardo IS pretty cushy.