Best of Henry

How could I leave you for so long with just a link to an internet phenomenon? Writer's block? You'd think I'd have time to come up with something to write since I am STILL. UN. EMPLOYED. But I haven't, so when I found this little gem in Henry's planner next to his red with light blue polka dots bed, I had to post it.

DAILY SCHEDULE (Updated for DC Life)
5:30 am - Wake up.
5:37 am - Find squeaky toy.
5:38 am - Wake up mom with aforementioned squeaky toy. I NEED TO PEEEEEEEEE!
5:45 am - Go outside with mom. Don't really need to pee, but love to smell that morning air. It's a NEW DAY EVERYBODY! I LOVE IT! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE MORNINGS! I LOVE WALKS! LET'S GO WALK! LET'S PEE ON STUFF! WALK WALK WALK WALK WALK!!!!! OUTSIDE! WALK! Maybe poop.
6:15 am - Get back from walk. Look for toys to play with in the house.
6:20 am - Realize no one wants to play, go back to bed with mom.
7:00-8:30 am - Sleep, unless someone is in the kitchen. Beg for food, specifically leftover cereal milk. Stare down person who won't give it to me.
8:45 am - Go to sleep in mama's bed - she sleeps in when everyone gets up because she still has no J-O-B.
8:45 am - 9:30/10:00 am - Cuddle, get belly rubbed.
10:00 am - 12:00 pm - Sleep on my couch.
12:15 pm - Beg for lunch leftovers.
12:30 pm - 3:00 pm - Sleep on the floor.
3:00 pm - 6:00 pm - Sleep on the couch.
6:30 pm - Get excited that someone is about to come home! Sleep by the door.
6:45 pm - Get belly rubbed.
7:30 pm - Get dog food. Don't eat it; instead beg for human food. When all human food has been exhausted, eat my own shitty food.
8:00 pm - Drink entire gallon of water.
8:03 pm - NEED TO GO OUTSIDE!!
8:05 pm - Pee and play outside with my FRIENDS! I LOVE MY FRIENDS! Try to hump one. Jump in mud. Get in trouble. Go back inside.
8:30 pm - Sleep on floor. Don't go to bed in case roommates eat snacks.
11:00 pm - Sleepily walk to my own bed.

Best of Voting

It's almost over, it's almost oooooover. Ban-nan-uh-nan-nan-uh! It's almost OVER! IT'S ALMOST OOOOOOOOVER!!!

I made up this song this weekend, and if you're nice, I might sing it to you. Right now, Whitters in WINDIANA is the only one who has heard it, because I want to keep her motivated and working hard for THE NEXT PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, a certain Barack Obama.

I've been singing it in my head (and in my car or office if I'm alone) just to get through the days leading up to the election. And now it's down to ONE DAY.

I went to vote early on Friday morning with Grant at the Creek County Election Board, and there was a line. The doors opened at 8am, and at 9:30am, when we voted, I was number 250. Pretty damn cool. When we got back in the car, Henry had taken my seat (it is important to take your kids to the polls with you so they grow up thinking it is a normal activity - THAT IT'S JUST WHAT YOU DO), so we shared it on the way home. I told Grant that I had waited so long for that day, to get to vote, and he asked how long. FOUR YEARS, PEOPLE.

For four years, my daily life and work has directly or indirectly centered around this moment.

It's hard to work in a field where compensation does not even come close to equaling time and energy. It's hard to work in a field when you are expected to work during the regular work day, and then keep working when you can reach voters when they are at home, on nights and weekends and holidays. It's hard to work in a field that you are not supposed to talk about at the dinner table.

That last part is what drives me crazy. I work hard for something I believe in, but it is off limits for polite conversations. I'm trying to change at least my part of the world for the better, but I shouldn't talk about it. What the hell? Why is it, in America, that we can fervently support sports teams (Go Sooners!), wear shirts, paint our faces, put flags on our cars and our yards, and that is not crazy, but wearing a political shirt or having a yard sign or bumper sticker or wanting to talk to your friends, family and neighbors about something that actually affects them is?

It's not too late. Put out a yard sign. Let people know your views. You don't have to be afraid to be a Democrat anymore. Tell your family that you are voting for change. Make phone calls and tell complete strangers why they should, too. Knock on your neighbors' doors, or in a completely different part of town, and tell them to vote for Obama. Be a part of history. It's not too late.

But it's almost over.

I'm predicting an Obama win and hoping that dedication equals victory in House District 9 in Claremore USA (knock on wood, cross fingers, hope and pray). BUT NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, WE GET A NEW PRESIDENT AND GEORGE W. BUSH IS OUTTA HERE!!!

(Ban-nan-uh-nan-nan-uh!)

Best of Updates

Dear Blog,

Maybe it is because I finished a self-imposed writing assignment earlier this week and no longer having something I HAVE to write, I have lots of things I want to write. And tell you about. Please be patient with a lot of updates, and I hope you have it in your heart to not think of the two letters L & P while I do so. Only 2 people will understand that, but it's worth a mention.

Anywho, as seen by the comments here, I'm not the only one acting odd. And I'm not the only one off in my house, either. The past two days, Henry has willingly gotten in the bath. Not to bathe, not with water, but just to hang out while I do my hair. The first morning, he cried and whined like he does when he's gotta pee really bad (if he were a person, he'd be crossing his legs, dancing and holding his crotch, but since he can't do that, he vocalizes his need). I tried to take him outside - that's not what he wanted. He's indignant when you can't read his mind. Anyway, after crying for about five long minutes, which really impaired my hair straigtening along with the humidity, he decided to risk getting in trouble, and jumped in the tub.

And he did it again this morning. Weird. Hadron, I tell ya.

Love,

Court

Best of Good Intentions

Got this text from Grant today: "Fridge is clean" It made me very happy, because 1), I hate cleaning out the fridge and 2), it was Grant's turn and 3), he'd never done it at 632 and 4), I'd been asking him to do it for a couple of days. How much are you wishing you lived with me? Sorry, I'm taken.

Anywho, news of anything being cleaned in my house makes me excited and content. These feelings started to fade away over dinner when I heard about the cleaning process.

Me: "Thank you for cleaning the fridge!"
G: "Sure. Henry helped, too. He ate 1/3 of the chocolate cake, a turkey burger, and..."

I love my boyfriend, but this was not a good idea. Henry does not know when to quit eating. He'll eat everything he can. Grant didn't think this through, and just gave him all the leftovers. And then, when he left for work this afternoon, he put him outside in the hot.

Needless to say, when I got home from work a few hours later, Henry wasn't feeling too well. He came inside, drank a lot of water, threw himself down on the cold tile, then joined me in the living room. To throw up on the carpet.

Beware, here's a visual*:

Here's a sick Henry:

I felt sorry for the poor thing (even though they should BOTH know better), so I just loved on him, and then a good idea occurred to me. Rolaids. Henry ate 2 of the chewables (Grant swears by them), and is now wreaking a different kind of havoc on the living room. The fun kind.



*This was taken by my new toy I got today. Look at that detail! Granted, this is not what I thought I would take to feature my new camera, but, hey, it works.

Best of Things in My Backyard

One of these things I like more than the other
Originally uploaded by cruark

I decided I wanted to start posting more pictures on my blog, so when I went in the backyard this morning with Grant, I noticed just how beautiful my hibiscus was getting. After Grant left, I took my camera outside to try to get a shot of it, and HENRY WOULDN'T HAVE IT.

He's been in trouble the past few days, because during the day he stays outside in the backyard and is trying to turn it into a trash heaven. He chews up paper, drags out the hose (which Grant thought Whit and I were doing everyday), makes piles of trash, and has recently begun to eat our plants. Grant and I are plant people, so this hasn't gone over well. Henry attacked some sweet potato vine and our elephant ears we got last week at the farmer's market. Then he moved on to Grant's cacti, so now he has the shits. That's called justice.

The Henry vs. plants battle in the backyard is also causing tension in the house. I won't name names or parties, but someone is mad that plants bought are getting eaten (and suggested we might as well give him $5 bills to chew on), and someone else is mad that people in the house are mad at a puppy for being a puppy. Both sides are justified-ish, and both sides are a tad-ish angry. Any solutions? I didn't think so.

But back to this morning. I kept trying to take a picture of this flower, and then a dog nose would show up in it. Or a puppy would jump on me while I tried to take the shot. Finally, I just pushed him out of the way, and he crawled over and laid down as close as he could get to the flower. I think he's trying to say he's sorry. This is the very cute result.

Best of Dogs

As I wrote earlier, I had a sudden urge to be home in Kingfisher this week with my family and dogs. I'm glad I went and was able to say goodbye, although I didn't know it was goodbye at the time.

My dog from high school, a beautiful yellow lab named Daisy, was put down yesterday. My mom called me last night, and I did not handle it well. I snapped at Grant and his friend, pulled away, shut down, and built up some nice big walls. I don't know why I act this way. When I am hurting the most, and needing other people to comfort me, I push them away as hard as I can. Sometimes I'm not a very good person. Sometimes I'm not good at life.

Daisy was always good at life, and really was a "Best of Dogs." I got her the summer before I was a junior, when I was 16, which was a very tumultuous time for me. She was an adorable puppy, who really took to the farm, and was a great guard dog if you are afraid of being licked to death.

To get her to come inside, I used to sing out the side door at the top of my lungs:

"DAISY, DAISY, GIVE ME YOUR ANSWER DUE
I'M HALF CRAZY ALL FOR THE LOVE OF YOU
IT WON'T BE A STYLISH MARRIAGE,
I CAN'T AFFORD A CARRIAGE,
BUT YOU'LL LOOK SWEET UPON A SEAT
OF A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO."

And she would come running. When I left for college, I could not take a full-grown lab with me to live in the dorms or subsequent apartments, but she would not have left the farm for anyplace in the world. She became Kenneth's best friend, who would patiently wait for him at the door, and not understand if he went to do anything with the cattle without her. If she were allowed, she slept next to his side of the bed any chance she got. And she licked everyone.

Other dogs showed up, Chester, Gracie, Gallagher, and Daisy mothered them all (most of all, Gallagher). Because she had a bad hip, Mom got her a really nice dog bed that the other dogs KNEW they were not for them. Still, though, Mom said even though Daisy was the only one on the bed at night, in the morning when everyone got up Gallagher would be snuggled up against her. She mothered everyone around her: the cows, the dogs, and my family.

Before I got home, Mom told me she was worried about Daisy because she would not come inside, which never happened, especially if Kenneth was in the house. I pulled up and saw her almost in our neighbor's yard, so I yelled for her, and she just kept circling. Mom and I went to get her, and I led her into the house to her bed, where I sat with her, and got to tell her I loved her and play with her ears, my absolute favorite part of Daisy. She licked me the entire time.

The next morning, when I left, Kenneth and I were talking about her, about the weird circling, and we thought she just couldn't go to the bathroom. She was headed to the vet that day, where they found out why she could not go to the bathroom; her whole body was riddled with tumors. Surgery would not help. My mom and Kenneth made the difficult decision to relieve her pain and put her to sleep, and had to call me and tell me last night.

I will miss her, and as I write this, Henry (who looks almost exactly like the little Daisy the sixteen year-old me held and adored) is jumping around the living room. I wish that they could have met. She would have taken care of him, and taught him about being the best dog. Somehow she already taught him about the licking, though.

Best of Roommates

I have three roommates.

This is my newest one, Henry:

Yes, he is THAT cute in person. You will have to meet him. He likes to sleep, eat and pee.

The other boy roommate likes to leave the toilet seat up. I have talked to him about it, and so has Whitters. He is rightfully afraid (but not scared enough to put the damn seat down) that whichever of us falls in first is going to freak out. I'm sure you'll hear about it when it happens.

I spent the past few days with my two human roommates, basically celebrating spring. We've gone to brunch* at Palace Cafe (great food, mediocre-to-bad service), shopped for plants, cleaned, hung pictures, drove with the top down, cooked, planted those plants and found our new roommate hanging out on the street. Sometimes we just look at the puppy. Just because he is that cute.

When I say "cooked", I mean COOKED... I've made fork-mashed purple potatoes, turkey meatloaf, homemade whole-wheat pasta with lemon, garlic & artichokes, tomato & mozzarella salad, roasted garlic for bread, homemade pasta with tomato sauce, and some pretty incredible apple cinnamon muffins. We've got leftovers if you want to swing by. Plus, there are plans for lemon poppyseed cake (I probably won't be eating) and chocolate chip cookies (just try to stop me).

Whitters is my sous chef (and the co-chair of the brunch committee and also the social chair - ask her about the Court-a-palooza birthday-redo that is occurring this Saturday at 632), and she cleans after all that cooking. Yup, I know I'm lucky.

Right now I'm enjoying a glass of wine after a great dinner with two of my favorite people in the entire world. I'm about to have tea with water from my new lemongrass green Le Creuset tea pot. Life is pretty good.

*Brunch committee (also co-chaired by Grant) meets every Sunday around noon-ish or later. We are searching for the perfect brunch location in Tulsa (so far committee members have tried McNellie's, the Chalkboard, and the Palace Cafe... and we're still looking for the best, inexpensive, tasty, and would-it-kill-them-to-have-a-good-bloody-mary? place).