Fun AND Frustrating

Mike and I were both a bit gloomy yesterday, so in an effort to lift our spirits, we took a map Christopher and Jodi gave us and drove around Somerville for the Illuminations Tour 2015.

The map sucked and was barely readable and I could never get my bearings using it. Trying to figure it out with my phone GPS didn't help much either. The entire tour takes place all over the city, not in one neighborhood, so there's a line on the provided map giving suggested routes to the various houses, with a few homes labelled with a light bulb which, according to the legend meant it was "Over the Top Fabulous!".  Which they were.  Tacky-tastic in the best way.

We kept getting lost though and that combined with my kindergarten-level of patience, I was frustrated and said so.

"It's not frustrating, this is fun!" Mike responded optimistically.

"No it isn't, it's frustrating"

"...It's Frunstrating"

I will take that compromise.

Slow Dance with Tico

Slow Dance with Tico from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.

They're Snuggling...Amost

Last night Mike and I were watching some Sherlock and trying our best to ignore the constant growl, squeak, nail tap and paw clomp coming from the two four-legged best friends while they chased each other and played tug-a-war with every object they could find that would work and some that wouldn't.

For my sanity and for the neighbors downstairs, I finally decided it was quiet time.

"Harlow, lie down" I instructed her. She then wandered away and came back and looked at me like, did you still want me to lie down like you did seven seconds ago? Yes. Then she layed down, letting out an exasperated huff upon hitting the floor. Then Tico would come near her and she's paw at him and get up and the chaos would start again and the "Harlow, lie down!" would happen again, as would the Are you sure?

In truth she's getting much better at listening to commands. She is like a procrastinating teen though - insisting she'll get around to lying down when she's finished doing that other important thing she needs to to - as soon as she can remember what that other important thing was.

In a moment of serendipity, both dogs were near the blanket and when we commanded them to lay down, they did. Together.

Mike and I reacted like we were seeing a human who'd never walked before walk and oh my god don't distract them just get a camera quick oh my god how cuuuuute!

Mike has been dreaming of the day these two snuggle for quite a while, even trying to facilitate the moment by attempting to place Tico next to Harlow while she was on her bed at my place once. They didn't care for that.

But this? This was real, though fleeting.

Tree Decorating Time!

Goofy Boobs

I had a dream the other night that I had multiple tattoos - one of Joy from Inside Out on my rib cage and, between my boobs? Goofy. Yes, you read that right - Goofy. After telling him about the dream and how relieved I was when I woke sans tattoos, I said to Mike via text "I had goofy boobs!" and his response was "your boobs were fine.... just had something goofy between them"

Lives Less Valuable

Do you think the loss of a childless person over the age of, say 50, is less of a loss than a parent of the same age?

Or maybe what I'm wondering is if a childless person's life is worth the same as a parent. I've been thinking about that lately, not having kids myself, and about the concept of worthiness.

It's strange because I think of people in my life, women specifically, who do not have children, and I see them as living full and interesting lives. Their worth, in my eyes, is just as great as my friends who are parents. Obviously, a death of a parent is more tragic because they have children who now mourn their absence, but that's not what I'm talking about really. The loss aside, was the parent (for lack of better term), a better or more valuable person, than the non-parent? Did they contribute to society more by raising another person?

So why do I question this in myself? Why do I wonder if my life will seem purposeless if I get to the end of it and have no human to show for it?  Maybe because I always thought I put a lot into my creative endeavors, but don't push so hard as to be obsessed with recognition and award-winning, because I thought I would put my greatest work into being a parent.

Now I don't think I will be a parent, and I have no interest becoming obsessed with my career or other creative undertakings, and making it my "baby".  So what does that make me? I'm not a parent, I'm not a philanthropist, volunteer, athlete, award winning PJ.  Just a person I guess. At the moment I don't mind that.

Heavy Heart

It's creeping up on me. On all of us. The anniversary of this.
The night before (as in tonight) is always saddest for me because it's the last time I saw her face.

I found this gem while looking through photos for John's memorial a few weeks ago.