The Final Frontier

In exactly thirteen days, I won't be here.

I won't be sweating in 100 degree weather and getting a weird sandal tan on my feet.

I won't be stuck in a grey cubicle with bad florescent lighting.

Though I would adore it, I won't be visiting dear Marie in England either.

I'll be in Alaska.

Instead of sweating in the sun, I'll be tapdancing on glaciers and searching for moose (though I like to call them mooses, even if it's not correct. It sounds cuter.)

Instead of spending my days pestering Libby via e-mail, I'll be perusing a shop to find a little trinket to amuse her.

And hopefully, I'll find a moose tiny and cute enough to take home. The Babies will think he's just a fuzzier Chihuahua with horns.

My parents were generous enough to invite us along on their summer trip to Alaska. Ben's been dying to see it since he was a child. His dad used to work in Alaska, so he's eager to put images to the stories in his memories. I went when I was six and have been eager to go again. At a time when the world's gone mad and is chopping down every tree to build a new Starbucks within ten feet of a new McDonald's, I'm looking forward to seeing true nature.

Ben's parents were generous and offered to drive down halfway and pick up the Babies, so I won't have to worry about them being locked up in a kennel with a demented and psychotic vet who likes to pick on Chihuahuas. (I have a very vivid imagination.) At least while I'm introducing myself to seals and polar bears, I'll know the Babies are safe and having fun with Ace, Arthur and the Monstrous Creature named Charlie. And hopefully I can find them a cute puffin or salmon chew toy.

I'm not quite sure what our itinerary is, but I can't wait. I'm even excited about riding a plane. Instead of dragging myself to work, we're going on an adventure! We'll eat salmon and ride tiny airplanes and see mysterious fjords.

In just 13 days.



(I'm very excited.)

Nothing Exciting

As the Babies frolicked through the grass and munched on bugs, I propped my feet up on the patio table and fanned myself with my hand. The sun was blazing and the temperature was over 100. I glanced at my watch and decided to give the babies a few more minutes.

"Excuse me!" a tiny sparrow landed on the grill.

"Yes?" I said.

"Where are the flamingos?"

"The flamingos?"

"Yes, the flamingos. You know, big pink birds, skinny legs." The bird fluttered his wings and cocked his head at me like I was an idiot.

"Well, I don't know," I said.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" The bird was hopping about the grill in an agitated fashion.

"Why should I know?" I snapped, pulling my sweaty shirt away from my back. "Why would I have flamingos?"

"What about elephants then?" the bird tried again. "Pink ones that blow cotton candy bubbles from their trunks?"

I raised my eyebrow.

"Ducks? Lions? Unicorns? Spiders with blond hair?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my head spinning.

The bird blinked at me several times. It was clear he thought I was a complete moron. "This is the Pond!" he shouted. "The famous Pond with all the fantastic and mysterious creatures. Where are the flamingos? Where are the pink elephants? Where is the gigantic bee? Where are the carnivorous puppies?"

"The gigantic bee is Pumble, and he's in the Land of the Flowered Bed," I said. "And those are the carnivorous puppies." I pointed to Bear, who was gnawing on a stick as Bitty used his stomach as a trampoline.

The bird's tiny black eyes filled up with tears and his beak trembled. "It's not real, is it?" he sniffled. "None of it's real. All the stories I heard were simply untrue. You made it all up."

"Oh no," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "It's true. All of it."

"Then where are the creatures?" the bird shouted.

I spread my arms out and smiled. "You're simply not looking hard enough. If you did, you would see they were everywhere."

The bird scowled at me and ruffled his wings. He turned and stared across the yard.

"I believe you're correct," he whispered, gasping in awe. Leaping off the grill, he hurried towards the corner of the yard. "You were right!" he cried. "I see them now! They're so pink"

I just smiled.

Babies' Day

This weekend wasn't Father's Day, at least in two sets of furry little eyes.

It was Babies' Day. It was all about them. As it should be, every day.

First, Tia Libby brought them a fun toy called a Kong. You shove treats up it and they chase it around to get it out. Bitty is smart enough to let Bear do all the work so she can steal the treat.

Saturday, we went to Austin to celebrate Father's Day with my parents and sister.

Correction: We went to Austin so the Babies could trap my mom and sister in the kitchen and spend endless hours being cuddled and petted.

Not only did they receive delicious jerky treats, but Mom gave them a new bed. It currently resides in my office until they get old enough not to eat the wicker. Right now they're convinced this fabulous object is a snack and bed all rolled into one.

Bitty then decided to spend most of her time trying to escape to go bark at the original Babies. She was not successful.

They spent the next few hours fighting over who got to sleep where.

It was exhausting.

After a exhilarating adventure through the mysterious cardboard box and another round of beef jerky, the Babies decided that everyone had enough cuteness for the day and that it was time to return home. They hadn't piddled on the Blonde Duck's carpet in awhile.

After all, being cuddled and spoiled all day is exhausting. Every day should be Babies' Day.

Hot Dog

There is no greater injustice than being trapped in your car in 100 degree heat in deadlock traffic when you just want to get home. As the sun beats down through the windshield, sweat rolls down my calf to my ankle. Not even my poor Jetta's AC can stop my sweat-soaked shirt and damp brow.

Staring at the cars in front of me, I shake my fist at the rubberneckers that have locked down an entire city highway.

"You morons!" I shout. "I'm going to beat you over the head with my pink princess lunch box!"

The cars ignore me. Their drivers chat on cell phones and smoke.

"It's just a wreck!" I bellow. "A stupid wreck! Some asinine moron probably got distracted and flipped his SUV or ran in the back of someone. It happens everyday! It's nothing special."

The car in front of me inches ahead. I sigh and pound my head against the steering wheel.

After moving three feet, I debate getting out of my car and dancing. Looking around at all the strange, bobbing heads around me, I decide not to.

Two feet later, I begin to ponder why exactly Texas does not have solar paneled cars.

Five feet later, I can smell myself. It's not pretty. I smell like I've been running for a mile.

Six inches later, I decide my butt hurts. I've been in the same spot for 20 minutes.

"HELLO!" I bellow to some cows on the side of the road. "I don't have any food, but if I give you the plastic knife and napkin in my car, can I ride you home?"

The cows chew, staring at me blankly. "Where's the GLUG when I need him?" I mutter.

One mile later, I see some police lights. Now both sections of the road have slowed to the pace of a snail's crawl. "Somebody better be dead," I mutter. I glare at the other cars and fume about how I could have been home with Ben and the Babies thirty minutes later if someone hadn't screwed up. It's a great example of how one person's stupidity effects us all. My list of things to do starts running through my head.

Finally, I reach the site of the accident. A truck has hit a Honda. Whoop-de-di-doo. Everyone's in the grass pointing at each other. No one is bleeding. There's barely any visible damage except to the truck, who has no doors.

It is not a scene worth staring at for two minutes. I promise.

Suddenly, everyone begins to fly down the road. After a few more stops and a few turns, I pull into the driveway. Struggling out of the car with my purse, briefcase, lunchbox and plate from lunch, I burst into the house. I sniff the air.

"Darling?" I called.

I heard metal clinking in the kitchen and tiny feet barrelling towards me. I greeted the two balls of fur that were licking my toes and reaching up for kisses as I made my way to the kitchen.

"Darling?" I called again. After prying my toes from Bear's teeth, I stumbled into the kitchen.

And nearly burst into tears of joy.

The table was set with drinks and condiments. Two plates were filled with rice and corn as hot dog buns toasted in the toaster oven.

"I decided to surprise you with dinner," Ben said, beaming. He clicked his tongs at me. "Two hot dogs?"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his waist as the babies danced around our feet. "Honey," I said, "This is the best dinner anyone has ever made for me. You even have a vegetable!"

"And hot dogs," he grinned. "And peanut butter ice cream for dessert."

I squeezed his belly so tight he grunted. "Darling, you're my hero."

For all the writers and artists out there....

For those creative types who are bursting at the seams with paintings, drawings, designs or stories only to be rejected or put down, read this:

http://ayearatoakcottage.blogspot.com/2008/06/thursday-morning-ponderings.html

As Marie says, "Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genious will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated failures. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent." (Calvin Coolidge)

Read it. It will brighten your day.

The Land of the Flowered Bed Goes on Safari, part 2

The next morning, all the animals waited by the doorway. Their backpacks were stuffed with snacks and all the important necessities: water, sunscreen, toys for the seals, books for Cookies, a map for Hairy and cookies for Pumble. They were ready.

They crept down the hallway and to the kitchen. The Babies were asleep, their tummies rising and falling as they dreamed. The animals climbed on the Flying Pigs' back and floated over the gate. A pig bent for Pumble and he stuck his nose in the air.

"I'm going to fly over the fence myself!" he hissed.

"Ha!" Cookies snorted. He pointed to Pumble's stomach and cackled. "If you get in the air, you'll look like a yellow and black Hindenburg."

"Bite me." Pumble flapped his tiny wings as hard as he could. Wheezing and grunting, he barely made it over the baby gate. The second he cleared the top, he panted and fell to the ground, crashing into the Babies' food and water. He looked up in horror. The Babies' eyes flew open.

"Run!" Hairy cried, spurring his Flying Pig onto the screen door. He reached out his hand, ready to flick the switch that opened the door. Pumble rushed across the kitchen floor, sliding all over the slick vinyl tile.

"Drop your backpack!" Hairy shouted, flicking the switch and pulling the door open. The seals and Hairy floated past.

"Are you kidding!" Pumble shouted as he waddled towards the door. "I've got fresh crumpets in here!" His skinny legs pumped across the floor as the Babies sniffed at his heels. Bear reached out and bit onto one of his wings.

"Ouch!" Pumble shrieked, jumping into the air. He shed the backpack and fled through the door. Hairy slammed it shut just as the Babies reached the doorway. They pressed their tiny faces against the window and howled. Pumble plopped down on the patio, panting.

"All those crumpets...lost....to the foul breathing beasts..." he whimpered. The seals slid off the Flying Pigs and patted his head. One seal offered a seaweed muffin from his backpack.

"You don't need them anyway," Cookies pointed out, eyeing Pumble's large stomach.

"And you didn't need fifteen million books," Pumble snarled.

"If we're done resting, perhaps we should continue our safari," Hairy suggested, interrupting before another argument could start. Grumbling, Pumble got to his feet. The animals hopped off the patio and into the grassy plains of the Pond. The Flying Pigs thrust their noses into the grass, sniffing with pleasure.

"If you don't mind, we'll stay here in the shade. That's where the grass is tastiest," the leader of the Flying Pigs said.

"That sounds great," Hairy said, ignoring Pumble's forlorn expression. "We'll meet you back here in a few hours."

"What did you do that for?" Pumble hissed as they wondered away. "I was going to ride them when I got tired!"

"That's not the point of a safari, now is it?" Hairy said. He pointed to the distance. "Let's see what's by that tree."

Clutching their backpacks, they pushed through the brush. Pumble followed along, grumbling about his lost snacks. The sun began to beat down on their shoulders and heads. Hairy could feel sweat running down his fur. The seals panted, their fair skin bright pink. Cookies had to hold onto Hairy's back with one wing and cover his eyes with another.

"I can't see a thing in this bright light," Cookies griped.

"My wings are dripping with sweat," Pumble whined.

The seals whimpered and hid in Hairy's shadow. Their skin had turned bright red and their flippers were pink and peeling.

"As soon as we can make it to the tree, we can rest," Hairy promised. "Then we'll go straight back to the Flying Pigs and we'll go home."

The animals trudged through the grass for what seemed like several more hours. Fleas bounced up from the ground and nibbled on Hairy's arms and back. Cookies became completely blind in the sunlight. The seals' whimpering turned into wails. And Pumble was still upset over his lost crumpets.

"Maybe we're lost," Cookies said, leaning against one of the seals. The seals nodded.

"We're not lost!" Pumble shouted. "We're really lost! We'll probaly die out here on this stupid safari. We'll never find the tree or any water! We're doomed to die here while those creatures eat my crumpets!"

"Get over your crumpets!" Cookies snapped.

"Open your eyes!" Pumble taunted.

Cookies eyes flew open and he beamed. "The tree!" he shouted. "It's right there!"

Crying out with joy, they rushed over to the tree. A thick cluster of green leaves with tiny purple flowers surrounded the tree. Pumble fell to his knees.

"Is there no water?" he cried to the sky. "No cookies? No pie? I'm doomed to die without the tiniest bit of sugar?"

"Did you say pie?"

The animals looked up. A tiny snail was peering at him from the green leaves.

"Pie?" Pumble repeated hopefully.

Hairy rolled his eyes. "Kind creature, we set out on a safari and got a bit lost from home. We would appreciate any food or water you could give us."

"Why didn't you say so?" the snail squeaked. "Come on in!"

A bit befuddled, the animals stumbled into the brush and grasp. Creatures of all shapes and sizes were everywhere! There were tiny elephants and minuscule pink horses romping through the mulch. Bumblebees and ladybugs dined on pollen nectar and dragonflies played a violin quartet. There were birds nestled in the leaves and lions with beards of straw prancing the ground.

"It is a safari!" Hairy cried. "Look at all the exotic creatures!"

"Look at all the FOOD!" Pumble bellowed, rushing to a table with his hands outstretched.

"This is culture," Cookies mumbled to himself. "In fact, it's a hidden society. I shall study it and make millions off my discovery! I'll be the most respected anthropologist there is!"

The seals squealed and took off running to a small pond several toads had created. Tiny deer ran by, waving white tails as they passed.

"So, what do you think?" the snail asked Hairy.

"I think it's a wonderful safari," Hairy said, beaming.

The Land of the Flowered Bed goes on Safari

At first, the animals in the Land of the Flowered Bed were excited summer had come. The seals loved dozing in the warm sunbeams streaming through the windows. Pumble was growing a vegetable garden in some old shoes he had found. Cookies spent his days hiding in the closet grumbling about all the excess sunshine, and Hairy had discovered a hidden library and was devouring all the books. All the other creatures swam, played volleyball and held campfire barbecues.

"I'm bored," Pumble sighed. He flung himself down on the ground, his apron covering his eyes.

"While I normally would not agree with such a silly statement, I'm afraid I must agree," Cookies said. The seals nodded, flopping over on their backs. The ducks from the Spa, who were eavesdropping, became so excited they flew out of the bathtub to the doorway of the Spa.

"Let's do something exciting!" cried the first duck from the Spa.

"Something we've never done before!" cried the second duck from the Spa.

"Does anyone have a towel?" the third duck asked, hiding behind a door. He was quite shy.

"What do you want to do?" Hairy asked.

"Find some new tasty grass," said the Flying Pigs.

"Swim somewhere," the ducks said.

The seals nodded their heads at the ducks' suggestion.

"I want to sample some delicious exotic food," Pumble said, licking his lips.

"Somewhere with culture," Cookies said.

"Hmm," Hairy said, tapping his finger to his chin. "The Living Room?"

"Boring." Pumble flopped over to his other side.

"Pedantic," Cookies said, trying out a big word he had heard on a commercial.

The seals shook their heads.

"The Garage?" Hairy suggested.

The ducks squalled from the Spa.

"Boring!"

"Stupid!"

"Perhaps another destination would be appropriate," the third duck suggested.

Hairy took a deep breath and tried again. "The Kitchen?"

Pumble sat up, drool running down his cheek. "Sure!"

Cookies shook his head and rolled his eyes. "We go there all the time. I want to go somewhere we've never been."

Hairy thought for a moment, tapping his foot against the carpet. "I know!" he cried. "We'll go on a safari in the backyard!"

"A safari!" Pumble cried. "That sounds delicious!"

"You know, my rich Uncle Owl went on safari every year," Cookies mused. "He was very cultured."

The seals cocked their heads and barked.

"A safari is a trip where you travel through a lot of grass and see wild animals," Hairy explained. "It's an adventure."

The seals clapped their fins in excitement.

"We like grass," the Flying Pigs said.

"Especially tasty grass," one added.

However, the ducks in the Spa were not amused.

"You can't swim on a safari!" the first duck yelled.

"We could get eaten by a rhino!" the second duck yelled.

"I'm afraid these two are more high maintenance," the third duck apologized.

"So it's settled then," Hairy announced, looking around at the animals. "Tonight, we'll pack. Tomorrow, we'll head out to the backyard and go on a safari."

If only he had seen the pair of eyes watching them through the window....

To be continued.....

A surprise package, a cheer-up e-mail and sitting in the kitchen

This weekend, while all my actions spoke of joy and frivolity, my weird and obsessive mind was churning and churning. For those Invisible Friends who do not know, I'm really weird. I'm high strung and dwell on things, particularly concepts or actions that can not be changed or I have no control over, for hours.

And I don't talk about it much here because that's whining, and as much as my father may disagree, I don't like whining in public. I think it's tacky. (He's probably fallen over by now.)

As you probably suspect, I'm obsessed with getting published. It dominates my thoughts, directs my actions and was, I feared, beginning to direct my writing. Instead of just flying through a story, my brain began to try to predict what agents or editors I never met would like. It started to dominate which stories I wrote and how I wrote them. Every rejection letter became a personal blow rather than a shrug and, "I'll try the next one!" The blind optimism I had at the beginning of this adventure was turning into bitter, cynical and jaded actions.

I became trapped in a vicious cycle of riding high creativity and optimism, spinning into self-doubt and then falling into a low of believing I was a terrible writer that didn't know plot, couldn't write at all and would never achieve my dreams. Then I'd spend days looking up stories on the Internet and plotting other options to take the publishing world by storms. Repeat. All weekend, my brain churned. Even at my parents' house, where my dear mother and sister gave up their Saturday to sit in a kitchen with my dogs, my brain churned.

Then, I got a package.

It was from my dear friend Marie! She had sent me a lovely e-mail cheering me up and then this fabulous package that contained:

A cookbook for 2 (It's from England and says 4 pounds on the back instead of dollars! How cool is that?),

A print she had done of a little girl and ducks.

And a print of a little girl and the chicken! My favorite! (To see more of her prints, visit her blog in my links. A Year From Oak Cottage. She's got an Etsy store that is full of fabulous prints.)

Then Emma sent me an e-mail that cemented my self-confidence and happiness. Between these two ladies, my blue mood was cured!

So Marie, I want to thank you for cheering me up on a day that I needed it most. Your unwavering enthusiasm and support for my writing has really helped me during my endless cycle of self-pity

And Emma, I want to thank you for reading the dozens of pages I send you every week and for always supporting and encouraging me. You don't know how happy I am when I see your e-mails in my in-box!

Of course, I have to thank Ben for putting up with me. It's not easy.

And I have to thank my Mom and sister for taking such good care of the puppies while I dance around the living room and gaze at "Transformers."

If my Dad is still conscious, I have to thank him for letting the dogs in his house. He made my grandmother sit outside in 100 degree heat when she brought it down when he and my mom were first married, so you know what that means....

He can't resist these two little faces.

Nature is cruel

Last night, there was an accident.

An accident of the stuffing kind.

The babies won't admit to anything.

However, the evidence speaks for itself. It is apparent that Bear and the Dolphin had a slight disagreement. The dolphin suffered major facial damage. Bear suffered indigestion with a touch of putrid gas.

But, like all friends, Bear and the dolphin are bound to make up. After all, how could you not forgive this face? He can't help it that he's a rambunctious puppy that enjoys seeing fluff float all over the carpet like snow. In fact, he's never even seen snow. He's a Chihuahua.

The dolphin's surgery is scheduled for Saturday or Sunday, depending on how much drama there is in the Pond ER. Fish and seaweed can be sent to Room 4C. Bear is confident he and his dolphin buddy will be back to normal before long.

And he really is very sorry.

The GLUG goes Swimming

"HELLLO!" A familiar voice bellowed from the vicinity of my toes. I looked down to see the GLUG swimming in the dogs' water dish.

"Hello," I said warily. "What are you doing?"

"Swimming, duh!" he bellowed, giggling. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Well, it looks like"--

"It's summer!" the GLUG announced. "Do you know what that means?"

"It's hot?" I suggested.

"I'm hot!" the GLUG bellowed. "The summer is the best time for a GLUG! The sun's a blazing, kids are out of school and everyone is looking for fun. And what could be more fun than a Ginormous Lime Green Unusual Gnat?"

"That's true," I agreed, trying not to smile.

"You know, you really need to work on your hospitality," the GLUG said, shaking his tiny green fist at me. "There are no Noodles or inner tubes in this pool. And where is the cabana? I want a hamburger and a petal margarita. And what's this brown crap at the bottom of the pool?"

"That would be dog kibble crumbs," I said.

"DOG KIBBLE CRUMBS?" the GLUG shouted. "Disgusting! What kind of pool is this?"

"A dog's water dish," I said. The GLUG glanced up to see two black noses sniffing right over his head.

"Excuse me!" he shouted. "Excuse me! This is a no sniffing zone."

Bear stuck his nose into the water and the GLUG yelped, bobbing helplessly. "What is wrong with you, vile creature!" he screeched. "Can you not see I'm swimming here? Go wash your foul nose somewhere else?"

He had barely scrambled onto the edge of the water bowl before Bitty's pink tongue began to lick eagerly.

"Oh no! Excuseee me!" Shaking the water droplets off his wings, he flew up to the counter and put his hands on his hips. I was too busy laughing to pay much attention.

"Next time, floaties and slobber free water," he demanded. "I'm a GLUG. The only GLUG! I don't swim in dog dishes."

"You just did," I reminded him. The babies looked up at the tiny green insect, wagging their tails hopefully. For once, the GLUG couldn't say a word.

But he never did go swimming again.

Pocket Full of Sunshine

Until this morning when I had to return to the dark, dull cubicle full of snarky journalists I work with, everything was perfect.

On Friday, I was home by one and greeted with a fun sussy from Shreveport. (See entry below.) I had the entire house clean by 5 p.m. and was treated to a lovely dinner by my Mom and sister. How can you go wrong with calzones?

Saturday, I scurried to the mall in search of sundresses. Several gift cards later, I returned with four sundresses, three skirts and two shirts.

Now, these weren't just any dresses. These were light, colorful dresses. Dresses you could twirl in. Dresses that look as lovely at a summer barbecue as in a nice restaurant. Dresses that actually inspire me to do my hair and put on a little eyeshadow. Whenever I twirl across the carpet in them, I envision dancing across a beach or eating ice cream on a warm summer night. I picture prancing by ponds and chowing down on bacon cheeseburgers.

Speaking of burgers, Ben made these really awesome hamburgers Sunday night. He made mini-burgers from his meatball recipe and boiled them with sausage in a enormous pot of spaghetti sauce. Add a little mozzarella cheese and a biscuit and you have drooolllllll......

As we snuggled with the puppies on the bed, I realized it had been a perfect weekend. Pretty new dresses and skirts, swimming, a movie and homemade meatball burgers I didn't have to cook.

No wonder my pockets are bursting with sunshine.

A Sussy for the Pond!

Something is on the porch. The babies can sense it.

They're not going to rest until I go get it.

It's a box! A glorious box! A fabulous box full of treats and toys for them! After all, everything in the house belongs to them.

Bitty discovers the box is not as tasty as she anticipated. But what's this?

Toys!! Lots and lots of toys from their dear Grandma K in Shreveport. Oh, and a cookbook for the Blonde Duck. And a coffee cup for Ben. But look at the toys!

They have dinosaurs and fish and all sorts of fun critters....that SQUEAK!

Thank you, Grandma K. We do adore our toys. And we will certainly adore hounding the Blonde Duck for bits of the new recipes she tries.

Squeak.

I wish....

I wish I was a fish. Then I could swim around all day, blow bubbles and play hide and seek in seaweed.

But I don't wish for hungry sharks or to live in a tiny clear fishbowl.

I wish I had a flamingo. He could prance around my yard, a pink beacon of joy.

But, I'd probably have to find him a girlfriend. Then he would have baby flamingos and those babies would have babies and I would become the flamingo queen.

I wish I had a pot bellied pig. He could lay on his belly and snort and wiggle his curly tail. I could feed him leftovers and tie a pink ribbon around his neck.

But, the Babies would be terrified.

I wish I could find some way to pet the donkeys behind our house. I'd like to bring them some treats and brush the dirt off them.

But, with my lock I'd get shot by some crazed farmer with a sawed off shotgun.

I wish I had a baby elephant. Not a big elephant, but a baby elephant. He could spray me with his trunk and wiggle his big, floppy ears.

But, as Libby says, with elephants comes elephant poop.

I wish I had a tail. I could twitch it and twirl it around to indicate my mood. If I was interested in what you were talking about, it could languidly drift from side to side like a cat. If I was happy, it could wag like a dog. And if I was mad, it could stand straight up in the air as I made a dramatic exit.

But, what would I do with my jeans?

I wish I could talk to birds. Better yet, I wish I could argue with birds. I could tell them not to eat french fries off the sidewalk.

But, instead of cute singing I might hear something I'd rather not in their cheeps and chirps.

I wish I had a stable full of horses. I could ride through the Hill Country in the early morning hours and race through open fields. Whenever I wanted, I could smell the rich scent of a horse. I could braid pink ribbons in their tails and watch them graze in the pasture.

But, horses also have poop. And expensive vet bills.

I wish I could sing. I wish when I opened my mouth in song it didn't sound like a dying cat. I wish dogs didn't howl and people didn't cringe. I wish I didn't offend myself.

But if I could sing, how could I torture anyone trapped in a car with me?

I wish I had a bubble with wings. I could crawl in the bubble, pedal so the wings would flap and fly above the city. Not only would I ever have to worry about not getting exercises, but I could soar above miles of crowded traffic. I could weave through clouds and dodge planes.

I see no problems with this one.

But most of all, I wish I was published. I wish my books were in dozens of hands. I wish publishing wasn't so political. I wish that someone would give me a chance and not pass me off as crazy. Or at least give me some constructive criticism.

But I still wish I was a fish.

2 years

Two years ago, we had been married for approximately 30 minutes.

We had just bought our house and had barely moved in.

I didn't have a job. We didn't even have grass or trees in our yard.

Two years ago, we left our life as college kids for twenty something DINKS (Double-Income No Kids). Well, it became double-income that October.

We made some new friends, lost some friends and gained a lot of knowledge. We planted some trees and our house became more cozy and comfortable by the day.

This past year, I had my best birthday at 23! Nothing beats bellydancing at a Greek restaurant. And let me tell you, Ben can shake it.

This year, we got our first Christmas tree! We hung a wreath on the door and lit up our tree for the world (fine, the fence out the window) to see. Stockings were hung on the hutch door knobs and merriness was in the air.

This year, we got puppies. We traded clean carpets for stained ones and became intoxicated with two furry creatures that have us wrapped around their little paws. They snuggle with us in the evenings and greet us in the morning. All we see is two white bellies with flailing paws and hyper tongues eager for kisses bouncing up and down at the kitchen each morning.

And things couldn't be better. We may work a lot and spend our evenings on the couch with the puppies instead of out and about, but I couldn't be happier. I love the salmon Sundays, the late night oatmeal cookies and the nights we watch Old Westerns. I love puttering around the yard and taking drives. I even love how your back never stops itching. Darling, after two years you still make me laugh so hard I cry and make my toes tingle with joy. I love you.

After all, it's been 2 years.

The Babies go to the Memorial Day Picnic

Yesterday, the Babies left the Pond for the first time!

Snuggled in their little green bed in the floorboards of the front seat, they dozed the entire way there. Once they got out, they met the Original Babies.

They were not amused. They were terrified.

Meanwhile, the Original Babies were curious and intrigued. They couldn't tell if the babies were overgrown rodents or puppies.

So the Babies retired to the kitchen for a few hours where they slept in laps and scurried around the kitchen looking for extra laps.

Meanwhile, Dad and Ben put a new motor in Dad's lawnmower.

The Babies enjoyed frolicking in a new yard. At the picnic, they were passed from person to person. All the little girls rushed over to pat and pet them. Bitty spent most of the picnic propped in a little girl's lap, graciously gracing everyone with her presence. Meanwhile, Bear spent most of his time wuffling and falling asleep on anyone who held him longer than 2 minutes.

Being cute is very tiring.

Luckily, they have recovered fully this morning. The Babies has resumed their favorite activities of fighting on the couch, piddling on the carpet and sprinkling their toys all over the house.

Lunch Date

I wiggle impatiently outside the deli, wishing I had taped quarters to my skirt. It's not even noon, but the sun beats down on my shoulders and sweat runs down my back. I pace back in forth, pretending to ignore the bakers watching me through the store front windows.

Then, he pulls up. I see the great smile, the stubbly cheeks. We go in and order and sit at the same table we sit at every week. We listen to the TV news woman with way too much make up trashing Hillary Clinton and whine about gas prices. I tell him about work and all my great writing plans. He smiles and cracks jokes, occasionally telling me a story from his job. He gobbles up his sausage and jalapeno kolaches, lining up the empty mustard packets in a straight line.

As we munch on our paninis, all we do is smile and laugh. There are no chores here, no puppies causing mischief. The worries of work lay outside the door. In the deli, there are crisp paninis and enormous white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

Finally, after a few giggles, we throw our mess away. Normally, we come back home to the puppies. But today, he goes home and I go back to work. A quick kiss and hug and I'm back weaving through traffic and crazy people. But as I dodge speeding trucks and hyped up mothers in minivans, I can still taste the cookie in my mouth and feel my lips beaming.

It happens once a week.

Change of Direction

The sun beat down, baking my skin as I trudged along the sidewalk. My throat was dry and sweat was running down the crease of my back. My shirt stuck to my stomach and my shoes roasted my toes.

With the faintest of breeze, I felt two tiny feet touch my blazing skin.

"Isn't it too hot to be flying?" I asked.

"Isn't it too hot to be walking?" The butterfly fluttered his wings. I basked in the tiny burst of wind.

"It is a time of discovery for you," the butterfly observed as we wondered through the cement desert. "It seems you've come to a cross roads of sorts."

"Kind of," I said, trying not to giggle as he crawled up my arm. "No one ever said I had to choose one option."

"But having all your cards on the table is overwhelming," the butterfly chided. "You have to make a move sometime."

"I like the idea of learning before I leap," I said, pushing my hair off my back so he could perch on my shoulder. "I'm not going to be arrogant and say I know everything. There's a lot more I can learn."

"Yes and no," the butterfly said. "Technique, yes. Talent, no. But always remember who it is you write for. Yourself. Don't change everything just to change the invisible voices you think are whispering."

"Very well put," I sighed. "There's just so many variables, you know? Self-publishing has a stigma, small presses have a stigma and you can't get into big houses without an agent and a prayer. Yet I honestly believe this will work out. I know it will, deep in my gut. I have so much I want to do, so much I want to create. Yet I'm standing here screaming to deaf ears."

"Everything has the risk of failure," the butterfly pointed out. "You define your own success. You've spent your life going your own way. Why would you choose to follow the herd now?"

"I just don't want to be shoved into a box with a label," I grumbled.

"People will label you, for that is the only way they can understand you," the butterfly said. "As long as you don't label yourself, your work will be the best it can be."

"I just wish I had a definite answer," I whined. "Something concrete."

"Have faith," the butterfly whispered, his wings brushing against my cheek. "And trust in your faith and love in your work. That is the only concrete you need. Everything else is luck."

With that, he flew away into the stale warm air. I squinted up at the sky, watching as he floated toward the white clouds.

I didn't need to ask when he would return. For I had faith.

Freedom

The house was filled with only the sound of wuffling from Bear's side of the bed. Bitty stared mournfully through the dog gate. She was trapped in the kitchen. Trapped next to a wuffling Chihuahua that took up most of the bed and had dreadful gas. Trapped with toys she had already chewed on dozens of times.

Bitty was bored. She longed to be held in the crook of an elbow, chewing on a knuckle or sleeve. Her ears perked up. Someone was stirring. Shoving her nose through the fence, she peered towards Ben's office. She could barely see anything. She heard him rustle around, then plop into his seat. The silence resumed.

Whimpering, Bitty lowered her head and pawed at the gate. To her amazement, her paw didn't brush the plastic links of the gate as it usually did. Instead, it passed through.

Bitty gasped. Was it possible? Was it true? She carefully stuck her head through the plastic. It was true! She could rotate her head without brushing any plastic. Pushing off her back legs, she pushed herself through the hole. She shook herself and began to rush down the hallway to where Ben resided.

"Hello!" she called, trotting through the open doorway. "Excuse me! I'd like to be picked up." She plopped down by the bed. She could see the Blonde Duck snoring above her. Pawing at the covers, she whimpered and called, "I'm very lonely and cold." She shivered to illustrate her point. The Blonde Duck didn't move. Bitty cocked her head and stared up at the bed.

"Excuse me!" she called, irritation creeping into her whimpers. "Did you not hear me? I'd like to be held now. And I'd like some treats. And some new toys to chew on. I've been having to chew on those old ones forever." She turned her head, making sure her jaw quivered and her paw was posed in the most pathetic position. The Blonde Duck snored.

"Now listen here!" Bitty wailed. "All my cuteness is going to waste for nothing. You've got to hold me! As the dominant puppy in this household, I demand you hold me and snuggle me! I'm chewing on your nightgown for this one!"

Suddenly, the light flipped on. "Bitty!" Ben cried. "What are you doing here?" Bitty wagged her tail and whimpered as Ben picked her up.

"Miranda, look!" Ben cried. He bent over the bed, holding Bitty inches away from her face. "Bitty missed you! She came to say hello!"

The Blonde Duck squinted and muttered something unintelligent. Ben laid Bitty down on her stomach and left the room. He returned holding Bear. Both of the puppies curled up on the Blonde Duck's stomach, her arms cradling around them. Bitty's tail thumped against the Blonde Duck's stomach as she chewed the edge of her pajama tank top.

"I'm glad we came to an agreement," she said, chewing happily as Bear wuffled and the Blonde Duck snored. "Now about those new toys...."

The Argumentative Birds find a donut

"I'm hungry," the first bird said, sighing as he perched on a branch of a scrawny oak tree.

"Me too," the second bird said.

"Want to fly to McDonald's?" the third bird asked.

"I'm tired of French fries," the first bird sulked.

"How can you be tired of French Fries?" the second bird asked.

"We always like French Fries!" the third bird said, shocked.

The first bird bugged his eyes out and stared at the ground, ignoring their chatter. "Do you see that?" he asked.

"I don't see anything," the second bird said, squinting his eyes.

"Is it a French Fry?" the third bird asked, hopping excitedly and shaking the tree.

"No, bird brain!" the first bird cried. "It's a donut!"

"What's that?" the second bird asked.

"A French Fry?" The third bird still had not given up hope.

"It's a donut," the first bird replied, realizing he had no idea what a donut was. He crept along the branch and stared down at the sidewalk. The other two birds followed his lead. For several minutes, the birds eyed the donut on the sidewalk.

"What do we do with it?" the second bird asked.

"I'm not sure," the first bird admitted. "I think we eat it."

"Do you think it tastes like a French Fry?" the third bird asked. The first bird smacked him with his wing. They stared at the donut.

"Should we go down there?" the first bird asked.

"What if it's dangerous?" the second bird asked.

"I would like a French Fry," the third bird announced. "Or worm. I'm not in the mood to try something new."

"Maybe we should see if it moves first," the first bird said. Squinting their eyes as hard as they could, they watched the donut. The sun glistened off the warm glaze as it baked on the sidewalk in it's shredded plastic wrapper.

"It didn't move," the first bird observed.

"Maybe it's asleep," the second bird said.

"Maybe it's a French Fry," the third bird said.

"Would you shut up about French fries?" the first bird yelled.

"You shut up!" the third bird said.

"I'm not the one blabbering on about French fries!" the first bird shouted.

"Ooh, there's French Fries?" the third bird asked, looking around hopefully. While the birds argued, a squirrel darted onto the sidewalk and dragged the donut away. The second bird wailed in dismay.

"While you morons were arguing, that squire ll stole our donut!" the second bird cried. "Now we have nothing to eat!"

"It's his fault," the first bird sulked.

"It probably didn't taste good anyway," the third bird sneered. The three birds sat on the branch, each glumly staring at the empty spot on the sidewalk. Not even a glazed crumb remained.

"I'm hungry," the first bird said.

"Me too," the second bird said. "What do you want to eat?"

"I want French fries!" the third bird cried.

Bubblegum kisses Part 2

*For the first part of this story, go here: http://aduckinherpond.blogspot.com/2008/05/bubblegum-kisses.html


Callie turned to the culinary creatures in horror. "My mother's coming! You've got to hide!" she cried.

"Where?" the hippo asked, swishing his tail.

Callie looked around, scanning the kitchen in desperation. "The cookie jar!" she said, grabbing it off the counter and pulling off the lid. "It's perfect!"

The elephant made a noise like a stuck trumpet. Pink bubbles spewed from his trunk. "No!" he shouted.

"Bubbles?" Celia said, momentarily distracted by the pink bubbles floating around her head. She pressed a finger to one as it floated by and dropped it on her tongue.

"Why, it tastes like cotton candy!" Celia cried. "That's amazing!"

"You should see what comes out of the other end," the hippo said, grinning wickedly.

"They taste like bubblegum when I'm nervous," the elephant mumbled.

Callie heard the door creak open. "Darling?" her mother cried. "I'm home!"

"Oh no," Callie gasped. "Quick! Jump in here!" She held out the pockets of her apron and the hippo and elephant jumped inside. She shoved the bowl containing the remaining batter into the oven and hid the baking pan in the dishwasher.

"Don't you do anything magical," the elephant muttered to the hippo. The hippo twitched his tail and grinned.

"Hello darling," Callie's mother said, breezing in and kissing her daughter on her cheek. "Have you been good?"

"Oh yes," Callie said, edging in front of the oven. Her mother sniffed the air. "Have you been baking? Is the oven on?" She reached for the oven door and Callie plastered herself against it.

"It's a surprise," Callie blurted out, hoping her smile looked innocent. With the elephant and hippo squirming in her apron pocket, she really was sorry she had ever tried cooking.

"Oh, a surprise," her mother smiled. " You didn't use the big oven, did you? Remember, no cooking when I'm not at home! There could be a fire or you could burn yourself..."

"I know." Callie smiled so wide she could swear her molars showed. Her mother rumpled her hair.

"Why don't you clean up your mess?" her mother said. "Then we'll take a walk and go swing at the park."

"Great!" Callie smiled so hard her cheeks stretched. She waited until her mother left the kitchen. Then she rushed over to the warm oven and gasped. Three new creatures stared up at her from the bowl.

"Hello!" a purple kangaroo cried.

"Do you have any leaves?" a caramel giraffe inquired.

"Hello!" a green moose shouted. "Do you have a fridge? It's stifling in here!"

Callie stared silently at the creatures. The hippo and elephant peeked over the edge of her apron. The elephant blew his trunk, and pink bubbles filled the kitchen.

At that moment, Callie knew that her life would never be the same again.