Downward Dog Morning

It is early in the morning on the first of my two day vacation between Spring and Summer semester.

Actually, my life is a vacation, so let me try this again.

It is early in the morning was on the first of my two day hiatus between semesters when I decided to get up and look at the moon before doing my morning yoga.

I like fresh air. It tastes better, like it has more oxygen (must be all the trees, ask me again after we cover this in 5th grade homeschooling science).

At first my dog Mia didn't want to go outside with me.

She's not a puppy now. She's like 13 months and those extra weeks make all difference. She is SUCH a teenager. She doesn't bounce as much. She doesn't love as wildly. She mutters to herself and yelps at things no one else can see that seem to TAUNT her from under the sofa.  These days I come home and open  Mia's cage expecting a burst of kisses but more often than not my dog stretches a bit, adjusts her head out of a pool of drool and falls back to sleep.

This morning she managed to get up and come out with me.

At first she was suspicious that there might be a wetness on the ground that would bust her zen morning.

Slowly and cautiously she moves ahead of me.

One step, two steps. Clear.

I follow her and look up at the fading stars and laughing moon. I don't care that I am wearing a superman t-shirt that I jacked from Zoe. I don't care that these shorts might be a little too short. It is dark and clear and I feel unseen.

Mia takes another step and then falls into what can only be called downward dog pose.

Just as she hits the best part of her morning stretch, a stream of something watery and brown shoots out her butt and all over my leg in a splattering pattern that could probably be duplicated with a fire hose and a short range target.

I didn't scream but I did wince as gracefully as I could without waking the neighborhood.

As I turned to retreat I almost tripped over Mia who was now very awake and trying to clean me off in the best way that dogs know how to clean people off, which did not involve towels or soap. 

At that point, I screamed.

I screamed like like a girl.

I screamed like like a girl.who was equally grossed out and paralyzed until the grossed out part won over the paralyzed part and then I took a long shower and contemplated the epic awesomeness of my summer vacation.

100 Books: Mia the Horrible, The Shelter Puppy from Cage #13

Yes I did it, I couldn't help myself.

I pushed pause on my 100 book project (just pause! not stop!) to write this short horror story/love story that I think will make you giggle a bit.  $1 from every ebook and 50% of every book will be donated to Leon County Animal Shelter.

 It'll be available in late July, and I'm pretty sure Mia will be announcing it herself on Twitter.

Relatively Perfect Until... subtitle: The Story of My Pink and Green Cast

I'd say my kids have been relatively perfect today considering they were stuck chaperoning me at a three hour ordeal at an orthopedic clinic.

The hour and a half in the waiting room wasn't bad. We giggled and whispered and envied cute outfit. 

 A cute baby fell asleep gnawing on her mom's bracelet.

  A straw haired  lady wheeled across the room complimented someone's "handsome son" only to find out it was a daughter.

 One lucky red-casted guy hobbled in on crutches and was called back for his appointment  before his butt actually landed on the seat he'd chosen. 

Once they called us back I sat on an exam table in the middle of 10 other tables like an old maternity ward where everybody could see and hear everything that was going on. 

I asked the nurse if invisible curtains actually separated us and she said yes and closed the invisible curtains behind her. I pretended not to see someone across from me giggle.  

  

When the doctor that I'd been referred to introduced himself and asked me how I hurt my ankle I told him "skydiving" and he believed me because I guess doctors get stories like that all the time.

  Before he could write anything down I stopped him and said "no, I was walking the dog." 

That's all I told him but I'll tell you more because "Walking the dog" sounds like such a euphemism for 100 things, most of which are things that warrant euphemisms. 

A few days ago, after submitting semester grades I took the puppy for a celebratory late night walk under the stars and among fireflies and then whoosh slip twist crash I was sitting with one foot twisted under me. 

In three seconds I knew it was broken and I limped home praying to forget every step.

 I wrote a poem, took Tylenol pm and went to sleep.  The rest is history. 

Back to today.  

Cast for 4 weeks, then back for X-rays and hopefully a walking cast after that. 

Zoe asks them to make my cast pink and green.  

Zack holds my hand as the cast guy slowly sets my ankle in position it really doesn't want to be in (and 8 hours later my ankle is still crying). 

Soon enough we are home but without the cool knee-scooter crutch-substitute that I hoped I would get. Apparently they're quite scarce around these places.

Inspired by the doctors and cast techs rolling around on those little exam room stools, I turned the rolling computer desk chair into a faux-scooter (#whee).

After days if being stranded in a chair unable to even get myself water I was finally free (and omg excited)  to clean the kitchen, take out the trash, put away laundry and sweep.  

I made dinner (eggs, pancakes, bacon), cleaned again, then my foot was throbbing so painfully I decided to take a break watch a little Masterchef. 

That's when one of my practically perfect and increasingly independent  kids came to me and asked to get on the computer.

 I said yes but the kid still stood there looking sad. 

What?

I need the chair or the computer won't work.

Too tired to even try to fight that crazy illusion I surrendered the chair of freedom and slid onto the sofa, curled up with my puppy and watched Gordon Ramsey fuss at people.