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03.27.2003 - 12:43 p.m.

Thursday

It's kind of a dreary Seattle day outside today and while we've had some shining lovely breaks of sun now and then, it's been generally dreary and rainy all week. In floral rebellion, the sproinggg of spring is evident all over my yard, yellow daffodil explosions and little white something-or-others and a rather tarty pink rhododendron. Flowers sprouting from mud puddles, bursts of color against a slate gray backdrop.

When I got home from the gym last night, I beheld a sorry sight at the back door. Dog, having evidently spent her entire day splashing in mud, was no longer a Yellow Dog. She was a Brown Dog, from head to foot. The amount of dirt on her head made me think of pigs rooting for truffles, digging their snouts through moist loam and grunting happily. Clots of soil hung from her. The cleanup job was a lengthy process involving a hose, three towels, several muttered curses, and a very sullen and uncooperative Dog.

This, my Damodred, is why I do not have a pet door.

Even though I'm happy to see our yard growing and blooming and know that we're moving slowly but surely towards the unsurpassable beauty of the Northwest during warm sunny days, during this rainy and blah season I miss living in Las Vegas.

I mean, I wore sunglasses every single day! We barbecued all the time! Sure, my skin dried up and flaked alarmingly, but I was tan, dammit!

We moved there in 1999, because of the job JB had at the time. Everything was so new - the town, the climate, living together. I got a job I was really excited about, we had innumerable choices for nightlife activities, Cat melted into various happy furry puddles in the sun. It was a great time.

We did miss a lot of things, living in the desert, like blue bodies of water, snow-topped mountains, green leaves. Hiking in Red Rock Canyon made me long for the softness of moss and trickle of a forest stream, as we scrambled over baking-hot boulders and spat dust from our mouths. JB missed the ocean most of all, and diving. (Although he did dive in Lake Mead. See anything? I asked afterwards. A shopping cart, he replied sadly.)

A year flew by and we were moving again, to Seattle. (For some ungodly reason we both moved to and from Las Vegas in the month of August. Not the best time, temperature-wise, to pack or unpack a house, I can assure you.) And I love my life here. But sometimes I think back on that time with a real sense of longing - being younger, having such high hopes for my career, both of us still a little reckless. Hot sunny days, casino-lit nights.

Vegas is on my list of places we'll have a vacation home when we're Filthy Rich. Along with the little cabin in Utah that you can only get to by snowmobile, the cabana in Mexico, the log home in Montana…sigh.

In the meantime, I'm going to go pick some of those daffodils in my yard and bring them inside, out of the rain.

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0 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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