The games we play

When Bogart wants to play down and dirty he barks ferociously and loves nothing more than for you to bark and snarl back. Between barking and snarling in such a way that sounds like he would like to take off your face, he gleefully prances and bounces about the house like he’s playing a very strange game of tag.
Even though I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying this would be to someone who didn’t know him, I do. So when he wanted to play last night,  I got down on my hands and knees and growled in his face. He sneered like Elvis, tried to nibble my nose, slurped me across the face, then plopped down on the floor. I won. I usually do.

Help a girl out, would you?

Late last week I saw or heard or someone brought up the game Candy Crush and I downloaded it to my ipad, thinking I would play it sometime when I was stuck somewhere and bored.
Fast forward to a week later and someone just shoot me now, ‘cause I started playing Monday of this week and I’m a teensy bit obsessed. The game gives you five lives to start and if you run through them, it makes you stop and wait 25 minutes for a new life or you have to beg the other suckers your dear friends who are also playing to take pity on you and gift you with one. Which you will immediately play because you are determined to win are an obsessed sucker just one more level before I give up, damnit!
I couldn’t even explain to you how this game sucks you in, but I am writing this because if I fail at the level I’m on one more time, I may never eat candy again. (Ok, not really.) You can play on your phone as well as on facebook and your various other app driven devices. I would tell you to be smart and don’t even get started, but I need more facebook friends so I can keep a steady flow of lives going. Get on that, would you? Momma’s got some jawbreakers to bust up so she can get to the next level!

Last Week on Chronicles of an Accidental City Girl…

Last year?

Last  decade?(Or, you know, whenever.)

This is actually the…um third time I’ve tried to write a blog post since….that last time. When you last heard from me, I had moved in with my parents until I figured out my next move. Then I got a job. It was horrible and every day was misery, for very little money. And then I realized that in order to get my financial shit together, I was going to have to continue to live with my parents. Possibly forever. And then I died. Not really. But nothing much happened other than, you know, woe is me, life is hard.

Bogart was happy, he isn’t alone much and he successfully figured out how to manipulate my parents, so no problems there. Life was boring and I didn’t feel like I had stories to tell. Then I lucked into a job as a legal assistant, made friends, started working out for the first time in my life and things are starting to look up. I’m about to turn 36 in a couple of weeks and there is nothing wrong with my life that a little more money wouldn’t fix, so I’d say I’m doing pretty good.

And now for a short dog story. Bogart at 4 years old is a typical bulldog. Laziness with occasional glimpses of crazy.  Last night I was watching TV and he had the doorway staked out to prevent my escape when I noticed him snarfling the throw rug he was laying on. (Snarfle is the best way to describe the sniffing/grunting noises he makes when he is SERIOUS about a smell.) As I watched, he scooted up the section of rug that had his attention between his front paws and opened his mouth to…..I don’t know what. Taste it? “Bogart!” He froze and his eyes rolled around to look at me without actually moving his head. (Lazy. Or efficient. One of those.) “Are we chewing on rugs now?” I could actually see his little brain working out whether he was going to ignore me or stop the mischief. Thankfully he went with stop but showed his displeasure with a big, put upon sigh and turning his head so he could no longer see me.  My dog, ladies and gentlemen.

 

If you have been checking back occasionally and are even mildly excited that I decided to write again, thank you.  If you stumbled onto this post and this blog because you googled what to do when your dog chews on your rugs and you actually read all the way to the end of my silliness, thank you too. And good luck with that. It sucks. (Also, feel free to look around. I’m occasionally funny.)

Matt Damon is trying to make a fool of my dog

I was just watching The Adjustment Bureau while Bogart snoozed in the floor. There’s a scene in the movie where Matt is alone in a cavernous room and he shouts out, “Helloooo!?” I’ll admit, it was pretty loud and Bogart awoke with a snort, swinging his giant head around while trying to determine where the voice had come from. When he didn’t see an immediate threat, he bolted downstairs, barking his fool head off, in what I can only assume was an attempt to protect me from some imaginary prowler. I followed, giggling uncontrollably, because there he was making a fool of himself over Matt Damon. Idiot dog.

Best part of the summer day

I told myself when I moved here that I would make more of an effort to take photos as often as possible and though I keep forgetting to bring my camera with me when I’m out and about, I have been paying more attention to my surroundings and nearly every day I wish I had remembered it. Today, I went outside as the sun was setting, in that perfect time of day when the worst of the heat is over but the mosquitos aren’t out in full force. Bo and I wandered around the yard looking at things and trying to see the beauty. There was plenty to be found….

 

Let’s ramble, shall we?

Twice in as many days I’ve sang at full voice driving down a country road and it was joyful but my voice strained and pulled. I realized it has been too long since I’ve felt like I was able to be full voice, at my full self. Too many weeks spent holding back and walking softly to try to please. And that horrifies me. Makes me hug my dog. And he lets me while his nubbin of a tail wags frantically. Because he loves me. More heart than brains, that one.

I have a nasty sunburn on my back from too many hours spent in full sun working in the yard without sunscreen, like an idiot. But I’m home for more than just a visit since I was 19, sleeping in the bedroom that I left back then. And my 62 year old father has more energy and stubbornness than men half his age and Bogart and I refused to go in before he did, so we both paid the price. Did you know that dogs could get a sunburn? I didn’t either. Bogart is also suffering from bug bites, mosquitos and biting flies have left pink bumps all over him so he’s getting dosed with Benadryl morning and night which seems to be helping, poor pup.

I also have ready access to laundry again, whenever I want, which means all my clothes are clean again within a few days and oh my god, the freaking LUXURY of it all! It turns out I don’t have enough hangers. Huh.

When I moved back in to the L shaped room my sister and I shared as teenagers, we cleaned out the closet that was once hers since our Mom had years ago taken over the one that used to be mine. When I transferred all the clothes Mom had been storing in our old room into my old closet, the bar broke. Broke from the weight of her SECOND closet full of clothing. I come from a family of collectors, people. The only thing stopping them from being hoarders is restricting their collecting to closets and garages. But still. I went right down to my Mom and told her that one (walk in!) closet was surely enough clothes and we were having a rummage sale and the bar trying valiantly to hold up the weight of her clothing had ripped right out of the wall after more than 20 years. Yesterday, I brought down arm loads of clothes for her to look through and brought back up anything she HAD to keep. She got rid of 2/3 of it. Success! My aunt wants me to do the same thing for her. It’s hard to see what’s right in front of you sometimes, especially when you can hide it away in a closet.

Storms ripped through the area last Wednesday night and though tornadoes touched down north of town and a few times the sky made me a little nervous, it’s sort of a family tradition to watch it come over the hill and marvel.

I was shooting every 30 seconds to a minute as the clouds rolled in and built. We didn’t retreat inside until the rain became a downpour. We’re a little nuts.

I’ve been thinking on my new blog name and I thought about all the places I’ve lived in the last few years and the blogs that sprang from those places and I realized that I don’t want my blog’s name to be about where I live anymore. I’ve had 8 addresses since I left home at 19 and I may have 8 more, who knows. Where I live doesn’t define me in life, it shouldn’t define me on the internet. So, now I just need to find the words that define me, or maybe words that mean home to me, whatever that point on the map might be.

Suggestions, of course, are welcome.

Changes and Happenings

Previously on Chronicles of an Accidental City Girl, I was living in Chicago, walking dogs part time for a living and living with my boyfriend, our dog and three cats.

As of this evening, I am boyfriendless, in Southern Illinois, temporarily living with my parents with a dog and one cat.

A lot has changed, huh?

Things hadn’t been going well with the boyfriend for that last few months but being the optimistic person that I am, I was sticking it out, thinking we would work it out. He was not so optimistic. So. Here I am. And I’m ok. And Bogart loves the country.

And ADORES my mother. The surprise for all of us (including her) is that she loves him right back.

Right now, I’m working out my next move, in the meantime I’ll spend some time with family , work on projects, take my nephew to the beach and the pool and enjoy the quiet. I need the quiet. I need to breathe for a while.

Another thing I have to figure out is what to call myself. Not a city girl any more and I’m not sure that I’ll move back to a city, at least not for the foreseeable future. So what do I call myself? Not so citygirl? Citygirl/ Countrygirl? A Girl with her Dog? Bogart and Bacall?  Any other ideas?

 

Thanks for listening,

?

 

p.s. My Chicago phone has been turned off, so if you tried to text or call me, that’s why I haven’t responded. I’ll have a new phone with a new number this week and I’ll text everyone so you’ll have it.