Never a dull day with Neeks around...

Today I got a phone call like this... I say, "hello?" And all I hear in reply is this high pitched cry of pain and agony. Then my mom, in a terrified voice, yells "just calm down! calm down!!" So suddenly the political pundits on TV are the last thing on my mind, and I've gone from zero to eleven on the freak-out scale. I mean, I was trying to get my mom to talk to me, but in the approximately three seconds it took her to answer, my mind flashed through scenarios:
1) She's been in a car accident! Someone is dying.
2) The dog got shot! (Didn't stop the consider it was Sunday. No hunting.)
3) Oh my god, that is the puppy making that sound!

Turns out, they were walking along a PATH that is NOT POSTED and we have PERMISSION to be on. The puppy, Neeks, got her front paw stuck in a coyote trap. Neeks was still stuck and Mom was freaking out because
1) She can never figure out how to use her cell phone.
2) She's frantic and isn't thinking (just reacting) trying to get Neeks out
3) Neeks is biting her because Neeks is terrified & hates her paws touched to begin with!
4) Mom's emotional more than practical

So what I hear is something like this: "NEEKEY IS STUCK IN A TRAP and I can't get her out! You need to bring clippers that will cut through this thing! Screw drivers, pliers, something that will open it. A tire iron! NEEKEY CALM DOWN!! IT'S OKAY!!"

All of this in one breath, mind you. While I'm trying to say, "okay. I understand. WHERE ARE YOU, MOM? Where are you??" I find out and hang up.

In the meantime, Mom was trying to dig out the trap with her hands and keys. Neekey was biting Mom, the keys, her phone. Mom was crying and freaking out and not thinking much because she was so scared.

So I drive a mile down the road and what do I see? Mom's crying and carrying Neeks. There is blood ALL OVER her hands, which are shaking. Neeks is shaking. Mom has blood on her face and her jacket. I'm, like, still running on eleven inside but trying to appear calm, cool, and collected. Because that's what Mom needs at present. And where is the dog in all this, you ask? Oh, Kanga is just trotting along like nothing happened. Lassie, she is not.

Mom was still frantic. She didn't know if Neeks' leg was broken. And, as you know, her front legs are messed up anyhow. So, yes, a broken leg is the last thing the pup needs. Anyhow, I found out that Neeks' leg was not broken but only swollen. The skin wasn't even broken. Once I was holding her in a blanket she calmed down a lot. But Mom didn't! Oh my word. She was so upset and then mad at herself. She kept saying, "If I would only have stopped to think! I could have had her out right away. If I only would have stopped. Earl would have opened it in a second because..." And I was like, "Hey, Mom, it's alright. Neeks still loves you. Breathe."

After I took them home and took care of them, we went back to take pictures. I wanted, SO BADLY, to activate the other trap. But Mom said not to. I also wanted to punch someone, anyone. But I didn't do that either. Neekey really bit my mom during the five minutes that Mom was trying to get her out of the trap. But, I'm telling you, from the looks of it: Neeks definitely held back in her biting. She's a good dog. Poor thing.

What a lousy day.


Photographic journal, after the fact:


Nice scene ruined by a nasty trap. Boo!



It made me think of that scene in Bambi...



The other trap that they didn't disturb.



Layout. (My apologies for the typo. I meant "Neeks" not the possessive form.)



Ouch!



Trap that got Neeks.



Trap that got Neeks.



The long walk back toward the car before I showed up.



Blood looked worse when I showed up, because Mom had a completely bloody hand and was shaking.



Blood.



Gross!



There was blood and dirt all over her phone, too.



Minor flesh wound.



Ouch.



Ouch.



Ouch.



Minor flesh wound.



Minor flesh wound.



Minor flesh wound.

Judo instructor takes a spill...

Dad (Wayne) fell on the ice last night and broke six ribs. They have him on vicodin and are keeping him in the hospital for a yet-to-be-determined time. Prayers that he heals quickly, is home for Christmas, and that nothing goes ill with him being on the pain meds because he has always refused any sort his whole life. Thank you!

In a Minor Panic

I spent the majority of the "holiday" break reading submissions for the English department's literary magazine. It was, by turns, torturous and exhilarating. Despite there being some truly great material in the packet of two hundred and twenty five submissions, I was annoyed that it took me so long to get through them. Thankfully I was only forming an opinion on them (yay or nay) and not grading them. Nonetheless, I have a newfound empathy for comp. teachers around the world. I tip my hat to you, my future colleagues!

I also, while reading, felt a depressing need for caffeine and stimulus in general. Time seemed to be at a stand still and also wasting away. A paradox. The vortex of humdrum prose, limp verse, and impending deadlines. Oh, I'm being dramatic. It wasn't that bad! However, I lost a lot of time on those submissions. Preciously needed time.

Thursday was a time waster. Yes, it was relaxing being with the extended family. The food was superb. But it was practically twenty four hours of nothing accomplished! I've papers to write and text to read. The research/critical analysis needs to be tackled, and soon. I didn't take the time to write my submissions for the art/literary magazine. So, yeah, I have no clue what I'll be turning in for that come Friday. Something mediocre, I'm sure.

Saturday was a bust, as I went to a different church. In all honesty, it was good to hear an intelligent sermon. I haven't been to church in awhile. Which doesn't mean I haven't thought of spiritual matters. But I'm not about to get into that now. Later in the day I did manage to stop at a library and pick up some sources for my critical analysis paper. Okay, not an entire bust.

Where does time go? Wednesday-Sunday morning was dedicated to the lit. magazine.

See, the other problem is I'm distracted. I've a one track mind at present and the thought certainly has nothing to do with academics. Logically speaking there is little use thinking on the subject, but logic is not always the driving force, is it? However, distractions add up. (Ask anyone playing Scrabulous.)

Now it is Sunday and I feel as though I've accomplished next to nothing. I'm in a minor panic as to how I'll survive the week. Yet I cannot wait for Thursday night, because that shall be fun. Gah! The semester is almost over and I'm freaking out.

Inebriated Thesis?

Bill brings happiness to my life. I saw him today and he asked if I was ready for the weekend. I told him about all the papers I have to write and the reading I have to do. Bill, "But there are 48 hours, even allowing 16 for sleep, you must have time to party! Come on, don't tell me you can't write at least some of those papers drunk." Alas, I cannot. I encouraged him to have a more enjoyable weekend than I would, though.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner...

Today would have been a good day for Michael5000 to be in Pennsylvania. He could have had birthday cake for breakfast and seen his good friend Dr. J be very surprised by her students and some fellow colleagues. She glowed. It was beautiful.

If I eat lunch, it's usually a "working lunch" that doesn't exactly include much nutrition but often has a side of "constructive criticism." By which I mean, Jess finds a quiet place in the hall to read from her lit. anthologies as she downs liquid caffeine, and inevitably one of the male faculty members will walk by and point out that the lounge is coming --in about seven years. Yesterday was different though. A friend showed me K-town's quietest cafe. The food was delicious and the conversation was excellent. Today, over the eleven o'clock break, a different friend and I happened to be talking to a professor about Keats when he suggested lunch. So I introduced the two of them to said cafe. He loved the food. And I enjoyed the nice change in my lunch routine.

Dinner was just as nice. Allie and I ate out before we headed back to campus for the faculty poetry reading: nourishment for body and soul. And for dessert? I've finally managed to joke with the Chair of my department! It is an accomplishment, let me tell you. And a happy one at that.

I had so many truly beneficial conversations today, too. I'm still slightly buzzed from it. But that's private. I draw the line.

Favorite lines, paraphrased.
Breakfast... I wrote a poem after I heard all of you read your work. (Dr. J)
Lunch... They have air hockey! (Dr. K)
Dinner... I have poems in my mind, I just haven't written them down yet. (from a supposed non-writer, who happens to have recently inspired some of my better poems)

Another Day, Another Rejection Letter.

That's right. Another rejection letter! It's okay though. The competition was national, so the probability of my being selected was next to nil. Although, it does remind me that I should really send my work out-- otherwise the probability of acceptance drastically decreases! ;-)

My mind has turned to writing assignments. Just the other night a friend asked if I was taking prompts again. Again? I haven't even finished the epic Winter 2007 Writing Prompts yet! I received approximately 65, but eventually decided to omit some. The year is nearly done and my prompts are not! Of the remaining 20+ prompts, I have outlines for ten poems and am still excited about writing an additional four. But that still leaves me seven I have no clue what to do with. And a pesky remainder prompt that is very challenging, but damned near impossible to complete! Anyone feeling brilliant and generous can feel free to help me out with that one:

Write a poem using a cliché in a non-cliché, "clever" way.

(After weeks of fruitless efforts to create a clever twist on a cliché, I actually demanded an example from the prompter. Ha! Well, her example was great! And so was the example the lovely Dr. Forsyth provided. Sigh.)

To be honest, I am not nearly as pessimistic about these prompts as I sound at present. I just wish they were finished and behind me. There is a huge difference in writing, say, twenty poems. I've done that before and it never took that long. I was usually done within the month. This, however, has proved to be an entirely different beast. I even resorted to cheating. You know, twist an idea until it almost fits into fulfilling the assignment. I've also neglected other good ideas simply because they did not mesh with outstanding prompts. Foolish! Besides, I want to start writing about my summer road trip. And fresh, new ideas too.

Alas, I may have to quit these troublesome assignments. Bottom line: I am done the end of this year, whether they are done or not.

Having neglected my poor blog...

Yesterday I went into the local Mom 'n Pop. I waved to the one clerk, Bill, like I always do. You see, the first time I ran into him I had this feeling like I'd seen him before. And he certainly appeared to have recognition in his eyes. But back to yesterday. I chatted with him about movies and such, like usual. Then I realized where I knew him from. He was the older brother of my fifteen year old cousin's best friend. So he inquired as to whether I hung out at my cousin's a lot. Suddenly, I realized he was flirting with me. (Okay. I had always assumed he was nice because we somehow knew each other. So I was simply nice in return.) I transitioned nicely to inquire and find out he graduated high school last year. As I had thought. You should have seen the look on his face when I said I was twenty-five! (Shut down, man! Ha!) Bill, "you don't look twenty-five!" Thank you, I said. "You're welcome." A cute nineteen year old was interested in me. Damn, that's hot!

This post, however, is not hot.

How about this. My adorable beagle pup got greedy and ate too much chow. It made her sick. Poor thing! After I cleaned it up, she was all over me trying to be a lap dog. She licked my face appreciatively, probably thinking something along the lines of, "my favorite owner comes to the rescue again!" My reply? Neeks, hon, if I wanted pukey kisses I would have joined a sorority!

Now I shall go back to reading my modern poetry and medieval lais. What an unseemly combination!