It snowed about 4 inches last night, maybe 5. Buddy, despite having a badly twisted knee, enjoyed a little time in the front yard today whilst I shoveled.
I started writing a little bit about Buddy…and then realized he deserves his own page. If you don’t know about our marvelous tripod dog and how he survived Hurricane Katrina, maybe pop on over and read his story and peek at a few extra photos of him.
Twisted Knee (ow!)
Being a tripod means extra stress on Buddy’s remaining joints. He has a bad back hip; he’s twisted that knee twice this winter because of the bad hip. This time, he stopped using one of his back legs completely, and was actually running around on just TWO legs! (Pretty amazing to see that, actually.) We were worried he had torn something and would need surgery, but Xrays showed his knee is just swollen, nothing torn. Whew!
However, we have to keep him off the knee, and that’s a bit of a challenge for Mr. Dancing Dog.
Answer: Drugs. Some for the pain, and some to keep him quiet.
This is Buddy a bit earlier in the day, when the pain drugs were at full strength. Looks a little stoned, doesn’t he? Poor kid. He can’t have NSAIDs because he is prone to stomach ulceration. (Prone, as in: His stomach wall ruptured last spring due to NSAIDs and he nearly died. No more NSAIDS for him, ever.) So he’s on stronger stuff to help keep him resting and off the knee for a bit.
And snow, as we’ve discovered, makes for a GREAT ice pack. I take him outside and let him just sit in the snow for a little while. Works like a charm, and he enjoys the time outdoors.
Buddy says “Thank you!” to everyone who inquired about him over the past week and sends knee licks back to everyone for their kindness.
In Other News
I’m having some serious writer’s block today, which is all the more frustrating because yesterday at this time I was BURSTING with blog ideas. I wanted to do a post yesterday, but we had vet appointments and errands and a snowstorm to fit into our day.
And of course, I did not take notes.
Some days I feel as though I could write and write all day. Some days, I kid you not, I sit at the computer and put my fingers on the keyboard, and shazam! It’s three hours later and I’ve posted once to Twitter and twice on Ravelry and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what else happened. Three hours. What? Did aliens suck me up to the mothership and download all my good blog ideas? (That would definitely NOT take three hours to do. Just sayin’.) Did I go into some sort of ecstatic yarn trance? (Where’s the darn ecstatic YARN, then? I want ACTUAL YARN if I’m going to have a yarn trance.)
I know one thing: I certainly did not clean house during that lost time. Nor did I empty the dishwasher, nor do the laundry. Nor did I do my accounting, or walk 5 miles uphill in the snow.
The Girls in the Basement
When I worked at Interweave, I used to do what I called “wandering.” I’d get up from my desk, and go walking around the halls, pausing to say hi, or to see what projects were going into the next issue of one of the magazines, or to ask a question…or to gaze lovingly at the contents of the office supply closet. I’m sure this habit used to drive my boss crazy, because it would look like I was goofing off. I always felt guilty about it, until one day Bonnie, the phone operator/shipping coordinator/SheWhoRunsTheWholePlace said to me: “I love it when you come by my desk in your wanderings. I always picture you working out your posts in the back of your head while you’re talking with me, and it’s interesting how that works for you.”
I realized she was on to something there. My wanderings weren’t idle time, they were a chance for my brain to work on stuff in the background, out of range of my conscious Inner Critic. I’d wander for a bit, then go back to my desk, sit down, and write like a crazy person for a while. In fact, I think most of my posts at Knitting Daily were written as I walked up and down the halls, hassling the production folks or peppering the mag staff with insightful (coughcough) questions.
After my month of writing daily here, I think I haven’t gotten into the “groove” of writing three times a week yet. My brain is ready to write at a certain time of day every day, and if I don’t do it when I’m ready, it’s poof, gone. It’s as though I am trying to catch sparkles on the surface of a stream: If I stand in the stream Now, the sparkles will be one way; if I wait a couple of hours, the light will have changed, and the sparkles will be entirely different.
I wonder if this means I’m just not disciplined enough yet. I don’t know much about how other writers write; Stephen King is the only one I know much about because of his wonderful book On Writing, as well as his descriptions of characters who are book authors (particularly in Bag of Bones, I LOVE THAT BOOK, and I know I’m weird, but then, you knew that too, right?). King speaks of “the boys in the basement, moving furniture around,” which fits my experience of writing being something that happens almost in spite of the conscious me. The more I try to control my writing, the more unruly the girls in my basement become, and the more staring at the screen I do. The more I let go, the more the words flow.
Sheesh. Look at me. For someone who spent three hours today on the mothership in a yarn trance, I just wrote over 700 words in about ten minutes.
This is why I have trouble planning a post. Planning a post is Sure Writing Death. I can say to myself, Girl, today we ought to talk about Buddy, because everyone’s asking about him. Or I can say, Girl, let’s talk about our project queue. (Apparently, I refer to myself as “Girl” in a black woman’s cheeky voice, and I am “we” when I address myself. Confusing, but let’s just nod and move on, shall we? Thanks.)
But if I say, Girl, let’s talk about Compassion, then that’s a guaranteed ticket to the mothership.
I was a PITA for my boss at Interweave, I tell you. The poor thing so badly wanted An Editorial Calendar for Knitting Daily. We’d sit in meetings, my boss, me, the marketing folks, the reps from the mags, and they would all try to get me to talk about Subject A on Monday, and Magazine B on Wednesday, and Free Pattern Z on Friday…and they’d bust their butts trying to plan six or eight weeks’ worth of post content at a time.
I would nod. And smile. And then proceed to go wandering again.
“Flight 459 bound for the Mothership, now boarding in Conference Room 2.”
(Current word count: 1200. OK, someone rein in the crazy person.)
P.S. Is the formatting funky or is it just me? New software. Driving me nuts. Sorry.
At least 90 of you have left a comment on Monday’s post to enter this week’s giveaway for the Eunny Jang DVD colorwork tutorial or the Surprise Second Thing. Deadline is midnight (EST) Thursday, so go leave a comment! (Details are in that post as well.)
Today’s Random Good
Sometimes, when I’m editing a photo, I see something I did not see when I was taking the photo.
The dryad who lives in this tree was grinning for the camera! See the face?
I went outside to say hello and then I saw that there was actually a second dryad living in the same tree.
I love it when Nature shows her sense of humour.