From my shop's window, I just saw the guy who lives in the building entering in his car and leaving. Yep, natural, I agree. But the guy was smoking, as he very often does (even in the presence of his son and his partner's daughter) and he got few years ago a transplant that saved his life. He got that lucky, and he ruins it all for smoking? Pretty stupid, in my opinion.
Right now, I just feel like ranting, and hope you'll allow me to. You don't need to read this. You don't need to answer if yiu don't feel like. I'm aware that I'm beig a bit childish (just a bit, though) but I need to put it down at least on paper (well, screen, but you get it).
The jerk. The absolute Jerk. and I'm calling him a jerk because it's the nicest thing coming to my mind.
According to the jerk, also known as father (I refuse to call him dad right now, I'm too mad for that), I am a loser, a delusion, a failure. Apparently, I also have no respect whatsover for him (guess what? I dared to change channel while there were the adversatings!) and I do absolute nothing. I don't cook, so, fogive me: I just wake up every morning at half past five, make HIM coffee, get breakfast ready.I work also from seven in the morning to eight in the evening, but, ehy, it's behind a counter! So it doesn't matter and I have to just shout the hell up because I do nothing. Also, I apparently waste money buying and buying. Apparently. I have the gift of the ubiquity, because, while I'm on the job six days a week, and "free" the only day of the week every one is closed, I'm around buying clothes (nothing new in over two years), purses (five years) books (few months) and shoes (two years). I psent my mondays working at home, cleaning, grocery shopping, and trying to get an hold of burocracy, all on my own, and this month I've already gone two times at the hospital for bringing this person or that one. (I don't have time to go to my own visit).
I also tell Lies after lies, apparently, doesn't matter if there's plenty of people saying the same thing as me. Oh, and I should stop being a dreamer and writing, because, sriously? Why wasting my time? Who's gonna read what I do?
I was that mad that I spent my free hour cleaning, and now I don't even have a canvas to paint to calm me down (the only two things working for me).
So, sorry, but, what the hell! if at 58 he decided to have a middle age crysis, well, sorry, but a, he is a bit too old, and b, he can do soemthing else instead of taking his anger or what the hell it is on me!
(and in case you were wondering: yes, I did make my part, I already signed up for a big and for a mini, although there's a small possibility that it could develop into a little, for Tromana's fault.)
*I don't think it could interest you, but Summer has come to an end over here. After weeks over 40° degrees, we suddenly have just 13° degres, quite traumatic, let me tell you. It's also raining like God himself would send it, like we say here in Italy, which is not good for me, considering that I should do few millions of things today, my only free day. Sigh.
*Last week, Drew turned 20. and, like my parents' new tradition, along with his birthday gift (THEIRS- work=I can buy him something), come my own (although my birthday is on February, 26th).
*We neutered Mina, the kitty dad found last year, and that I raised since she was 3 days. She is quite happy with the development, because it means she can wallk around the home again, somethjng we were't allowing any longer put of fear that she coould try to escape to find a male.
broken a piece of a window;
broken a FULL glass bottle of olive oil on the pavement;
cut my finger
this morning I discovered that, apparently, last night I didn't close properly the fridge. the result? the dogs opened it completely, and ate almost everything that was inside, leaving the rest on the pavement...
despite getting to know a couple of interesting facts about my so-called family (among them, my grandmother, mum's mother, faked an attempt of suicide to convince my mother to not marry my father, just to admut having faked it when mother found the tablets in a drawer) I'm quite happy to see that my mother is getting a bit positive. mum, due to duabets, is turning blind, and it's been over a years since she ahs been last able to read anyhting; a new implemets, thought, should give her back her sight as long as she keeps the glasses on. we're quite positive, and the doctor said that medicine is taking hige steps in the last few years, so.... yes, mother is trying said things,a nd is reading yet aagin her favortie book.
(and I promise, by the 18, I'll be able to say where I am with my mentalist reverse fic!)
mum: (who's not in crime shows, to me): Uhm, thereìs nothing on tv this evening. do you know this mentalist thing?
me: Uhm, yeah, a bit (aka: I'm obsessed with it but it's not like I'm going to admit it). it's, you know, a bit old-fashioned. nothing like CSI, just, classic cryme show.
mum: oh, I see. one of those shows where the main character is an expert in psucology, right?
me:uhm, not exactly. more like, questioning, paying attention, good guesses.
mum:oh, sounds interesting. how it is?
me (just when the promo shows jane holding the widow/murderer to convince her he was trying to seduce her and help her escape with her late husbad's money). Oh, he is ho...it's nice (blushing)
me: Uhm, gotta go. I've just done 2 times the excercices for the back this week... and besides, I ahven't see the kitty uet, I think I'll get a look around to see what he is on!
I don’t think it’s actually something you could find interesting, but I’m rather stressed lately, and when I’m stressed, I’m known for being… well, childish, and what’s more childish than writing a post about things I’m fond of that are settled in my room?
( things I can't really get rid of, don't have the heart to.... )
Today was one fo the last few times I was doing that road, and I saw a car-crash, that had terrible results. At least one casuality.
It's quite irrational, I'm well aware, but now, it kinds of scare the hell out of me going there, and I keep seeing that image in my mind...
the woamn who cured Sissi, my late dog, put me in contact with this nice woman, whose dog had given birth on December, 30th, and so, now, after Sissi's passing, we're not alone any longer.
Mum creid when she saw the puppy, because she is so small and is already without her mum, and because she is kind of sick that the refuge refused to give us an abandoned dog because they fear Chicca - grandpa's dog, who lives with us at the moment - may threat the new arrival badly.
I've never seen Chicca being so... well, sweet and nice are the only adjectives that come to mind, actually, so...
Anyway, say hello to Josephine "Jo", called like that for Josephine "Jo" march from little women!
mummy crayed when she told us so today.
on another notice: the lady from teh refuge today come to us to see Chicca and see if she cna have an adult, or semi adult dog with her. she doesn't think so because of her behaviour, and the expert actually lectured us because we talk with her when we give her orders - we shouldn't say things as later because she doens't understand them. so, it looks like it will be just chicca and the puppy for a while.
(updated) just to elt you see them:
this one is a foundling european wildcat
while this one is my kitty around the same age.
(and right now)
It's a sahme that the tail can't be seen in any of those, because it's what the european wildcat so particular: the "cut" shape of its end, and the 3 black circles +point, which Mino has...
I’ve been honest with her, I told her there was another dog at my place, and I told her how she is. I also told her that I don’t like to buy dogs when I can take them away from a refuge, bringing him inside an home to spend the winter and have a family would look after him/her and not over 100 other animals.
There was this dog we liked, a female not so young anymore. We told them we were interested, we told them we didn’t want to bring her home just about now, and so, we kept going there 3-4 a week, actually making time, and we even went there on one occasion with Chicca. To be honest, you know?
Based on one encounter, and, because we are civilized and we worry about others, we preferred to put a restrain on her mouth, the lady has decided Chicca is all evil all over and dangerous, and “any other dog would be in trouble” and that “it’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust how you handle your dog”. (It may have not been bothered by the statement, if she only didn’t say it with a disgusted expression. ) she also told us that dogs prefer to stay in refuges, and it’s better to stay there for them because they have food and hot water (really? Then, why did you go to buy it at the supermarket since there was no water at all because it was all iced?), and, suddenly, from 4, the dog turned 14, and with a recent ictus, so, even if we were adapt, we wouldn’t get her because trip would stress her and she needs balance to avoid relapses (because for an ictus, -15° is good, right?) and, apparently, we wouldn’t care about her at all, because she’ll need one day medical attention and so on- better not to tell you how my mother almost screamed at her with tears everything we ‘been gone through with Sissi, never abandoning her and always treating the wounds and so on for more than a year, even when her meat was dead. It also seems that impose the dog an home and the presence of another dog (even if she lives with another dog right now) isn’t good, but putting my own dog in therapy to change her is, instead, a thing well done (and not to mention, the therapist is her friend, ‘nuff said).
Couple of days ago, we saw a half german shepard of seven years, extremely cute, smart and sweet, and we fell in love with her as sooon as we saw her- her name is Carmen. We talked with the refuge's workers (my father knows one of them) and, even if they were happy for us being interested in this partcilar dog (she ahs been there her whole life, 7 years), they've asked first to bring our other Dog, Chicca, there first, to see how she could behave with Carmen, who's extremly shy and scared of everything and everyone.
we did it today, and things didn't go as well as we hoped them to.
the workers said that Chicca isn't the kind of dog who easily accept soemone else in her terrritory, so she would scare other dogs off, and Carmen would live in hell. with her oysche, there's a good cahnce she'll never be adopted, they say. and, if we really wnat another dog, we should get a puppy, since she tolerates them a lot.
they aren't going to give us Carmen (which is good, she would be living in hell here), any dog, actually, but we' reached sopem kind of agreement: since Carmen likes us (it's rare she allows soemoen to touch her like she did with us), we'll be allowed to go and help out with her.... not so good, but not so bad as well.
It's been a long nad painful way, both to get to this point, and both to take this decision, but it was iether this or letting her dying slowly suffocating by the cancer now inhabiting her lugs or by loss of blood. In the last couple of days her condition had worsened, she was refusing food and water and was barely still receptive of our presence, even if her brain was the last thing left untouched by the evil sickness.
Sissi represented an imporetant paert of my life -our lives. we took her in from a refuge when she was less than a year old, when we moved out from the place we have been living in since before I was born. she made this place what it is right now, and I'll doubt I'll forget he, even if, soem of you may say, she was"just" a dog - which, to me, she wasn't.
She is still in my dad's car, waiting to be buried in our garden under the three and the ivy she loved so much.. I looked at her right now, and after a long time, she seems relaxed and at peace.
Farewell, my freind. who knows, maybe we'll get to see each toher again, one day....