superfluous

I've been thinking about it a lot. And I've come to the conclusion that I don't matter to you, one way or another. I am superfluous.

How frustrating. And utterly incomprehensible.

How could I be superfluous? I am awesome. I go on long walks on the beach with you. I buy you stuffed animals and sweets when you are feeling blue. I let you have all the blankets when it's cold at night. My life revolves around you.

And yet, ever since I bought you that heat dish, all I am to you is the being that plugs in the heater.

dumb dog...

brisk

you confuse me. all gregarity and flirtatiousness one moment, blustery cold and brisk the next... i feel like i'm friends with an entire carousel full of yous, never knowing which one of you will come round the corner next. some days i bet with myself. today will be boisterous you. truculent you. sly and boastful you. jubilant you. shy and surprisingly genuine you. if only i knew which to expect, i would know how to act. if only i knew which you to expect, i could fashion a me to match. a me who would say all the right things. one who would never hit conversational sour notes or have foolish slips of the tongue. a me you would think is witty and playful and pensive and reserved in all the right moments. a me you'd never tire of. a me you couldn't forget. a me you'd be drawn to cruelly, relentlessly, inexorably through each minute of each day. a me you'd miss desperately. inconsolably. without end.

scrunch

i like scrunch. because it reminds me of lunch. except i don't like lunch. cuz lunch makes me fat. and drowsy. and then i wake up, and the day has passed me by.

oh well. at least i have a cute puppy.

snowflake

Alright, alright. Huddle up, team. Here's the game plan. We'll start with some light freezing rain over Tahoe for a warmup, then step it up a notch with some scattered flurries over Seattle. Then we'll blow over into Canada and get down to business. We're scheduled to deliver at least 6 inches of snow in Vancouver and Toronto, and a small blizzard in Calgary.

Look, I know this is just a scrimmage, but I want you guys to train hard, the winter games are just a few months away, and we're gonna need all the practice we can get. Those Midwest Tempests have been intolerable since we let them walk away with the Championship last year.

I want Frostbite on lookout. Ice Cube, you're in charge of logistics. Make sure Snowshoe brings plenty of extra ammo. Speaking of which, where is Snowshoe? Snowshoe?

Oh for the love of- stop chasing those ski bunnies! How such a complete snow-flake managed to make the team, I'll never know.

scratch

Seriously? Seriously? I can't believe you already ruined your phone! I just got that for you! You've literally had it for less than 48 hours. I told you to be extra careful until the case came in. Do you have any idea how much that thing cost?

Baby. Baby! Relax! It's just a scratch, see? Just a little scratch.

Just a scratch? JUST A SCRATCH?!? I'll show you just a scratch, buster.

dripping

"Mind if I sit a while with you, Uncle?"

The old man squinted up at me from his seat against the cliff face, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. "Water?"

I dropped my dust-caked canteen into his lap, easing myself down next to him as he pulled off the cap and guzzled greedily. Water trickled out the corner of his mouth, coursing down his chin to splash on the scorched rock at our feet. I settled back against the cliff, letting the heat from the rock diffuse the knots in my shoulders. A gust of wind whistled down the dark, narrow crack in the cliff face next to us and chilled me to the bone in spite of the desert heat pressing upon me from all sides.

He stopped for air, and I could hear his shallow panting. "What are you doing out here, Uncle? This is no place for an old man."

"I am waiting. For her." He pointed out across the sand, and I turned, peering into the distance. A roiling grey-green cloud sat just above the heat haze along the horizon. "She is a thing of beauty, is she not? I am going to race her, one last time." He gestured toward the crack in the cliff.

I watched, aghast, as the leviathan raced toward us across the hot desert. I turned to look up the long, narrow chimney. "It's too late, old man. You'll never make it!" I yelled over the roar of the oncoming storm.

He cackled. "No! It is too soon! We wait! We wait until it starts dripping. Until the very edge of her is overhead." Fat droplets of water started to splat down about us as he spoke. "Here she comes! Climb for your life, boy!" Swinging into the crack, he braced himself against the smooth walls and started to scuttle up, faster than I could have imagined he would be.

I scrambled after him. "Wait! Uncle! Have you ever won before?"

A gleeful chortle ricocheted down the chute. "Never! Down she comes and washes me out, time after time. But not today! Today I will win her at last!"

soup

Now the most important step to making a really great soup is preparing the stock. Seaweed and some salt make a great, savory stock. We'll just bring some water to boil, and then stir in the seaweed, salting generously. Now set that on the back burner to simmer, while we prepare the vegetables. We'll need some sweet spring carrots, small golden potatoes, and, of course, celery, all cut into medium sized chunks. By now the stock should be just about ready, giving off a nice, fragrant steam. We'll add in the stew beef, and then the vegetables, and then cook on medium heat until the potatoes are just done. You can test this by sticking them with a butter knife. If the potato slips back off the knife, it is done. And there you have it, a hearty homemade beef and vegetable soup, great for winter days or convalescents!

"Sandy! Sandy! Time for din-- ugh, that's gross. How many times have I told you not to play with mud?! It's dirty!"

"I was making soup! For Mama!"