Peonies and Dogs

Here it is almost 3am and I don't need to be up but I am. I've learned that on the first night I have off from the night job, my body doesn't believe it's allowed to rest. It's not until the second night that I can get sleep - no matter how tired I am. Lately the restaurant has scheduled me so that I never get two nights off in a row, which means I do not get even one night sleep.

Every day I want to quit.

Was sick all day today, so that's not helping my productivity. Still feeling sick tonight.

On a different note, though, I'm happy the warm weather is here.

The peonies in my yard bloomed and, because I can't be out there to enjoy them, I cut them and brought them inside. They have filled a large vase and provide a burst of beauty and fragrance in here.

I keep sniffing them. I keep touching them. They are so soft. Who else but God could come up with something like a peony! I look at all the little details in the leaves, the stems, the petals, the pistols and stamens. Even something as simple as a plant is really something.

I look at my dogs like that. I watch them and appreciate every small detail. Nita has one crooked tooth in her lower jaw. I know every hair (or so it seems), every bit of colouring, their eyelashes and whiskers, the tufts of fur between the pads of their paws. I watch them breathe and think about the life that God has breathed into them.

Isn't it something? Isn't it special? I think all of these things are amazing. Who but God could even imagine something like a dog and then create it - and create each one differently.

And there's nothing like being greeted by wagging tails! I see them watching me through the window as I come up the driveway. They run to the back door to greet me. It's unconditional love (or maybe they merely recognize I'm the one who feeds them, but if that's the case please just let me have my illusion).

*****

When I see the back or side of a man's neck, I think of my son. Weird, isn't it.

I was wondering why that was and realized it's because for years I've looked at my son the same way I look at dogs and peonies and grass and everything else living. But, you see, I can't stare at him and examine him while he's watching me 'cause it would feel uncomfortable for him. So, I look at him when he's not looking, which means I'm often looking at him from the side or back, thus seeing the side or back of his neck as part of that perspective.

That boy drives me crazy in so many ways, but I love him fiercely.

Us mothers are strange creatures, but it was probably important to the survival of humans, just as most maternal behaviours of other animals is important to the survival of those species.

There's a dead bumble bee on my windowsill. He's been there for a couple of days and is deteriorating. I haven't thrown him out because I want to examine him. But I don't know anyone with a microscope. Maybe that's a good thing.... I'd be playing with the darned thing all of the time (the microscope, not the bee).

Well... there's my rambling for the night. I'm going to take an anti-nausea pill and hopefully my bed won't feel like the Queen Mary or the Titanic.