Not So Dreamy

I have several recurring dreams that are quite stressful: 1) I look in the mirror and my teeth are broken or rotten and falling out.

2) I am hanging out at work and suddenly realize that I am topless.

3) I have to write a paper comparing two epic books and I have not read either of them and can't find copies at the bookstore or library and the paper is due the next day.

4) I am driving up a winding mountain road, miss a curve and drive off the mountain.

5) I also have this weird thing where I'm convinced a spider has fallen in the bed but I think that might be more of a sleep induced hallucination than a dream since I usually start throwing the bedding off the bed trying to find the spider.

Today, while eating a soft little turkey wrap, I broke one of my teeth. I BROKE A TOOTH. I can only expect that tomorrow I will wake up thinking there is a spider in my bed and then I'll realize that I have a paper due comparing the Bible to War and Peace and I will then get to work and realize that, in my stress over the spider and Tolstoy, that I forgot to get dressed and when I drive home to put on clothes, I will drive off of a mountain even though I live in the flat lands.

I broke a front tooth! No one can really tell but me but still - the tooth, she is broken. I don't know what you do about such a thing but, if I have to have it pulled, then I will not leave my house until someone somehow replaces it because I am as vain as they come and I can't go out without a tooth. This kids and I were discussing this tonight and I told them that I might get a gold tooth and become a rapper. Zeca said in her most serious voice, "Mom...I really think you should go for a white tooth instead."

Why can't the good dreams come true? Like that one I had about Angelina Jolie...

Fresh as a Kitten's Ass

"The idea of calm exists in a sitting cat."

Jules Renard, French author

***

"The idea of calm exists in a sitting cat unless said cat's ass is covered in shit."

Vikki Reich, washer of cat asses

Today, the kids were playing in the back room when Miguel began to complain about the smell of cat poop.

I do not deal well with animal poop. When I have accidentally stepped in dog poop out in the cruel, cruel animal poopy world, I have thrown the shoes away rather than try to clean them.

So, when Miguel complained, I figured it was a good time for me to head out to the writing studio as I had planned. Before I could make my escape, however, Luisa inspected Momo and discovered that our previously adorable kitten had shit hanging from her hindquarters.

Luisa: Oh my god! She has poop all over her butt.

Vikki (gasping in horror): No! How does that even happen?!

Luisa: Help me! You have to hold her while I try to clean it off.

Vikki: No! I don't want to touch her!

Vikki (thinking to self): We should just get rid of her. It was good while it lasted.

Luisa: HOLD HER! You have to help!

I reluctantly took the kitten and held her as far away from my body as I could while Luisa wiped the kitten's ass with a paper towel. But...she couldn't get it all off.

Luisa: UGH! I can't get it off!

Vikki: What do you mean?! You have to get it off.

Luisa: It's NOT COMING OFF.

I imagined Momo and her shitty ass sitting on the couch...on the chairs...getting onto my bed and I knew something had to be done. Holding her tightly in one hand and at arm's length, I turned around and headed towards the bathroom.

Luisa: What are you doing? Where are you going?

Vikki: We're gonna have to wash her ass.

Luisa followed me upstairs and put some water in the tub.

Luisa: Okay, I'll hold her and you wash her butt.

Vikki: No way! I'll hold her down and you wash her butt.

Momo (thinking to self): What in the hell are these people doing to me?!

I held the kitten down while Luisa began washing the kitten's ass with her bare hand. She will never touch me with that hand again as long as we live.

Luisa: Do you think I should use soap?

Vikki: Yes! You have to use soap!

Though I have not scrubbed a kitten's ass before, I was certain that it required soap. I handed her the bar of soap and she scrubbed the kitten until the hindquarters were nothing but foam and fur. Then, she rinsed out the soap and held Momo down while I grabbed a towel. She then placed the soaking wet kitten into my towel covered arms and I wrapped her up.

I do not understand how this happened and I hope that:

a) No one every tries to explain it to me

b) Momo never tries to sit on my lap again

b) I never have to help wash a cat's ass ever again

Ophidiophobia

It was the first day of summer vacation and I was nestled in bed with a stack of library books beside me. My room was quiet and I ran my hand across the slick and colorful cover of one of those books, giddy in anticipation of the adventures awaiting me within its pages. I had no intention of leaving the house, no intention of doing anything but devouring all those words. Then, my mother threw open the door and ruined everything. She saw me and her lips became thin lines of disapproval, “What in the hell are you doing in here?” Oh nothing, just building a fort out of library books. “I’m reading”, I said. She then went into a passionate rant about the sun and the blue sky and the woods and the beautiful day. I explained that I was not interested in all that and reminded her that nature also included chiggers, bugs, snakes and humidity. I then politely declined the offer to frolic in the woods with her and she not so politely suggested that I get my ass out of bed and put on some damn shoes. I grew up in Kansas and Missouri and there are poisonous snakes there – copperheads and water moccasins. Because I want to live, I have always felt it best to avoid snake bites and the best way to avoid snake bites is to avoid snakes and the best way to avoid snakes is to stay inside. I thought of this as common sense. My mother thought of this as “being ridiculous”. On that summer day, however, I feared my mother more than I feared snakes so I put on my shoes as I was told and went outside with her. There was that sun and sky she’d raved about but with the heat and humidity that I hated. I squinted up at her and said, “Now what?” She said, “Let’s walk.”

We started down the path that led to the woods and she rambled about everything around us. She pointed out the oaks and the walnut trees. She knelt to look at wildflowers. She gestured to the canopy of trees above us that had given shelter from the sun. She inhaled deeply and encouraged me to do the same. I could smell the earth and the moss and wasn’t all that impressed. This was beauty to her and it was lost on me, a bookish girl who wanted nothing more than to stay inside. I suggested we go back and she suggested that I stop suggesting that. I stopped and she trudged on down the path and, in that moment, I realized that this was not going to be a quick sojourn but more of a protracted life lesson. I looked down at the path, sighing and kicking the dirt. She yelled my name and I looked up. “Put some pep in your step!” she shouted and I ran ahead to join her.

We walked for quite some time and she fell quiet at times, looking around reverently, smiling to herself. Her smile was incredible. There is something about a smile, especially one that is rare, one that is given only when a moment most deserves it. I didn’t care about the trees and the plants but I was mesmerized by her smile and I reached for her hand. We weren’t the hand-holding kind but, that day, I held her strong, capable hand in mine. I forgot about the books and the snakes. There was only my mother and me. We wound our way deeper and deeper into the woods and I could hear the rushing of the natural spring that ran through the property. We came to the bridge that crossed it and I froze. There on the bridge lay an enormous snake coiled in the sun. I dropped my mother’s hand and pointed, “Snake. There’s a snake.” She said, “It’s sunning itself.” Sunning itself or waiting to strike - whatever. I grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back the way we’d come. She wrenched her hand free and walked onto the bridge. I refused to move and pleaded for her to come back. She walked right up to the snake, turned towards me and flashed that smile. I thought to myself, “This is a moment I’ll remember forever – the moment when mom was bitten by a snake.” How would I drag her back to the house for medical care? I’d have to fashion a sled or a gurney or something but the only survival skills training I had had was watching reruns of Gilligan’s Island and there was nary a coconut in sight. While I worked myself into an anxious frenzy, she nudged the snake with her foot and it slowly uncoiled into a shimmering lethal line. I wasn’t sure who was being tortured more by her bravado – me or the snake. Then, she slid her shoe under the snake’s undulating body and slowly tossed it into the creek. I ran to her and looked over the side to see the snake slither out of the water and slide quietly into the underbrush nearby. Still smiling, she said, “See? There is nothing to be afraid of.” I wanted to believe her. More than anything, however, I simply envied her certainty.