flying fur

Many weird vibes in the air lately and odd things coming in the way of e-mails and memories and unexpected letters in the snail-mailbox (!) from old, old friends.

One such letter is from my dearest, oldest girlfriend, Leslie. She and I met when we were 13. She came to school with her shorts rolled up really high and wearing a t-shirt that said "U.S. Streaking Team." I thought she was cool. And she was. She and I shared our growing into womanhood years and our deepest secrets with one another. Even if a year or more goes by with no contact other than the usual Christmas and birthday cards that anyone in the house can pick up and read, she can call me up and tell me about something dark and loathsome that she thought about doing or actually did and she knows I will still love her and never tell a soul. Everyone should have a friendship like this.

Leslie is in the middle of unpacking from yet another move--she is married to a career military officer--and she ran across a letter I had written to her when I was neck-deep in the most dysfucntional relationship of my life. I was wildly in love and half-elated, half-devastated and ready to do a half-pike off the roof of my apartment building. Anyway, she scanned the original and mailed it to me. Odd. She and I have not talked in over a year. And I have recently been in touch with the object of my passion--he and I have re-connected electronically (thank god several states separate us now, otherwise I would be doing stupid things that could be very destructive). I read the letter now and recall all the drama behind the words, all the things I didn't tell her. I knew that I could not be with this man back then and I cannot be with him now.

I am house-sitting for some friends and they have three Alaskan Eskimos. They are hyper, hurtling masses of white ecstatic doggie-love. But there are massive white tumbleweeds of fur rambling all over the wood floors of the house. I have vacuumed more here in two days than I do at home in a month. I even have little wisps of angel-dog hair in my coffee cup. I itch. I am going home to shower and wash all my clothes and maybe pop a claritin. Don't get me wrong--the house is clean. Just furry.