Entropy

I was able to get the maid scheduled in this morning, and as she was vacuuming she informed me that my house is an ecosystem.   I really couldn’t argue with her, since the wolf spider that lives under the basket of pinecones had just stuck her head out to remind the vacuum operator that she still had squatter’s rights there.

I may have written about it elsewhere, but I believe that the boundary between inside and outside is very fluid, sort of transparent, blurry even.   Apparently it is blurrier than I think, since I found not just one or two, but several leaves scattered about the dining room as I ran the vacuum through the middle of that room on my way to the massage room.

“Hmm,” I thought to myself.   “I wonder how these got in here?”   I imagine them swirling in the door behind Ruby as she wags herself into the house, the vortex behind her waving tail carrying the dried leaves far into the house.   Or maybe they found the static electricity in my pants irresistible and hitchhiked in on me.   Or Jim.   ‘Tis a Mystery.

The dirt at the entry way is no mystery.   When it gets wet outside the soil around here reminds you of why it was the indigenous people discovered pottery.  You can stomp and scrape all you like, but there will still be clots of clay clinging to your heels and instep when you walk in the door and wipe them on the rug in the oh-so-appropriately named mud room.  Ah yes.  

Then, today I added to the chaos by making macaroons.   I emptied the dried coconut canister while putting together the first half of the batch.   So I went out to my oudside freezer and got out the big bag of dried coconut and brought it in the house to replenish my stock.    I managed to trip on the edge of the carpet as I was walking to the food room after filling up the canister.   I had chosen to save time by screwing the top on the jar as I walked towards the food room, so when I tripped on the carpet edge I was able to see the canister shoot forward out of my hands and land lip down in front of me.    Since I had not quite completed the lid-screwing operation when I tripped, the impact caused the lid to fly off as the canister neatly flipped end for end, leaving a pile of dried coconut as it did so, and landed open throat forward, spraying a cometary tail of coconut in front of and under my arm chair.    I grabbed the canister and scooped the coconut from the thick pile on the rug into it, carefully leaving the layer next to the carpet.   Then I rushed to the cupboard where I keep my vacuum cleaner, and dragged it into the living room. 

A startled awake Ruby sat up from her spot in front of the fire, fascinated by the sight of so much food-like substance scattered before her.   I ran through the catalog of foods I knew poisonous to dogs, and didn’t know about coconut.   “NO!”  I yelled at her urgently.    She sat back on her haunches, not believing that I was actually sane.     Then I confirmed her suspicions by turning on the vacuum.  

Both cats awoke.   Screaming, “AAAhhhhh!   The Suck Monster!”  they immediately left the room in high dudgeon.   Ruby let me know that the decibel level of the infernal machine was hurtful to her ears, and slinked into the kitchen.    She sat transfixed in the doorway, watching my inexplicable activities.   Once I got all the coconut vacuumed up, I did around the arm chairs and in front of the stove too.    God, this wood stove creates a lot of ashes.   Every time you clean the ashes out a new film of dust flies through the air on its way to covering everything in the house.    But I digress.

I have forgotten where I was going with this.   In addition to making the macaroons, I also made a batch of the peanut butter cups that my talented niece taught me to make during her visit here over the holidays.   It doesn’t get much better than this.  They contain only two ingredients:   Ground organic peanuts and 60% dark organic chocolate. 

I think there was going to be some sort of religious statement along here, about how you can’t control anything but yourself.   I try to follow only one rule, and that is to do to others what I would like to have done for me.    I try to pay my bills, and when I write a check there is money in my account.   I don’t always say the right thing, but I’m starting to learn that you can’t go far wrong just telling the truth.  

Or maybe you can.  It is one of the lessons I have learned from blogging.   Once your friends and family find out where you write, they come and read it.   They don’t always like what they see.   I guess some things are better left worked out in a private forum.   My dear sweet husband has taught me that you don’t ALWAYS have to tell everyone what you think of them.    It bears repeated viewings of the movie “Harvey”  to remind oneself that pleasant is recommended over smart.   

It is also important to remember that it is possible to be very upset with someone because of their actions at the same time as loving them as a human being.   I have been spending a lot of time meditating on unconditional love, and I study Ruby to get a good example of that.  

That reminds me that I finished reading the book our friend P gave us for Christmas.  “Merle’s Door” is the biography of a big golden dog who lives in Wyoming and loves to ski and hunt.   The sweet story is laced with good information about the history of the domestication of dogs and insights into dog/human relationships.    I found it a good read, and the ending was about a two hanky affair for me since the whole thing reminded me of the funeral of Cio-cio-san, the best and most beautiful calico Manx in the Universe. 

But now, my dear husband is home with his new tuxedo, which we have bought for our cruise so we can dine and dance in style.   He is almost prepared to model it for me.  

I’d better get busy sewing my skirt up!