To Be Remembered

4:53 am. The alarm radio chimes in some sorta talk radio sounding something about something, I don't really recall. "Where do I have to go today..." I half mumble through cotton mouth plaque ridden morning breath. Thinking I thought it was Saturday and I didn't have to wake for work THIS weekend, my weekend to sleep in for this month. "Nowhere," comes the muffled sleepy voice of Adam who never hears the alarm anytime anyway. I turn over with overwhelming relief knowing the push of this button will not result in any interruption of my slumber in nine more minutes. So Saturday begins with a little extra shut eye and some time to greet the morning sunshine while still being wrapped up comfortably in the down comforter with one snoring doggie on the floor and another snoozing quietly at the head of the bed on three quarters of my pillow. Ahhh what a feeling. No rush. Mosey through the day with a little bounce in my step knowing Monday doesn't come for two whole days. Then it occurs to me, why in the heck do we have to work five days and only get two off. Boy that ticks me off.

Anyway, Saturday means cleaning Sweet Willow's ears for the week. A chore Adam truly despises and isn't likely to remind me of if I forget. He does the dirty work. Restraining Willow while I lavage, massage and wipe free the contaminants of ear wax, yeast and medication from the last week. Then we move onto the more fun stuff, breakfast, walking the dog's with hot chocolate, coffee and poop bags in hand. After which Adam is kind enough to help me publish my first blog photo.

Before we're off for the day we listen to "This American Life" on NPR. Yesterday's topic was how you are remembered and how many times you are not remembered for that which you would like to be. But, there was one story about not being remembered at all. A child born to a mother in the 70's who the doctors suggested leaving in a special home because she would never walk, talk, read, write etc. This mother chose to take her child home and even as she grew into a teenager and young adult she remained a toddler. The girl had many tapes she listened to again and again just as small children do and when the mother was diagnosed with cancer she made her daughter a tape for her to listen to over and over when she was gone. After the mother passed away and the tape began to bore the adult toddler it found it's way to the bottom of a dusty drawer amongst Barney the dinosaur and other forgotten favorites. The mother was forgotten and the writer ends by saying how we would all be so blessed to have memories fade from our minds so we would not have to feel the pain of loss. I was in tears leaving the house. The author had so eloquently written the story that had I been alone I would have probably been sobbing uncontrollably.

On a meloncholy note we headed to the Congressional Cememtary where the dogs sniff and meander through the maze of granite and marble structures. Adam and I take numerous photos in hopes we will win the photo contest of the day. (This photo contest is amongst ourselves and Adam is always kind enough to say I am the winner, but I know his photos are better then mine, but he's sweet to say it anyway).

After dropping the dogs off at home we stride into IOTA at about 1830 to save ourselves a seat for Griffin House and Shawn Mullins. Although I was excited about Shawn Mullins, the second Griffin House broke into his first song I was awstruck. The power of his voice causes your soul to tremble and as he looks out to the audience he seems to really look at and take notice of each individual. His energy pierces your aura and it causes the hair on your skin to prickle and your stomach to fall into this bottomless pit like that of the inital freefall moment on the Wally World rollercoaster. Needless to say, Griffin House stole the show last night. Shawn Mullins was good, but Griffin House was absolutely spectacular.

Saturday is a great day when spent with a super boyfriend and the doggies.

Ghostly Winter Paws