Happy Birthday, Luna!

Luna’s birthday is somewhere around this time (I don't remember exactly when), and I wanted to take a moment and talk about all that she has done this past year:

-Luna got out of the back yard. It is the only time she has ever done it, and it wouldn’t have been overly significant except that she got out on a marathon day. Every marathon in Springfield routes past our house. On that day, marathoners were met with an overexcited, 95-pound dog, running out to greet them.

-Luna got arrested. This is what happens when you jump up on marathoners. The cops just happened to be in the neighborhood on a domestic disturbance call, and I guess they heard people shrieking in terror down the street. When we discovered Luna was gone and got in the car to go look for her, we found her sitting nicely with two cops who had just tied a rope to her collar.

-Luna got fleas. This was the first time she’s ever had a problem, and boy did she have a problem. They took over our lives for a while.

-Luna had a bath. Lots of baths actually. Because of the fleas. She got more baths over this past summer than she has during the rest of her life put together.

-Luna got allergies. This is another first for her. She has never had trouble before. Now, she digs up her face, really badly. It's rather sad.

-Luna started taking steroids. See above entry for explanation.

-Luna discovered that cats also fit into the “I love jumping on small animals” category.

-Luna got robbed. A lot. By a small dog who snuck under the fence to steal Luna’s bones.

-Luna discovered that she LOVES mud, and running in it, and making pretty paw prints on the kitchen floor with it.

There’s so much more, but I shall stop and just say: Happy Birthday, Luna!

Sometimes I feel like an American

When we lived in Belgrade, Montana, Josh used ebay to purchase a truck… in Michigan. He had to fly out to get it, and he drove the thing the whole way back to Montana with no plates. I met up with him in Minneapolis and spent the whole trip worrying about it, but we made it.

The truck was a Ford F-150. It wasn’t huge, but it was a pretty good size. In the summers I used to drive it into Bozeman to get coffee. Just before my exit, there was a hill. Flying down that hill, with the windows open, with the music blaring, in that truck, made me feel American.

Last night we drove up Campbell Avenue around three o’clock in the morning. Campbell is lined with lit-up stores, signs made of light bulbs, and car dealerships. Driving up that street, late at night, that makes me feel American.

Today I watched an ambulance going through an intersection. Everyone was stopped. No one was trying to squeeze through in front of it. That made me feel American, made me appreciate the orderliness of being in America.

Doing doughnuts in the snow, or sliding around icy corners, even going faster than 20 mph on a snowy road, I feel, not only like an American, but like one from the part of the country that knows how to drive.

And, I've just realized I'm going to have to look for American experiences that do not involve vehicles...hmmm.