Puppy Love

I’ve been up since 2:41am, but all is well.

In dreamland, the Bohemian and I were driving through a maze of streets in Boston, trying to employ Google maps with my iPhone. I was all thumbs, pushing the wrong button on the screen and having to reload pages that were too large to read, while the Bohemian needed to know in that moment – take a left or right?

I don’t think it’s navigation that is keeping me awake. Well, in a way. These days it’s all about our pending move to a new house, a process that is about 3/4 of the way complete, but a constant in the back of my mind.

Another constant, (2:41am, no problem) is our trusty and loving companion, Moodha.

When we moved into our present sub-let situation, the house came with a dog, which has been a wonderful trial-run for our family which is not quite yet ready to commit to a canine. I haven’t written much about Moodha in the seven months we’ve lived here, but I think it’s mostly due to the fact that he’s consistently been a shadow of a presence, simple and true, by our side, but with little to-do.

Right now, as I type in this low-lit room, he’s curled up at my feet, as usual. He knows my morning routine. The familiar sounds of a spoon removed from the drawer. The rattle of the refrigerator door opening as I retrieve the milk. And I know the pavlovian jangle of his collar, rattling a chime that signals love embodied in a fur coat is shaking itself awake, and will be joining me at my chair with a yawn.

There are many things to look forward to as the Bohemian, Jeb and I begin building a foundation in our new abode (official move-in date: February 1). I’ve been crossing off my task list and looking ahead with inspiration. But there is also much to be grateful for in what this temporary dwelling has offered us, providing us with much more than basic shelter.

Ahh…puppy love…


We’re only moving up the road, and Moodha’s true caretaker is a good friend. We know this isn’t the last time we’ll see our furry friend. But it won’t be too many more pre-dawn mornings that he and I will share a cup of coffee and some writing time together.

It’s been said that home is where the heart is, and most definitely, Moodha will always have a home in our hearts.


I’m humming Peter Cetera melodies in the kitchen these days. Doing dishes to the ’80’s croon

…if you leave me now, you take away the biggest part of me…

The Bohemian gets a last-minute request to be the best man at his friend’s wedding. Quite a distance to travel from here to Kalamazoo (yes, really, the wedding is in Kalamazoo). I thought it most practical for him to go without me. I’d stay behind and care for Jeb and Moodah the dog. Make sure the plants get watered.

But then there was Peter, singing love songs between every rinsed plate.

…ooo-ooo-ooo-oh, baby please don’t go…I just want you to stay…

Well, I didn’t want the Bohemian to stay. I wanted him to go and lovingly support his friend on a very special day, who was marrying a professional dancer. Yet I knew the wedding would be filled with two-step celebration. If I stayed behind to hold down the home front, would the Bohemian be left solo on the dance floor?

For days we mulled over our responsibilities while Peter Cetera serenaded me. Why Peter? Well, the bride and groom are from Chicago (as is the Bohemian, who had a life there before he came to this island to climb coconut trees, surprisingly meeting me, and subsequently gaining a family). So, the trip is rooted in the Windy City, with a road trip to Kalamazoo for wedding nuptials with a rousing mix of dancing Americans and Czechs.


And so there is Peter, and that most well-known band, my closest connection to the city from an era of my past (think many junior high school bus rides listening to Top 40 through metal speakers).

And then there is my husband – the best man (which, he most certainly is, in my eyes).

In the end it was decided. We will be two-stepping together, all 20+ hours of flight time to Chicago. Yes, the practicals seemed to fall into place, and the powers that be, allowing us to take a short, but sweet, excursion together in the month that marks our one year anniversary since our very own wedding.

I’ve never been to Chicago (or Kalamazoo).

Lift off in 11 days.

In Disguise

the mosquito buzzes
close to your ear
its high
a warning
that soon
there will be a landing
a tapping
for your blood

has been put on the grocery list
October’s calendar marked
for costume shopping
and zombie make-up
for your son
tomorrow’s lunch
is in tupperware
for your husband
you finally RSVP’d
to the party
and the dog
well, he’s by your side
as usual
napping like a cat
but ready to follow
in an instant
tail a-wag
and anxious
for the next exciting thing
with any movement made
from your chair

you are not sleeping
but not fully
and dreams are distant
from where you sit
this morning

you know
you are no
and blood-suckers
are swooshed away
you are
in costume
stardusted traveler
all dressed up
like a citizen
a mother
a wife

courtesy of Nicki Varkevisser
courtesy of Nicki Varkevisser