The Girls

I just realized I've managed to fart away about a zillion words without one about the loves of my life: Mazie and Vivian.

Mazie just had her tonsils out six days ago. She recovered remarkably well. She was back to herself within a day, if somewhat subdued. She does have the "dragon breath" Dr. Jacobson warned us about. It's a little bit pitiful for a five year old cutie pie to have the halitosis of an Irish Wolfhound, but it does seem markedly better today.

Mazie is sensitive, smart, moody, and persistent. When she gets into something, she doesn't want to quit until she's finished. If she doesn't get a word right away when reading, she flies into a minor panic. She remembers events more clearly than I do, which explains why lots of times she appears to be just observing. She is observing, and she's saving it all up for later. Mazie has a highly developed sense of justice - she'll remember the precedent set at an earlier instance and then invoke that precedent if she feels she's been treated unfairly. I'll try to give concrete examples; they happen all the time. I just can't remember any right this minute.

Vivian is a little sunbeam...except when she's not. And then the storm doesn't last long and her bushy bushy blond hairdo makes it kind of cute and forgettable. She flits through life. Vivian drops pearls of wisdom constantly and I hope this blog can catch some of them. She also absorbs the facial expressions, even the postures, of others until you can trace things she does back to a particular person. It's super hilarious to see Miss Maggie's scrunched-up nose or Skylar's (a girl at the bus stop) shoulder shrug get sucked up and used by Vivian.

Another thing about Vivian: she's a professional cuddler. She requests cuddling at least once a day, sometimes twice. We could farm her out to those in need of the human touch for a princely sum (but of course we wouldn't dream of it). Every evening I join her on her baby bed for a minute or two. First I accidentally lie on her trailing hair and she says, "Ow!" Once we have that worked out she asks me about the following day's plans, and I tell her. Then we rest a minute and I almost fall asleep. She tells me she's not going to eat her boogers tonight and that she doesn't want a blanket. Then we're done.

Mazie, on the other hand, has to be seriously compromised to cuddle ( I confess I snuck in some illicit cuddle time in the brief space between when she had taken Versed and before she went for surgery). But Mazie is a story hound. She loves stories: The one about the first time I did research, the one about the chipmunk trap, the one about when she was born, the one about how she bit Daddy's toe (when she was very very little). I'll try to save some of those here for her to see later.

Over and out, gotta go get Mazie.