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4 Variations Of Where To Look While Your Dog Poops That Make You Feel Less Awkward

[This post was originally published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com on May 13, 2015. To see the post in all of its Thought Catalog-y Glory, you can click here. Or just read on…]

Your dog walks faster and starts to circle. You know what’s next. He looks straight ahead, concentrates on his task. Sensing your own unfixed, awkward eyes, you wonder, where am I supposed to look while this is happening? You must decide, so choose wisely.

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A Dream

An elegy for you! In response to Writing 201’s Poetry Prompt: Fog.

Surrounded by a dream, vivid and alive,
Wandering disarranged hallways,
Reaching and running for elusive awards.

Touching the dream, warm cotton or flannel.
Noticing the dreamer, apart from the sleeper,
Stepping between asleep and awake.

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Our Longest Run

Our lil’ baby Marriage is turning one today! We are so proud. We created her ourselves by signing checks and a marriage license. Amidst the postpartum excitement, we also swore we would run a half marathon together. Holy Commitment.

Our first run as a married couple was on our honeymoon in Tahiti. The scene was as picturesque as you can imagine. Blue skies. Bluer water. Tropical flowers and vegetation spilling on to the path, we ran. My face was less like blushing bride and more like beet-red. As I wished for a full breath in 95 degrees, 100% humidity, I reminded myself: That guy ahead of you is your Husband. Appreciate this.

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Fiction Friday: The Porch

Mrs. Pauley is squawking again. I spring onto our porch, ducking among potted plants, just like a secret agent.
“Mom! There are squads across the street!”
At the screen door, Mom wipes her hands on her apron.
“That mess is none of your business, bubba.”
The officer shakes his head as Mrs. Pauley’s mouth moves. Our landlord is there too. I wonder why. He rubs his forehead, checks his watch.
They guide her away from the house.
“Forty years!” Mrs. Pauley squawks, “Forty years!”
Her cane falls. I compromise my secret agent status, dashing to catch her, but she crumples.

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Worries-Anxieties-and-Fears

yes i have some worries, anxieties and fears starting with the dark and strangers with slow walks – am i lonely or just alone – will i have enough time – she’s going to say this and then i’ll say that who am i kidding neither one of us will say anything let me think about that again – that noise sounded creepy – my shoulders are tight – where will i go from here – i feel a bit sick – what if so-and-so dies – did i feed the dog – what is he thinking – i’m wasting my time – do i drink too much read too much work out too much eat too much ugh i do not clean enough – i hope he’ll be home soon he hasn’t called – that ice is going to freeze around the gutter – the garage door might not go up – will the sage bush survive this summer – help me remember this moment – stop waiting around get off the couch – ah i forgot to do that today i feel tired i will do it tomorrow i really should do it today no i’ll do it tomorrow – i’ve worn this outfit already what will she think – who cares stop caring – this looks just fine – worries anxieties and fears i have a few more but will head for the door.

What are some of your worries, anxieties and fears?

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MEB vs. ME

My Own Distinct Voice is more timid than I prefer. I am quiet in a conversation when I should let myself be heard. If I can find the words, there are likes and umms and an undercutting ending of “but…I don’t know.”

As any psychologically stable person would do to cope with such inadequacies, I created an alter ego. Welcome, Miss Early Bird. Her writing voice is so polished and confident, always self-assured. Ah, I envy the hours she spends crafting her response when I have mere seconds to react in real conversation.

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Why I Won’t Teach Pilates Anymore

I was perusing books about Pilates at my local library when one of the librarians shuffled over in her clogs to see if I wanted help. (Yes, people still go to the library. I like silence and books, so I am one of those people.)
I gestured to the open book in my lap, said no with an obligatory smile and noticed her nametag. Flexi.
She lingered and asked, “How long have you been doing Pilates?”
“Four or five years.”I willed Flexi away with my mind. No luck.
“You’re probably at risk for Orthiodosis, then.”
My brain scanned through a repertoire of Pilates postural alignment vocabulary: Lordosis. Kyphosis. Scoliosos. Orthiodosis? She saw my question mark and explained.
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