Buckle and Pat: the True Story (part six)

While Buckle is perfectly content to share his life with just Pat and the family, Pat has some other interests.

Pat loves geology, and spends a great deal of time learning more about the rock culture she comes from. She is particularly fascinated by the Great Lakes, which gave her birth, after all. She likes to take trips back to Lake Ontario when she can, and she has some requests for this summer’s camping trips. When we head back to the lake, Pat will be sitting on the dashboard, eager for that first glimpse of shimmering blue on the horizon.

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                     Late night rave.                           I have no idea where Pat got that crown.

Pat also loves animals. She enjoys snuggling with my dog, playing with the cats, and chatting with our gecko, Link. Sometimes they gather up some friends and have a party. The Napkin Crocodile, and a pony or two will stop over to play dominoes or Cards Against Humanity. It can get rather boisterous.

When she inquired about my dog, Biscuit, I told her that Biscuit had been adopted from a shelter. That set her thinking. There must be so many rocks in need of a home. She was grateful to have a family, but what about the thousands – perhaps millions –  of rocks that didn’t? Pat determined to find a rock in need, and make it her own.

It didn’t take long for her to find him. He clearly needed looking after, and Pat’s heart melted when she saw him. She named him “Rocky” (not much of an imagination has Pat) and made him a little leash and collar.   

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Some might have seen only his flaws, but Pat saw the love in his eyes.

She even put a bell on the collar in case he runs away. Pat is dedicated to caring for Rocky. As soon as she hears his familiar, “boof! boof!” she goes running to check on him.

Buckle shakes his head; he is not a pet lover. He thinks it’s very silly how Pat fusses – it’s a rock, for crying out loud! But I have noticed it doesn’t stop him from taking the leash when Pat needs a break.

I am also pretty sure I heard Buckle singing one of his little songs to Rocky just this morning.

Buckle: The True Story (part five)

Buckle found a new confidence, with Pat depending on him. Someone was looking up to him now. And as it sometimes does, this burgeoning sense of importance had some negative side effects.

He started weightlifting. He worked his way up to being able to press a Q-tip. I approve heartily of fitness, but since his focus was on Pat’s reaction, rather than personal improvement, he was careless. Pat rushed to tell me that while working out, Buckle got himself stuck in the medicine cabinet, and needed rescuing.

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                     Mountain climbing.                            With no protective gear, mind you.

And risky behavior? Never mind eyeball stands, that was tame. Now I was finding Buckle in precarious and frightening situations. He climbed to the top of the china cabinet with a rubber band, intending to bungee jump. He built a sailboard out of a popsicle stick and a napkin. I retrieved him from the bottom of the bathtub and dried him off. Then he tried parkour, and my bookshelves and hardwood floors took a pounding from his landings. All of it was just showing off to Pat.

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Horrifying!

I wasn’t sure how to get through to my reckless rock. My warnings went unheeded – it was like he had no ears. It was only when Pat tried a  risky stunt of her own that Buckle realized how his foolishness had placed her in danger.

Buckle was very upset. He was even more upset when he found out the pop culture reference, and what it meant. He vowed to be a better example to his beloved Pat. They realize now that the greatest adventure is life itself.

Well, that and extreme hardcore subterranean deep basement exploration. I really should go check on their progress; haven’t heard a sound from them in a while.

 

New and Old and New

Tonight we mark the passing of an “old year” and the beginning of a “new” one. I accept that this date is traditionally marked as the closing of the “old year” by western culture. And I am also aware that for many other cultures, it is not. Paganism has taught me that there are many days marked as the New Year, depending on tradition and place. It could really be any time of year, but the important thing is that we choose one – ONE – defining day to mark the end of something and the start of something else. That’s us human beings again: trying to quantify everything; trying to put lines and edges on that which is cyclical and eternal.

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source: deviant art; labeled for reuse

And on one hand it makes perfect sense, and on the other hand it makes none. I take the concept of the Wheel of the Year very seriously; it is my favorite aspect of Paganism. The perfect ring, no discernable beginning nor end, flowing from life to death and back to life again. You could spin that Wheel, and put a pin on any place it chanced to stop, and say, “There. There it is: the point at which it all ends and then begins again,” but you’re fooling yourself. I see in my mind’s eye the Goddess and the God laughing at our silly attempts to create demarcation where there is none, never was, and never will be.

Still, we are human. And a calendar only has so many pages. There must come a point when the last page is ripped off, and we open a fresh, blank booklet of little squares. We mark off the birthdays and anniversaries that mean something to us, and fill in appointments and conferences and nights out. The Wheel may turn on, and the dates may be arbitrary, but to function as a society, we do need to agree on when things should occur.

Happy New Year to you all: tonight, tomorrow, every day. May each day find you making a resolution to be good to yourself, to give to others, to live your beliefs, to be kind, and to love with all your heart. Bless you all, and thank you for being my friend.

Merry Christmas from Buckle and Pat

Pat and Buckle wish you all the very best during this Holiday Season.

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They have been overwhelmed by the flurry of activities. Buckle discovered he had a real talent for baking cookies.

Pat added the peppermint sprinkles.

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Buckle made some new friends.

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We hope your holidays are as happy as ours!

Best wishes from Buckle and Pat.

Buckle: The True Story (part four)

Buckle’s love for Pat was plain. He was determined to make her adjustment to life among the squishy people pleasant and trouble-free.

Pat has a very different temperament than Buckle, though. She is not one to throw herself into an activity. She has to ease into things slowly.

Buckle had her playing Rock Band right away. Pat has a soft, tremulous voice which … well, it’s hard to say it, but she really isn’t a very good singer at all. Buckle does not mind one bit. He smiles as she warbles along to his favorite David Bowie songs. When she sat down on the guitar, though – that’s when Pat shone. She has a natural sense of rhythm and tremendous enthusiasm. Together they are unbeatable.

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Buckle taught Pat how to crochet. He loves making little hats for himself. Pat tried her best. She had a difficult time. I came home one day to find her wandering around inside a skein of yarn. She went in looking for the free end and couldn’t find her way out. She did get the hang of it eventually. She crocheted Buckle a gorgeous scarf in his favorite colors. Buckle made her a cute pair of pink slipper socks, with sequins for some razz-ma-tazz. She loves them, and looks at them every day, since she has no feet.

Buckle has been very patient. He spoke up and asked for a car seat for Pat so she could go travelling with us. He taught her how to do eyeball stands (so now I yell at both of them.) He got her hooked on watching “Barbie: Life in the Dream House.” Pat gives Buckle purpose, and Buckle gives Pat a sense of peace and belonging. They both give me something to think about, every day.

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Up next: Will our happy couple find more interests and hobbies to share? Will Buckle’s increased confidence lead him to trouble? Will Pat ever find her way out of my yarn box? You know where to find the answers!

“Dying Doesn’t Mean You’re Dead”

This may be the oldest of my “Greatest Hits” I share with you; at least from the internet age. My first on-line family was a group dedicated to a soap opera. I’m no longer a fan, but coming across this old parody, I realize not much has changed as far as this particular plot device goes.

(to the tune of “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend”)
A push off a cliff may be quite detrimental,
but dying doesn’t mean you’re dead.
A campaign by fans who are so sentimental
can mean your return – and even free you from an urn!
You may drown and not be found
or an anvil may fall on your head;
If it’s storyline driven,
you’ll come back to the livin’!
Dying doesn’t mean you’re dead!

If you’re in the water, your jet ski could blow up,
but dying doesn’t mean you’re dead.
Your widower’s wedding’s the best time to show up
to reveal to him: The victim was your evil twin.
Writers know fans watch the show
no matter what drivel they’re fed.
Whether plagued by disaster
or buried in plaster;

Dying …  (Even Cremation)!

Dying …  Doesn’t mean you’re dead!