All posts by erinwaugh

“My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

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Me: “Tweak! What did you eat??”

I am in bed. Tweak is sitting on my chest breathing at me.

Tweak: “Whatever nurdles you poured in my bowl. They’re shaped like X’s and pain.”

Me: “You love those nurdles.”

Tweak: “You feed me like a tic-tac-toe game.”

Me: “Your breath is terrible.”

Tweak: “It’s a game nobody wins.”

She yawns a cavern of death. Dreams die.

Me: “Maybe you should brush your teeth.”

Tweak inhales the nighttime from my mouth.

Tweak: “I also ate your soul. Maybe you should brush your soul.”

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14 June 2014, Tolerating Tweak — “My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison 

2014 June 14 bad breath

“Panting the Storm Out”

Tweak: “What’s wrong with her?”
Me: “Storm.”

It’s 4:00 a.m. I am lying on my back in bed. Tweak is lengthwise along my right side like a job shadow. On my left, on the floor, is a locomotive.

Tweak rolls just enough to knead her claws into my armpit: “But what’s WRONG with her?”
I fold a corner of blanket over my shoulder so she doesn’t draw blood. “The thunder frightens her.”

Bowie-dog is huffing like a freight train on the floor. She has scrabbled her body as close to the bed as possible. Her head is under a dresser. She is panting like the little engine that hates me.

The lightning flashes. My lips tickle. I open my eyes to see Tweak’s face six microns from mine. She is silently inhaling the night from my mouth.

Tweak: “She’s weird. All that breathing. Can’t you do something?”
Me: “No. I’ve tried. 11 years I’ve tried. There’s nothing for it except to let it pass.”

Tweak climbs down my abdomen and plants a foot into my bladder. “I don’t know how you put up with her.”

18 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

 

Tolerating Tweak — “Panting the Storm Out”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison. 

thunder 2014 june 18

“I Learn a Lot about People in Parking Lots”

 

Yesterday morning I watched these three human snapshots unfold in rapid succession in a strip mall parking lot:

 

1. A woman returning to her car from Panera, coffee in one hand, bagged pastries in the other. She was about 60, well-dressed, thin, summery. She unlocked the passenger door, set the goods inside. She walked behind the car, opened the hatch, and retrieved her blue leather purse. She click-clicked the doors again, got in and drove away. Her car had been parked in the first handicapped spot the entire time. My soul caught fire.

 

2. Another woman, markedly overweight, maybe 45, walking to her car. It was a struggle for her. I could tell that her knees and maybe her hips hurt. She was also well-dressed, but for work. She was parked all the way at the end of the lot. My sense was that she had parked that far away on purpose, that by adding steps to her day she might burn a few extra calories, strengthen her legs. She could walk, so she did. My soul smiled.

 

3. A Dodge Charger roared into that same first handicapped spot that the first driver had abused. Orange. Shiny. A big-ass muscle car. I was ready to pick a fight. The passenger door opened. A woman of about 50 got out and walked around to the driver’s side. I was secretly daring the bastard behind the wheel to finally show himself. Maybe I wouldn’t kick him in the shins, but at least I could Snapchat him for preservation by the internet. The driver’s door opened slowly, and not well. A soft, wrinkled hand reached up to grab the Charger’s window. A curly silver head crested the roof. Barely. The first woman reached into the backseat, unfolded a walker, and handed it to the driver. It took the driver probably two full minutes to uncurl out from the behind the wheel, and even then, not fully. Her body was curved into a permanent “C.” The driver was 140 years old. With her spine and her hands bent over her walker, she was maybe three feet tall. But she had driven her own damn Charger to the Panera to get her own damn coffee. My soul pumped a fist into the air.

 

6 June  2014, ErinWaughWorld

 

ktso

“Furgasm”

Me, checking the weather on my phone: “I don’t know what to wear today.”

Tweak, licking the white fur on her front leg: “Yeah, that’s a real problem.”

Me: “You don’t understand. It’s hot and humid outside, but my office at work is freezing.”

Tweak, rolling onto her back and nibbling the future of a hairball on her belly: “I don’t know how you can stand the pressure every day.”

Me: “If I wear shorts, It’ll be cold when I teach. But if I wear long pants, I’ll be sweating the rest of the time.”

Tweak, chewing her toe: “It’s like Sophie’s choice.

I pull out a pair of black shorts from the dresser, set them on the bed. I reach into the closet for long pants, turn back to find Tweak in rapid S-contortions, having a furgasm on my black shorts.

Me: “I guess I’ll wear long pants.”

Tweak: “You’re welcome.”

17 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”

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Tolerating Tweak — “Furgasm”
Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison

Furgasm  June 17, 2014

“17 Flies”

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Tweak: “There were 17 flies in here last night.”

Me: “That’s a lot.”

Tweak: “After you unloaded groceries, you forgot to shut the door.”

Me: “Why didn’t you remind me?”

Tweak: “I was too busy ignoring you.”

Me: “I think a group of flies is called a LORD.”

Tweak: “I think 17 flies in your kitchen is called a DISGRACE.”

Me: “Well, did you take care of them?”

Tweak: “I gave them a beverage and showed them your Werther’s.”

Me: “You’re an enabler.”

Tweak: “I’m a genius.”

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16 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

“17 Flies” – Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison. 

17 flies June 16, 2014

“Mothra”

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Me: “Stop sharpening your claws on my belly.”

Tweak: *purrs*

Me: “Seriously, I dreamed I was being attacked by giant insects.”

Tweak: *purrs, sharpens some more*

Me: “In Japan.”

Tweak: *pauses, squints*

Me: “Your claws are Samurai blades.”

Tweak: *smiles, sharpens like she’s in training for Benihana*

Me: “On Mothra.”

Tweak: *drools*

Me: “What-uh? You sink I beesh-uh too many time?”

Tweak: “You did not just say that.”

Me: “Would you like flies with that?”

Tweak: “How do you have any friends?”

*rakes harakiri across my sternum*

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15 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”

Today’s episode comes complete with visual aids.                             Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison.                            

Tolerating Tweak – “Mothra”

Mothra June 15, 2014

“My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

Me: “Tweak! What did you eat??”

I am in bed. Tweak is sitting on my chest breathing at me.

Tweak: “Whatever nurdles you poured in my bowl. They’re shaped like X’s and pain.”
Me: “You love those nurdles.”
Tweak: “You feed me like a tic-tac-toe game.”
Me: “Your breath is terrible.”
Tweak: “It’s a game nobody wins.”

She yawns a cavern of death. Dreams die.

Me: “Maybe you should brush your teeth.”

Tweak inhales the nighttime from my mouth.

Tweak: “I also ate your soul. Maybe you should brush your soul.”

 

14 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

 

Tolerating Tweak — “My Soul Needs a Breath Mint”

Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison 

2014 June 14 bad breath

Tolerating Tweak – “Cat Gasket”

My cat Tweak’s first post. She is very excited. I know this because she wrenched her claws out of my arm long enough for me to type this.

What follows are small conversations with my cat Tweak. Like all oracles of wisdom, Tweak is both beautiful and brain-damaged.

Cat Gasket

Me: “You have to move.”
Tweak: “No.”
Me: “I have to get up.”
Tweak: “Do you see how busy I am sitting here?”
Me: “You’ve sealed me in like a cat gasket.”
Tweak: “I could hold this meatloaf pose for hours.”
Me: “I need coffee.”
Tweak: “Hours.”

I un-twist out of the bed coffin, snagging a toe in the cold half of the blanket. I squint against the burn and try not to bark. “Dammit, Tweak. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Tweak yawns: “Okay, I’ll come with you. I hope the cream is fresh this time.”

Also, this first episode comes complete with visual aids, drawn by Susie Winnie Morrison.

“Cat Gasket” — 2014 June 13 

2014 June 13