It's a dogtown

Did you ever just have one of those Mondays that seemed to go on and on and on? Well, today seemed to be that kind of day for me.

It all started last night actually. I got to sleep at a decent hour and, of course, connected the CPAP machine. That thing is really going to take some getting used to. After about an hour I finally dozed off to never-never land. I think I woke up about three times during the night. At 5:00am I finally was aroused from my sleep because of a dream (over the past two nights it seems like they are more and more strange and vivid).

In the dream Mom and I were at a parking garage (can’t remember where it was) and a tornado was bearing down on us and fast. We held on for dear life as it passed over us and all I could remember was hoping and praying that Mom had the strength to hold on. Then I awoke to the steady sound of the air circulation from the machine. It is amazing what can trigger these things.

So, clean up and off to work…only to be bogged down by slow drivers who don’t know the passing lane from the lane for slower traffic (one of my biggest pet peeves). So I get to work and start finishing up a project that I began on Friday. Unfortunately, it involves cuts in funding for the contractors and breaking it to them is not going to be easy, but that is all part of my job. In between my normal duties, and today is no different than any other day, I get side-tracked by requests for help in other areas. Sometimes I wish there was more than one of me so that I could spread more of myself out.

Anyway, I plan a comfortable and relaxing evening at home with no cares in the world. But as sure as I put these wishes on paper, I can almost bet the phone will ring and it will be someone wanting me to do this or that for them. Oh well, spring will be here soon and then I can hope to relax a bit and enjoy some sunshine.


Song of the day:

Dogtown


Up in Massachusetts

There's a little spit of land.

The men who make the maps,

yes, they call the place Cape Ann.

The men who do the fishing

call it Gloucester Harbor Sound,

But the women left behind,

they call the place Dogtown.

The men go out for whaling,

past the breakers and the fogs.

The women stay home waiting

they're protected by the dogs.

A tough old whaler woman

who had seen three husbands drown,

Polled the population

and she named the place Dogtown.

There's all these grey faced women

in their black widow's gowns,

Living in this grave yard granite town.

Yeah, you soon learn there's many

more than one way to drown;

That's while going to the dogs

here in Dogtown.

And she speaks:

My father was a merchant

all in the Boston fief.

When my husband came and asked him

for my hand.

But little did I know then

that a Gloucester whaler's wife

Marries but the sea salt

and the sand.

He took me up to Dogtown

the day I was a bride.

We had ten days together

before he left my side.

He's the first mate

of a whaling ship,

the keeper of the log.

He said, "Farewell, my darling,

I'm going to leave you

with my dog."

And I have seen the splintered timbers

of a hundred shattered hulls,

Known the silence of the granite

and the screeching of the gulls,

I've heard that crazy widow Cather

walk the harbor as she raves

At the endless rolling whisper

of the waves.

Sitting by the fireside,

the embers slowly die.

Is it a sign of weakness

when a woman wants to cry?

The dog is closely watching

the fire glints in his eye.

No use to go to sleep this early,

no use to even try.

My blood beats like a woman's,

I've got a woman's breast and thighs.

But where am I to offer them

to the ocean or the skies?

Living with this silent dog

all the moments of my life,

He has been my only husband;

am I a widow, or his wife?

Yes, it's a Dogtown and it's a fog town,

And there's nothing around 'cept the sea

pounding granite ground

And this black midnight horror

of a hound.

I'm standing on this craggy cliff,

my eyes fixed on the sea.

Six months past, when his ship was due,

I'm a widow to be.

For liking this half living

with the lonely and the fog,

You need the bastard of the mating

of a woman and a dog.

And I have seen the splintered timbers

of a hundred shattered hulls,

Known the silence of the granite

and the screeching of the gulls,

I've heard that crazy widow Cather

walk the harbor as she raves

At the endless rolling whisper of the waves.

At the endless rolling whisper of the waves.

At the endless rolling whisper of the waves.