Roxie and I walked downtown to the vet’s yesterday.  All the dogwoods are in bloom on our street. Lilacs, rhododendrons, and azaleas too, but we’d have never gotten there if I had stopped to take more pictures.

I make it a point to keep negative energy out of my house as much as possible.  I must admit, sometimes, I even bring in a bit myself in spite of my best intentions.  You just have to swear like a sailor when you spill a big bowl of caramel sauce on the kitchen floor.  Then, a cute little dog hurries in to help with cleanup and it’s all good.

But I am very serious about not allowing people with a tragically negative spirit in here.  Last time I made this mistake, when he left, I opened all the doors and windows and went through every room with a smoking sage bundle.  This is the old Indian ritual of cleansing.  I don’t think it works on a spiritual level, but it certainly works on a symbolic one.

My girls and I gathered sage once along the north bank of the Columbia up near “She Who Watches.”

Those bundles have been used up, but I’m thinking of a taking field trip.  Should be lots of sage in West Texas in May after the recent rain.  Good to keep some on hand, I think.  You never know who might show up here, either actually or electronically. Sometimes, I feel so powerful when I drag a missive unopened to the trash.  Other times,  you have to smoke it out.

Good advice (and bad) can be taken out of context and used to make almost any point.  Still, I do like this:

Finally, my dear family, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.

 And talk about them too — or don’t come around here.  I have enough trouble just keeping the kitchen mopped up.

Some years ago, there was a series on TV.  It came on on Thursday nights when I have a gig over at St. P’s.  One of my daughters and her father liked to watch it.  When it became available,  he bought her the entire multi-season package of DVD’s at Costco.  And then, like so many things that she couldn’t take with her, it got left here at 1880.  I have watched the entire thing several times.  I plan to keep doing so from time to time.

I love Aaron Sorkin and recently lapped up The Newsroom.  I probably won’t view it repeatedly. But, The West Wing, well, at some point in every episode, I am reminded that Rob Lowe is the second cutest boy in the world; I laugh out loud; I cry; and I say to myself, “Is this a great country or what?”  It might be even better if it were scripted by Sorkin.

I thought of it when I spotted this:

That would be Rosie’s bed there on the shelf.  That’s Rosie there on Roxie’s bed.  And  there’s Roxie on the rug.

The favorite old book about everyone sleeping in someone else’s bed  is now out of print but you can get a used copy of it on Amazon for just under $200. Or you could borrow our much-loved copy.