It's like thunder, lightnin'

Last night Missy was so upset about the thunderstorm that she couldn't eat the benadryl-loaded hot dog that I placed under the bed where she was cowering. Cowering, panting, shaking, hyperventilating, she was doing it all right underneath me while I was trying to sleep. When she eventually came to the side of the bed where I'd placed the hot dog, I grabbed her collar and pulled her the rest of the way out, out the bedroom door into my office, whereupon I closed the door to my room and tried to go to sleep. By then the storm was long over. So my little bundle of nerves got medicated after the fact, but I'm sure she had a good night's sleep. I am a bad pet owner.

I know I said I wouldn't be blogging, but thanks to Clinton's bird population, which rises early and noisily (5:30) I seem to have a chunk of time. Aren't I the lucky one.

Thank you Clark and Lena for reminding me that you're "out there", on the Internet that is.

Today is stating off humid and stuffy, as I remind myself that my love of humidity is what brought me back to the East. I am going to spend some time looking at my unpublished poetry (which is most of my poetry, after all) to select four to send to the Rattle poetry contest, even though I know:
I do not stand a chance of winning.
I am a fool who will be out $25.00 for trying.
My best poem has already been published and is therefore ineligible.
A better known poet will win.
I would sell both my children (easy to say when they're 29 and 27) to even get an honorable mention.
My time might be better spent walking the dog or weeding that one last flower bed.
I will enter anyway and be genuinely hurt and confused when I do not win or place.
Even as I typed all the above, I had a fantasy wherein I won and accepted a huge award as well as the cash prize they give. I MEAN HUGE!

That's the way my brain works, so conflicted it is.

Have a peaceful day wherever you are.