The Progress of Elimination

Victories in my life tend to be small, definitely bittersweet.

This morning, I cheered Manny on as I coaxed him into the yard to do his business so I wouldn't return from Starbucks to a pile of poop in the family room. It took a while, but it was worth it, making me feel as if my Monday resolution to disabuse him of the notion that our wood floors are a proper place for relieving himself was off to a good start. With a little focus on both our parts, the world -- at least our house -- would soon be a sweeter (smelling) place.

Alas, it was still dark out, and I did not notice until it was too late that I had stepped in a pile, which I then tracked into the kitchen on the way to Manny's box of rewards. Ugh, so much for breakfast. Poop in the family room was starting to look good.

My house is chock full of piles of poop, nasty reminders of a marriage gone sour. Photos, knick knacks, mementos from vacations and time well spent. Sometimes it's difficult to remember the pleasures and the victories, even the big ones. The walls tend to close in on me, particularly when it's just me and Manny, when even the child who lives with me is not home.

This past weekend, the walls pushed back a bit with the arrival of my son, my irreverent and offbeat son who pops in from time to time to make us laugh until it hurts. Sure, there are plenty of bittersweet memories, but nothing -- no amount of stress and frustration -- can take away the pleasure I get from my offspring. Sometimes I just need a little extra dose, up close and in person.

He leaves today, but Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and I won't have to wait too long for a hefty serving of his political rants, his dissertations on the universe, and his crazy stand-up routines that send me and his sisters into fits of hysteria (the good kind). Let the season of comfort food and family insanity begin!

My son is worried because he caught Manny nibbling on his own poop the other day. I told him that's better than eating other dogs' poop. He's concerned that eating poop of any kind is hazardous to ones health, and suggested maybe that's what made Manny go blind.

And to think I always attributed that to masturbation! Well, there you have it, another piece of good news -- another small victory.