The Flood, Two Years On

I went through a bad patch earlier this year, I think I told you, where I became convinced again that under my yard was hollow and that I could maybe step and fall and just fall through the ground into a giant underground lake. God, you always hope that your subconscience will be at least a little sophisticated, but mine fucks with me in obvious symbols.

My driveway is still fucked. We’ve just learned to live with it. People volunteered to come help, but it was mortifying–the idea that they’d come help us put our yard back together while I sobbed and felt convinced that we were all going to fall through the dirt–while other people lost everything. So we just slowly did it ourselves.

Chris Wage has some good words. The Tennessean has an excellent photo essay (is ‘photo essay’ a thing?).

No Dead People Are Members of the Grand Ole Opry

I have thoughts about this, but no time to expand upon them.

I will say that I understand the ongoing dogging on Gaylord for closing Opryland. That was… um… well… yes. That happened.

But I don’t understand the idea that Gaylord had somehow been a shitty curator of its historic country music assets or somehow a worse curatorial choice than the Hall of Fame. Where did that come from? That’s just a switch in public sentiment among a segment of country music fans that I just completely missed. I’m not saying that I agree or disagree. I’m just saying that ten years ago, you would have heard people arguing the exact opposite.

It’s All Butts All the Time

That’s the thing they don’t tell you about pet ownership. You see the cute end only when it’s trying to lick you, bite you, or wake you up. If you’re lucky, you can spend some time looking at their backs. But mostly, it’s just you, staring at their butts. If pet adoption sites were honest, they’d include five photos of the butts of the pet up for adoption with every one photo of their face, just so that you can get an honest assessment of what you’re going to be dealing with.

So, my animals were behaving so cutely this morning on our walk that I wanted to take photos to share with you. I mean, here is everyone getting along. Mrs. W. and the orange cat were walking side-by-side after they chased each other through the AT&T yard, first Mrs. W. chasing the orange cat and then, much to Mrs. W.’s delight, the orange cat chasing her.

This is the picture I got. Dog butt and cat butt, side by side (please ignore Mrs. W.’s poor tale which is where the last vestiges of her terrible allergic reaction that caused her to scratch all the hair off her sides seems to be hanging out). Oh, no, no need to thank me. I’m sure you’re deeply moved by the emotional expressiveness and cuteness of their butts.

And then we get back to the house and the two cats meet up in the driveway. Two cats who have spent years passively hating each other and sometimes aggressively. And the orange cat went up to the new cat and sniffed her on the forehead in the cutest of manners and I whipped out my phone and I snapped this photo.

Because I knew you would appreciate the cuteness.

And, yes, in the time it took me to get the camera going, they’d turned their butts to me. Oh, well, I’m sure the sentiment still comes through.

Betsy Phillips–Pet Butt Photographer.

It’s like finding out you have the ability to spoil milk just by touching it.

Who wants this ability? Oh, yes, I can turn any photo of an animal into a photo of its butt just by holding up my camera.

Thank god I don’t have more photography skills or a better camera. I mean, at least this is as bad as it can possibly get. I hope.