Tails: A bird at my doorstep

So, I came down to the kitchen and found our cat, Delilah, on the back porch with a small sparrow in her mouth. Yes, it was dead.

We don’t leave our cat out – she just likes to go for a morning stroll and this time she came back with a prize.

My daughter and I were disgusted and the only good thing about it is that Delilah definitely snapped the bird’s neck so there shouldn’t have been too much pain.

Now, there are many people who would be appalled – even pissed off – that my cat goes outside. I understand that – but, Delilah was a stray her whole life and going outside is what she knows.

She has all of her claws and never goes far from the house. Depriving her of the outside seems cruel to me and I won’t do it.

We have two other cats and they don’t go out. Well, Sampson does go out with the dogs, but he always comes right back in. And, Martha, she is afraid of her own shadow.

There is also the camp who would be pissed that I have bird feeders up and allowed my cat to kill one.

I really didn’t allow my cat to do anything – and the bird feeders have been up for 4 years and this is the first time she ever touched a bird.

Including myself in the mix – animal people are crazy! Seriously. And, the most intriguing thing is that each person belongs to a subgroup within the generalized group of animal welfare.

And, that, quite frankly, is what keeps us from saving the world. Because we are too busy fighting amongst ourselves.

Just recently, I had considered volunteering for a breed specific rescue group. Not only were they too far away for me but they had some crazy notions about who they would adopt to.

These included: The adoptees could not have more than one other dog in the home and no more than 3 cats… Anyone over the age of 65 could not adopt a dog under the age of 3. The adoptee needed at least 3 references and only one could be family. They needed to fill out a lengthy form listing every pet they ever had and what happened to them. And lastly, there had to be a home visit that was up to the discretion of the person visiting the home.

Do you know – that I would not be able to adopt from them? My dog to cat ratio is way too high for them – and yet, I strongly believe that my pack is happy and healthy and loved beyond measure.

My parents are 65 and their dog, Motts, is getting up in age and they are considering getting another Lab soon. There is a good chance that they might fall in love with one under the age of 3… is it so wrong to let them adopt him or her? Isn’t that better than a dog being put down or living a long time in a crate without a family?

I realize that there are odds at play – the dog could outlive them… but, in reality, at 38 I could be hit by a car or die from cancer. Yet, no one is telling me I can’t adopt a puppy. (Though I am already out of the running because I have too many pets to begin with.)

It is frustrating, sometimes, in this animal welfare world – to understand all the different philosophies – all of which are to protect the animals…And, it is hard to support those that, to me, seem so contrary to what I feel is the ultimate goal: saving these animals from a horrible fate and giving them a second chance at a good life.

So, I follow my own beliefs – I have 4 dogs in my family, I encourage my parents to bring a new dog into their lives, I let Delilah out to make her happy, and I don’t have a fence in my backyard.

And, as I look around right now – Delilah is soaking up the sun in her posh bed, Buddy is sprawled out on the sofa, Sadie is sleeping at my feet, Martha is at the top of the cat tree, Sampson is snuggled in my bed, and Thorp is sitting on the chair next to me. Everyone is happy, healthy and safe – even though most everything I do is against some other animal welfare person’s beliefs.

Oh, how I wish we could all come together and support each other – because I really do think we would be THE power to reckon with.

Truths: The Christmas Slump

Well, I dropped my parents off at O’Hare Airport today and came home to a messy house – littered with the remains of Christmas: empty boxes, strewn ribbons, game pieces, and a bag of items to return.

All the planning and the gifting is over and all that is left looks like a tornado came through.

The decorations are still staring back at me reminding me that I will need to box them up and say goodbye to the holiday.

And, the poinsettias are reminding me that they need water – not to mention guilting me into keeping them alive as long as possible. I think that once December 26th rolls around they should just shrivel up as though their batteries went dead. I mean even if I succeed at keeping them alive no one wants to look at a poinsettia at Easter time!

There is a sort of slump that hits me around this time. All that adrenalin pumping the last few weeks – the wrapping, the ordering, the decorating, - the excitement that comes from hoping for the best Christmas ever! It is gone. The Christmas enchantment has ended.

And all we are left with is a mess… not to mention my 6 stitches and near broken hand!

I think the fact that New Year’s is only days away is on purpose. I think whoever decided that New Year’s should be the week after Christmas was genius.

See, just when we have this lump in our throats and this dismay the holiday is over we are presented with a celebration of new hope: a New Year and a promise of a resolution.

I haven’t not decided my resolution yet… I still have a few days – but I do find that amongst this little holiday slump is a glimmer of inspiration – a glimmer of new found excitement and a new year to look forward to.

As for my decorations – I will leave them up for a few more weeks. I just feel lazy right now and want some time to breathe and enjoy them without the expectation of Christmas around the corner.

I just want to settle in a big comfy chair – look around and remind myself all that I am grateful for and all that I am looking forward to this coming year.

Besides, once I put away all the decorations, I will be reminded of all the shortcomings in my house – I want a new kitchen, we need to paint all of the trim, we need to finish the basement…
Ugh… I am so not ready for Christmas to be over!

Truths: Messy Traditions

So, yesterday we made Christmas Cookies. It was my daughter and her two half sisters: Molly and Lucy. (That makes them my ex-husband’s and new wife’s kids).

To some that is amazing, crazy, unbelievable… But truthfully, the unbelievable part is that we were making cookies in MY kitchen.

I am not a cook. I am not a baker. Its not that I am incapable, I just don’t find it appealing. And like many of my mishaps these passed few days – I usually get hurt and burn myself!

I have always envied people who do the whole holiday cookie day. I have visions of everyone laughing and sharing sweet moments: an entire day of togetherness and life long memories.

I just never found a way to welcome that tradition into my life.

Until yesterday… Originally, I had picked through all these recipes I got when I bought a recipe box at a flea market and it was filled with cookie recipes… I had about 6 of them to make – most were a little complicated - and I would need ingredients I didn’t have, some of which, I didn’t even know what they were… But between being sick and being injured – those cookies were not going to happen.

But, we had this big container of candy cookie dough from some school fundraiser and I had enough other ingredients to make sugar cookies from scratch.

So, Molly, Lucy and Abby and I got to rolling, and cutting, and sprinkling. No, none of the cookies look all that pretty… and the entire kitchen was head to toe in flour, sprinkles and sugar… But, I was able to stop and sigh for a moment and realize that among the mess – was what had the magical possibility of a lifelong memory and a lifelong tradition.

Me and my daugther and my other “girls” actually created the very day I had always longed for and it was exactly as I always pictured it. Sure, it was a mess and the cookies were not bakery quality – but it was fun.

Molly and Lucy are 6 and 4 respectively – so, I am ever so hopeful that yesterday is only beginning of the cookie tradition to come. That it will be one of the special things we share as we all get older.

And, maybe one day, as we get better, our cookies will be beautiful and unique. But, honestly, that doesn’t matter. I will just look forward to the spirit of the day and will be able to recall the wonderful memories as my life goes on.

Merry Christmas Eve… Hope all your shopping, wrapping and cards are done!

Truths: Being Martha Stewart isn’t Easy

So, once again I found myself in Urgent Care last night. Yes, that would be twice in less than 7 days??

Can you even believe it?

This time, since I have all my Christmas stuff done – I decided to recover a chair and went searching for material. I have done it all many times before..But apparently, yesterday, I pushed my luck.

I found some perfect suede material and it was on a bolt high up…so I went to the cutting station and asked this older lady for help. To which she said, “You can go get it yourself.”

Yes, I was miffed that she was obviously lazy and tried to explain that it didn’t seem like something I should do. (Not that I am lazy, but I had no idea how to get the bolt off the display.)

She didn’t seemed phased by my concern and so I went over to the display and attempted to get the bolt down.

It was really snug to the display and I had at to really yank on it to get it to move… and then BAM, it came flying out and the end of the metal rod smashed right into the top of my hand.

It hurt immediately… and I could see the redness and the blood from the scrape. I mustered up some adrenalin and brought the bolt to the lazy lady.

I was pissed. And, she knew it.

She looked at my hand and I said, “That was why I didn’t think I should get it down…”

To which she looked ashamed but not for long. She rolled out the fabric at her leisure without ever once apologizing.

I bought the fabric and some other Christmas décor (Hey, it was 75% off!) and drove home. (Okay, I stopped at TJ Maxx to see if they had a throw pillow to match.)

On the drive home, I looked down at my hand which was pounding away and there was a goose egg on the top of it the size of half a golf ball!

I called Carol, who was an athletic trainer prior to children… She said it was probably a hematoma and it would be fine.. But, by the time I got home, my whole hand was a balloon!

My poor husband walked through the door, took one look and said, “I think it might be broke – we should go to Urgent Care!”

Our original plan was to go get our passport pictures done because we are going to the Bahamas in February.

Ugh… back to Urgent Care – which took forever this time… Yes, one of the staff remembered me from 5 days ago!

The x-ray showed no break so they gave me some stiff pain meds and wrapped it up. Did I mention it is the same hand as my 6 stitches?

We picked up the meds and my husband was determined that we get the photos taken. So at 8:30pm we walked into Walgreens and took them. ( I look like an ex-con in mine…)

The new fabric is now lying across the chair. It does look great but stapling it to the cushion seems a little impossible right now.

That, and my husband threatened he would kill me if I did too much today and got hurt again!

So, the moral of the story… Martha Stewart must not do all of her crap by herself… All the sewing, the wrapping, the cooking, the decorating… If she did it all herself – like the few things I have attempted this week – she would be dead… I know I would be!

Truths: Santa is coming to town – THIS week!

AAhh, here we are: Monday. The actual week of Christmas. A few months ago it seemed so far away. We couldn’t imagine buying gifts yet, or envisioning the “beautiful” snow… No, thoughts of sugarplums danced far from our heads. (and, we were grateful!)

But here we are… some of us are still freaking out about gifts we have to buy… and there are some of us, I won’t mention names, who have come to the gut wrenching realization that they never hit: “confirm order” when they were surfing the web for the absolutely only gift their child wanted for Christmas… And, now, of course, that item is completely sold-out and on backorder until waaaay after Christmas.

There are also those poor sacks paying top dollar for that crazy little hamster who at the store only costs less that $10… but their grandchildren wanted a white one so they are bribing store managers with $20’s and $50’s to get it.

Even I fell into the trap… my daughter wanted one of those Aero bears that came “free” with a $100 purchase. (I am not sure how we justify that paying $100 makes the bear FREE…) Anyway, it was the one thing she told my parents to get her.

My mom, of course, waited until the last moment and found out that not one store in southern Florida had any left. So, she, too, “bribed” the store manager. But, as of Friday she had heard nothing.

So, I, diligently, searched the web and turned to eBay… And, found one for $15 plus $5 shipping. I didn’t even have to bid – I could, “buy now,” as they put it. So, I did.

Only to call my mom and hear that the store manager came through and found her one. Though she did have to buy a $100 gift card!

My dear friend in search of the gift she ill- fatedly overlooked NOT buying also turned to eBay and found luck on her side.

I have been there – paying ungodly amounts of money in shipping just to make sure that the gift comes in time to make Christmas morning magical.

Now, I am not going to even pretend to preach that none of this is what Christmas is about – because that is stating the obvious… However, as a society, Christmas has also become a very material holiday making rather normal, realistic people CRAZED shoppers in dire need of getting the “IT” gift for their loved ones.

It becomes a race, a treasure hunt – a defining moment of who we are and how much we love our kids. No, it is not the right thing but it the real thing.

When in reality, most of our kids have forgotten what they even asked for. And often, after running a near marathon to get the “IT” gift, our children open it Christmas morning and barely smile and move on to the next gift: the one we gave no thought to and they are ecstatic. Go figure!

This year, besides the Aero bear, my daughter did not have any of the “it” toys or items on her list.
I never got that rush…
Instead, I ordered her gifts a month ago and all of them are sitting under the tree wrapped and ready.

I am content but I have to say that there is some sick satisfaction that comes from nearly killing yourself to get that gift and proving that you are the best parent ever!

I mean how will she ever know I am the greatest mom of all if that “IT” gift isn’t under the tree – the one she “always wanted” and could “never live without?”

Am I supposed to hope that my unconditional love and my unending support will carry me through? The safety of my arms and my daily encouragement of her will make a difference in her life?

That “IT” gift sure seems more like a shoe in!!

Truths: Christmas Caution

Okay, this has to be brief...but after last night I just wanted to caution everyone on the dangers of the Holidays... No, not the fires from the Christmas lights, or the evergreen candles, not the burns from the cookies or taking out the turkey...not even the danger of icey roads... or the chipped tooth from Aunt Edna's fruitcake.

Beware of opening up the boxes... Last night I was opening a large box that came from my step-daughter in CA..full of presents for us...and BAM the scissors caught on the tape and sliced my finger right open.

As it happened, I quietly murmured,"Oh no!" To which my husband went out to get the mail. When he came back, I was at the front door bleeding all over and saying ,"This isn't good!."

We grabbed my purse and went to the Urgent Care... I was treated by a wonderful nurse and a great Dr. - who just so happened to be a surgeon in the past..so her sewing skills were impeccable.

None the less - I am pecking away writing this blog - so it has to be short...

I just wanted to caution everyone to be careful as they anxiously open their gifts this Christmas... red might be one of the signature colors of Christmas - but it is better to leave it on the ornaments and other decor.

On a good note - they said absolutely no dish washing!

Tails: How much is that puppy in the window…

Okay, so it is one week until Christmas Eve and I know many people are scurrying around the mall thinking about what to get “so and so.” Many might find it tempting to walk into a petstore and buy a puppy. I mean what is cuter that the image of a puppy hanging out of stocking or in a big (ventilated) wrapped box.

We have been mesmerized by the very image since we were children. Oh, the joy and delight of a puppy under the Christmas tree. Truly, a lifelong memory not to mention the perfect Kodak moment.

But, since this is my blog and I get to say what I want – I want nothing more than to burst that precious bubble and explain to many what exactly hides behind that cute puppy in the window.

I feel it is important to note that I don’t preach these things because I read them in the newspaper or on the ASPCA website. I preach them because I have actually seen the reality of these puppies with my own eyes and I have two dogs who have survived it laying next to me as a type.

Sure that puppy in the window is adorable – but what it not adorable is the life that his mom and dad are living back in the crappy old barn where that puppy was born.

The moms and dads of these pet store dogs live in filth with little regard to their well-being. Cheap food, dirty water and no human interaction. They live in squalor in wire cages only 2-3ft in size and they never have a blanket or a toy or a soft human touch.

These breeding dogs live this way for as long as they are useful. Once their bodies give out from breeding they are tossed away for nothing or if no one wants them they are shot dead.

It is a horrible hidden truth from the majority of consumers…but once people give the idea some thought they realize that no good breeder would ever sell one of their puppies to a pet store. Good breeders interview potential buyers, and have contracts that itemize expectations, such as: getting the dog spayed or neutered, guaranteeing the health of the dog, and overall ensuring that the puppy they poured so much of their attention into will have a forever home.

A breeder would never get any of this if they sold their dog to a pet store.

Puppy mills and mass breeding facilities will never go away even with the laws changing and the regulations for these places becoming more cumbersome. These horrid places will never go away until people stop buying dogs from pet stores. And instead, research quality breeders or even better: adopt from a shelter or rescue.

It is my blog and I get to say what I want – and I want to preach: PLEASE adopt this holiday. There ARE puppies, there ARE purebreds out there – most of all, there are millions of dogs (and cats) out there who want nothing more than to have a family to love them this Christmas.

Sure, it is easy to walk into a pet store and fall in love with a puppy…But, isn’t the saying, “Good things come to those to who wait.” So, take a deep breath, envision what that puppy’s parents are living in, turn around and walk right to the nearest shelter. I can guarantee there will be a puppy or a dog there who WILL steal your heart.

And just in time for Christmas you can place him in a stocking or a (ventilated) wrapped box… And, that childhood dream and Kodak moment can still be yours.

Truths: Grandma?

So, I have some BIG news to share… I am going to be a grandma! Now, I am 38 years old so that isn’t just BIG news: it is WOW news.. See when I told my college roommates a few weeks ago (I didn’t want to publicly announce anything until my step-daughter went to the Dr.)… my friends were so not expecting that news.

In fact, a day before we got together for dinner, I emailed them and said, “I have big news to share.”

So, as we sat down to dinner and ordered cocktails – everyone stared at me when I ordered – a Coors Light. The sighed: knowing now I was NOT pregnant. The drink card was how we ALWAYS knew when one of us was pregnant…

Their curiosity was killing them so I blurted out, “I am going to be a grandma!”

Silence fell across the table. I could feel them counting how many years old my daughter Abby was and their blank stares growing bolder.

“It is Kristin, Bill’s oldest daughter.”

Relief across the table and then, “So, what will the baby call you?”

“Grandma?” I said with newfound hesitation.

“Oh, I think we need to come up with something different. You are too young to be grandma.”

Which, in hindsight, also meant they were too young to be grandmas.

The spouted out names like Mima, Gigi, etc. Hmm, I kind of like Mima…

Anyway, I asked them what they thought the news would be and it was things like they thought I started a business, I finished my book, got a new job, etc…

I guess you never know what is going to change your life.

I am going to be a grandma… and I can’t even express the excitement I am feeling.

I never envisioned being a grandma at this age – but it goes with the territory when you marry someone 13 years older than you.

But, I also think being a grandma at this age is an unlikely blessing – since I could still be having children of my own I feel like I am really going to enjoy it. Not to mention I still have baby toys and blankets and Abby’s beautiful crib. Coming to grandma and grandpa’s to stay the night and play is ready at anytime now.

The hardest part is walking by the adorable baby garb wherever I go… Cute pink onesies, little socks, soft blankets, eyelet dresses that all adorn the shelves. Holding back is getting harder everyday.

Then there is this whole feeling of when will we get the baby for the weekend… How often will be able to see the baby… Should we move closer so we can take care of the baby if Kristin goes back to work?

It is nuts how these thoughts enter my brain especially since I have been yearning for non-baby, non-kid time for the last 10 years... ever since Abby was born.

I have been grateful to be finished with midnight wakings, dirty diapers and whiney two-year old tantrums and now I cannot wait for all it!

Being a grandma isn’t about age or life stages – it is realizing that you get to be the fun person in someone’s life. You get to actually enjoy a baby because for one: you know what you are doing but mostly, because the time you spend with your grandchild is limited and so it becomes cherished.

There are 7 more months to go and already I picture this little human running into grandma and grandpa’s to be spoiled rotten – wrapped around our fingers. Most of all, I know that we are already in love and head over heels for the grandchild we have yet to meet. 38 or not, I can’t wait to be a “grandma.”

Truths: Cheers to Company (Christmas) Holiday Parties

Through-out time, company “Christmas” parties or as they are affectionately called now so not to piss everyone else off, “Holiday” parties have proven to be both an intricate testament to a company’s benefit program as well as an event to rip off the tie and sing from table tops – both literally and figuratively!

With the recession as it is – many companies have cut back on parties. Instead of lavish settings in posh resorts, the party might be in the company office or break room. Instead of carving stations adorned with turkey and prime rib, there might be sandwiches and chips. And no band or DJ, just some Ipod music playing in the background.

Even before the recession took the “fun” out of annual Holiday parties, the issue of free alcohol at the events was scorned. It became nearly illegal to offer an open bar to employees. Thanks, in part, to our overly litigious legal system who argues: fully mature adults have no control over their bodies and don’t know how to say no when there is an open bar so the responsibility is placed on the company who offered a fancy party and dancing.

Which certainly would make a company question why they hired such stupid, immature people to work for them..

Anyway, for me, my husband’s company has kept all of the fun in the party. From the lavish ballroom to the posh resort and most importantly: the open bar.

Ahhhh, the open bar. It was like a savior to me this Saturday… and a demon to me on Sunday!

Lets start from the beginning… A few weeks back, I found my dress in an unlikely place. I was having a pair of jeans fixed… They needed a zipper… They needed a zipper because I bought them at TJ Maxx for $7. They fit great – but had no zipper. Now, some people would say I should not have bought them.. But did I say they fit great and were $7…

So, I took them to a bridal shop to have them fixed (I can’t even sew a button on) and while I was waiting, I found the most beautiful, funky dress. I tried it on and I loved it. I am not saying it was the most flattering – but I loved it so much I didn’t give a damn.

So, the dress was bought (the pants fixed) and I became excited about the party.

We went up Saturday afternoon to Lake Geneva and checked into our room. So, while the company is more than pleased to offer open bar to us they are also adamant about requiring the resort to make rooms available to us at 1/3 the cost. The company cares.

We checked in, dumped our stuff in the beautiful room with the lake view and opened the first of many beers for the night. We strolled around the resort running into friends and began out trip down not just the corridors but our trip down the drunk highway.

We dressed in our fancy clothes and met friends at the bar (why of course) had another drink and walked down to the ballroom where we were greeted with gift bags and table numbers. The room was set magnificently. Glorious centerpieces set on risers that looked like clear tubes filled with orange jello shots. (Damn, I never did get to try one!). Christmas trees lit up throughout the room. There was no cutbacks here.

And so the night began… and I drank… and I drank… and talked and laughed… and drank. And the music started and me and 10 other friends DANCED. DANCED. DANCED. (Did I mention I fell once… My friend, Edna, said it was because the dance floor was uneven… Yep, that is why she is my friend!)

As I was dancing like a freed dog from a small crate, I know others were talking trash to their supervisors… asking for that raise they never got or proposing some off the wall idea they never had the guts to talk about at work… at least not until they drank some liquid courage this evening.

My husband, a Management Team member, was moving his butt to the beat right next to the CFO… The Safety Director was hopping around the floor on one leg and the HR Manager was flirting with the head of Marketing… (some of this is embellished to make a point).

People who come to work each day, their nose to the ground, barely smiling are now at midnight acting as thought they entered a college frat party and are “getting down.”

They are having a blast. (This includes me).

Sure there will be some “stories” to talk about Monday at the coffee maker, but for a few hours a group of people who may never even talk 364 days of the year – are enjoying who they work with and are letting the walls and their hair (and even some of their skirts) down.

That has to be a lot more effective then some cliché “team training” session to encourage trust and productivity.

Maybe there aren’t any hangovers after team training…But, there certainly aren’t any good stories either that the group holds near their heart to protect each other from getting fired!

I am sure I have some good stories from Saturday..but for some reason I can’t seem to remember any of them… Must have flushed them down the toilet when I…… yesterday!

Truths: Santa Claus is Coming to Town…

So, I decided to play Santa yesterday and wrap all the presents I have bought already. Which, is about 85% of them. That, alone, is a miracle. I mean its only December 11th!

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I prefer on-line shopping. Amazon.com and I are like shopping buddies. Quite frankly, if they don’t have it at Amazon – I can hardly believe anyone needs it!

This isn’t a commercial for Amazon – and I don’t own any stock in the company – but they sure make shopping easy. I pick out my things – hit “okay,” and I am done. It is almost like I am getting them for FREE! (My husband would adamantly disagree!)

But, really, any on-line shopping when you live in the Midwest is the way to go. It was a blizzard here Wednesday and 4 degrees above 0 yesterday – so I spent my time shopping on-line.

Now I admit that it doesn’t seem like I am being productive… I mean in an hour I can have shopped for a ton of people… and yet, feel lazy. But, if I had dragged my butt out to the mall and shopped for 8 hours, I still might not have gotten 8 people’s gifts. On-line shopping is the way to go.

Some people complain about the shipping costs but two things: one, many of the sites offer free shipping (a plug for Amazon...again) and realistically, I believe that my time is money and driving around town costs gas. I think it is a wash.

Anyway, so most of my gifts are bought – which is a miracle – but the truly unbelievable thing is that I wrapped them all yesterday… to Christmas music!

I went down to my “wrapping room.” Yes, I really do have a “wrapping room!” I love wrapping presents for any occasion(except Christmas) and ask anybody I know… I keep every box, every ribbon, every gift bag, silk flowers, etc… all for when I will need them to wrap a special present. It is probably one of the few things about me that is Martha Stewart!

So, I am downstairs getting together all of my Christmas wrapping supplies and I am playing Christmas music! I am happy and content and actually enjoying what is usually a hurried task a day before Christmas!

I found myself singing along(something I could only do alone..ask my friend Kelly about how badly I sing!) and taking my time with each gift… and I even was fricking smiling! A red ribbon for that one, some tulle for that one… Each bow was tied perfect, each gift individually placed under the tree. Unlike other years where I bring them all up to the tree and nearly toss them in one giant throw!

Quite frankly, I don’t even know who I was yesterday! It was like I was in the “twilight zone” all afternoon long!

I actually found happiness in something I usually find frenzied and chaotic. I don’t know what is different about this year…what has inspired me to find peace in the holidays and to find time to sit back and take it all in. But, I love it.

This week has been busy: the decorating of the house, the making of the eventful Christmas card and the buying and wrapping of presents but I never felt overwhelmed, instead, I felt bliss.

I say all of this to rub it in… because I know most of you are running around like chickens with your heads cut off… fighting long lines at the mall, screaming at your kids to smile and on the verge of pulling the ladder out from underneath your husband with the hope of a large insurance policy!

I am gloating that I am enjoying this Christmas… but not only am I writing this to make you feel envious…I just wanted to say that if I can get here – anyone can… So, after you spend all your time fighting the Christmas spirit – take a deep breath and try to let it in. It really is quite amazing.

Tails: The Power of Many and the Magic of Christmas

All of the Christmas stuff is up, the lights outside are glowing on the house and, as you know, my Christmas picture is taken,. I am, now, enjoying the fire and taking in the beauty of Christmas (and still ordering on-line all of the presents!)

Sure, we went from 50 degrees 10 inches of snow and below zero temps in less that a week. But, I have a little story that will melt your heart and inspire all of us about the magic of Christmas and the wonder of human nature.

A few days after Thanksgiving, a stray dog was found in Milwaukee, WI and brought to the animal control facility.

He was a small shaggy, friendly dog and with all the luck in to world he had his rabies tag on.

He was from Arkansas! They contacted the appropriate people and found the owners! He had been gone since Thanksgiving day.

However, there was no way for the family to get to Milwaukee… so numerous people got involved to find this little dog a way back to his family.

Close friends of mine, Susan and Jody, contacted an organization called Pilots and Paws. They are a group of pilots who donate their time to fly rescued animals across the country.

Pilots and Paws was happy to help get this little guy back to his family. And, on December 5th, the scrappy littlle stray was returned to his family in Arkansas at the local airport.

The 5 year old little girl was beyond elated to have her doggy back.

No one has any idea how he made it all the way to Milwaukee. But, the most important thing is that he made it all the way home with the unwavering help of so many people who wanted nothing more than to see this dog reunited with his owners and just in time for Christmas.

Sometimes, I am skeptical of miracles, but today my spirit is renewed. It is an amazing world out there and this really is a magical time of the year.

Truths: Smile!

A picture is worth a thousand words, right?? Well, yesterday with the holiday decorations up and a light layer of snow gracing the ground – it seemed like a perfect time to take: “The Christmas Card” picture.

Okay, yeah it was an ideal setting – but let’s face it, I am running out of time to get the picture, have them printed and mail them out. Ideal time or not: yesterday was THE day.

So, in preparation, my daughter and I scoped out the location in the yard, we dressed the dogs in their winter coats, leashed them and happily ventured out for what we envisioned as a fun time ahead.

Now, we have FOUR dogs – this is not an easy feat by any stretch of the imagination but we went about it in a joyous manner. We have done it before and just like childbirth, you forget how very painful it was.

So, we let the dogs run around as we set up the chair for Abby and I shot a few pictures to see how our masterpiece would turn out.

Abby sits down and I start to bring her the dogs. She is very knowledgeable about how this works: she knows she will have to hold on to their leashes because our dogs don’t listen and “sit and stay.” She also knows the trick is for her to continue to smile the whole time so that if and when the dogs actually all look at the camera at the same time, I can take the photo.

Well, yesterday was anything but easy. The minute we got the dogs settled next to Abby and about ready for the photo shoot – a school bus pulled up and the dogs went nuts, then a neighbor started shoveling the driveway…and more craziness.

Abby was screaming at the dogs and I was screaming at Abby to just SMILE! It was more a scene out of “Mommy Dearest” than it was a scene from “A Dickens Christmas.”

This is what holiday memories are made of, right?

The littlest dog, Penelope, sat on Abby’s lap – which irritated Abby because her paws were wet. (Penelope is our most recent rescue. I bought her at an Amish Puppy Mill auction where she had been bred for 4 ½ years, living in a wire cage. She had 13 teeth removed and had to be shaved down because she was in such bad shape… This is why I preach – Adopt don’t shop for a pet.)

Anyway, Thorp (Our first puppy mill rescue was a breeding dog for 4 years and suffered various infections and illnesses and had teeth removed from gum disease.) was jumping on Abby and getting her wet.

Thus, her heartwarming facial expression in this classic Christmas photo.

This is the picture I wanted to use for our family photo – because, lets face it, this is how the picture taking goes.

Dressing kids (and dogs) in outfits they despise and putting them in uncomfortable positions to get that card that will wow your friends and far away family. We take these pictures as though they are the real us – who we are on a daily basis.

But, as we take the pictures of what we call our normal life – we are propping and primping and screaming things like: “You are grounded if you don’t cooperate, no dessert if you don’t smile, I don’t care that your sweater itches…”

This image we create is so far from who we are on a daily basis that all we do is fight the whole time through.

Yesterday was like that for us as is so obvious in this picture. After 18 shots, we called it quits not even caring if anty of them were good. We walked into the house and I said, “Boy was that ever fun!”

To which Abby just stomped up the steps to her room and the dogs fled the foyer and ran to their beds.

Abby wouldn’t let me use this picture for the cards. “Any one but that one,” she said

So, I chose one where everyone looked happy and serene. It must have been a brief moment when the shouting stopped and everyone forgot who they really are!

Truths: Deck the Halls

So, this weekend was all about decorating our home for the holidays. It sounds so warm and fuzzy – so Normal Rockwell or Martha Stewart.

I don’t know about the rest of you but, for us, putting up the lights, garland, and all the other crap – just isn’t so glorious or memory making.

Even though I might come across as a “bah humbug” type of person – I have over 22 tubs of Christmas garb not to mention 6 Christmas trees and numerous large snowmen, etc. I have A LOT.

And, that really shines through as my husband and I trudge up and down the basement stairs bringing up containers and finding a place for them. It is about then that I wonder, silently to myself, because I know my husband is already thinking it: “Why the Hell do I have so much stuff?”

If carrying the insane amount of tubs up at least one flight of stairs, sometimes two, wasn’t enough – then lets move outside to the lights.

Sure, the previous two weekends have been in the 50’s. Beautiful weather to be outside and string lights. But, for us, those weekends were filled with commitments – so we were left with this weekend: overcast with a high of 30! Go figure.

Last year our icicle lights finally hit the end of the their life so we threw them all out and decided to get new ones “next year” – which is this year.

Since we just had our entire front porch bricked and new columns made - a rather “Curb Appeal” makeover for HGTV fans – (and since it cost us nearly every penny we had) I wanted to show it off and do something better.

Something I could picture but, of course, my husband could not. He looked at me like I was dreaming up some crazy concoction which would end up being his very nightmare.

I guess it was his nightmare for a few moments as we wound lights around thick greenery. I could tell he was unsure.

While that went unusually well – all the lights continued to light up even after they were hung, we moved on to the ugliest tree in the world.

We have this completely misfit evergreen tree. I had always wanted to showcase it as a “Charlie Brown” tree and this year we finally did. We found the largest light bulbs there are and my dear husband risked his life to string them. We added one of those blow ups of Snoopy in front of it (everyone has one of those blow-ups!) and BAM – it was as ugly and as beautiful as I had hoped.

Two of the inside 6 six trees ended up in the front window downstairs and one of the windows upstairs as four new pre-lit wreathes in all of the 2nd floor windows.

All of which my husband initially despised… until night came upon us and he walked to the end of the driveway and looked back.

He was amazed. And, I was gleaming as bright as the house. “Have a little faith in me,” I said.

It was better than an “I told you so,” right?

So, the outside of our house is done – just in time because it snowed last night! And all of the miscellaneous stuff is up inside but we (I) still have two trees to decorate. And, I am exhausted.

Which brings me back to the Normal Rockwell scenario… There was no time this weekend to put on an apron (I don’t even own one) and bake cookies while the rest of the family did the decorations. There was no time to sit by the fire and admire the beauty of the season.

I wasn’t sitting with a cup of hot cocoa writing out Christmas cards to send (I don’t even have my damn holiday picture done yet)

No, we lit an evergreen candle, ordered in pizza and passed out watching football. All of us just relieved that “it” was all done.

Me, secretly, wondering, “Why the Hell do we put ourselves through this every year?”

For the memories, I know – but are the memories of joy and noel or are they of trudging up and downstairs with tubs and untangling lights?

That is a hard call.

Truths: Cuts of the Day

It’s a big day for me…. I am getting my haircut. Sure, it happens nearly every 6 weeks or so, but each time it does – well, it is a big day.

I have had long hair, short hair, permed hair, bleached hair – you name it I have done it. Many of it with regret. Especially, when I look back at the pictures and think, “What the Hell?” Particularly – a few from college – where I certain my hair is made of melted gold!

I have naturally curly hair (Thanks to my dad) so just think about me with a perm? Huh?

My hair is a really an ugly version of blonde and it is getting worse every year. What used to glisten is dull – and oh, the grey that is showing up.

So, I highlight my hair – or “foil” it as they say these days. Today, even though it is winter, (It snowed last night about 2 inches. UGH!) I want my hair more blonde. No matter how old I get or how my hair changes naturally – I will forever consider myself a blonde – so when I look in the mirror – my hair better be blonde – Damn it!

But what about the cut today? I just don’t know and I have about 2 hours to figure it out. Its not like I have endless options – my hair is on the short side so I have to work with that.

Did I mention my hair looked good yesterday. Isn’t that always the way it goes? One day you wake up and look at your hair and think, “OMG, I totally need a haircut!”

So, you rush to call your stylist and beg to get in as soon as possible. And, then, BAM, the day before you are going to make drastic changes you love your hair!

I think its Murphy’s Law!

Luckily, for me, while yesterday’s hair looked great – this morning’s hair does not. Guess it was a good call to get it cut.

Even though I am still unsure about the cut, I have one thing in my favor: I have had the same stylist for a really long time.

Getting to that point was agony. I would find someone whom I liked and I would go for a while and then something would go wrong. Either the stylist would quit or move away or one even went a little crazy.

I have driven up to over an hour – one way – just to go to a stylist I liked.

But none of them ever lasted long enough for them to get used to my hair. To understand what it will and will not do and to care enough about what I really wanted.

I have that now. Heather is amazing and she understands my hair. She explains, in a kind way, when the picture of a style I bring in is never going to work for me. She knows that it takes numerous amount of thinning out my hair for me to be happy. My hair is unbelievably thick. (Thanks to my mom)

And, for the first time in my life, I can honestly tell her if I don’t like it.

That’s a big thing, isn’t it? We all tend to go into a salon with high hopes only to all too often come out in tears (after paying a lot of money). However, the tears are held back until we are in our car and going home. We never tell the stylist. We feel bad and so we suck it up and hope that when we get home and wash our own hair and style it – we can make it work.

Truthfully, unless I am getting my straightened by a stylist – I always feel like I can do a better job with my hair when I get home and re-wash it. Even though I just paid a $100 for them to do it!

I still am haunted by a time in college when I cam back home and my mom drove me to the stylist – I explained what I wanted but she took the liberty to do it her way. When she was done I looked like I was from the 80’s (it was the 90’s). My hair was “feathered” like Farrah Fawcett. I held back the tears and as I was paying – Jim walked in. He was a really good friend and we were starting to “date.” I was completely mortified! It seemed he stopped by the house and my dad told him where I was so he said he would pick me up.

When I got in his car, I couldn’t hold back any longer and started to ball my eyes out. He was so sweet and said that it looked fine… He just had to be lying!

For women a haircut day is a big day every time they go in… for men, not so much. My husband, who is somewhat bald, walks into one of the haircut chains, sits down and walks out in 10 minutes. And even though he is bald, I know this is the same scenario with men who have a full head of hair.

Men don’t buy magazines or search the internet for their new style – have you ever seen a magazine at the newsstand with haircuts for men? No, they just walk in and walk out as fast as it takes us to write the whooping check for the haircut we don’t like.

Another interesting dynamic of us getting our hair done is the intimate conversations we have with our stylists. Sometimes, I feel like Heather knows more about my life than my closest friends. I think stylists are like bartenders – we somehow melt in their hands and are entranced as they cut and foil our hair making us spill our darkest secrets.

The truth is: when I get my hair done – I am there for over 3 hours. Yep, 3 hours. It is literally like a ½ day hiatus from the world. So, how could I sit in a chair for that long and not end up chatting about my entire life?

So, in two hours my hiatus will begin and hopefully it will end in elation and not tears.

Tails: A Garbage Find

Yesterday a friend of mine told me a story that warmed my heart. I am so darn cynical of the world when it comes to animal welfare and these types of stories give me hope.

My friend works at a nearby country club and apparently, there was a cat who always hung around – looking for attention and always begging for food.

Often, they would find the cat fighting in the garbage dump with the raccoons for food.

The club employees treated her as a member and did small things to help her out.

One day at a dentist convention, my friend noticed one of the male dentists sitting out on a stoop petting the cat. He was there for over 20 minutes.

The next thing she knew – the man took a picture of the cat with his phone and sent it to his wife. Immediately they both agreed the cat should come home with him.

After the cat got to her new home, the couple was diligent and brought her to the vet for shots, spaying and grooming. But, they also found at the vet that the cat was microchipped – she had a home – or at least she used to.

The microchip revealed the previous owner’s information and amazingly enough the family was still there and had lost the cat a year ago and assumed the worst: she had died.

The cat’s companion was a little girl who had been heartbroken when her cat ran away. I can only imagine her surprise when her cat came back home.

While perhaps a bit disappointed that the cat wouldn’t be theirs to keep, the couple was thrilled to have brought the cat and her family back together again.

The story reads like a Hallmark movie, doesn’t it… But, it is a real story and that renews my faith in people helping animals.

Speaking of Hallmark movies… If you didn’t have a chance to see the one last Sunday, “A Dog Named Christmas,” an adaptation of the book by Greg Kincaid, it had an endearing message: foster a dog for Christmas.

This is a relatively new concept but local shelters and rescues are allowing people to take home dogs for the holidays so that they can enjoy Christmas, too.

There are a number of reasons for this besides giving the dog a Merry Christmas… Many people are overwhelmed by the thought of getting a dog and while they might want one they are unsure if they can handle the responsibility. This program offers them the opportunity with no strings attached.

And, of course, the second reason is the hope that the foster home will fall in love with the dogs and want to adopt him or her.

I believe the last objective is highly likely seeing that out of the number of fosters I have done – I ended up adopting most of them!

I also think this project gives people a chance to see what a rescue dog is like. People often assume the worse about these dogs – that they have a lot of baggage or aren’t well behaved. All of which is usually untrue.

Sure there are dogs in need of adoption who are plagued by their past – but those types of dogs end up in homes like mine and other crazy people who are always trying to save the ones with the most problems.

After working in a shelter, I can honestly say that so many of the dogs are darn good dogs for any family. Some of them are even purebreds who either ran away and were never found – or were given up by their families for a number of reasons.

Lastly, there are always so many older dogs in need… so even if its just for the holidays – and older dog would thoroughly enjoy a few calm days in a home, away from the noise and concrete floors. Sure older dogs come with the baggage of their near mortality – but in whatever years they have left – they offer nothing but unconditional love and endless kisses.

By the way… black dogs and black cats are the least likely to ever get adopted… Please keep that in mind if and when you go to adopt.

So, at three weeks left to Christmas Eve – please keep fostering (or adopting) a dog for the holidays in your heart…

Like the dentist and the garbage cat – you never know when you will be part of a miracle.

Truths: The Skinny on Lingerie

So, last night, as I began my ritual of sit-ups and push-ups… (Which I started because my husband and I are going to the Bahamas in February…) I turned on the TV only to find unbelievably beautiful angels strutting their stuff.

Yes, it was the Victoria's Secret fashion show live in NY City. The Black-Eyed Peas were belting out the “Boom, Boom..” song and these women were flaunting extremely imaginative lingerie.

As I laid down on the carpet to start my sit-ups, this blonde, beautiful, skinny woman graced the runway , and I didn’t know if that made me want to do the sit-ups more – or say “@#&* it!”

I mean is that motivation or is it the glaring truth in front of me – that at nearly 40 – I am never going to look like that – even if I do 1000 sit-ups a night. Maybe if I did 1000 sit-ups, ran 20 miles a day and never ate again… And, even that is a maybe.

As these perfect women modeled amazing outfits, I got to thinking.

Its not a revelation by any means… people have been discussing this issue forever: what are these ads and shows saying to regular people? Is skinny the only kind of beautiful?

I started to (try) picture regular size women in the lingerie… people more like me (But better toned). And, as horrible as it sounds – I wouldn’t like it. Me, in barely there clothing, walking a glimmering stage?

That is not even MY fantasy!

But, if people, like me, became more of the norm, would I then find it as beautiful and eye catching?

Or, is the actual truth, that I want to be those women even though I know I never will be. Even though, I am intelligent enough to know, deep down, that I don’t have to look like that to be successful and loved.

But, I still want to be… And when I buy lingerie (which I really don’t anymore – it is all about t-shirts and comfy pajama bottoms) the truth is- I want to imagine my self as perfect and as seductive as the models on TV or in the magazines or in the catalogs…

I mean, would I even consider the lingerie if I knew I would really still be “me” when I wore it?

Would our significant others be less drawn to lingerie if regular people wore it in the catalogs?

I venture to think that they are looking for the fantasy us..not the real us…And, I guess I don’t blame them – How can I if I want the same thing?

There was time in my life where I would have wrote those models off as anorexic and dinghy… But, I admit, now, that I find them beautiful and I am envious of them.

No, I don’t ever expect to look like them – or to model skimpy lingerie in front of millions of gawking eyes…

But, at 38, unbelievably, they have become an inspiration for me…I wouldn’t try to become them – but they do offer me the motivation to be better than I am. To skip the Doritos and the M&M’s and to eat fruit and vegetables. They push me to do that extra sit-up and to get off my butt and go on the treadmill.

They make me want to be better – healthier – more fit.

I know, as a mother of an 11 year old daughter, that it is important to make her feel secure in her own body – to make her feel good about who she is on the inside. To watch her closely for eating disorders and emotional disorders often brought on by the ads of skinny, beautiful women.
And, I already do that by validating her as a person and reassuring her that she is beautiful.

But for me, at my age, those assertive, skinny ass models are my carrot to living a better life – full of exercise, healthy eating and self-confidence to feel good about who I am.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Truths: 11 Years Ago

Today is my daughter’s 11th birthday… Which, of course, causes a bit of reflection on the last 11 years…

And, of course, the one event that can’t go without mention is the actual day of birth. For 9 months or less (since we all tend not to know until we go months without our period making every excuse in the book why it hasn’t come yet) we are told what an exciting time this is, how lucky we are.

There are beautiful baby showers full of gifts: most you have no clue how to use. There are all those “kind” people who feel the desperate need to feel your belly and comment how they never gained “that much weight.”

Once you are pregnant – you become everyone’s business – practically, a human science experiment.

And that’s not even the worse part… For me… I was puking my guts out for most of the pregnancy. I looked like Hell – and certainly did not have that cute little basketball that looks supermodel perfect in hot maternity clothes. No, my ass and my legs and my face got just as round as my belly.

The real clincher was seeing the movie on delivery. We left the Lamaze class that day – and I cried the whole way home… “There HAS to be another way to get this baby out,” I said to my husband. “I am NOT doing it.”

As if we have any control over it.

On December 1st, my water broke at 7am and by 9am we were at the hospital. Everything was going well until I got that first contraction. OMG… you have to be kidding me.

My wonderful nurse came in and I said, “Is it going to get worse than this?” To which she replied, “Do you hear that woman in the next room (SCREAMING)? That is how bad it is going to get.”

I asked for the epidural.

The epidural is my hero, my savior and everything in-between. After that, my entire labor was perfect. Abby was perfect… And lucky for me – it is all on video so I can watch it again and again. Definitely something to have popcorn with…and a few shots of Tequilla!

I won’t talk about the days that followed… no one ever does. And, there are a lot of reasons for that…

But, I will say that that day seems like just yesterday. I don’t know where all the years have gone: first haircut, first tooth, preschool, riding a bike, taking the bus, whole days of school. So many monumental firsts and still so many more to happen.

There were days that I longed for some alone time, some quiet time…time not taken by hauling around a 2 year old and trying to find a dress or a gift… But now, I have all that quiet time. Abby is busy with soccer and friends and basketball and friends.

It is amazing to see her grow-up – to start to see the adult she will become. To see her friends and to picture them friends at 16. It becomes nearly impossible to believe that she was ever a part of me – growing..

Next year she goes to Jr. High… I have never cried when Abby started to school… But there is something about Jr. High that is so scary for me… The boys, the secrets, the hormones.

Most of all I know – that if history repeats itself and I get a kid just like the one I was… (our parents always threaten us with that) There are going to be some major blow-outs between her and I… And that is going to be hard… maybe even harder than labor.

So, today we celebrate her birthday – the fact that she is here with us and we are blessed to have her. We are happy for all the memories and we look forward to all the amazing things that are yet to happen.

And quietly, I celebrate that I never have to go through labor again… because even after 11 years – I remember it like it was yesterday!

Tails and Truths: Being Thankful

Well, it was a long weekend in honor of Thanksgiving and as the days went by and we enjoyed being with our grown-up kids at our cabin – I couldn’t help but think of some of the things I am thankful for.

Besides the yummy turkey and fattening gravy – are things we often take for granted. Being alive for one…sometimes life gets in the way of living. We are running around working, caring for our families, and making ends meet that we forget that we are alive and have the ability to pursue the things we are passionate about. No matter how busy we allow our lives to become – it is important to take a breath and cherish the mere fact that we are alive and that we do have control of how we spend our time here.

I am especially thankful for my family and friends who have come to love me as I am and embrace the crazy things I am passionate about… writing, saving dogs, being free spirited. These wonderful people in my life have supported me through many hard moments – even this year when my oldest brother passed away in a tragic boating accident. They came together and showed their love in so many ways that I was amazed…and grateful.

I am thankful for my daughters… Abby, at only 11(tomorrow) is such a generous spirit and an amazing artist – always creating. Lindsey, is a free spirit… anxious to see the world and accomplish her dreams. Kristin, is a loving spirit…with a big heart and a desire to have a family to nurture.

There is that unbelievable relationship with my ex-husband, his wife and their two girls who I treasure everyday. My friendship with Carol is so dear no matter how nuts it seems to others. And I feel so fortunate to be able to call Molly and Lucy my family… to be a part of their lives and watch them grow.

And, it would not be “me” if I didn’t also mention something I am thankful for that caught me a bit off guard this weekend. Yesterday, a friend of mine, Susan, and I went to help a shelter up by our cabin who was recently inundated with nearly 100 animals due to a seizure from a home that was unlivable. It is a small non-profit shelter in a county which is not full of resources or money. Taking on this many animals could financially bankrupt them. Not to mention they are completely short of manpower to care for all the animals.

When I arrived, I was so surprised by the shelter and how well it was managed and how well the animals were cared for. Blankets, toys, lots of food and, it was obvious, lots of love. I had envisioned a place somewhat run down and barely caring for the animals… Mostly, because of the geographic location.

As we cleaned cages and fed animals, I was continuously amazed by the operation. And, I became so thankful. Thankful that there are so many people around the globe who are truly caring about all of these homeless animals. I often become so skeptical of the world when I continue to see such neglect and cruelty that I forget how many wonderful people there are out there who are helping the voiceless animals and ending their suffering and giving them that second chance.

Being at that shelter and realizing the actual humanity in our world, has made me truly thankful for being alive, right now, today… and has given me hope for being alive…tomorrow.

Truths: Nine is More than a Number

Last night, as is tradition, 6 of my 9 college friends got together for dinner. We go back to sharing a huge house in college at U of I senior year where, even with 9 girls, we all got our own room.

The house was on Busey street and whether be by default or by creative design we coined ourselves the Busey Girls.

A whole year we had together – to talk, laugh, cry, and share practically everything about our lives.

There were so many moments where we would be lounging in our family room watching 90210 and some us would come and go… But, always staying for a spell to chat and to listen.

I didn’t realize then how very special all of it was. How incredible it was to have access to 8 friends nearly 24/7.

I never realized that that was the only time in my life I would be blessed with that scenario. Graduation would come and go and I found myself living alone.

Luckily, even though those days of chatter and laughs are gone, the 9 of us have done a great job of keeping in touch. We have made quite the effort to get together for dinner or a girly sleepover (where we kick everyone else in our household out) or even go on long weekend getaways.

Whether we have children 3 months to 12 years old, or are working full-time, we have made the effort to be there.

5 of us live in the relatively same area, 1 of us lives about 4 hours away and the other two are in different states altogether. But, each of us has kept in touch – thank goodness for email.

So, last night 6 of us were able to get to dinner. There were 25 emails leading up to the event out, but in the end everyone who could – made it.

Granted we couldn’t do it before 8pm – because some had to go to teacher conferences, some had basketball practice, and some had paid jobs…

But at 8pm, like clockwork, everyone started drizzling in. And, within minutes, we were seated ordering cocktails and talking – lots of talking.

Kate filled us in our her unbelievable life as a full-time attorney and the antics of the three boys (TRIPLETS)… Plus one on the way…something none of us could imagine!

There was talk of PTOs (parent teacher organization). Questions like: how much fundraising is enough, what to do with a mom who is driving you nuts on a committee, etc…

What to do with a child who has no interest in reading..

The thesis of a paper for Tina’s PhD…

And the list of conversation goes on and on – for over 4 hours and until we were the very last table at the Cheesecake factory. They must close at midnight!

I guess the topics of our conversation aren’t especially important – it’s the mere fact that we are there having them.

We have been out of college for 16 years and not a month has gone by that we aren’t sharing emails or planning time to get together.

I recently read that if you can maintain a friendship until 40, that friendship will last the rest if your life… One more year to go!

The most amazing thing about our friendship is that we are the most diverse group of friends you can imagine.. from conservative Catholic to free spirit Atheist we are sometimes a millions miles apart in beliefs.

But, regardless, our differences have brought so much color to our friendship.

There are 9 Busey Girls – which means there are 8 women I am grateful to know and to share my life with. There are many days I long for the hours I took for granted back in that family room spread out on the sofas, watching 90210 surrounded by dear fiends.

But, as Tina ended the night with: “When are we going to Florida to stay at Becky’s parents?”

Soon Tina… Soon. ☺

Truths: The Mop and the Bucket

Today is not an exciting day for me...or maybe it is. For the last few weeks, I have been committed to a bunch of meetings. I am involved in a Garden Club (I know it kinda makes me giggle too) and somehow I found myself on THREE committees - all with the same deadline.

There was the Train Station Beautification committee, the decorate a tree for our Opera House comittee, and then I co-chaired our first fundraiser. All of these things came together last week. And yesterday, after decorating the tree (and almost getting in the holiday spirit), I found myself FREE. No more meetings.

So, when I came home from my taste of the holidays, I came home to a house that is a complete disaster! Its funny how once you become busy and your regular schedule is thrown out the window - things fail to get done. Things don't seem to get put away and all of a sudden - your whole house has spiraled into a damn tornado of dirt, stuff and chaos!

That is where I find myself today... And yet, while I am dreading the hard work it will take to fix this - there is a part of me that just longs to put my life back in order - to gain control again.

I have four dogs and three cats - and it just doesn't work not having time to vacuum or mop. The hair that floats around this house is enough to cover a cow and keep him warm.

The sun light hits the wooden floors and it looks like I haven't vacuumed in two years (even if I did do it yesterday - which I didn't - but I usually do).

There are muddy footprints and dog toys strewn all across the floors. And as I take it all in, I notice that all four dogs and three cats are happily lounging on the sofa and the big chair. Oh - to be so content with your own mess.

I also have a daughter who apparently has a hard time taking her ice cream bowl to the sink. Whose crafts are all drying on the kitchen table that her 4 pairs of shoes are under!

To inspire my cleaning day, I did purchase a throw rug for our family room. We have been without ever since one of the dogs was horribly sick... I won't go into detail about what that was like. I will just say - we definitely needed a new rug. There was no saving the last one.

I also had my husband bring up some tables from the basement which we hadn't been using. I needed some excitement to clean - some type of change to satisfy me when I am done.

I am nuts like this - always re-arranging and trying new things in my house. It keeps me alive and it drives the rest of my family bonkers!

(Though I think this attempt might just be procrastination from putting up the Christmas tree and dragging up all the decorations!)

This need to clean, to maintain some control by having an organized home didn't start until much later in life. Gosh, ask my best friend, Kelly, what our dorm was like.

No, I wasn't always this clean - I think shows like Oprah and HGTV's episodes on clutter have forced me to get my act in order.

So, today I stare down my mess and I take back my house! And, tonight I will be calmer and happier and relieved - Until tomorrow when I notice a furball floating in the corner and I pick up shoes and now, have to vacuum that new rug!

Truths: A Surprise behind the Surprise

So, this Saturday I attended a 40th surprise party – in fact, I even planned it. The birthday girl was completely caught off guard and the whole thing turned out near perfect: if I may so say myself!

The planning started months ago and we created a theme: 1969! Not to mention that we actually live in the town of Woodstock.

We had tye-dye tapestries and my friend, Debbie, who also helped with the planning, and I wore crazy $6 dresses we got at Target. I had flowers in my hair and a peace sign on my face.

And to our amazement – so many of the other guests really did take the theme seriously and dressed up. Wigs, bell bottoms, platform shoes – the whole bit. Which made it that much more fun.

We had these cool peace sign cookies and of course, a batch of “special” brownies and bowls of “magic” mushrooms (PRETEND ONES). It helped that we were also at a bowling alley that had to be around in 1969 and hasn’t changed much since.

But, real surprise is that the party, that I planned, was for my ex-husband’s wife, Carol. Yep, you read that right – my ex-husband’s wife.

It is so hard to explain something that people can never get their arms around. Somehow, amongst all the raw emotions that take place during a divorce and its aftermath, Carol and I became friends.

I don’t just mean acquaintances who tolerate one another when family situations arise. I mean full fledged good friends who share most everything about their lives.

She is there for me everyday. We talk all of the time and we live in the same neighborhood. She knows when I am having a bad day and knows when I am overwhelmed with life and gets me through them.

We have dinners at their home and we celebrate birthdays together. We do everything friends would do and yet, our relationship is so hard for people to believe.

I am certain that when people saw the invitations and read my name – they gasped – a little… Or silently questioned why?


I wanted to plan Carol’s party because she wanted one (even though she really never came out and said it). I wanted to plan a party because she is my friend and she turned 40 – and that is what friends do.

So, behind the actual surprise of the party – is the surprise of who planned it.

I blog about this because I just thing people should realize the possibility: what if ex-spouses really did get along and found a place in their lives for the new spouses…

What if it wasn’t about the hurt and the anger anymore and was about the potentially harmonious future?

I am not saying what we have would work for everyone but I am saying that it is definitely something people should consider.

It is unbelievable the real surprises that could be in store…

Truths: Ho Ho... ugh

Five weeks from today is Christmas… It really doesn’t matter that next week is Thanksgiving. Merchants don’t care that we haven’t even digested our turkey dinners. They have been clearing the aisles and putting up Christmas trees before the Halloween candy was even handed out.

We wonder why we don’t feel the spirit of Christmas anymore – why we don’t enjoy the holidays (why do we even say that as though it were plural? We don’t get to celebrate Thanksgiving and who cares about New Years… After Santa makes his last drop, the Valentine cards and candy are out enticing young lovers)

Even TV has rushed us through the holidays. We watched Greys Anatomy last night and they were already ringing in the new year! I guess Seattle doesn’t even celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas. Maybe it’s too rainy?

Anyway, I actually love getting gifts and truly love, even more, giving them, so Christmas should be a perfect time for me.

But, I find myself overwhelmed by the holiday. Frantically begging my kids for wish lists and scurrying around box stores and the internet to grab whatever I can find that will bring my family joy.

A new shirt, a webcam, a TV, a DVD, itunes… the list goes on. And deep down I know, we all know, it’s not those things that bring anyone lasting happiness.

For a fleeting moment, maybe even 24 hours, there is joy but before the tree is ever taken down – that moment is gone.

It doesn’t mean I won’t keep scurrying around like a crazy squirrel frantic to hide that last nut before snowfall.. I will be… but,I am left to ponder how to make this Christmas more meaningful for my friends, my family and even me.

Sure we could help at a soup kitchen or feed and walk the shelter dogs on Christmas day, but there has to be something that can inspire us from within ourselves.

I think whether it be Christmas or not, we are all searching for that “thing” that will fill a void we feel in our soul. Our lives have become so entangled with TIVO and texting and emailing that we have forgotten what it is like to sit on the front porch and watch the world go by or to sit in front of a Christmas tree with some hot chocolate and sigh, realizing how lucky we are to even just “be.”

This year as the UPS truck pulls into my driveway and the bags from Walmart stack up in the wrapping room…I am going to make a commitment to take a moment now and then to just “be” and to attempt to find the joy and the magic in the holidayS.

I think that if I take those moments here and there, not only will I actually enjoy Christmas and calm my soul, but I will be able to share my newfound holiday spirit with the people around me: my family and friends and encourage them to do the same.

Tails: Unseen Efforts

This Saturday a group of my fellow rescuers are going into a mill in northern Wisconsin to save 34 dogs. They come in all breeds, sexes and sizes, but they share one thing in common: their lives have been spent making puppies for those places we call petstores.

It is a horrible life for them.

One of the rescuers has already gone into the mill to check out the dogs and prepare breed rescues for the shape these dogs are in. Yes, these dogs are in wire cages with wire bottoms and pooping on the dogs below them. They have been served cheap food and dirty water. And have never had one ounce of human affection.

And, most of them will have health issues such as bad teeth, viral infections and, all of them will need to be groomed. On top of the potentially fixable health problems will be the behavioral scars they all share and curing those will takes unconditional love and patience.

I know most people only see this kind of stuff on Oprah and tend to believe that these are isolated situations. But, I am here to tell you they are not. Nearly everyday I get emails about a mill closing or a puppy miller calling to "get rid" of the dogs because he has no use for them.

The conditions people see in newspaper stories or TV - aren't exaggerations - they are real and they are everywhere.

Nobody is out to get stores like Petland because they have poor customer service - it is because they are getting their dogs from these horrible places and selling them to unknowing people for LOTS of money.

I am not here to preach (okay maybe a little). I am here to sincerely express this is real.

This Saturday a group a rescuers are committing their time, their money (or that begged from friends like mine) to save these dogs that too few people believe are actually out there.

There are mass transports set-up to get these dogs to all the shelters and rescues who have stepped up to help. It is a tireless effort and the worse part of all is that no matter how many we save - people still don't believe it is true: the number of puppy mills out there and the conditions these dogs live in.

We are not crazy animal rights people... we don't expect every dog to sleep on a couch and have chicken for dinner - but we do expect dignity for dogs and the right to basic necessities.

This Saturday people are committing everything they have to save these dogs - all I ask is that people begin to believe this is real. There are 34 dogs who will prove it this Saturday and thousands more still waiting to be saved.

Truths: Sick Days

So, I had big plans for today... Some blogging, some working out, a meeting, and just other things to get done... But, when we awoke this morning, my daughter's stomach hurt and well, she puked.

As she flushed the toilet, it was as though she was flushing all my plans down too.

Stay at home moms often get the, "Oh..." when people ask what they do for a living. As though our lives are comprised of laundry, homework, and cleaning the house. And, of course, between those responsibilities we are eating bon bons and watching soaps and... shopping.

Working moms may shun us when our kids are sick because at least we are home to take care of them and we don't have to miss work.

It is so untrue. Stay at homes are the masters of scheduling, the ideal creators of time management and experts at multi-tasking. Our entire identity depends on these skills and our household runs like a well oiled machine because we are good at our jobs.

I am not inferring that we are better than working moms... I was a working mom. It was hard and exhausting, but between 8am and 5pm, I had life all my own. I had lunches out and conversations with adults. I was challenged each day without seeking purpose. I loved my job and quite frankly, I loved that I was an accomplishing adult for 40 hours every week.

But, when I chose to stay home, all of that changed. Carpools, laundry, cleaning - they aren't challenging. Instead they are mindless activities and so, I had to find ways to expose myself to challenges. I had to develop my own goals - I no longer had a job to do that for me.

It is hard as stay at home mom - or any mom at all - to identify what you want to do with your life. Beyond the day-to-day, you have to reach down into your soul and ask hard questions. Such as: what else is there for me, what am I seeking, and am I not going after it because I am scared?

Writing a novel (my dream), running a marathon, starting a non-profit... what exactly do we want and how will we get there?

Amongst the volunteering at the schools, and picking up kids at soccer - we are strapped with the yearning to make more of our lives. Because, staying at home isn't enough for the world... and usually, it is not enough for us either.

So, my plans are altered today - not because I have a paying job and have to stay home. But, because even though I am home, my plans to change the world are not going to start today.

Tails: The Unchosen

Last night as my family sat around watching Dancing with the Stars and I was laying on the couch with our newest puppy mill dog, Penelope, I began to think about all of our dogs.

I know there are so many people out there who have this ideal about what breed of dog they want and how old they want it to be. If they want a male or a female. They research temperaments and grooming needs. They read about how much exercise the dog will need and if it will be good with children. These people search high and low for the dog of their dreams.

I guess for the most part, in the end, these people are happy with their choices and I do believe that it is an excellent idea to do the homework before getting any dog.

But, I can't help thinking when I look at my 4 rescued dogs - that I ended up with the unchosen. No one wanted these dogs - they were not anyone's dream. In fact, two of them, the puppy mill breeding dogs, never even had a chance to be someone's puppy.

They became a part of our family by chance.
Buddy, a true mutt, - a couple didn't want any longer and he just happened to land in our home.

Sadie, a mutt, I saw on Petfinder in a 1 inch photo and drove 16 hours round trip to get her. I had no idea what she was like - I barely knew what she looked like. But, when I got to the foster home, there was turning back. Even though she looked nothing like her photo and seemed kind of nippy.

Thorp, the male mill breeding dog was completely fate. I went to my first mill auction to protest and when I walked in the auction barn and saw all of the hundreds of dogs for auction: it took my breath away. But, when I walked up to #171's cage something struck me deep inside. This dog was a mess - he was gross and pathetic - and without knowing anything about him - I bought him for $60.00

I never had a Chinese Crested Powder Puff, I didn't even know what one was. But no one at the auction wanted him, except me.

Lastly, the most amazing story, is Penelope. a Shih Tzu. As a group of rescuers, we had been attending these auctions to try and save the used up breeding dogs whose only other fate would be death. There is a list that comes out with an auction number and a line that says, "sex, age, breed." That is it. No pictures, no description.

A friend of mine looked at the list and said, "Number 146 is for you."

So, I went to the auction and saw 146 and got her. When I saw her in the wire cage there was no looking back. Regardless of how shy she was, or how dirty she was or how many health problems she would have- I knew she would be mine. We had already named her; sight unseen.

All of our dogs are the unchosen, the unwanted but together they make this amazing pack. Sure, we have had our share of behavior issues. But what soul wouldn't have issues if it spent its life unwanted and unloved?

I used to almost laugh when people brought back dogs to animal control because the new one didn't get along with the old one, or the dog had an accident, etc...

Our dogs grumble with each other once in awhile, they have accidents, but they are ours and we love them. And because they are finally loved and safe - they are grateful. They share with us this unconditional love and they make us happy everyday.

We never knew anything about these dogs until they melted our hearts and became a part of our family.

I respect the people who research and idealize about the dog they want someday...but I also think its important to let fate be your guide, to open your mind and heart to the unwanted, the unchosen and let them in. No, they might not have a pedigree or be 8 weeks old, but they will be unique and amazing and they will love you unconditionally because you picked them when no one else did.

Truths:Elementary Elections

So, Friday was the big elementary school elections for my daughter. The whole process is truly something our country should consider as a best practice.

It started a few weeks ago when my daughter came home and said, “Maggie is running for President and said that I could be her Secretary.”

Hmm, we thought and said, “Why don’t YOU run for President and let Maggie be your secretary?”

I can’t help it; I am a type A personality!

Needless to say, my daughter was quite content with running for Secretary and so the campaigning began.

Here is the first example our government should enact: the candidates could only spend $6.00 and everything they did or handed out had to be made. No candy, no pencils, no toys.

All of their signs had to be hand written – no copies, no computer print-outs.

Can we even imagine a dollar cap on our legislative campaigns? Oh, the money that could be used towards education…

So, my daughter, her friend, and I spent 3 hours creating little trinkets for her to hand-out on the “small speeches” day which was held during the lunch hours. We made pencil cut-outs, of course! She is running for Secretary!

She went to school that day, grocery bag in hand, full of our creations and a note card with her “small speech.” Her experience campaigning was about to begin.

She came home glowing. Everyone loved her pencils and was wearing them. Her speech went well. All of her posters were taped up in the halls and things were going right as planned.

There were no signs hanging up trash talking the other candidates, no one handed out things like candy; they followed the rules.

Friday was the real speech day and right after would be voting. There were no primaries to deal with. No one had to declare a party. Each name was on the ballot in alphabetical order. Students were to vote for who they wanted best – not based on what party the students were from because there were no parties – just individuals standing behind their own unique ideals not having to conform to a party.

A few mothers/friends and I went to the school to cheer our kids on.

One thing the girls learned from last year is that they shouldn’t all run for the same position because the votes were all split between them and no one won. No, this year, they all ran for a different job. Perhaps, politicians in the making – learning the tricks of the trade.

About 40 candidates ran for the 8 or so positions and we all sat, okay stood, through each of the speeches

As moms, we were more nervous than our kids. My heart pounding as if I was going to get up and public speak.

The kids were great. They were honest and sincere about why they wanted to run. One kid even said, “I will not promise things like candy for lunch. I will only promise things I can deliver.”

How refreshing!

These 10 and 11 year olds got it. They weren’t up there lying or bad mouthing each other. They were up there because they wanted to do something fun and serve their school.

There is no money involved, no life long pension, no bribes from the powerful interest group. This was a clean race – a race of naivety, of young passion to serve their classmates and to have fun.

Why aren’t our races like that? What happened to politicians that it became about greed and hate and he said, she said.

Is there anyone, anymore running because they have a sincere and honest passion to serve our country?

We can only hope that as these young politicians grow-up, they aren’t tainted and that some of them might run for office in the same manner as they ran for student council in 5th grade.

Sadly, the odds aren’t in our favor.

Truths: Toilet Paper Exams

So, yesterday I made my dreaded annual trip to the Gyne. Is there any woman in the world who looks forward to this?

Okay, maybe if you are dying to become pregnant and think that you are and want the Dr. to confirm it. That I can understand. I remember that day!

But, for all the other years in a woman's life, it is dread. The entire exam is just so berating. It is completely a violation of personal space and yet, we allow ourselves to succumb to it every 12 months. Or, if you are like me - maybe every 18 months because you just never seemed to have time to make that call...

So, I was there yesterday. My heart pounding and my body clammy. You sit in the waiting room attempting to read a magazine, but all you can think about is what is going to happen in the next 15 minutes or next hour depending how on-time your physician is.. Mine is very timely.

You look around the room and there are women everywhere and you wonder, "Are they just as uncomfortable as you?"

I noticed teen girls with their moms and I couldn't help to feel sorry for them. This was probably their first visit. They had no idea what to expect or if it would hurt or if their mom would be in the room with them - which they quietly contemplated in their heads... did they want her in the room because she is their mom and they would feel safe or did they want to go it alone because they would be embarrassed to ask the Dr. about birth control... Tough call.

And then I just felt sorry for them because after this day, they will have to be here another 65 times or so - what an event to look forward to for the rest of their young lives.

They called my name and I put down my magazine that I wasn't reading anyway and walked through the door. There is no turning back now.

I arrive in the room and sit on the infamous table. To the unknowing it seems nice and comfortable. A young girl might think, "What were people talking about when they mentioned the stirrups. I don't see any of that in here."

Oh, to be so naive. How I wish I still was. The reality of the gynecologist is much like the the reality of Santa Claus. You want so badly to show that you are a grown-up and no longer believe and then you realize it was so much better never knowing!

I sit down on the table: camouflaged to make you feel comfortable. The nurse takes my blood pressure which seems like an odd thing to do. I mean there is no way that the reading she gets is my true blood pressure. I mean c'mon... I am about to expose myself in the most personal way to a person I only see once a year... Really? I think my blood pressure is a little heightened.

If the physically exposing deal isn't enough to dread - now comes the scale. You walk over to it...that huge metal thing that always shows you much heavier than that scale you have in your bathroom does.

They don't even give you time to take your shoes off... even though in another 5 minutes you are going to be stark naked. Nope, they weigh you fully clothed and when you see that nurse keep pushing that scale thing to the right, you just want to sink to the ground. Not to mention wish that you hadn't eaten that entire pint of Ben and Jerry's last night.

Okay, so I had one horror done and one to go. The nurse points to the gown on the camouflaged table and says to take all my clothes off and put the gown on with the opening in the front - of course, why leave any dignity? And then mentions, there is another sheet to cover your legs. Gee, how thoughtful.

So, I undress. I fold my clothes neatly on the chair - something I would never do at home and then tuck my undies and bra inside of them. How ridiculous, really. I am about to show a person my most private of things and yet, I don't want them to see my undergarments!

I walk over to that table which is only taunting me with its hidden agenda and I proceed to put the gown on. Its one size fits most and it certainly isn't flattering. I cover up the rest of me - which is most of me because the gown is so awkward.

And then, I sit there. Completely vulnerable. As I look around the room for absolutely anything to read to attempt to get my mind off what is coming next... I look down at myself and realize - I am fricking dressd in nothing more than a large sheet of toilet paper. This gown, as they affectionately call, it is nothing more than one huge sheet of toilet paper. No man would stand for that...

Just as I start to think about how much toilet paper it took to create this beautiful gown, the Dr. knocks and comes in.

So, as you sit there naked under the Charmin, she asks you questions... Its like they believe you feel equal and confident enough in your toilet paper covering to "really talk" about what is going on in your life. The intimate questions you can barely ask your friends while you are dressed fashionably and drinking wine, you are supposed to ask this stranger while you are half naked on a table. A table which is about to become a torture chair.

I say as little as possible. And the exam begins. The Dr. makes small talk and all I can think about is how soon will this be over.

"A little pressure" they always say as you are about to scream bloody murder and then BAM its over.

"You can get dressed now." "See you in 12 months."

Now is when they should take your blood pressure...

"Yep, I say see you next year."

I can hardly wait!

Tails: Too Sheltered?

Have rescues become too elite?

I love and admire animal rescue. It is the most heartbreaking and heartwarming job in the world – to me, at least. For every time I have witnessed cruelty, neglect or even euthanasia, there has been a perfect adoption that made all the pain seem worthwhile.

My most excruciating experience to date has been the mill auctions. Forever I have been blessed with that experience because never have I been more aware of the damage humans do to natural souls.

However, in the passed few weeks some friends and acquaintances have been out looking to adopt a dog from a shelter or rescue and I have again found myself disappointed in our society – only this time I have even found myself disturbed by the practices of animal welfare organizations.

Us, in animal welfare, cringe at the mere sight of a petstore – especially one that advertises, “cute, furry puppies – all breeds.” Pet stores mean puppy mills and well, lets not even go there.

Yet, pet stores also open their doors to ANYONE who wants a puppy. There are no forms to fill out, no criteria to meet, let alone: a home visit. ANYONE with the financial ability (or not even, since you can get a payment plan or charge “it.”) can walk in and leave the store in minutes with a puppy.

My friends and acquaintances have found the process of adpopting a dog a long and tedious road. They have been irritated by inept volunteers, frustrated with the lack of expedient returned phone calls and overall, just depleted by their inability to please everyone enough to be approved to adopt a dog.

They have left shelters in tears, angry and/or speechless. And, this has brought me to thinking: “Have rescues and shelters become elitists? Do we think we are the know it alls for the right home? Most importantly, has our lack of customer service and common sense lost us valuable customers? Worse of all, have we actually ended up inadvertently sending people right to pet stores?”

Just recently, there was an editorial in HSUS. A rescue volunteer was displeased that HSUS allowed people, who didn’t have fenced yards, to adopt from them. HSUS explained that dogs in the city, who didn’t have fenced in yards were actually more exercised and healthier then their suburbian fenced in counterparts. HSUS stressed the importance at looking at the whole application and potential adoptee, not the individual criteria.

My friends are still seeking to adopt even though they are at their wits end with the procedures. Each of these families has at least one healthy dog and a long list of references to verify just how good they are. Yet, they are all still waiting to hear back from organizations.

I know most organizations are 100% volunteer and that funds are low, but I think it is time shelters and rescues see the bigger picture - these animals need homes - not necessarily perfect ones. Just loving families to create memories with.

Sure rescues and shelters are non-profits and usually are broke, but it is still vital to see the organization as a business. And to treat customers with respect, to educate not berate people interested in adopting - trying to do the right thing.

Is it better for a dog to spend a year in a kennel or is it better for that dog to go to a loving family who happens to work outside the home for 7 hours a day? Is it better for a dog to go from foster home to foster home for 6 months or is better to go to a home without a fence and an experienced family who has had dogs their whole lives?

In a world with millions of dogs needing homes, it is time rescues and shelters get off their high horse and begin to enter into reality. Most people wanting to adopt are doing the right thing - lets makes damn sure we don't punish them and in turn reward our very enemy: the petstores.