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!