Tails and Truths

Truths: On the brink

2012-01-10T07:34:00.001-08:00

You know those glossy pages of home decorating magazines – the ones that picture gorgeous homes showcasing their recent makeovers? They’re beautiful, right? Spitting images of a dream come true. Fresh paint, granite counters, custom kitchens, sparkling large windows… It is everything a person can hope for.

What’s funny is how they never show the pictures of during the renovation?

Sure, just like diet commercials, they show you the before… the fat lady wearing a bikini or the kitchen with the red laminate counters and brick linoleum – but what about the in between. You know the fat lady craving that donut or the boxing of the all the crap that was in that dated kitchen so the reno could begin.

No, no one shows you any of that stuff – because no one ever wants to think about that.

I didn’t.

I am unsure of the internet rules of using foul language in a blog – so I will refrain – but if you could just envision what I would say right now… It would be something like… “My house is a ------ disaster! And, I am on the brink of ------- insanity.”

There I said it.

Right now, as I type there is a saw blade ramming through three layers of flooring in my laundry room: 2 layers of god awful linoleum and 1 layer of hideous tile. If the noise of the saw wasn’t enough to make your skin crawl – surely the fine white powder that is spreading thru my house like a nuclear cloud should be.

Oh but wait… let’s talk about what the dust is falling on top of… Piles of crap that is stuffed in every nook and cranny of the upstairs right now. (Oh who am I kidding, the downstairs, too).

See, if gutting the first floor wasn’t enough, we decided to completely re-do all the trim, doors and windows upstairs. That doesn’t sound like a big deal in theory – until you realize that everything in every room needs to be moved so that it can be done. Pieces of each room are spread out like the rubbish from a bomb. To be honest – I don’t even know where my laundry basket is right now. Maybe in the office?

There are rooms plasticed off – there are closets without doors, there are shoes in bookcases. I can’t even make this stuff up. I am living in chaos.

Every morning I wake up and scurry around making room for yet another guy to work. Moving that dresser into the hall and checking to make sure my underwear isn’t laying around somewhere.

It all started so simple. In fact, I would even be showered by the time the guys got here – that was a few months ago. Now they are lucky if I brush my teeth and pull my hair back.

I used to vacuum, keep the house in order – but that too has been shot to hell – being that half of our current floors are plywood and we have no kitchen – only studs on a wall.

Today, they pulled out the washer and dryer – and yes, it was embarrassing. There was nearly enough dog hair to make another dog – not to mention dog treats, bobby pins, dryer sheets and wrappers… It was disgusting and a few months ago I would have lowered my head in shame – but today – I laughed it off and grabbed a dustpan. I just don’t have it in me to care anymore. I can only imagine inviting them all over for a party in a few months so they can see we really don’t live like slobs.

How can I let something like that bother me. I have a dishwasher in my dining room (though as I type – that seems convenient), there is a refridgerator in my living room and a stove in the middle of both. With a brand new table and chairs scattered amongst it all.

That is what I do – keep myself preoccupied with the new. Focusing on the happily ever after. The new furniture, the new lighting, the new flooring, the new counters… I stare at my mock up boards – reminding myself of what will replace the stenciled walls and dated oak trim.

This morning that just isn’t enough. I almost broke down into tears. Yes, I wanted this. I did. But, moving one pile into another room for the hundredth time is killing me.

However, forever the optimist I try to look on the bright side… all of these piles reaffirm that we have too much stuff… Piles of too much. Piles that need to go. It is obvious as you move them – that they are taking up space – physical and emotional – that is exhausting and wasteful.

The problem is that right now – all I can do is move them. There isn’t time to sit down and sort them into the piles they teach on “Hoarders” or “Clean Sweep.” You know the “keep” “donate/sell” or “throw away.” My only category is “find a spot.”

We are 6 weeks from completion. At least that is what I hope.

Right now I can hear the guys upstairs saying, “How bad is the dust right now?”

“Pretty bad.”

Yeah it is pretty bad…keep that in mind the next time you flip thru the fancy pictures in House Beautiful – long before they had that shiny new kitchen – they had a shit full of dust and piles of crap stacked in the dining room. Sure it was all worth it – but right now its hard to see the light out my new windows.

Truths: A little more eggnog please

2011-12-20T07:41:00.001-08:00

Where to start these days? In a world full of uncertainty I think my house tops the list of utter chaos. Lots of people say that – but few could ever entertain the thought of their house looking like mine right now.

I would love to say something like, “there is wrapping paper all over the room, the ornaments have crashed to the floor, and the outside lights are hanging by a string” but the truth is our Christmas is going just fine.

The presents are all wrapped and my holiday cards are sent. In fact, we have already celebrated two of our main Christmases. We went up to our cabin where I decorated our tree and I cooked and we enjoyed being with our granddaughter. Watching her play in her new pink kitchen and undress her new doll – who for some reason HAD to be naked all of the time. It was a great time.

Then, last night, we did the modern version of Christmas and “Skyped” with our grandson in San Diego. We spent an hour in the virtual world living room and got to see him open his gifts and find utter amusement with the wrapping paper and the buttons on the computer – which often interfered with our techno communication. None the less, it was a lot of fun and I can say that I actually felt like we were all together. Now that is making good use of the cyber world we live in.

However, while the celebrations are still to come – there is a circus going on in our house.

For a few months now things have been moving at a steady even somewhat slow pace with our remodel. Beautiful custom built-ins have been created and modest changes have been made to the house… that is until last week when what I thought was a house became a pit filled with crap we probably never needed… and now we are hauling it from one room to another.

We are replacing all of the dated oak trim and shitty hollow doors with trendy white trim and true six panel doors through out the house and all new windows, too. No, it doesn’t seem like a big deal – but can I even describe what it is like to empty one room so the trim can be nailed in, the windows can be installed and the painter can come?

It started out smooth. Me carefully organizing anything that came out of a closet… placing it in a fashion that maintained a sense of control. Until one day, there was no more room, the windows were coming and the next thing I know – my underwear is tossed into a linen closet, my blow dryer is under the bed and my nightstand is in the bathroom. Chaos, utter chaos.

We are living like that right now. And if you want to know how crazed this all is – I showered at my ex-husband’s house yesterday. Really think about that.

So, as I gaze at my pretty tree and the mound of wrapped presents, as I read through the holiday cards and write out the ingredients for the Christmas cupcakes I will bake – there is stomping feet, hammering of nails and the smell of paint lingering above me.

Thank God no one at our house believes in Santa Claus anymore – because one look in the Monroe house and Santa is running out the door – that is if he can find the door behind the piles of laundry and dog beds.

I don’t drink eggnog – but if I did I would undoubtedly fill it with booze. The truth is – I don’t even need the eggnog…

Truths: Where to begin?

2011-12-06T07:24:00.001-08:00

I have so much to say after yesterday that I don’t even know where to start. I try to look at days like yesterday as learning experiences and maybe as I write this blog something of an educational nature will come to me. I hope.

The day started out in a way that some would find disappointing from the get go. The painters were supposed to come and start spraying all the new trim boards which will undoubtedly be a three day project. But, early on I found out that the painter was sick and wouldn’t be coming at all.

For me it was actually a huge relief – almost cause for celebration. For the last two months someone has been in my house working everyday and to know that no one would be here and I would be home all day (my car is in the shop…part two of the story)- I couldn’t stop smiling.

I worked out – walked around in my spandex because NO ONE was hear to see me… and then I got down to business and took on wrapping presents. I told my friend, Nancy, “Wrapping presents always seems like such a fun, Christmassy, thing to do – but in reality it is just a pain in the ass.”

Worse is when you have PMS. PMS and the paper rips or the tape runs out or the damn shirt won’t fit in the box (the few boxes you did get from the stores – they always seem to run out every Christmas – can no one anticipate anything?)

So, if wrapping gifts and PMS don’t go together you can surely imagine what it is like when the dealership calls to tell you that your car won’t be ready and they don’t even know what is wrong with it.

I avoided these calls and left them to Bill. I knew me responding to any of it would have ended in a lawsuit.

And, if all of that isn’t enough – add a hormonal 13 year old to the mix and it is nothing short of disaster. And while you might be smiling – it is NOT funny.

Abby pretty much had a hissy fit and blamed us for the fact that she would be up until midnight studying for a test that she knew NOTHING about all because we had to go get my car – not my car – but the loaner they were giving us – because they are idiots and don’t know how to rotate four tires in less than 8 hours. (its Anderson BMW in Crystal Lake, IL – I thought you should know.)

It’s a 20 minute car ride to the dealership and NO ONE talks. All you hear is deep sighs and bodies shifting. I can feel my stomach turn upside down and my head exploding.

I remember these days with my mom. I do. So, now, instead of antogoninzing the situation, I choose to say nothing at all. I am sure some psychologist is gasping because I am teaching my daughter to avoid conflict. But conflict with an adolescent girl seems more deadly than a future of poor communication skills.

And then as we ate dinner out – the words that I have feared all a long came blurting out, “I HATE the divorce!”

It was dumb of me to ask – but at the time I didn’t get it. “What divorce?”

“Yours and dad’s, duh!” Okay she didn’t actually say, “Duh,” but I know it was implied.

The weird thing about the divorce is that we have been divorced for 10 years – it is pretty much all Abby knows and yet, one day, we all knew it would surface.

So that was the ultimate bomb of the day and that pretty much put me in a dark place. One bottle of 64 wasn’t going to make that go away. I don’t even know if a case would have helped. But, being that it was my lucky day – we didn’t have any 64 at home. Go figure.

We are home now – and Abby is in her room – still sighing and stomping – Bill and I are in the basement – mostly silent – because what is there to say… and out of the blue, Keith, my ex-husband, comes over.

For a moment – I really thought Abby called him begging for an escape out of the Hell we have her in but no, he stopped by because he had gotten me a gift certificate that I needed for someone for Christmas. Isn’t that what all ex-husbands do? And how many women actually feel blessed to see their ex-husband at the door.

One because I did think he was taking Abby away… and two – because it broke up the wall of tension building in our house.

I know suicide is not a laughing matter – but I can’t help but think that it was the mom of a teenage daughter who said, “I would rather slit my wrists.” Because that is truly how I felt last night.

Sure by the time we went to bed – the house and its raw emotions had settled down – and by this morning things were back to whatever normal around here is…but enough had been said and not said to make me realize that last night wasn’t really the last night – it was just the first night of more like it to come.

I am going to have to step up my game to straight shots and forget about beer. What else can I do?

And, that is my educational take away.

Truths: 13

2011-12-01T07:57:00.000-08:00

13 years ago, right now (its 9:30am) I walked into Good Shepherd hospital to have a baby. My water had broke at 7am… you know where you feel like you can’t stop peeing and within 15 minutes I had a contraction. A real contraction not one of those Braxton Hicks kind that you worry about early in pregnancy… the ones you swear you will get confused with for real thing and spend sleepless nights panicking that you won’t know when you are going into labor… Even though every doctor and mother on the planet promise you that you will KNOW…

Boy, when you get that first contraction – you KNOW.

While I never had another baby – my labor was relatively easy. I mean as far as having a watermelon come out of your body easy… and only after I got the epidural.

That was 13 years ago… and there are days, like today that I wish I could have that epidural again!

See, it is Abby’s birthday today and according to her and by 7am this morning (ironically when my water broke in 1998) this is her worst birthday ever!

She had to wear her pom uniform which is painstakingly itchy (I can’t really argue – polyester?), she HATES (I don’t approve of her using that word… I only use it on a very select but deserving people) her teachers – ALL of them… AND, if that weren’t bad enough she has a band concert tonight “on her birthday!”

(Now, I think a band concert on any night is punishment but I guess on your birthday it could be worse.)

So, even though she got some presents and hand delivered flowers from her dad and Carol this morning and calls and texts – this is undoubtedly the worst day of her 13 year old life!

Which pretty much makes it the worst morning of my life! Have you dealt with an unstable, moody girl at 7am?

13 years ago she screamed bloody murder when she took her first breath and today she wallowed away when she took her first step out of bed.

Despite the wrath of the morning – today gives me pause to celebrate her life. The places we have been in just 13 years and the amazing way she has changed nearly everything about me.

I won’t lie – the toddler years weren’t easy for me and even some of the early school years – and certainly days like today with her are no picnic in the park… But, now as she matures I see this real person who I am so proud of.

In less than 2 years she will be driving, 2 more and she will be in college, 2 more and she will be drinking (who am I kidding – that is probably just 3 years away). The first 13 years are safe ones the next 13 – God help me.

Today marks her entrance into a teenager, which by the looks, of it marks my opened gate to hormonal hell… But we will be okay (as long as I keep the cocktails coming)

All jokes aside, I had no idea what I was doing 13 years ago. I remember walking out of the hospital with this little baby and thinking, “I cannot believe they just let us leave. They didn’t even tell us what to do.”

But, we faked our way for the last 13 years – and I think we have done okay. The 6 pound baby has become a beautiful girl – teenager now… and while she is having the worst day of her life – I am counting my blessings.

Tails and Truths: Plans are what you make – life is what you get

2011-11-08T13:19:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I emailed back and forth with a fellow rescue friend who met me during the time when I attended my first Amish dog auction. Thorp, the dog I rescued, was technically supposed to go to her and to Chinese Crested Rescue. It wasn’t that they “wanted” him necessarily – it was just that they were willing to save him, if needed.

I wasn’t ever a part of that plan because I attended that auction not knowing anyone and certainly I never even thought of taking a dog home that day.

That day will be re-lived in my head for the rest of my conscious life. It changed every part of who I am and who I will be. Neither of which I ever planned on to begin with.

But yesterday, my friend emailed back, “You were meant to be at that horrific auction.”

And, I must have been.

We spend so much of our lives planning. Soul searching and seeking out opportunities we think will be right for us. We want to be “something” that we usually are not and we always desire what we don’t already have.

I believe the actual quote is something like, “Life is what happens as you are busy making plans.”

How true.

Oh how VERY true.

Going to that auction and rescuing Thorp was never in any plans I etched out. Battling WI legislation and becoming a part of a rescue group attending dog auctions wasn’t something I went to school for. And, if those weren’t enough moments to last me a lifetime – who would have thought I would keep going and train the misfit of a dog I rescued by a freak accident to be a therapy dog. I didn’t even know much about therapy dogs… let alone think to have one of my own.

However, as much as my life changed in the years that I got involved with mill dog rescue – nothing would have ever prepared me for actually doing therapy work with Thorp. No one on this Earth could have told me that I would find something that had nothing to do with animals so rewarding.

Thorp and I have developed a reading program with the kids we see at Clay. We work in small groups or one on one with the kids teaching them how to read. (Okay, Thorp just sits there).

For that 90 minutes I sit on our blanket and work with the kids who are challenged in ways no one may ever understand or be able to “fix” - I am completely present. I don’t think many of us are ever completely present in any given moment. We worry about things, we think about what we have to do next – it is truly hard to stay in the moment.

But not for me at Clay. And for an impatient person as I am – being in the moment and working with the kids is therapeutic in a way I would have never fathomed.

I never planned to work with kids – it never seemed like something that spoke to me. But as I sit and sound out words with kids who are trying so hard to fit into life the best way they know how – it feels unbelievably truthful.

I leave the school balanced and passionate about what I did. I think about those kids long after I leave and wonder what it is I could do to offer more of myself.

In many ways, I ponder my future with the kids – if I should consider further schooling and make it a profession – or would it then just become a job?

The multiple experiences that I have had in the last 4 years have taught me a few things – one of which is the most important. We can’t make an outline for everything that we do – at some point we have to take a deep breath and allow life to happen to us. Not as victims – as active participants willing to be open to experiences we never would have chosen but find ourselves in.

It is these experiences that can lead us to destinations we didn’t plan on and these experiences define who we truly are and what makes us tick.

Its difficult to open one’s soul up to the unknown and then to blindly follow where it takes you. But having been guided by fate – I can assure you that there is no greater journey than the one you never planned on.

Tails: From wolf to slave

2011-11-04T07:02:00.000-07:00

It’s obvious that this whole media scam has me in a tizzy. Me and many other people. And ironically enough, my dad just sent me an article from the Wall Street Journal titled, “From Cave to Kennel” the evolution of the dog by Mark Derr.

It talks about how they have found cave drawings estimated to be 26,000 years old with a young boy walking with his dog companion next to him. This would push back what was thought to be the oldest record of dogs by 12,000 years.

The writer speaks to the relationship between man and dog and states, “We chose them, to be sure, but they chose us too and our shared characteristics may well account for our seemingly unshakable mutual intimacy.”

He goes on to explain: “The relationship between dogs and humans has been so mutually beneficial and enduring that some scholars have suggested that we-dogs and humans-influenced each other’s evolution.”

Let’s assume that to be true. I certainly believe it is. But what does that infer in our debate about puppy mills? Could it be that our evolution as humans has come to a halt? Does it mean that we have stopped moving forward when our belief becomes we should cage dogs and use them up like expendable objects?

It seems to me that up until the last few decades us and dogs moved ahead. Humans got smarter, dogs got smarter and we thrived on this Earth as a partnership. But, now, it seems both of us have gotten dumber and less productive and more cruel and lost our compassion for life.

Derr states, “Highly social wolves and highly social humans started walking, playing and hunting together and never stopped.”

That is, until today, when we have chosen to lock them up in barns and throw away the key.

Derr continues with: “Recent studies suggest that the dog has unique abilities among animals to follow human directions and that its capacity for understanding words can approach that of a two year old child.”

Do we lock up two-year-old children in crates?

Derr ends his piece like this: “The relationship (between human and dog) has endured not because dogs are juvenilized wolves but because they are dogs-our faithful companions.”

Faithful companions that we neglect and torture and if that wasn’t bad enough we tell ourselves that we don’t.

Tails: Take the blinders off

2011-11-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

Recently, channel 27 out of Madison, WI did a special report on the effects of the Puppy Mill Bill which was made into law earlier this year.

Sadly, what they reported was skewed and the reasons are sketchy… Some infer that Representative Pridemore was behind it in his tactics to overturn the new law and lessen the regulations placed on breeding facilities, shelters and rescues. I cannot say with certainty that this is true – but I can say I don’t doubt it.

But dirty politics aside, the sad truth is that the story itself was ill-reported. Ironically, the state vet, Dr. Bob Ehlenfeldt, told the reporter that to date the law has not shut down any puppy mills and suggested that he didn’t think there were that many bad places in the state.

This reporting is horrific to people like me who have had the unlikely experience of seeing dogs come out of the bad places Dr. Ehlenfeldt doesn’t seem to think exist in the state of WI.

Ironically, the segment aired on the same day that a fellow rescue friend had taken 7 dogs from an Amish Mill in WI where the Amish farmer explained that the new law was shutting him down and he would no longer be in the business.

I am more than disappointed in the reporting – and it pains me to know that the reporter even went so far as to interview Furry Babies – a known pet store selling puppies who come from mills across the country and WI. It would be like interviewing John Wayne Gacy on the death penalty.

I have two dogs, whom I took from the dredges of WI mills, and have spent long hours teaching them how to act like dogs and not fearful, empty shells of dogs who never knew a gentle hand or a kind act. Every day I get emails of more dogs being rescued from the bad places that reporters seem to go out of their way to report don’t exist – or state, “They aren’t as bad as people think.”

They ARE as bad- in fact for the common pet owner they would be worse than they imagined.

Bluntly, I am sick and tired of the crap, the BS, that the news spreads to unknowing consumers. I have no idea what it will take for WI and our country to realize the horror of puppy mills. The inhumanity that exists for the one animal we call, “man’s best friend.”

Right now, as I look to my left and see Penelope, a used up breeding female whose uterus was so overworked that it fell out during her spay, sleeping on a chair – I can’t help but me mad that people are saying these places don’t exist and that laws won’t make a difference.

Or, later today, when I take Thorp, a used up male breeding dog, to Clay School and he wears his Therapy Dog bandana and sits with kids who suffer from behavior challenges – I can’t help but shed a tear that dogs are not meant to be treated like caged animals. They have a higher purpose – one that WE taught them through years of domestication. We taught them to be our companions and yet in 2011 we treat them like trash.

Frustrating doesn’t describe the emotion felt by people like me – who have fought hard to free dogs of agony and neglect. It is so hard to know the truth and see it reported like a fallacy.

For years I tried to get my local paper to report the truth – to showcase an epidemic – but they said they couldn’t talk bad about a local business: Petland.

Apparently, channel 27 has its own reasons to save the public from the truth – maybe its political, maybe Furry Babies offered them a cut – truthfully, I don’t care the reason – I only care that thousands of dogs sit in wire cages with no hope of freedom and that I blame on the media.

Truths: THE Annual

2011-11-02T08:18:00.001-07:00

So, I was getting ready for my big annual gyne exam by plucking the two wirery hairs from my chin that appear every now and then as a reminder that I am 40. I did a few other hygienic things to prepare for the appointment but no need to go there…

This appointment is a big one for me – because in the 20 or so years I have been going to the gyne – I have had nearly as many doctors. I mean lets be honest – it is a pretty personal experience and if you aren’t comfortable with your doctor – well, the horridness of it is just made worse.

Now, I have had good doctors here and there. The man who delivered Abby was great and a few others in that practice when I was in my late 20’s but they all left the practice one by one and eventually, I did too.

I googled and asked friends for references and ended up in a newer practice with a woman doctor some of my friends raved about. I went there a few times but I just never felt like I connected with her. And, so, I ended up not going back and let the annual exam become more like an every two or so years exam – and that time was now.

This might or might not be funny… but as my dad’s cousin and her daughter were standing over my grandma’s bed when she was in a coma in hospice – somehow the conversation led us to gyne’s. And, they both raved about the doctor they went to. I figured I would give it a try.

So, that was May and by September I decided to make an appointment which ended up being yesterday.

It was an hour to get there and, yes, I was nervous. I had a lot to talk about as I enter this stage of menopause and all the crap that goes with it – not to mention the harsh fact that I would be exposing myself to someone I never even met before as I blubber through my hot flashes and painful periods and rampant yeast infections.

It is times like these that I am assured God is a man.

It was an easy drive and though it was near the city – it was a stand alone building with its own parking lot – that helped. (often, it’s the little things).

But what took me by total surprise was when I walked in the building. Huge, comfy sofas encompassed a lit fire in the beautiful stone fireplace. Warm, hip painted walls – wood floors and a flat screen TV – it was as though I walked into a dear friend’s newly decorated loft. If I just had a glass of wine or a beer in my hand – I would have never left.

However, I have been down this road before so I knew better than to let a comfy couch and a saltwater fish tank mask the reality of what was next.

Soon, I found myself walking to the bathroom to pee in a cup – but the surroundings continued. Cherry trim, warm soothing colors, décor from Pottery Barn- it didn’t stop. Hell, I almost forgot to pee in the cup as I gazed at the artwork!

But, the real test would come later – anyone can have a pretty office.

The actual exam room certainly was appointed by the same interior designer. Beautiful furniture, classy stainless bar sink, wicker chairs, low, soft lighting. I mean if it wasn’t for the exam table, the room could have graced the pages of a decorating magazine.

The nurse was new and very kind as she went through my history- which when you hit 40 is rather long and when we were done – I got to get naked and prepared for the paper towel they have you wear. But, who am I kidding – there wasn’t going to be any paper towel for me to wear. It was a real gown – a nice gown in a lovely maroon fabric that actually made me feel like I was in my PJ’s not trying to cover my entire body with a tissue.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, the doctor came in. And in an instant I knew I had finally met my match. She was dressed to the nines in a cool dress, fashionable shoes and funky jewelry that I would wear. She smiled and introduced herself and immediately sat down so we could “talk.”

I really felt like I was sitting with Addison Montgomery on Private Practice. She was that good.

And, we DID talk… really talk. She never got up or acted like she had better things to do. She offered her own life experiences and laughed about what it is like to be menopausal. She got it and she understood and most of all, she was listening to me.

I had a lot of things I wanted to talk about and she wanted to hear about each one of them. She never rushed through issues and I felt like I had known her my whole life. I didn’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable and EVERYTHING I needed to talk about was said and she had knowledgeable, caring answers for it all.

The exam itself was remarkably fast: she talked about life and we laughed and by the time the story was over – I was done and I didn’t even know it.

The nurse came to take some blood and the doctor came back to talk a little after I was dressed and when it was all said and done she hugged me and said it was nice to meet me. And, it wasn’t a fake hug – it was an endearing hug and I hugged her back.

The whole way home I smiled because for the first time in 20 years I felt like I met a gyne who got me – who enjoyed what she did and wanted me to feel comfortable talking about things that are usually embarrassing.

I also spent time in the car re-thinking how old I am because when I left the comfy sofas and warm fireplace I left with a bag full of literature on all the tests I had to schedule: bladder diagnosis, mammogram, bone density, and an ultrasound to look at my ovaries. Not to mention some drugs to ease the constant PMS I suffer as I go through this life changing thing called menopause.

I might be falling apart – but for the first time in 40 years I finally found a doctor who made falling apart okay. In fact, I look forward to going back to talking with her and waiting on the amazingly cuddly sofa and facing the rest of crap I am about to go through because I trust that she will care about me. And, maybe, just maybe – I will bring my own beer.

Truths: The skinny on jeans

2011-10-03T06:11:00.001-07:00

Ugh… what could be worse than going jeans shopping? Well, yes, bathing suit shopping. But, other than that, what?

You know how it is. You need new jeans – the ones you have are well – more suitable for yard work or painting than they are going out in. But, they are comfortable and they fit and you “think” they look good on you.

Or maybe, like me, you finally lost some weight and the jeans you have, yes, do look like you should yard work in, but they are baggy and no longer very attractive.

So, my friend, Nancy, recommended that I go to the Buckle and check out their jeans.

She didn’t really recommend this… we were out drinking one night and she said, “You should try my jeans on.” And so, we went to the bathroom and switched pants. (you know you are close with someone when this seems like a good idea – that, and you have had too much to drink to think otherwise.)

So, we switched pants and we went out to our husbands, and right or wrongm my husband and Nancy’s husband both said that the jeans looked good on me.

Enough said – sign me up.

So, Friday Nancy and I headed off to the Buckle. Now, mind you I hadn’t been to this mall, let alone this store, in a good 8 years. The last time I was at the Buckle it was about the size of a closet and I bought a belt and some boots. They didn’t have much else.

We walked into the mall and I couldn’t believe how it had been updated. It sure beat 8 years ago and then we came to the Buckle and apparently, it had a facelift as well – along with a few huge additions – it was a lot different than I remembered.

And, it looked like jeans were strewn across the whole place. There were jeans everywhere.

This is something that Nancy warned me about. She said that we would be there for hours and that they would just keep bringing me more jeans.

That was, unmistakably, the truth.

Now, the last time I bought jeans was a year ago at Old Navy. I happened to see a pair that I liked – tried them on and bought them. The time before that I was at Kohl’s or maybe even Kmart and saw a pair I liked and they fit so I bought them.

I was nowhere near ready for what was about to happen.

I started looking through the tables of jeans. And within minutes a cheery salesgirl approached me and asked what brought me in today.

“Jeans, I need new jeans.”

“Well, then let’s start looking,” she said.

I had a few pairs that I thought looked nice and she took them and said, “Why don’t you look for some cute tops, I will take care of the jeans.”

I ignored her advice – because I didn’t need tops – I needed jeans and in a few more minutes I walked to my dressing room to see a STACK of jeans. I mean, like, 15 pairs!

Luckily, Nancy had the room right next to mine and off we went. It was like a horse race. Ready at the gate, go!

The first pair I tried on felt – well, tight. And if it weren’t for the fact that the dressing room didn’t have a mirror (I hate that) I would have never went outside for anyone to see. But I did, and to my shock, they both said maybe I should try on the next size smaller!

Huh?

Now, it probably does matter that the jeans I walked in with were about two sizes too big – not to mention that they were a baggy style to begin with. I guess anything I tried on was going to feel “tight.”

So, they agreed again and I went back into the room to try on another pair.

This went on for 2 hours – yes, 2 hours. This pair and that pair and every fricking pair in the store. It was exhausting. It finally came down to about 5 pair and I was so confused and overwhelmed that I didn’t know what to do.

So, being that the way your butt looks plays a very critical role in if you should get the jeans – Nancy and I did what any good girlfriends would do. She took pictures of my butt in all 5 of the jeans and then we flipped through them on her phone!

It really was an amazing and effective tactic. Within minutes – I had it narrowed down to three. My goal was two pairs.

Now these jeans don’t come cheap. And some will gawk when I say this, “But they really are better.” They fit better, the denim is better… There is a reason celebrities don’t wear jeans from Kohl’s or Kmart.

I am short – well, pretty short. I say 5’5” but in reality I am probably 5’4” and for the most part I have never put on a pair of jeans that fit. Too long, to big at the waist, too tight at the hips… you get the picture.

But these jeans – they fit. They fit everywhere. That’s kind of what made the choices so hard. There really wasn’t a pair that I could complain about. It came down to what the pockets looked like.

I guess at 40 – the way your jeans fit does become a priority. And as Nancy and I rationalized – we don’t have to buy work clothes and we wear these jeans all of the time.

So, I bought three pair. Three pair that I love. Not many people can say that after a day of jeans shopping.

Although not many girls can feel comfortable that a friend of their’s has 5 pictures of her butt on their phone!

Truths: It was worth all 4 pounds

2011-09-28T07:22:00.001-07:00

I turned 40 this year – which meant that 3 of my closest friends from high school turned 40 as well and that meant celebration.

We chose our celebration to be a week long stay in Ft. Lauderdale – kind of the spring break we never took together. And back when we went to spring break – Ft. Lauderdale was the place to go.

Two of my friends that went (Kelly and MaryKate) have been my bestest friends for 30 years. We lived in the same neighborhood and have been friends since we were 10 (yep, 40 – 30 = 10 – good math). There isn’t enough room in this blog or probably in cyberspace to detail the things we have done together.

I mean when you are friends with two girls who have seen you through puberty all the way to premenopause – truly – what on Earth could they have missed?

My other friend who went, Joanna and I met in high school. And, to be perfectly honest, well, we really didn’t hit it off so well.

She became my best guy friend’s girlfriend so you can imagine how this went. I was jealous of her for spending time with him and she was jealous of me for knowing him so well. We even had a “cat fight” at my locker one day. Yeah – it wasn’t good.

I am not sure at what point things took a turn for the better – but I know by the time I got married she was one of my bridesmaids and I was one of hers. And, Mike, well neither of us talk much to him anymore.

Joanna lives in Michigan and MaryKate lives in Spain – so our normal method of communication is email. And even though Kelly and I live about 40 minutes apart – we, too, rely on the internet.

However, for 6 days we all shared a beautiful suite overlooking the ocean. It really was an amazing place. (Nope, no 20 year old chicks chugging beer with guys on the beach like I imagined spring break to be) But, none the less – it was ideal.

We had nights in – where we talked for hours and stuffed our faces with pizza and beer. And we had nights out that were down right crazy.

Karaoke one night… where Kelly couldn’t have been more in her element. I believe Guns and Roses’ song, “Sweet Child of Mine” won her an encore performance – not to mention a video and more than likely a shot at youtube. And we stunned ourselves when we didn’t get home until 5am!

Club dancing another – where we brought down the house and made friends with the DJ.

We found time in between drinks to enjoy the spa (where, thankfully, they served champagne).

And we sat at the pool and soaked up the sun.

And, what kind of girls’ trip would it be without some shopping?

Yep, we did it all and we had a blast doing it.

But, truly the take away (besides the 4 pounds that I gained) was 6 amazing days of being close with three people who know you unlike many others. Three people who have seen your heart get broken and watched you lose all that post baby weight.

And, I think another wonderful thing about being on a trip with friends at 40 – is that you are 40. You are confident with who you are. Its not about anything but the moment you are in. You walk around in your bathing suit without feeling self-conscious – Hell, half the time (okay not half- some) practically naked in the hotel room getting ready… I actually can recall days gone by when we couldn’t even change our clothes in the same room – let alone let someone walk in when we are showering.

Yes, the scenery was beautiful and the weather sunny and hot – but the true beauty of the vacation was the time we got to spend together. Time we can never take back and never re-create.

20 years ago we had endless nights and days together – days that I guess we took for granted. So, when you get 6 uninterrupted days with such close friends – that is what you treasure most about a vacation like ours.

It was hard to say goodbye and watch MaryKate get on the plane to Spain so very far away – and it was hard to hug Joanna and know that I probably won’t see her for many months… (It would be hard to say goodbye to Kelly but I know that if we ever really needed to we could have lunch on a moment’s notice)

But, the last few days have been hard. There is something unique about living with your girlfriends. Going to bed talking and waking up talking. (yes, this would be a guy’s nightmare) but when you have your girlfriends right next to you – where you can ask for reassurance or make a total ass of yourself and still feel loved – that’s a magic you don’t get everyday.

I have already lost that 4 pounds and sadly, I have lost that time with my friends.

Sure we have facebook to re-live the fun and email to offer each other comfort but nothing makes up for not being together. There is a quote, “Don’t be sad its over, be grateful that it happened.”

I am very grateful.

Tails: I believe in karma

2011-09-26T06:46:00.001-07:00

I am a horrible person. I am.

I actually reveled in a person’s injury yesterday. Smiled when I heard about it on the news. Raised my arms and waved them like when I cheer for my daughter’s soccer team.

I could not have been more elated.

Michael Vick, Philadelphia Eagle’s star quarterback, the one they signed for 130 million dollars broke his arm yesterday.

What utterly gratifying news.

No, it wasn’t quite as good as it could have been. He broke his right arm not his left and he is a lefty QB – but it is my hope that his return is doubtful.

I don’t know where to begin really. But I do believe in karma.

Vick whined on TV last night – crying that people are out to get him… the refs don’t call roughing the passer like they would on other QB’s. That they treat him unfairly and allow him to get injured.

BOO HOO!

How on Earth can anyone feel one ounce of sympathy for a dog killer – and not just one dog – many dogs and not humanely – he strangled them, he beat them, he shot them.

Forgive me for reveling in his injury – but does he really feel he doesn’t deserve the punishment?

He violently hurt helpless dogs – they didn’t have helmets or pads – and they certainly never blamed their injuries on the refs.

Quite frankly, I praise the players who go after him with a vengeance. I even praise the refs who perhaps might just look the other way. Someone needs to make him pay for what he did – certainly no one else has.

So, I believe in karma – not just how it has come back to bite Vick in the ass (pun kind of intended) but how it is killing the owners and coaches of the Eagles.

Shame on them for giving such a “jerk” a second chance. (I wanted to use another word – but I refrained)

Now as they watch their 130 million dollars flash before their eyes and their hopes of winning a superbowl go down the toilet, I smile.

In fact, I laugh.

There is one group of people I do feel sorry for: the players on the Eagles who never got to voice their opinion. I am certain there are a few on the team – who despise Vick for what he did – but now they are stuck with him.

And maybe I feel a bit sorry for any Eagles fans – who love their team but hate cheering for Vick.

Vick suffered a concussion last week and now a broken arm – how can you not believe in karma?

Tails: No “Vick”tory last night

2011-09-19T03:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I was quick to throw on my Green Bay Packer gear in preparation for Sunday football. Our family bleeds green and gold and Sunday is always the day to show it off.

We spent kick-off at Abby’s soccer game (in the rain) but managed to get to a bar by 1:30 to watch the Pack score their way to a win. All in all a good day.

But, amazingly, the real game for me came Sunday night when the Atlanta Falcons took on the Philadelphia Eagles. Some people might not understand the magnitude of the game so hear it is… Michael Vick the now quarterback for the Eagles used to be THE quarterback for the Falcons – in fact he was such THE QB that he had a 130 MILLION dollar contract. Don’t quote me but I think the HIGHEST paid QB ever.

That’s all fine and good and maybe at the time he deserved it… But fast forward and well, it turned out Michael Vick was a scumbag and was convicted of felony dogfighting charges and sent to prison for 2 years.

Some may say so what (shame on you). But, the real story lies in the gory details of what Vick and his cousin and other low-life friends did. In fact, I just finished Jim Gorant’s (Sports Illustrated Senior Editor) book, “The Lost Dogs” which details the story behind the Vick tragedy.

Michael Vick and a few others got together and started a professional dog ring. He bought a house and built a few back barns and bought dogs and raised them to fight. Mostly, when you read the book, he raised them to die. Because Vick’s dogs weren’t winners and when they lost they died – either by a hanging or a beating or a bullet to the head. And they were buried in the backyard.

For some death was actually a blessing. Others were bred in rape stands – some females even had their teeth removed so they couldn’t fight back. Other dogs were left on chains in the backyard to fight the elements and be left to helplessly fight in the ring.

The scene is out of a horror movie. Even for a seasoned animal rescuer – there are moments in the book that made me cry.

In 2007, a drug warrant allowed police investigators into the home and when they found the traces of dogfighting – the real investigation began. They found the equipment, the chains, the dead bodies and lots of blood throughout the property.

The local authorities stalled (probably for political reasons) so the feds stepped in and within months Vick was convicted. His cronies were fast to turn on him.

But, the real story comes after – all the dogs who were left. It was the first time that dog fighting dogs would not all be euthanized. The case was too big and the stakes too high. Animal welfare organizations from all over stepped in to save them.

That is except for two organizations, PETA and HSUS who felt the best bet was to euthanize the dogs.

Instead about 30 of them were saved. Gorant’s book details the lives of each of the dogs and where they are now.

It wasn’t easy – some dogs managed to spring back into life – but many of them were so afraid, so broken that it took months, even years, to rehabilitate. The scars, both physical and emotional were so deep.

All because of a Vick – the 130 MILLION dollar star quarterback.

Once the allegations were proven true – the Atlanta Falcons fired Vick – and later, of course, he would go to prison. He was also required to pay for the care of the dogs as restitution.

After 22 months of prison – Vick emerged a “changed” man. (Give me a break). And lo and behold, the Philadelphia Eagles thought it was worth giving him a chance.

And this year, after his phenomenal return they signed him for 100 million dollar contract making him the only QB in history to get TWO 100 million dollar contracts.

Shouldn’t America be proud? Rewarding a convicted criminal for heinous activity. Inhumane behavior – true cruelty.

Its obvious I have my issues with the NFL, the Eagles, VICK… I hate that man – and I tend NOT to use hate lightly.

So, last night as we turned on the Sunday night game and the Falcons took on the Eagles - I have to admit that I cheered louder than I did for the Packers. See, yesterday was Vick’s first return to his starting team – Atlanta. The team that gave up 130 million dollars when they realized they employed a true criminal.

There were boos and cheers for Vick’s return – probably a few wished horrible things like I did as I watched.

But, I did watch the game – with my heart and soul. Each sack – each interception Vick threw. And yes, call me vindictive but when Vick got hurt last night I could only think of it as karma – the dogs’ retribution.

I wish the Eagles a losing season. Its too bad for the other good players on the team – but how on Earth can any goodhearted person cheer for a team that employs a killer?

And even though every game day I will throw on my green and gold and cheer for the Packers – my soul will be wearing the colors of whatever team Vick is playing.

And the dogs he killed will be looking from above wagging their tails every time he gets sacked. They deserve at least that.

Tails: Puppy Mill Awareness Day

2011-09-16T07:47:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, Saturday, September 17th is "Puppy Mill Awareness Day."

To many people this might not mean much. But to people like me and dog's like Thorp and Penelope - it couldn't mean more.

Each year THOUSANDS of dogs are kept in tiny wire cages mass bred for petstores across the United States. Each year thousands of unknowing consumers flock to these stores and pay thousands of dollars to take home a cute puppy they saw in the window. And each year, hundreds of these puppies die in the first few months because they are sick. Sure the pet store will reimburse you or exchange the dead pup for a new one - but what does that say? A dog is no different than a broken TV?

This week an email was sent around - a true reason to celebrate Puppy Mill Awareness Day... Petland in Canada has decided to stop selling puppies due to the perception of Canadian consumers! This is a huge step for dogs everywhere. And my utter praise to Canadians for getting their point across and ending the misery for many dogs across the continent.

However, Petlands in the US have not taken this approach because not enough US people are complaining or protesting their stores. It is only until we say we have had enough - will Petland US make the same retail decision.

You have seen it on the news, read it in the paper and overheard "crazy dog" people gossiping about those puppy mill places... Its not gossip. I saw it with my own eyes - and I rescued two dogs who lie next to me as a type this to prove it.

Please take a stand on Saturday - get the word out - share with your neighbors. And if you are feeling really brave - walk into your local petshop that sells puppies and ask to see where they came from - ask them about puppy mills and watch them squirm. Sure they will lie about where the dogs come from BUT if enough people keep pressuring them - they will, just like the stores in Canada, crumble.

At the very least - take your own dog for a walk tomorrow. Allow him a day to enjoy on behalf of the thousands of dogs crammed in barns - with only distant thoughts of a warm bed, a dog treat and family to love.

Petstore puppies are victims and their parents who sit in filth indefinitely are prisoners to a life they never asked for. My favorite quote is, "The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
- Mahatma Gandhi

If you are looking for a puppy or a dog - thousands are available at breed rescues and local shelters - many are mill survivors - who like Thorp and Penelope will give you love unlike any other dog you have owned.

Please adopt don't shop for your next pet: www.petfinder.com

Tails: Free to Good Home

2011-09-12T08:46:00.001-07:00

Hardly the case these days.

I have spent the last 5 years immersed in animal rescue work. And I say that with the understanding that I have been “rescuing” animals all of my life. From caterpillars to frogs to strays and birds. But, for the last 5 years I have found myself amongst many wonderful people doing what they can to save that one last dog or cat from euthanasia or an abusive situation or a puppy mill on an Amish farm.

I have learned a lot about it all. I even learned the difference between “animal welfare” and “animal rights.” But, saddest of all, I have learned that no matter how many of us there are – there will always be an animal without a home.

But, what is a home for a pet? Can you define what one would like? Should it be 3000 square feet or can it be a trailer. Should the pet live outside or have its own 4 poster bed with silk linens? Should the pet have good ole Purina Chow or should it be served fresh ground meat and rice three times a day. Does it need a diamond studded collar or will a black nylon collar from a thrift store suffice? Can the owner work 8 plus hours a day – or should they be home with their pet? Will children be allowed? What ages? Should the pet be an only child or can it grow up with other pets of many species?

Its crazy, right? To decide what is right and what is wrong – but the saddest truth of all is that there are hundred of rescues out there deciding for everyone what makes a good home – and while I would bet my life they take these decisions to heart and only want to find the best home for the pet – I also firmly believe that they are losing hundreds of potential adopters every year.

There once was a time when a sign outside a window read, “Puppies Free to Good Home.” Now that signage is so long and the requirements so outlandish that they take 5 pages to fill out and of course $$$.

Recently I overheard a conversation of two men: one talking about his desire to get a Doberman. He looked into good breeders but on average he would pay $1500 or more. So, he thought he would try a few rescues. In his words, “It was a bunch of bullshit the crap they wanted me to fill out. And, then they informed me that they had the right to come to my home whenever they wanted to see the dog!”

He went on to explain to his friend that he just couldn’t bare to jump through all of those hoops. So, he had turned to Craigslist and found some backyard breeder who had 15 breedings dogs and could get a pup for $500. He knew, he said, that it wasn’t an ideal situation but he also knew he couldn’t afford $1500 and he didn’t have the time or the patience to write a book about why he would be a good home for some rescue group to read. Though within the conversation I eavesdropped on, the man described that the dog would have 5 acres to roam, it would be “king of the castle” and it would undoubtedly sleep in his bed.

Its hard for me to accept this truth – that rescues are pushing people to backyard breeders and, potentially, god awful petstores… I can say nothing but that I have lost my own patience for their tactics.

A fellow rescue friend is a volunteer for a Shih Tzu rescue. I watched her rescue the smallest, frailest, shih tzu at an Amish auction once. A little dog who was basically about to die had no one stepped in. She saved that dog’s life. I couldn’t be more proud to know her.

I rescued a Shih Tzu at another auction. A little dog who had had 6 litters of pups in 4 years. She was tired and sick. We call her Penelope and she lives amongst our three other dogs and our three other cats, she plays with our friends’ kids ranging in age from 3-12 and on occasion sits with our grandchildren who are each a year old.

I mention this because based on these facts my friend’s rescue would never be able to adopt to me. The cats might scratch the Shih’s eyes out, the kids would be too rough and you shouldn’t have a toddler with a little dog.

I am not disputing the possibility of any of these things happening – of course, they are all possible – but what I can say without hesitation is that Penelope flourishes in our home. She lays with the cats, plays ball with the kids and snuggles up to my grandkids as they play on the floor.

Had Penelope been rescued by my friend’s organization, I could have never adopted her. How sad would both our lives be?

Recently, on one of the platforms I am on – a rescuer was questioning an applicant because of the vet they chose and, I guess, that is what got me on my soapbox, that, and the man I listened to at lunch (it all happened on the same day).

I “eagerly” replied that I think this has all gone too far. With millions of dogs and cats without homes – aren’t we getting a little picky – a little too snotty to be so judgmental of individuals who, for the most part, want nothing more than to add a furry friend to their family? That, bless their hearts, they decided to try rescue – only to find that they need to reveal everything about themselves and, hell, throw in their first born to make a deal.

The group I am talking about shares the availability of dogs coming from the mills The mediator of the platform posts when millers have dogs available whom they don’t want anymore – she states what day they are going to the mill to get which dogs and hopes that some of the members of the group will offer to take the dogs in.

Horribly, there is not always room for someone to add a dog. And a few weeks back one of the 10 dogs was going to be left behind. Someone did come forward – but it leads me to beg the question – are we really in a position to be so demanding – turning away decent homes because they aren’t “perfect” enough – not to mention trashing the whole concept of rescue by making people believe its more like signing your life away then it is about finding a pup to love.

My response was not well received by some of the members. And I have grown only more angry and frustrated. In a country filled with uncertainty and a poor economy – and way too many homeless pets does it really matter what vet someone goes to – isn’t it just satisfying to know that they go to a vet?

I could hold my emotion back no longer and sent this email:

I would rather rescue 100 dogs and place them in average homes than only rescue 5 and place them in perfect homes. And, I think if you asked any abused, neglected, puppy mill or stray dog they would say that they would rather have an okay home than no home at all.”

So much for “free.”

Truths (Tails): 24 hours of ups and downs

2011-09-09T05:16:00.001-07:00

Aaah – I think yesterday was the first day of what was to be normal since Abby went back to school. First we had my stepdaughter’s wedding and then the clean-up that came after that, then we left for San Diego for our grandson’s 1st birthday, I spent the first days back clearing out my office so I could once again get a fresh start working on my book… And truthfully, I think I needed to take control of my life in some small way…and then yesterday…

Aaah but yesterday turned out to be full of ups and downs…

(Down) it started with an emergency trip to the vet because Sadie had an ulcerated wound right where they found the cancer. We did xrays and luckily (Up) the cancer has not spread to her lungs and (Up) they decided not to do another biopsy. We are going to treat the wound with antibiotics first and hope it heals. Otherwise (Down) it could be the return of the cancer.

(Up) Thorp went back to school yesterday. We got to see all of the kids and they were so excited to have us back. At one point we were playing with a new little girl and (Down) she wanted to play petstore and I would come to buy Thorp. I know this was an innocent act of pretend play but I couldn’t help but gulp to myself. Knowing where Thorp came from and the mills that I saw – playing petstore with Thorp seemed like a cruel irony. Why on Earth couldn’t she have suggested I adopt him from a shelter?

(Up) One of the contractors came to bid part of the remodel job. He was really nice and I think he will do a good job. He didn’t quote yesterday but (Down) I am certain it will be a lot!

(Up) As I was actually working on my book and looking through files for agents who might have an interest – I found one, Gordon, who I couldn’t help get excited about. He looked like a really laid back kind of guy and best of all – he had an interest in nonfiction dog books! My heart raced and I swore fate had intervened. So, I typed up my query and with the blessing of my best friend and writing colleague I hit the send button. My stomach was in knots. Kelly said it could be up to three months before I would hear from him. How would I ever wait that long when I was already on pins and needles?

(Up) To sidetrack my anxiety, I put on my Packer shirt and Bill and I ordered pizza and sat down to watch the highly anticipated Green Bay Packers versus the New Orleans Saints game – the first official kick-off of the NFL season! And (Up) the Packers won! But, I have to admit, (Down) I fell asleep before the end.

(Down) I woke up this morning and as always checked my email and there was one from Gordon. Gasp! But, in a polite way he said, “Sorry, this does not fit my list at this time.” Sigh… My first rejection. And I am sure there will be more. I can’t lie it hurts. To have this idea you have poured your heart into – this passion that led you to write in the first place… and to hear, for the first time, its not a fit… It stings a little.

But… (Up) I don’t feel defeated. I can’t. Hell, I just re-did my office to get back in the groove and I took my first shot. I wrote a query I am sure I can use again and overall, I am better for all of it.

That’s my last 24 hours. People sometimes wonder what us people who don’t work for a paycheck do… and I think that a day like yesterday is pretty typical for most of us.

Today the roller coaster starts again.

Truths: Double Edge Sword

2011-09-01T05:44:00.000-07:00

For years now, I have perused magazines – seeking out my dream house- cutting out pictures and painstakingly pasting them into scrapbooks. (This is my idea of scrapbooking…Abby’s baby pictures are piled up in an armoire waiting for me to have this kind of ambition)

I have a whole book filled with fireplace mantels and stair railings and built in bookshelves… Pages, lots of pages, of dream kitchens. And if that isn’t enough – I have pages dedicated to paint colors and furniture pieces even that art to hang on the walls.

I spend hours watching HGTV and have tivo’d shows that portray what I want…one day.

Yes, it has all been in the hopes of one day…

And, that one day has come!

Could I be more excited to see my house turn into my dream home? The oak trim out, the larger white baseboard and 6 panel white doors installed… the built-ins and the window seat and new flooring. And my absolute favorite – my large garden window over my sink. (new sink).

The pages I have created are about to become my reality. Talk about the need to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

But, apparently, someone pinched me last night.

The contractor and the carpenter came last night to really start putting my dreams on my paper – to start planning out the phases and the materials and all the stuff it takes to make a page in a scrapbook become a bookshelf in your family room.

And after 2 hours – or was it 3 hours – reality struck. (at least the first reality… we will get the quote for the job in a few days and I am sure that will be a “I am not dreaming anymore” moment as well).

But it was when the Roger said something like, “The whole place is pretty much going to be torn up. If you want to keep any of the light fixtures you should take them down. Anything in the rooms is going to have to be moved. The closets will have to be emptied to re-case the doors and re-trim. We are going to have to hammer in some holes to see what is in the walls. Things are going to get messy.”

And Bill said, “I really don’t think she has any idea what this is going to be like.”

And, I guess, I didn’t.

I just pictured the old magically going away and the new being gracefully installed. No dust – just one day I walk into my house and realize that my scrapbook has come to life.

I am pretty sure that Christmas, this year, will be a small tree in the basement or a celebration at the cabin. The 50 snowman I have won’t be making an appearance and the stockings won’t be hanging on the mantel.

I have always lived by the mantra, “Good things don’t come easy.” The relationship with my husband didn’t come easy – we survived many stumbling blocks and ill will towards us…the writing of my book hasn’t come easy – things that mean so much to me – have never been smooth roads and why on Earth would this be any different?

Bill and I survived a nightmare remodel at our cabin – if it could go wrong, it did – but in the end we have this amazing place that we created and I believe that this transformation will be just as worthwhile (hopefully, without the nightmare).

I woke up this morning looking at my bedroom. Everything in its place. I walked down to the kitchen (and the ugly cabinets I hate) and saw the neatness… and I couldn’t help but take a deep breath and realize all of that is about to change.

My everyday quiet is about to turn into hammering and sawing and dust – lots of dust.

But, the hope is that when it all settles – I can throw away the scrapbook and actually live in my own pages…

Truths: Spoiled Rotten

2011-08-31T05:08:00.001-07:00

So, I had the pleasure of caring for my 15 month old granddaughter the last few days. I mean that in the most honest and sincere way. However, unlike a good percentage of “grandmas” I also have a 12 year old daughter at home and well, that changes things.

I know, I can hear you saying it, “Big deal – lots of people have 12 year olds and 15 month olds in their home.” And while you are right – it begs the question, “Why?”

To me it just confirms that sex feels good and that it makes us do things we wouldn’t otherwise do had we had our wits about us. Why would you succomb to the mere mention of adding to your family when your youngest is 12?

This is how the last few days have been in my house…

Josee just pooped and I am changing her diaper which is a “bad” one and Abby yells from upstairs, “Mom! Mom?”

“Yes,” I answer as I wipe poop off my hands…

“Mom! Are you making my lunch yet?”

“No dear- I am not making your lunch – I am cleaning up your niece’s dinner.”

Later that evening as I am making Josee’s bottle and getting her PJ’s on…

“Mom! Mom?”

“Yes, Abby,” I say.

“Mom! My flashdrive isn’t working – you need to take me to Dad’s NOW!”

To myself I am thinking in superlatives… But I say, “Really, you think I can take you to dad’s right NOW? Really?”

To which she reacts as though our home is being invaded by aliens, “OH MY GOSH… this is due TOMORROW – what am I supposed to do????”

Thankfully, my husband takes her because, really, – “what am I supposed to do???”

And, it was at that moment I couldn’t help but wonder what the Hell people do do? A baby is crying for their bottle, its passed their bedtime and your snot nosed 12 year old decides to have a crisis.

Now, I preface my own crisis with the fact that my daughter is basically an only child in our household. Yes, we have two older daughters (the ones who made her an aunt) but no other “child” lives with us and that obviously, rears its ugly head when we have times when life is not all about HER.

Having your granddaughter stay with you is certainly one of those times you realize such a thing.

There were other times…

As I held Josee on my hip – let the dogs in and fed them with my other hand and Abby screams from the top of the steps, “Mom! Mom? What time is it?”

“Don’t you have a clock up there?” I say… which was really meant to be a lot more than a question – more like a “are you fricking kidding me? I am doing three things at once and you can’t even read the clock in your room…”

“The clock up here doesn’t say the same thing as the one down there.” She huffs down at me.

And, really, what do you say to that?

I said nothing and instead chose to listen to Josee as she woofed like a dog and looked out the slider to point out to me that I had forgotten one of the five dogs in the yard.

It became painfully obvious that the most silent one in the crowd was definitely getting her point across the best.

There was the time when Abby came home from soccer and I was getting Josee ready for a bath and for the first time in 12 years Abby decided she WANTED to take a shower. Of course she does, why on Earth didn’t I expect that – I don’t know maybe its that for the last 12 years I have begged and fought and screamed and cried trying to get my daughter to see the importance of showering and now, like some unprecedented miracle, tonight as my 15 month old granddaughter splashes playfully in the tub, Abby decides SHE should be clean.

She also decided this week that everything would be SO MUCH BETTER if I drove her to school. This week? The one week that I am waking up to a baby, changing a diaper and feeding her breakfast all before 7 – this is the week I should drive her?

Yes, at 12, Abby can be an enormous help with Josee. Offering to feed her and play with her and dress her but those time flit and flap like the wind and when I find myself in a crunch – mashing up noodles, cleaning up a spill and stirring spaghetti sauce as I sing, “The wheels on the bus go round and round…” Hearing my affectionate name, “MOM!” belted from the top of the house only sends chills up my spine and makes my hair stand up.

I couldn’t do it. I guess had my life been different – I could have. But, the demands of a 12 year old meshed with the demands of a 15 month old – are enough to put anyone over the edge.

Josee went home yesterday and I already miss her. She is adorable and makes me laugh. And, now, to Abby’s liking – life can be all about HER again.

Truths: Expect the Unexpected

2011-07-19T05:45:00.001-07:00

Last night as my daughter and I laid on the couch and watched the Bachelorette – I had this overwhelming feeling that everything was at peace. There was a contentment in my heart and a wholeness in my soul. (none of this had anything to do with the Bachelorette… who is as annoying as Hell)

The day had started like many others have in the last few months… running a couple miles, endlessly counting sit ups and wincing with each push up – all in an attempt to get in shape for the wedding of my step-daughter.

But around 10:30 as I embarked – things took a turn.

It was Monday which meant that Abby would be with us – but she was with her dad at his lakehouse and they weren’t coming home for the week… Sure, they offered to drive her home but I had no problem going to get her – just an hour away…

So, I packed a bag for the day – swimsuit, towel, etc and headed to my ex-husband’s lakehouse to enjoy some boating and swimming with his wife and their children – and of course the daughter we have together.

The thing is – this is NOT a big deal for us…

I don’t think of Keith and Carol as ex-anythings – we think of them as friends – really good friends.

We had lunch and got on the pontoon boat and anchored in the bay where Carol’s sister-in-law and nephew came to join us…and we floated in the water and played with the kids – and not one of us thought anything about it.

Well, I guess I do – but only because those moments I find myself catching my breath – taking in the amazing thing we created. Finding appreciation in what many consider completely insane.

No, it didn’t happen overnight but it did happen – and that is both unexpected and beautiful.

The kids went tubing and we stopped by Carol’s sister-in-law’s house and talked and eventually made it back to the house when Carol’s mom and more nieces and nephews came. And it wasn’t just “their” family – it was like an extension of our family. We know them all – see them at other family gatherings we hug and smile and laugh… and its good. It is healthy.

Abby and I could have stayed for lunch – heck – we were welcome to stay the night – but we needed to get home so we said our goodbyes…

The car ride was quiet – we were both tired…and as I looked at Abby I could only think – how little she understands. To her, a relationship like this is normal – seeing her parents and her step parents hang out isn’t odd. And, I guess that means we did a good job at accomplishing the extraordinary.

I think as I laid on the couch last night – I felt whole because our lives are whole. What was once perhaps considered broken and fragmented – is now seamlessly one. And it gives meaning to, “expect the unexpected.”

Truths: A cabin up north

2011-07-11T05:04:00.001-07:00

This past weekend we were up at our cabin. We are fortunate enough to both have a cabin up north in WI and to drive 2 ½ hours each way to get there. Five hours every weekend are spent in the car – time that would otherwise be used for maybe more productive things – or even just relaxing. But, it just seems that relaxing is never the same as it is at the cabin – up north.

I thought about that a lot this weekend. Why is folding laundry and making dinner so much more pleasant at the cabin? Doing dishes by hand, because we chose not to have a dishwasher just seems like part of the charm and not a complete waste of time.

Covering and uncovering the boat, hauling coolers down a flight of rock stairs, and spraying round-up in our gravel driveway are all amazingly fun.

What is it about a cabin that takes away the drudgery of every day life? Why is it so much simpler only 2 hours away from home?

Nothing seems to matter when we get there on Friday night. Our troubles seem to fade away the moment we pull into the driveway. We sleep in, we watch the hummingbirds and somehow we even take the time to lay in the hammock and watch the boats go by. When was the last time we laid in a hammock at home? (okay, we don’t have one at home – but even if we did – no one would be laying in it watching anything go by.)

There is a simplicity sitting on the ½ acre of land we own – a belief that its about living life in the present – and that is truly a blessing.

I couldn’t help but wonder what 170 miles does to separate us from this point of view. Why does driving away from home make us grateful for the days we are given. Why does leaving one of our driveways and pulling into another erase our cares?

Is there a way for us to feel like that in our own homes? I mean why can’t we live our whole lives with the philosophy we have on the weekends up north? Why not during the week in our hometowns?

If you are looking for an answer I don’t have one. Sorry.

I guess at home we pay the bills for the cabin (and the rest of our necessities). We attend meetings and some of us work. There is school and activities and neighbors… and I guess overall there are just expectations we find ourselves living up to. None of these things exist at the cabin. (yes, we do have neighbors and friends up there – but they seem to possess only one main quality – friendship without any strings attached. They are there when you need them – and non-existent when you hope to spend the day alone.)

But still… why is it okay for flip flops to pile at the door at the cabin, but one pair of shoes in the hallway at home makes my skin crawl? Why can friends walk into the cabin and see towels strewn across the sofas and I don’t care.

I guess, basically, why is it okay to really live up there and down here it is only okay to pretend to live like Martha Stewart? We are, obviously, capable of both.

One day, Bill and I hope to spend ½ the year up there and I ponder whether it will offer the same relaxation it does now when we are actually living there –paying the bills, belonging to groups and doing the dishes by hand every day. We are already talking that when that day comes, we are going to have to, somehow, create more space.

None the less, I am going to attempt to bring the cabin philosophy home. To take a deep breath and ignore the things that pull us away from the hammock (we don’t have at home.) To smile when I fold the 3rd basket of laundry and to say no to commitments I don’t enjoy.

We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to realize a different way of life – a slower pace and a change in zip code doesn’t have to change that.

Maybe I can even find a way to shut my eyes as the shoes pile up by the door?

Truths: The Bermuda Triangle

2011-06-28T05:17:00.001-07:00

So, in the last few days I have found myself in what I believe I should call, “the Bermuda triangle of age.”

Too old for one thing – too young for another.

Last weekend my step-daughter and grandson came to visit. It was going to be the bachelorette party and the bridal shower – so Lindsey came into town and we got to watch Oliver. We were very excited.

I guess it all started Friday night when we took Oliver to dinner… Lindsey was already gone. I was walking Oliver around the restaurant when one of the waitresses said, “Oh, mom’s got you now, huh?”

It continued the next morning when Abby and I took Oliver to the farmer’s market and three people proceeded to tell me what a beautiful son I had… When I said he was my grandson – their faces said the rest. Even a lady I am in Garden Club with fumbled for the words when she saw us, “Becky, I didn’t know you had another child?”

Its refreshing of course to hear that you are too young to have a grandchild – to constantly be mistaken as the mom and not the grandma…especially when you are 40 and age seems to be a factor in all that you do…

And just when I was boasting about being young… Saturday night hit – to make me start to question where I stood on the timeline of life.

It was the bachelorette party… The moms were all invited for a champagne toast and to go to dinner with the “girls.”

To me it was merely 8 years ago when my friends and I were sitting in the same place in Lake Geneva celebrating our friend’s bachelorette party – boating in the afternoon, partying in the bars… 8 years ago is a hardly enough to make you feel like you don’t belong right there again.

I happily took my beer from Lindsey and pondered the situation.

We walked our way to dinner where we enjoyed a great meal, more drinks and I got to know Kristin’s friends a little more. Sure they are younger than me by 10 years – but we laughed and told stories of their youth and how they party… and one of their friends was already pretty drunk so she acted as such and we giggled at her expense.

All through the night I couldn’t help but keep weighing what my next step would be… do I leave and act like a responsible adult – the stepmom of the bride, whom I am supposed to be? Or do I just act on my natural instinct and party until 2am with girls I can actually see myself hanging out with.

Sigh…

I guess Oliver was the determining factor. I knew that I would be the one waking up with him the next morning and coming home at 3am – probably wouldn’t cut it. And so, Judy, the groom’s mom, and I graciously said our goodbyes and the whole drive home I second guessed my actions.

Sunday hit and that was the bridal shower. Abby and I arrived late – because I am not used to getting a baby ready and myself… and when we got there the tables were full-up and it appeared the only opening was with some older ladies – which would have been okay and I am sure we would have found something to talk about but when I caught a glimpse of some seats with Kristin’s friends I think I sprinted to the table.

I wanted to re-capture what they had… I wanted to remember what it was like to be hungover at your friend’s bridal shower – I wanted to hear what I missed out on the night before – even if the truth was they didn’t remember much of it.

And then just when I was in the midst of questioning where the Hell I belonged – yesterday came…

Reality basically hit me upside the head as I was standing outside the dressing rooms at Hollister. If you have never been there – first you are lucky – but let me describe what you are missing…

On the outside of the store – there is no name – instead you walk onto a porch that looks like it should be in Key West, you pass surfboards and California photographs until you find yourself standing in the dark, adjusting your eyes and wishing they would turn down the damn music.

Just when your eyes adjust, your pre-teen daughter demands that you follow her around – even though anytime you offer your opinion she rolls her eyes and walks away… That is until she screams your name from a dark corner and expects you to offer another opinion which she will immediately ignore.

Once in a great while she actually says, “Oh, you think so – you like it – I guess I could try it on.”

And that is when you make your way to the small space they call a dressing room identified by the CA signs that read, “Clothing optional beyond this point.” How cute.

You can only take 5 items into the dressing room probably because the lights are so dim – it would be easy to shoplift a few. And since the rooms are too small for more than one person to be in – I get to stand outside under the clothing optional sign waiting.

There are no seats to relax in – the music still blaring and my eyes still hazy from being in the dark…No I just stand and wait.

And then it happens – another mom and her preteen daughter enter into the zone and she finds herself in my same position… holding the unallowed 6th and 7th items, standing and waiting.

We both stood there and many times I was about to say something like, “What is wrong with this place? Don’t they know that its us parents who are buying the clothes – can’t they afford better lighting – don’t they think the music is too loud for anyone to think?”

But, I couldn’t say it – I just couldn’t allow myself to actually speak the words – because as I played them in my head all I really heard was, “You are old, you are old, you are old.”

Forget the many cherished moments of the weekend where I was reminded I still have “it.” It doesn’t matter that I could still have my own 10 month old son…

No, the reality is that I am the real 40… The irritated mother of a preteen girl, the middle aged woman who needs both light and quiet to think about what I want to buy and who could really use a chair to sit in as she waits for her emotionally unbalanced daughter to walk out of the dressing room rolling her eyes at my mere existence.

It’s a Bermuda triangle I say… a place where time exists only in the words and actions which surround you… One minute too young to be old and the other too old to be young.

And like the tales of the triangle – once you go in – you never come out.

Tails: The sad truth behind the wag

2011-06-22T05:55:00.000-07:00

Last week, as I was bringing in Sadie for what would be a very telling surgery – a young couple was sitting in the parking lot. I could see that the woman was in the backseat with a dog and I could easily see that she was crying.

I knew what was about to happen.

Sadie and I made our way to the lobby – I felt the couple needed to time without Sadie and I overlooking…

As we sat down – the couple came in with their dog, a mixed breed of something like a husky and a shepherd. The dog didn’t make it in the front door and started peeing all over the floor. It was obvious that he had lost control of his bladder.

The young woman was crying and I could hold back no more…I started crying.

Two of our 4 dogs are getting older… in the 9-12 year old range and seeing that couple only brought to the surface what is ahead for us in the near future.

In fact, it might be nearer than I even thought.

See Sadie was going in for surgery to have a larger mass removed from her mammary gland. The truth be told – I had found something a few months back…But thought it was just an infection. It turned out to be a very suspicious mass… and I found out yesterday that she has mammary cancer.

I rescued Sadie 6 years ago. I saw a 1” picture of her on Petfinder.com and who knows why but I had to have her. I drove 8 hours one way based on a 3 sentence description and picture I needed a magnifying glass to even see.

Sadie turned out to be a biter – I guess more of a nipper – but with sharp teeth. There has rarely been a time when one of us wasn’t holding her by the collar when a guest entered our home.

It is also true that Sadie was saved by the rescue I adopted her from. Her papers from the Missouri Animal Control said she was a biter and knowing what I know after working in Animal Control she would have been euthanized if a rescue didn’t come and take her.

For 6 years, Sadie has been a great dog, minus the biting. She is loving and sweet and has never had an accident (a real feat in our house).

And now, tomorrow, after more tests are done, we will know how much the cancer has spread and ultimately, how much longer we will be able to have Sadie in our family.

It certainly makes you stop and think.

We have 4 dogs and 3 cats – and there is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t say, “Oh what I would give to have ONE dog.”

And yet, now that the circumstances deal me the possibility of lessening my herd… it breaks my heart. Each of the 7 adds a dimension to our home. Obviously, we have the biter, then the neurotic, then the happy, the wimpy… those are the dogs… For the cats, we have the psychotic, the fat and the one who wants to be a dog. Taking any one of them away changes everything.

We had thought that it would be Buddy who went first.. He is the oldest and is senile and getting grumpier by the day… But to find that Sadie is the sick one. We thought her feisty little self would last forever.

When Sadie went to the vet two weeks ago, we also found that she suffers from severe osteoarthritis and probably has the beginnings of Cushings disease an illness that ultimately paralyzes the dog with its symptoms. Sadie is not well… and it is so hard to grasp.

She is on meds right now – for practically everything – pain, infection and arthritis… and they are making her a frisky dog again – despite the huge incision that lines her belly.

Maybe it will be a year before we walk into that vet clinic like that young couple or maybe it will be just a few months… Every pet owner dreads that day no matter when it comes no matter if it is planned or sudden…

And yet, those days never even come to mind when you see a dog on petfinder that captures your heart. For you know that that dog will add something to your life that you never knew existed and you will be a better person because of it.

As pet owners we become more tolerant, more loving, more compassionate. We take an extra moment to breathe by walking with our dogs, throwing a ball or just lying beside them watching football. They are there for us when no one else is and every time we walk in the house they greet us like we were gone for a year.

They never judge us or demand anything from us. The love us unconditionally even after we yell or fail to share our dinner with them. They are just grateful for anything we give them.

It is no wonder that when their time comes to a close – we find ourselves heartbroken and empty – as though we betrayed them and failed to live up to their expectations.

But they never had any expectations for us… They only asked that we be kind, a warm place to sleep, a full bowl and fresh water to drink. And if we could ask them – they would also add – they don’t ever want us to see them suffer… but that is the hardest thing of all to give them because it means they are no longer with us and as humans we can be selfish…

Sadie’s day could come before I am ever ready, if ready is even possible, and for each day until then – I will make sure to give her an extra hug, a bigger treat and say the words, “I love you.” But none of that will ever make up for all that she has given me.

Truths: I’m there…

2011-06-10T06:31:00.001-07:00

Twenty years ago I would have put on my tightest jeans and my hottest top, spent over an hour getting ready and met my girlfriends at a bar – where we would have downed bottles of beer, barely touched our food and then, went to a club to dance the night away – even if it were the middle of the week. (and yes, we would have been hungover in the morning thrown our hair in a pony tail and made a dash for work)

Last night as I dressed in a nice sweater and the best jeans I have – which happen to be about 5 years old and touched up my hair after a day of cleaning the house and planting flowers in the rain…I left at 4:30 to meet two of my close college friends at The Cheesecake Factory.

Two of us managed to get in a little shopping before dinner and showed up with bags from stores like Coldwater Creek, Lord and Taylor and I had a huge bag filled with clothes from Baby Gap – I am a grandma!)

I ordered a pop and a water (because I can’t drink during the week due to a bet I have with another friend) and my two friends did order mojitos… but only one – after that, they went to Michelob Ultra (they didn’t have MGD 64) all because they were watching their calories. (and basically, saving them for cheesecake)

We each ordered a meal – which we easily ate at least ½ of and didn’t dash off to a club but sat there for 4+ hours talking. (The server did mention at 11pm that they were closing and she subtly thanked us for taking up her whole shift…)

Yep, 4 hours talking…and its important to say what we talked about. We spent a lot of time talking about our marriages, some about our kids, some about the sad fact that we actually do like a few of the clothes at Coldwater Creek…and we talked about the PTO, our hostility towards schools dictating what we can pack in our kids lunches, banning books…

Don’t get me wrong – looking back I think I enjoyed last night more than any night in a club – or at least this is what I enjoy at “my age.”

Last Sunday, as I was looking over my legs and Bill was putting together a mailbox – I found an unsightly truth – I have a few spider veins!

Tuesday, Abby and I were at Claires and I caught a glimpse of myself in a full length mirror and gasped. I was wearing a decent shirt, some denim shorts and sandals – thinking I looked okay – but when I saw me in the mirror – all I saw was the mom of a preteen… She looked all cute and put together and I, well, looked 40.

Its also come to the point where no matter what I do or what I wear my daughter has something to say about it and rarely is it ever kind. My earrings are hideous (they are just silver hoops), I, to her horror, wore the same shorts two days in a row, and it is appaulling that I actually have a few shirts from Aero. Not to mention her comment one day when I told her that Taylor’s mom bought the same Aero sweatshirt as I did and she said, “Well, Nancy will look good in it.”

I spent Wednesday night at the salon – 3+ hours basically foiling my hair so the grey doesn’t show and I have spent enough time on the treadmill, doing yoga and thousands of sit ups that I should look like… well, something I don’t.

Yep, I am there… that place of middle age. The place of realization. And, it kinda sucks.

You look in the mirror thinking you see yourself 20 years ago – and then, you are caught off guard at the mall with a glimpse of a person you don’t recognize.

Yeah, of course there are good things about this age... what are they?

Really, I am ok. I knew going into this year when I turned 40 right out of the gate…that things were headed down a different road. That clubbing it and shopping in the Jr. department were no longer in the cards for me.

I haven’t started going to dinner for the early bird special, so far I can’t get the Sr. discount, and I don’t read the obituaries…(sometimes I do).

But, I am aging.

But more importantly, beyond the spider veins and the embarrassment I cause my daughter – is 20 years of friendships. Last night as we tucked our shopping bags under the table – we were 20 again. Sure our life issues stem beyond what the cool bars are and who we “mashed with” over the weekend… But when it comes right down to it – “being here” is just as good as “being there” because the friendships I have now – mean so much more.

Truths: Hungover

2011-06-03T06:32:00.001-07:00

So, last night my husband and I went on a date to see a movie: The Hangover, Part 2. During a recent blizzard this winter we had the pleasure of watching the first Hangover and by the middle of the movie we were crying and practically peeing our pants it was so damn funny.

When I heard that a 2nd was coming out – you can only imagine my excitement. And when I saw that it was playing at our local theater – the kind that only costs $6.00 to see a movie and offers free refills on everything – I knew it would be the perfect date.

My husband and I are fortunate enough that we go out to dinner often so its not a big deal in our house – but going to the movies isn’t something we do – so I made sure to shower and dress nice. Heck, it was a date after all.

I think, sometimes, once you are married, dates are overlooked. For years prior to marrying, you spend hours getting ready, picking out the right outfit, shaving your legs and putting on your pretty panties… and then one day you wake up with your wedding band on – a t-shirt, pajama pants that don’t match and the realization you haven’t showered in two days. Date nights make me remember who I used to be.

So, ironically, as I prepared to go see the Hangover I was reminded by my friend Nancy that we aren’t drinking. We have a bet that neither of us can drink during the week. That would be Mon-Thursday… Eliminating the weekends was never in the cards for us. So, as we left the house early and headed to the bar across from the theater – I watched as Bill gulped down a High Life… and took a picture and texted it to Nancy – stating that I think this bet was the dumbest bet we ever made. But, I held my ground. Only 10 more minutes to the movie.

We got our tickets and loaded up on buttered popcorn and giant cokes (I had save all my calories for this big event) and made our way to the theater and picked our seats.

The movies was hilarious… Goofy monkeys, foul language, crazy Chinese guy, - you name it, it was in it… it was laugh out loud, pee your pants funny.

But it got me wondering, as I wiped the tears from eyes and we left the theater… would everyone laugh at it? If you have never been drunk to the point of oblivion – does the movie even make sense? If you wake up each day remembering all that you did the night before – can you even comprehend what the movie is about?

I am not saying that every day of my life is a blackout… I am not even saying that I have partook in anything (okay almost anything) that they did in either of the two movies…But, I have been known to get inebriated and “forget” what I did.

Sure its irresponsible, immature – I know…But that has never stopped me. I am not necessarily proud of my antics but I have some of the best stories and the funniest memories all of which were re-created the morning after the party.

I think that is why the Hangover is so hilarious. If you have ever drank too much and woken up on the floor with your best friends and spent the morning with a throbbing head trying to figure out what the Hell you did the night before – this movie is for you.

Sometimes it has taken whole days to account for the mere 5 hours the night before. Sometimes it has taken weeks to get the whole picture clear. But, while the nights are never fully played back – the memories and the bonds that take place because of them are priceless. Not to mention that they provide years of payback and opportunities for blackmail. People that party together ALWAYS remain friends.

They didn’t make the marketing statement, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” for nothing.

I, by no means, am encouraging such behavior. It is dangerous and often illegal… I am just merely recalling what I can’t recall and saying how much fun it was.

If you have ever been hungover…go see The Hangover Part 2. And wear Depends because you will pee your pants… kinda like you did in college after you did shots and passed out… (not that I know anything about that)

Truths: Pretend was better

2011-05-25T06:53:00.000-07:00

I was at the grocery store yesterday – which could have also been the day before – or the day before that because I pretty much go there everyday. I either forget something or realize that I don’t have something. Or my daughter needs another bag of Oreos – at any rate it is always something. I know the cashiers by name and whenever someone looks confused as to where to find something I can usually tell them what aisle and what shelf.

Its pathetic, I know.

So, I went for a few things yesterday – lets say there were about 15 items in my cart when I was done – and I am happy to say that I needed them all. I didn’t fall for any of those deals marketed at the end caps, I didn’t grab a bag of chips on my way, or buy 10 when I only needed 2… No, I stuck to my list and high tailed it out of there. Well, almost high tailed it out of there.

It was when I got to the check-out things took a turn.

Apparently, I am not the only one in the grocery store.

The lines were rather full. I don’t say long – because lets face it – it wasn’t a holiday – there weren’t people stacked up overflowing the line of traffic. They were just full.

So, I did what I have feared for a few years now. I went to the “do it yourself” lane.

I consider myself a rather technologically competent individual. I have an iphone, I twitter, I facebook, I text… but the “do it yourself” line at Jewel – intimidates me more than bungee jumping.

Maybe its because I don’t have a good track record. I can think of two times out of the 15 I have done it – that I didn’t need a real checker to come and save my ass.

So, going to the “do it yourself” aisle isn’t something I jump at the chance to do. Which is funny because besides playing school, playing store as a child was my favorite thing to do.

It was always so fun to line up a bunch of random items and pretend you were the cashier ringing them up… And I mean ringing them up – because I am old enough to admit that we didn’t have scanners. Nope – every item was added up by pressing numbers into a real cash register – not a computer screen.

I remember the day I saw my first scanner… wow – the sound of the beep – the speed of the transaction… how cool.

How cool – until you are the dumbass trying to make it work.

My first few items went fine. And then came the frozen chicken kiev (you don’t need to tell me how unhealthy it is – or how whatever is really in that plastic package isn’t chicken – I know that but my daughter loves them)

But, no matter how hard I tried – I couldn’t get the damn scanner to read the barcode. I set the three chickens – or whatever they are- back in the cart and proceeded. A few more successes, so feeling confident – I went back to my chickens. I got two to work but the third was still stubborn. Yes, I tried using one of the ones that did work – but, apparently, they were only good for one try.

Sigh. Back to a few other items.

And then the broccoli hit. Fresh produce. Now that could be a tricky one to some – because it needs to be weighed and you need to know that code – the one that you are always amazed at how every cashier knows the code for thousands of produce… But, I had been down this road before so I knew what to do.

I placed the broccoli on the scale and proceeded to look up my item on the touch screen. I found broccoli and pressed the icon – and it didn’t work. It said, as I feared through my whole experience, “Get help.”

Ugh! I can do this – so I tried it three more times.

I went back to the chicken and after three more swipes I finally heard that beep – the one I always wanted to imitate when I played store… a sense of relief came over me – until I looked in my cart and saw the damn broccoli still staring at me.

“Do I really need it,” I thought to myself.

Just then one of the cashiers I could identify from across the room – a friendly face I have seen at Jewel for 17 years walked by and I yelped for help like a lost dog.

“Ah, broccoli,” she said. “They took the darn code out and expect people to know it. I keep telling them to fix it. Sorry about that.”

Aaaaah – it was like the Heavens opened up. It wasn’t me – it was the damn computer.

But, truthfully it was me. Ringing up my own basket of goodies scares the Hell out of me. I feel like people are watching, judging me – laughing at me most of the time. And it seems no matter how hard I try – I always get the same message, “Get help.”

30 years ago, I would have paid to stand in front of a cash register (or computer these days) and play cashier. I could have spent countless hours – lining up grocery items and ringing them up. Filling baskets with groceries, reveling in the beep they made as they crossed the scanner, making change and swiping credit cards… even the joy I would have found bagging the purchases.

But, when pretend play become reality – it seems more like a nightmare.

Truths: Half way

2011-05-24T06:13:00.000-07:00

It is almost June and that means that nearly half the year is over. And that made re-examine the goals I set on January 1st. This is the first year that I took each month and designated at least 5 things to accomplish. It was my way of breaking down everything I wanted to do this year and making it achievable – or so I thought. The year, of course, started with a bang and as January came to a close I had marked off all 7 things, February – same thing and then March hit and the list started to wane.

I guess the first debockle was when I injured my back and my goal of running three miles a day came to an end and then I found that I was so busy going to Dr. appointments that my book editing lingered… and here I am the end of May – with more things circled still to do then things checked off as done.

Sure life gets in the way. I had a few health scares… my grandma got sick and passed away…and – well, shit just happens.

The interesting and saddest discovery is that the one goal that means the most to me: my book – is the one item that is circled every month. Why – why has everything else come first?

I don’t know and I don’t even know if I know how to change it. All I do know is that my priorities are, obviously, messed up.

Its not all bad – Thorp got involved in therapy work and I found myself with this unexpected gift of students who inspire me. I got to spend a lot of time with my grandma before I lost her, and a lot of house is de-cluttered. And, I guess all of that makes a difference in my life.

But, it is almost June and the good thing is that I have 6 months to re-cover. To re-prioritize and get back on track. As soon as I post this blog – I am going to re-write my year plans and do my best to recover the time I lost. Its never too late to change course - or so I can only hope.

Truths: Ashes to Ashes

2011-05-18T06:58:00.001-07:00

Its been a long few weeks for me – weeks that I am not sure I was fully conscious enough to remember. A blur as they say…

But yesterday, well, yesterday was eye-opening to say the least. Enlightening. Breathtaking.

We spread my grandma’s ashes. Her wish was to have her ashes mixed with my grandpa’s (who died 22 years ago) and spread amongst the land they owned for nearly 60 years. (note: this is actually illegal… I am not sure where exactly it is legal to spread your ashes but according to others – it is not a widely accepted practice)

It was a very small and private affair. My mom and dad, me, and my grandma’s dear friend and caretaker, Scott. (Not to be confused with my brother, Scott – no, he has yet to even call us back since grandma passed away.)

So, my dad and I got the ashes out. I really had no experience with this – only with my pets. However, I had never spread their ashes or even really looked at them. They sit in the container they came in – on a shelf in my office.

Maybe its details you don’t need – but here they are anyway because I do think that when I get to the whole point of this story – they will matter.

My grandpa’s ashes were 4 times as many as my grandma’s… they were much bigger in size and shape – more like crushed seashells compared to my grandma’s whose were as fine as dust and much, much less in quantity.

We did our best to mix the two together and then we embarked on a journey to the property I have known my whole life.

The lilac bushes, in full bloom, where my grandma, great grandma and I would pick blooms and make fragrant bouquets for the kitchen table. The grape vines where we would smash the little fruits and stain our clothes in purple juice. The cigar tree as we called it and picked those long pods. It is a field of memories – of happy times – of innocence for me.

And as we walked, I could literally see myself at ages 5, 12, 17 – my life passing before me.

We stopped at the oak tree that my grandma specified to my mom… My mom read a passage from a blessing which was said by a minister right before she passed. My dad took some of the ashes and scattered them around the tree.

We went to the magnolia tree that my grandma had specified to Scott… this time I read a prayer and again scattered the remains of the ashes.

The wind was soft and the sun was shining and there was something unspoken in the air. My prayer was about freedom… and that my grandma was free to be with God… Someone she believed in her whole life – she was in Heaven – the place she waited to see.

But as the ashes blew in the wind and fell upon the soil – I became awestruck.

We look at people our whole lives – we judge their appearance: how they dress, how much they weigh, their flaws and maybe sometimes, their perfections…

But here I was looking at what was left of my grandma – and none of that stuff mattered – because her whole life was reduced to dust – dust that would be absorbed by the ground and all that would remain as proof of her existence was they things that she did – the love that she shared, the happiness she offered, the contributions she made.

We look at people and somehow believe that their appearance says something about them – but in the end - the one things that says anything about them – is the work of their soul and their soul can take the shape of anything…

I have truthfully never looked at life like that before.

I have never spread ashes. I have only see urns – or been to services where you see a casket and a body and it just seems like the whole person, body and all, gets laid to rest. But there really isn’t a body. It was merely just a shell – to house the soul – the soul whose job is to make a difference in some way while on this Earth.

Life becomes unfathomable when looked at in this light. It definitely gives reason to pause and re-evaluate what is important – what matters and how you judge people.

Sure we have all heard things like: “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” or “It what’s on the inside that matters.”

But until you see someone you love as only ashes in a bag do you realize that it is all true.

It also reveals that if I weigh 10 pounds more than I want, or wish that my hair was longer or my boobs bigger – I am ultimately wasting my energy because none of that matters… What matters is what I do while I am here – how I offer of myself to others, how I love and how I choose to live my life.

One day, when my ashes are spread – I can only hope that no one is saying, “If she only would have lost that 10 pounds, or let her hair grow, or had plastic surgery.”

I want them to say things like, “She loved with her whole heart, she always stopped to save a stray and she wrote that book that changed the way people saw the world – she made a difference here.”

My grandma made a difference. She taught for 50 years, hundreds of children who always remembered her. She made me laugh and loved me unconditionally. And as I watched her ashes return to Earth – She had the wisdom to teach me one last thing: Quit wasting time and go pursue your passion in life…all the other stuff really doesn’t matter.

Truths: Breathe

2011-05-06T06:01:00.001-07:00

Breathe in
A star in the sky

Breathe out
A baby swaddled in cloth

Breathe in
A young girl in a sundress

Breathe out
A woman in heels and lipstick

Breathe in
A woman in love with a man

Breathe out
A bride

Breathe in
A mother

Breathe out
A teacher

Breathe in
A daughter, a sister

Breathe out
A friend

Breathe in
A grandma

Breathe out
A widow

Breath in
A great grandma

Breathe out

Breath in, breathe out

As life hangs in the air, shared by family and friends, awaiting her fate, talking of her beauty, her devotion, her spirit

Breathe in, breathe out
A silence fills the room, life becomes nothing but a swish of air, warm skin, dry lips.

Breathe in, breathe out
One, two, three… gasp

Breathe in, breathe out
All eyes on lips that flutter, face gaunt and grey

Breathe in, breathe out
Amongst the scared space lives 91 years:
memories, accomplishments, tragedies,
tears of joy, of sadness,
loss and love

Breathe in, breathe out
In one last breath a life is transformed
raising from a bed
spreading her wings - a spiritual soul.
Free at last

Breathe in, breathe out.

Truths: When seconds count

2011-05-03T06:10:00.001-07:00

Its been a very fast and difficult 24 hours. We had left my grandma Sunday night in ICU only to wake up to a Dr.’s phone call saying that he recommends we get Hospice involved.

Does anyone ever want to hear those words?

We spent the day with my grandma in the ICU – awaiting the presence of a Hospice representative. My grandma dozed in and out of consciousness – once in awhile she would smile and say that she was happy to be going to Hospice.

It was as thought those words brought her a sense of relief – they marked the beginning of the path she has chosen to take…

The Hospice lady came… You hear amazing things about Hospice all of the time. The warmth they offer, the dignity they provide patients. But until you are sitting face to face with them you really have no idea of just how genuine they are.

The administrator came – and as we found moments later to laugh – we decided to call her the recruiter.

She talked with my grandma as much as she could – but it was us that signed her up and listened as she talked.

Her degree of kindness was comforting and without hesitation we knew it was the right thing to do – the only thing to do.

Later a Hospice nurse would come to assess the situation. She, too, was sincere and gentle and recognized the expediency necessary. My grandma would be moved in two hours.

She would be moved to one of their hospital units right in my very own town. They only have two and miraculously one of them is less than a mile from my house – I can even walk there.

I found the strength at the end of the night, after we said goodnight to her in her new room to joke and say, “You know your life is turned upside down when you find it lucky to have your loved one moved to a Hospice close to your home.”

She has her own room and we can decorate it and make it as close to what she called home for over 50 years. It won’t ever be the same – but I guess, for now, it is the best we can offer.

In my own fashion of gaining control of a life spinning out of whack – I envisioned the interior designing I would do – to make it as beautiful as possible.

I tossed and turned all night – so much dread on my mind. Only to wake and find that the nurse called and my grandma’s breathing has lessened and has become very shallow and weak.

In a matter of a few short days – my grandma has gone from being worried about her hair to struggling to breathe. Its is heart stopping to be slapped in the face with how fast life can change – how the people we once knew can be taken away.

Maybe she will fight and make some miraculous recovery… A selfish part of me wants that. But, deep inside I know she wants to die. She is a religious woman and I know that she is anxious to be with the God she loves and I know that is where she will find peace.

Its just hard to let go.

Today I will spend more time with her – and my parents and I will go back to her house and collect some of the things she valued most and take them to her new place… I will busy myself with decorating her room and pretending everything will be okay all while I fight the pain inside knowing that none of that could matter in just a matter of seconds.

Truths: How old are we?

2011-05-02T06:29:00.000-07:00

Its been an interesting week…It started when I went to look for a birthday card. I found myself drawn to the ones that hinted at old age. You know the ones that imply memory loss, falling body parts, incontinence? The ones with the wrinkly old ladies making jokes about how hot they are?

And I was laughing.

Kind of a sick laugh – half because they were funny and half because I could relate to them. My memory is getting little foggy but so far my bra holds me up and I haven’t started peeing in my pants (maybe just a little when I cough or laugh really hard – looking at cards that imply I am old).

But as I questioned my youth – I remembered just a few weeks ago when I found myself in the ER and not one but at least three people asked if I was still getting my period?

Huh?

I have been wishing for at least two years to not have it anymore – but when people suggested that I might no longer be getting it – I was actually proud to say yes! I mean do I look like I have survived menopause – do I really look that old?

And then as the past week progressed I was forced to account for the last 40 years of my life and how from the day we can speak sentences we are always eager to be the next year older… You certainly don’t see 30 somethings saying, “Actually, I am 30 and a half.”

But when we are 9 we want to be 10 and when we are 12 we want to be 13 and when we are 15 we want to be 16 so we can drive and when we are 17 we want to be 18 so we are adults and can vote and when we are 20 we want to be 21 so we can drink and when we are 24 we want to be 25 so we can rent a car…And it is about then we want to quit having birthdays.

And from 25 on – we celebrate milestone birthdays as though the parties themselves will erase any indicaton that we have become 30, or 40, or 50.

We find ourselves elated when someone asks for an ID when we buy liquor even though the sign behind the clerk reads, “We card EVERYONE!”

But then just as we are enjoying cloud 9 – we come home and our children say they are embarrassed because we are shopping at their stores. I say if they make it in my size – why can’t I wear it?

My parents just flew in and when they were waiting for their flight an airline attendant came up to them and asked if they were waiting for a wheelchair?

WOW, right? That’s certainly enough to send you over the edge… Though, I laughed my ass off!

I recently was over joyed when I went mother of the bride dress shopping and the dress consultants immediately took me to a different side of the store.

But it is a wave we ride – the wrinkles on our faces, the fact that our middle gets larger even after we run 3 miles a day…

Sometimes I think I married a much older man just so I could always feel younger… (not really – but there are times it adds to my confidence.)

We spend half our lives wanting to be that one year older – wanting what age brings us… freedom. Until one day we find ourselves old and realize our freedom has come and gone.

My grandma is on a slippery road right now… First it was congestive heart failure and now she is in the ICU and is suffering from pneumonia… Its not good.

I see her laying in a bed with a horrible mask on her face so she can breathe – and my heart breaks… the woman who prided herself on looking amazing and put together is nothing more than a frail body in an ugly hospital gown… and I know all she wants is to die.

Before she was admitted into the ICU yesterday she had spent a week in a nursing home and I was forced to look mortality in the face… All of these human beings asleep in wheel chairs in the hallway… basically awaiting for the inevitable.

For them, the hallmark cards aren’t even funny anymore.

We believe that age defines us – whether it be what we are capable of or what we no longer have – and in the end none of that really matters.

As the inevitable approaches my grandma is sane enough to talk about her belongings and if we are able to move her to an assisted living place – she said what she wanted to take along.. two little statues, some sparkly pins that I gave her and her three scrapbooks of pictures.

Wow, right?

All those years spent wanting to be old and then wanting to be young and all she wants now are a few things she could have had at any age.

I guess laughing at those cards is truly a blessing – finding humor in what age does to us – is a coping mechanism – denying that we are actually getting old is just a smokescreen for our fear of what comes next…

But in truth, aging is a natural process – no matter how we try to avoid it – it sneaks up on us… and instead of running from it – we need to find ways to embrace it – to look upon it with respect and to revel in its ultimatum… the alternative is not so glorious.

The wrinkles on our face are signs of the happiness and sorrow we have faced. The grey hair a reminder of the wisdom we have acquired. The fullness in our hearts the love we have experienced.

We get only one chance at this life we have – and as you watch someone come to the end of theirs – it seems rather unfortunate to realize you have spent much of your own worrying about how old you are.

Tails: One step forward, two steps back – shame on ABC

2011-04-27T05:00:00.001-07:00

I received a horrible email yesterday from an anti-puppy mill group I am a member of. This group works tirelessly to end puppy mills in IL and to support legislation to make them illegal across America.

Here is what I received:
On Thursday morning ABC News - Good Morning America, aired a segment on designer dogs. Not only did they promote these dogs as great pets for people who live in cities, have allergies, or don't want a barking dog, but they also stated that the breeding of these mixes produces only the best traits of both breeds in the offspring. They stated that to get these quality puppies you have to pay up to $1,400 in pet stores. There was no mention of where these dogs are bred or how they get to the pet stores.

For all of us that work so tirelessly across the nation educating the public about the puppy mill to pet store connection, this was a huge set back. Obviously they did not do any research on this subject and instead chose to air a totally false and irresponsible piece that chose to encourage sales and "educate" the unsuspecting public about what a "Morkie" really is. New York City is number two in the sale of puppy mill dogs in the country and this segment certainly will help to keep them there.
Please contact ABC TV and let them know how you feel and what they have done. Ask to speak to the producer of the segment at 212-456-7000.
The Puppy Mill Project is recommending boycotting Good Morning America until further notice.

To view the segment Click on the link below:

http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/video/pet-trend-designer-dog-breeds-13426493

To contact ABC News Good Morning America click on the link below:

http://abcnews.go.com/Site/page?id=3271346&cat=Good%20Morning%20America

This is so frustrating. People, like me, who have actually seen the conditions these so called “designer dogs” come from become enraged when anyone promotes buying them.

My heart breaks when I see news like this because there are enough ignorant people out there who don’t know any better – and who believe that getting some designer dog for $1400 dollars at a pet store means more than rescuing a dog for so much less and yet is so much more rewarding.

Its not to say that these poor dogs who had no control over their fate should go homeless – its just to say that purchasing these dogs from scrupulous breeders and money hungry pet shops only perpetuates the cycle of cruelty.

Never fear that these dogs will go homeless… If everyone stopped buying them altogether – those left would end up in shelters where they would ultimately find homes anyway.

If every animal rescuer and adopter could shout from the rooftops that buying dogs from pet shops and over the internet breeds not a good dog but an industry of neglect maybe then both the government and the media would get the message.

It has to be acknowledged that just a decade or so ago “designer dogs” were considered nothing more than mutts. Truthfully, that is what they are. And as much as I dislike the AKC – at least they haven’t stooped too low and included them as registered canines. (I love mutts, don't get me wrong)

If you have the time – it takes about a minute – please click on the ABC link and tell them you are disappointed that they would promote designer dogs at all. Ask them for a retraction or at the very least a segment devoted to where these designer dogs come from…

And if you have more time – volunteer at a shelter to walk a few dogs – and if you are reading this and want a designer dog – visit www.petfinder.com - I am certain you will find a dog who meets your needs and will be rescuing a friend for life.

Until we put an end to the breeding of dogs as an industry – millions of homeless dogs will continue to be euthanized and that is what is saddest of all.

Truths: A tree with many leaves

2011-04-26T06:22:00.000-07:00

The last few weeks, maybe even months, have been quite reflective for me… Between the loss of loved ones, holidays and everyday life – I have been made to realize some important things about family.

For much of my adult life – I have tried very hard to capture the spirit of my childhood holiday memories. You know the ones where you remember the whole extended family sitting around the living room sipping cocktails and chatting while the kids played happily in the basement. The entire house filled with aroma of a freshly roasted turkey and the green bean casserole baked in the oven.

If it happens to be Christmas – the gifts are piled around the beautifully decorated tree and the kids are patiently awaiting a surprise visit from Santa. Or maybe its Easter and there are a bunch of eggs hidden in the yard.

It sounds like Martha Stewart was my mom and the Dickens were my family – but while that is not true – these are the memories I hold from my childhood. I was lucky.

(Now who knows what my mom’s version of these holidays were – I can only envision that she was rattled for weeks prior to the events – tackling department store lines since we didn’t have Amazon.com, fighting her way through the grocery store chaos and sweating as she dusted the china cabinet…but for me, I just had to show up and believe that I had the most amazing family holidays ever.)

As the years went on and I grew a bit older – it became clear that I wasn’t raised in the home of the Brady Bunch and my family and its traditions slowly became a little less amazing.

The glisten of extended family tarnished… and soon I would find myself married and taking on the tradition of my new family. Again, mostly perfect – but with it came compromise – whose family for Christmas, Thanksgiving – whose Mom for Mother’s Day… Until 7 years later we had it down path and filed for divorce – changing my family dynamics again.

For a few years as I was a single mom – I did my best to create memories that Abby would cherish (even though she was 2 at the time)… and I continued to grasp at straws to keep what was left of my extended family together. Though, no holiday ever seemed to resemble that of my childhood.

Once again, I found myself married and wiggling my way into a new extended family. One that I had no history with – and one that came with two step-daughters. Certainly this is never how it played out in my dreams.

It was all clumsy for quite awhile – how to create a new history with these people who were now my in-laws – and how to develop a relationship with my new step-daughters without seeming to desperate or too controlling…

Its officially 6 years this Saturday… and after our recent visit to San Diego for Easter – I finally get it.

My parents moved to Florida full-time a few years back, my Aunt and Uncle (I only had one set) fled the family and my brothers became unavailable… My grandma was about the only family who was near enough to share holidays with… My straws were quickly disappearing.

I fumbled for awhile – trying to make sense of it – coming to terms with letting go of my childhood holiday wishes – but I flailed…and I failed.

This past Christmas – I made one last attempt at bringing my family together along with my step-children and grandchildren and for the most part it worked.

Today my grandma is in a nursing home and once again what I knew as a family is changing. I have been left feeling like a doll split in half during a tug of war. Half in one hand and half in the other.

Until last Sunday. When I found myself with Oliver on my lap and Bill on my right and Lindsey and Dave sitting around a table in a beautiful beach side restaurant enjoying Easter brunch.

Yes, Abby was missing and Kristin, Jeffrey and Josee – but this was my immediate family and these were the childhood memories Oliver would have and making them happen was now, essentially, up to me.

No neither my parents or Bill’s mom were with us – or my grandma – and its not that I didn’t miss them, I did, its just that this is my future moving forward – these are the people whom I will have to share a whole new generation of holidays with and these will be the moments that make up a whole new set of memories.

I have doubts that I will ever have everyone sitting around our living room at the same time, I even have doubts that there will be a turkey roasting in my oven… but I do believe that I can re-capture those feelings of possibility, of warmth, of family…

And just what is family anyway? I was reminded last night at a band concert that family is certainly not what used to be its definition.

As Bill and I sat and watched the concert – I could not help but realize that we were sitting with Keith, my exhusband. Carol wasn’t there so it was just us three sitting and talking and laughing…none of us even thinking about the oddity this presents to some people.

This Saturday, Molly, Keith and Carol’s daughter, will make her first communion – and we will be there to support her and to share in the family party afterwards. This August when Jeffrey and Kristin get married, Keith and Carol will be there with us to share the big day.

Its unconventional, but its our reality.

I have tried so hard for so long to create some picture perfect family – some rendition of an oil panting from yesteryear – while all long I was surrounded with people I care about.

Whenever people create family trees – they tend to leave out the branches that sway – the ones who perhaps grew out from the seeds of other trees and somehow found their way entangled with the mighty tree – usually made up of rings bound by “true blood.”

My faith in family was renewed in just the last two days by a revelation that family isn’t something you can force – but it is something you can create – no matter how it came to be.

Tails: My return to epiphany

2011-04-25T06:15:00.000-07:00

My husband and I spent the long holiday weekend in San Diego visiting our daughter and our grandson. It was Bill’s birthday and I surprised him with the trip.

We had an amazing time – and just can’t get over how big Oliver has gotten and what a happy, adorable baby he is.

My dear stepdaughter knew it was important that I get time at none other than dog beach… and it was just as perfect as the last time.

I took my spot on the rock cliff and sat down amongst three dogs I didn’t know. And was immediately greeted by two more not to mention two friendly dog people – who just seemed to smile because they knew I was loving this.

While the dogs as the beach are entertainment alone – the genuine kindness of the dog owners is refreshing in itself. They share everything – toys, water, towels and they share themselves without guard. Dog people at dog beach are about the best people around.

I looked out at at least 50 dogs and I swear tears welled up in my eyes.

There were Chihuahuas standing next to Great Danes – Pit Bulls playing with Yorkies – Labs making friends with Cattle dogs – both vying for the tennis balls. There were even two Greyhounds off leash (rare for this breed).

I know most people could walk passed dog beach with merely a quick smirk but for me – well, it is where I belong.

There are few times in your life that take your breath away – times that bring tears to your eyes out of sheer joy – times that you find yourself speechless. Going to dog beach is one of these times for me.

The surf, the sand, the sun… and the myriad of dogs running free – it is a moment when all I can think is the world really is a beautiful place.

As I sat and basked in not just the rays but the power of watching something so simple and yet so incredible – all I could ponder is how few times we find true meaning in our lives.

Being at dog beach is like a continual ‘a-ha” moment for me. I have found true meaning in animals and all that they have to offer the world – from puppy mill horror to therapy dog success – animals have a way of connecting me to the world – of grounding me – centering me…

I wish, for one moment, that everyone could experience dog beach like I do – this ultimate moment of zen – utter happiness - absolute honesty.

Dog beach is inspiration to my soul – a faith that I am on the right track with my life – that my heart knows its direction. Few things can bring out such revelation but dog beach is an epiphany for me…and truly should serve as one to everyone… If a Daschund can hang out with a Mastiff – surely we all can find a way to get along and make peace in this world.

Truths: A tisket, a tasket - what color for my casket?

2011-04-19T06:07:00.000-07:00

In the last 30 days, I have been to two funerals. One beautiful and elegant and one simple and modest. I assume they were both how the person wanted them. One was for a dear family friend - who I was honored to do the eulogy for and the other was for a person I might have only met once: my husband's aunt.

(When you come into a marriage later in life - extended family is often overlooked - everyone is older and busier with lives of their own and meeting them basically comes down to weddings and funerals - with funerals being foremost.)

My grandma is in the hospital - she had her gallbladder taken out on Friday and her recovery isn't going all that well. She is 91 years old and any surgery takes a toll.

My parents are in their late 60's and while young...its hard to really know... My brother passed away a few years ago... so death has taken on new meaning to me.

Dying isn't something I embrace. I really don't like thinking about losing the people I love nor do I want to envision my life cut short... But, I am quite fanatical about my funeral. Maybe its just my way of accepting death.

Thanks to my dad who had me watch, I believe it was called, The Serpent and the Rainbow? It was set in some third world country with medicine type doctors and voodoo... and basically, they buried people alive. I know, now as a parent, that we aren't always aware of the effects something can have on our children - but this movie really set my beliefs into full force.

After mulling my fears for many years and then finally communicating them to my parents (not to mention yelling at my dad for making me watch that movie) my dad explained to me that a long time ago - when they didn't embalm people - they had caskets with strings tied to bells above the ground so that if a person was still alive they could ring the bell.

Yes, that is what I want. In fact, I found that they still have these for purchase.

I also want to be buried in my pajamas - with white socks. Why would anyone want to be buried in a suit? I don't want my funeral at a funeral home with low lighting and elevator music in the background.

I want it at a park - a zoo- a sanctuary... and I would really like if people brought their dogs.

And, yes, I do want lots of flowers... and lots of alcohol and I want people to laugh at the dumb things I did in life and celebrate whatever it is they found worthy.

I have known that I wanted these things for probably 15-20 years. But, no, except for this blog, they aren't written any where.

I have watched two people be buried in the last 30 days - and there is no doubt that each time you witness something like that it changes your own life. Not just accepting the fact that people you knew, loved and cared for have passed away but it reminds us how precious our own lives on Earth really are and how important it is to tell those we love that we are grateful for them.

It also demonstrates what matters in the end. You don't get buried with your house, your car or your wardrobe - you get buried clothed in what said the most about you and surrounded by the people who loved you and hopefully, that is many.

Its selfish, perhaps, to have such detailed plans for your death... but I also think it lessens the burden of the people around you when they know how you would like to leave this Earth.

Out of the loss these last 30 days - I hope I am able to take away something meaningful - something that transcends sorrow and makes me a better person - and that I am able to carry a small fragment of who I have lost with me.

Death is never really an option or a choice - we come here knowing we can't stay forever and as we get older and the people we love age - death becomes a greater part of our lives whether we like it or not.

It makes us re-think things, it makes us worry... it forces us to plan for a future we won't be a part of and it makes me realize that I would love a pink casket.

Truths: The chicken, the egg and the ER

2011-04-18T04:45:00.000-07:00

So, I spent 6 hours in the ER yesterday. For 5 days I had been suffering abdominal pain. And by Sunday, I was doubled over in pain.

I worried going to the ER would be an embarrassing revelation: I really just had to go to the bathroom…but that was not the case.

I started at Urgent Care, mostly because the wait is shorter and I do think it costs less. However, after a quick diagnosis from the DR. – I was told that they didn’t have the equipment to make a proper diagnosis – I would need an ultrasound and maybe a CT.

So, reluctantly, we made our way a bit further down the street to the hospital emergency room – where, just like I envisioned, it was packed.

After a few minutes I was called into triage where I was able to explain my symptoms for the 4th time in 30 minutes – have my blood pressure re-taken and asked all the same questions about medications I take and if I do street drugs.

Even in pain I found myself curious so I asked, “Do people really admit to doing illegal drugs?”

“They sure do,” said the nurse, “You wouldn’t believe what people tell us and you wouldn’t believe how much heroin is in this town.”

Good to know. And, it came as a sick relief that my social drinking was the least of their worries.

20 minutes more of waiting and I was give a room and a gown…more time passed and one of the techs came in to start an IV and take blood. He was a bit cocky, I thought, and after some tapping of my veins and no regard for my opinion which was based on 10 years of giving blood and knowing what veins produced and what ones didn’t - he chose the ones that don’t and what a surprise to find that after two failed attempts and a whole of pain – he had to call in a nurse – who, you guessed it, chose the veins I would have.

Today I have three black and blues spots and two swollen veins.

About 40 minutes passed before a Dr. came in… and I was relieved to find that he spoke English and was genuine and sincere. He took my pain seriously and scheduled a number of diagnostic tests.

I won’t go into detail – but let’s just say that I endured multiple levels of gynecological care and diagnostic testing. Which is always less than desirable.

He offered up pain medications and I happily took them – only the nurse forgot and 25 minutes later I hit the call button to remind her.

That is when I came up with the idea that medical professionals should be paid less and then tipped for their services. You can bet the tech would get nothing and the Dr. would get at least 20%.

I mean it makes sense, right? If the medical professionals made a good portion of their wages on gratuity – I would bet that what took 6 hours yesterday would have taken 3 and I wouldn’t have been poked with a needle 3 times – only once, and no one would have forgotten my pain meds.

Waitresses tend to get it right more often than not.

One person who was extremely on top of her game was the registration lady – who just happened to be the one who took your co-pay…(as you are half naked in a gown with no back and are reaching for your purse on the other side of the room hoping that what is covered doesn’t flap open) funny they don’t forget that part of the procedure.

It’s interesting how when you are not in the profession – it is so easy to come up with ways to fix it.

The best news was that at no point in the 360 minutes I was there did anyone suggest all I needed to do was go to the bathroom – somehow the pain I was experiencing was beyond a bowel movement.

As the 6th hour came to a close and the not so pleasant tests were completed the Dr. came into the room to explain the results: I had a ruptured ovarian cyst.

Cysts are a normal part of menstruation until they become enlarged and rupture. This can cause extreme pain. I can attest to that.

The thing is, as far as they explained, there is nothing to be done about one – when it happens. Eventually the pain will subside (they gave me pain killers – which I will save and sell to the druggies who apparently live all over my town) and it will all get re-absorbed into my body.

However they did say it is important I make an appointment to see my gyne – ASAP. That, alone, is another story since I am not fond of the one I have… and need to find another – which I have been putting off as well as my annual exam – which might be why I was in the ER to begin with.

Anyway, the thing I liked about the Dr. – is that amongst all the craziness that was going on in the ER (though nothing like Grey’s) he sat down and talked with me. I mean really sat down and talked to me. The rest of the chaos outside could wait until he thoroughly explained that we could do another test, a CT, but he was fairly confident that this was the right diagnosis and he didn’t see the need to expose me to that kind of radiation. If I wanted the test – he would order it but, for now, he didn’t see the benefit.

He also reiterated that he would be in the ER the next day so that if my pain worsened – I should just come in and he would manage my case again – hopefully, without all the waiting.

I believe I have said it before – but a day in a real ER is nowhere near an hour of Grey’s Anatomy or Private Practice… No one really cares about your personal life – I didn’t get to share the pressure I am under to find a Mother of the Bride dress or any marital problems I may be having (I am not).

I guess I can just be satisfied about a few things: one, I didn’t embarrass myself by going into the ER – it wasn’t about bowel movements, it only took 6 hours instead of 8, and I was fortunate enough to have an ER Dr, who not only spoke English but was kind and caring and thorough – and that I didn’t have to calculate what 20% of the bill was to tip anyone.

Truths: Step one – get it over your head

2011-04-14T05:55:00.001-07:00

Aaah – so I began my journey yesterday looking for dresses. Sigh. It started at 11:30 and the first stint ended at 2…which really could have ended at 3 but I had a hair appointment (which I was late to) so we had to rush through the last 10 dresses. I don’t know if I was just worn out by then – but the last 10 (actually 9) just didn’t do it for me or Nancy.

I say 9 because right after I got dressed and the 30 plus dresses were put away – Nancy found just one more I should try on… Her opinions had been pretty much right on the whole morning so I begrudgingly agreed to take off my clothes one more time and give it a chance..

Turns out it is one of contenders – go figure.

I ended up with two possibilities after nearly 2 hours of getting naked and re-dressed. I think most women can understand the sheer exhaustion of trying on any clothes – but trying on “wedding” dresses takes things to marathon level.

Some go over your head – as you dive in and hope that you come out near the top with the straps on your arms and not stuck around your neck.

Some you take from the bottom up and hope that the dress doesn’t get stuck on your hips or your ass forcing you to topple over onto the ground – laughing at yourself and silently crying because obviously your ass is too big.

Then comes the zipper. My method is to arch my back and wrap my arms around myself in a near contortion and yank on the zipper… when all else fails – you walk out into the open – half naked - and ask your friend to help you out.

Luckily, for me, most of the dresses were sizes that were too big on me. Big smile. Which meant that Nancy had to take the giant clip and snug me up. (I have to say the giant clip is certainly modern technology in terms of dress fitting… used to be that someone had to take a thousand straight pins to get the same effect).

Some of the dresses I could eliminate in about 10 seconds… though I would give Nancy a chance to weigh in… 99.9% of the time she instantly agreed.

And then there were the others… I would walk out – we would sigh…I would go to the pretty 3 way mirror – stand on the stool to make myself look longer and see how the dress would ultimately look hemmed and we would sigh again…sometimes saying, “I think I like it.”

At which point we would start to create ways to alter it so we would like it better.

Sigh again.

Its just some did make my ass look big, some made it look small, some just seemed to make me look old and some just weren’t me, some I wanted to like but just couldn’t and well, most just didn’t do anything at all.

So, it came down to two…

Then last night I ended up going to another place with my friend Ellen. This was more or less a disaster.

The place was busy and apparently, since I wasn’t going to buy anything white – I really didn’t matter. On one hand it was nice because it was just Ellen and I whipping through dresses – with no one else to interfere – but there were definitely times when a “professional's” opinion would have helped.

I believe we went through about 15-20 dresses in about an hour. I am getting this sport down. After a lot of contemplation about a few – it came down to one – which in the end – only came in blue and that wasn’t going to work.

We left, empty handed and exhausted… and it was 7:30 and I had not eaten all day. We finally went to dinner.

I tossed and turned all night – envisioning the two dresses – the pros and the cons… and have my reservations about both.

Is this the kind of dress that is supposed to bring tears to my eyes when it is the right one?

Well, tomorrow is round two… with my friend Monica. The one thing I did learn (that I should have known already) is I am bringing a better bra.

Tails: A birthday of a lifetime

2011-04-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

We had decided to celebrate Thorp’s 7th birthday with the kids at school… I would bring cupcakes and the kids would learn how to make homemade doggies treats. It sounded like a fun day…

But, neither, Thorp or I, knew how special of a day it would be.

Yesterday, we walked into the classroom and were immediately surrounded by the kids who were singing, “Happy Birthday” and swamping Thorp with gifts and cards that they had made and brought in.

We were barely inside the doorway and I found myself sitting down right there and watching in awe as these kids, whom we have only known for a short time, showered Thorp with love and affection.

All of the cards had a picture resembling Thorp on them – all hand drawn by the children... There were adorable paper candles made for Thorp to blow out and gift bags filled with treats and toys.

Once the initial excitement settled a bit – Thorp and I went over to “our” rug and the kids sat in their seats and in unison sang the entire birthday song including the “cha cha cha” part. It took my breath away.

To many it would seem just a fun celebration – something kids would do for any dog – but for Thorp and me – this was different.

I can never forget where Thorp came from – the life he once had to endure. The cold nights and the hot days – the loneliness and the terror.

To think just a few years ago – Thorp’s birthday meant nothing to anyone – just a dog in cage – a product on a shelf. But yesterday, Thorp’s birthday was an amazing celebration.

He was the center of attention. And, kids, who aren’t always understood, came together and showed just how caring and creative and generous they can be.

Everyone was so genuine with their affection – they truly wanted it to be a special day for Thorp.

It melts my heart to see the connection that has been made so quickly. Such as the warm welcome Thorp gets when we walk in the room or watching one of the children sit down quietly with Thorp and tell him that they missed him – well, that is priceless.

We did make treats – the kids measured out the ingredients and stirred the dough – rolling it out and using cookie cutters to make bones and fire hydrants and dog shapes.

They learned about sharing and working together and to do things for other people – well, in this case, a dog.

Once the treats were in the oven – we handed out the cupcakes and once again – they sang Happy Birthday.

Thorp sat and listened and I believe really took it all in. I know he is “just a dog” to many people – but many of us rescue people believe that a puppy mill dog always remembers where they came from and never takes things for granted.

Yesterday, amongst a class of children, Thorp was the star shining – holding his head high with kids who don’t always get a chance to show just how special they are – maybe that is why Thorp and they were meant to be together.

Truths: A wedding (dress) in my future

2011-04-12T07:14:00.001-07:00

So, this week I embark on a journey I never thought I would take at 40… looking for a “mother of the bride dress.” Or, in my case “a stepmother of the bride dress.”

And, of course, that makes all the difference – not to overlook – that I am a “young” stepmother of the bride – but thankfully – we are not the same age – just a decade apart.

I wasn’t planning on embarking on this journey just yet. The wedding isn’t until August but Kristin politely informed me that if I wanted to get a dress from a bridal store – I would need to order it soon. I know its true…

Its just that I have those pesky 10 more pounds to lose…and I wanted to be in top form before I started taking off my clothes with bridal consultants and zippering up size 2 sample dresses.

Its an interesting journey looking for a mother of the bride dress… because as I am sure you pictured the same thing - everyone does… a long, loose skirt of lace coupled with a chiffon camisole and a matching (long) lace jacket. We have all seen it – the typical mother of the bride dress… and, well, that certainly ain’t me!

It’s not any of the moms in this wedding.

But, I am also not a suit kind of girl. (notice I still call myself a girl). I need something fun – something pretty and maybe a bit sexy – why not?

I know being a stepmother of the bride – isn’t some new phenomenon. There are thousands of them. But, for me – well, it’s a little something new.

I have wrangled up a few friends for my little excursion. I need them to be honest but kind – as I am certain to be a bit rattled – a little unnerved and I hope when I find the right dress – completely elated.

The groom’s mom was able to find her dress by going to one store and spending an hour trying on dresses. Unless there is a dress God – this will NOT be me. I already have appointments at 4 bridal stores and hours allotted for two high-end department stores. I am a shopper who must exhaust all possibilities before committing to something – especially something this important.

And let’s not overlook the elephant in the room… I am the step-mom – and while I think I have a wonderful relationship with my stepdaughters – whom I love dearly – I am still the step mom and that leaves me in a very precarious situation on the wedding day.

I will be a part of the day – but it will not be my day to be THE mother of the bride… Hopefully, that day will come in 10-15 years… Unless Abby elopes, or decides she would rather spend her life saving the world, or following a band – or maybe she will be a lesbian - which would be okay… and maybe by then marriage will be legal and I will still get to plan her wedding… But at any rate – that will be my day.

Until then – I sit back and celebrate that Kristin fell in love with Jeffrey… I revel in the happiness that they share and the beautiful daughter they have.

And hopefully, by week’s end I will be toasting with my dear friend Nancy to my beautiful new dress that makes me look slim and sexy and doesn’t require 3” heels or spanx and is easy to dance and go to the bathroom in… That isn’t too much to ask, is it?

Truths: Is blood thicker than water?

2011-04-08T10:57:00.001-07:00

Last night my husband and I were talking about some couples we know that are either divorcing or going through a hard time. Bill brought up how the one guy recently sold his fishing boat after the divorce – Bill said he thought it was because he didn’t need the excuse anymore… which meant that the guy was only fishing to get away from his wife – now that she was gone – he was free to enjoy life on the couch again.

That led us into a longer discussion about friendships and spending time with friends. My dear, sweet husband said that he doesn’t enjoy his fishing trips as much anymore because he would rather spend time with me. (He really did say that – I do know how lucky I am)

But, in turn, I felt I had to defend my time with my friends because I certainly don’t spend time with them just to get away from Bill. I love my husband and I love all the time we spend together, I really do.

However, my friends are very important to me – very important.

I can’t remember a time in my life when my friends weren’t there for me. Sure they have been around for the laughs and the good times – but above all else – they have been right beside me when times got tough.

I have been through a lot in my short 40 years on Earth. There are many times in my life that I am not proud of – moments that I would perhaps take back if I could. But my friends never judged me.

When I was getting divorced and the life I knew was falling apart around me – it was my friends above all else who held me together. They never let me down. They stood next to me, held my hand, wiped my tears and gave me a shoulder to lean on.

I don’t have any sisters but I have amazing girlfriends.

I have a few friends right now facing tough decisions and going through difficult situations…and I do everything I can to be there for them because I know how important having them was for me.

I think, as a culture, we don’t give friendships the merit they deserve. We are forced to include “family” in things like weddings and birthdays and graduations – often trumping friends due to space and yet, for people like me, it is our friends who have stood by us, who know us, who know what we love, what we hate and what we aspire to be.

The best birthday and Christmas gifts I have gotten have usually came from friends because they KNEW without asking what I wanted – what I liked.

My circle of close girlfriends is truly my extended family. They are the family I chose and the family I would go above and beyond to protect and to comfort.

Bill knows my gratitude for my friends, he knows that they have saved me and love me unconditionally when some of my family chose not to and he knows that my time spent with them is not to be thought of as time away from him – but instead time spent with my family…because for me, blood isn’t thicker than water.

Truths: Life and all its lessons

2011-04-06T06:07:00.001-07:00

Its been awhile since my last blog – there has been a lot going on – all of which deserves its own blog – but here’s the thing that it all comes down to – friends and family and the free life lessons they offer along the way.

Three weeks ago, a dear family friend passed away. I had known her my whole life. She was the kind of person who everyone viewed as a saint. She was always sincere, always thoughtful and completely selfless. At a time in my life when everything had gone awry – she offered unconditional support and I was grateful.

A few years my back my brother passed away and I wrote his eulogy. Apparently, it touched Pat’s heart and at the time she said when she dies, she would like me to write hers. And so two weeks ago, I did and was asked to give the eulogy.

I was overtaken with both honor and… complete fright. The writing part was easy – it was the idea of speaking in front of hundreds of people. But right before I walked up there I knew it was going to be okay because I knew that what I had to say about Pat was important; she deserved to be celebrated for all of the amazing things she had done – not just for me – but for everyone in the room.

And it went well…really well – and I can only hope that the tribute I gave was what Pat had wanted – that it lived up to her expectations – because as a person and a dear friend she certainly always exceeded mine.

A few days following the funeral, I left for Spain to see my dear lifelong friend, Mary Kate. She met and married a great guy from Spain and three years ago – moved away to start a life in a foreign country. The irony is that out of all of us – Mary Kate was the only one to study German in high school!

Sure I was excited to go to Europe but truthfully, my trip was about seeing my friend.

She and her husband planned out every day to the hour – we saw castles and cathedrals, ate native food (some of which I can’t talk about without either crying or throwing up) drank beer and had an absolute incredible time.

But, one night as Mary Kate and I were walking down the street after going to the grocery store and buying beer to take home it hit me. Here we were these two women – friends since we were 10…we lived across the street from each other, played dolls, and smurfs and spin the bottle – drank at parties and were in each other’s weddings… here we were walking down a street in Zamora, Spain – and we were the same little girls running in the street, getting dressed for prom, crying over boys… You could take us out of our home – but you could never take away our friendship – the years we have helped each other through and the bond that is so tightly sealed.

Here we were two American girls – not really fitting into the Spansh culture and truthfully, not really caring. The cathedrals were pretty, the castles breathtaking… but that one moment of realization of seeing the two of us and the years we have shared transcend time and distance – that made the whole trip memorable and priceless.

I am blessed to have and to have had such wonderful people in my life. And moments such as the ones I have had these last few weeks are unforeseen reminders of what is important in life – the ties we form with those around us. The love we offer and the acceptance we give.

Sure people come and go in our lives and that’s okay. But the ones who stick around, the ones who celebrate the good times but never fail you in the bad times – those are the ones we cherish.

Its never about the stuff – its about the moments we share together – the things you really can’t hold or touch but the feeling you get when you are together.

I miss Pat and I miss Mary Kate but whether it be an ocean or a heaven in between us – I know that neither of them are far away. I will always have this special place for each of them – this warm spot within my soul from the ways they touched my life. Those are the real blessing in life.

Tails and Truths: When you least expect it

2011-03-16T06:31:00.001-07:00

Once in awhile you realize that you should have faith in fate – faith in something bigger than yourself – faith, that when you least expect it, your life is going to take a turn and make you a better person – perhaps, even, the person you are supposed to be.

I like to say that I rescued Thorp. I swooped in and carried him away from a miserable life and gave him a second chance at what he so rightfully deserved.

In the rescue world we often say, “It was the dog who rescued me.” And, that could not be any truer than it is for me and Thorp.

I have always identified all the things that Thorp has taught me: patience, unconditional love, gratitude… But, I never realized, fully, how much he could change me as a person – or what experiences he would give me the opportunity to explore – or ultimately, the way he would nurture a side of me I barely understood - or even knew existed.

It’s no secret that me and kids are not really a “thing.” There is a reason I rescue animals – because I feel all the things that many people feel about children. I don’t dislike children – I love my daughters and my grandchildren with all of my heart and would give them anything and support them in whatever they choose but me and kids – I just never had the patience or the ability to make a real connection.

For 6 years I volunteered in Abby’s class – reading to them, doing sight words, leading art projects – but I really never looked forward to it… It was part of the stay at home mom job and I did it. I would always leave there feeling frazzled and questioning how anyone, in their right mind, would want to be a teacher!

When I signed Thorp up for training to be a therapy dog and envisioned taking him to classes – I naively overlooked that I would find myself in a classroom again – with kids. I was so focused on the goal – that the facts surrounding it evaded me.

Thorp and I attempted to find him employment (he works for free) many times before we came to our current school. No one wanted to hire us – our future seemed a bit dismal. And that is when I met Mary and a whole new opportunity opened up to us – to work with kids who have varying emotional and behavioral challenges.

When I told people where Thorp got a job – they would fall silent and quietly sigh. Maybe it was because they knew me and wondered what the Hell I was doing… I had never even given it a second thought because I was doing this for Thorp. I felt that his second chance met allowing him to pursue what I believed was his calling.

A week ago I walked into a classroom and became instantly attached. I saw the impact Thorp would have on these kids and instantly everything he and I had been through made sense.

But yesterday, yesterday cemented all those feelings. We walked in and the kids ran to Thorp and to me – we both got hugs and when we sat on the carpet and read the giant dog book I brought – it felt amazingly right.

In a week, I have come to feel like I know these kids. I think it’s because they are so open – their feelings are never hidden and they have this unbridled desire to participate. It’s not an easy classroom, don’t get me wrong. Somehow, Mary handles it with ease – it is amazing but there is just something about being there that feels unbelievably different than ever volunteering in Abby’s class.

No one, who knows me, would have ever predicted that I would find comfort in a class like Mary’s – they would be in disbelief that I could be so excited and so patient with the kids – but I am.

Maybe Thorp is the conduit between us.

Yesterday one of the girls was having a hard time – she didn’t want to participate and was very upset. She didn’t want Thorp – but somehow - he walked over to her – as if he knew. He came up beside her and with little hesitation she reached out to him. I had to catch my breath.

The little boy I fell in love with last week – sat with me and talked to Thorp and showed us his family tree. He melts my heart and leaves me thinking about him long after I leave the school.

A few of the kids made beaded necklaces for Thorp and he wore them proudly as we left the classroom.

I was sad to leave and anxious to return… who would have thought?

Its amazing where life takes us – on paths and journey’s we never saw ourselves on - plans we never would have made for ourselves – some rather unthinkable.

Three years ago – almost to the day – I walked into a barn and rescued a dog – I hadn’t a clue what I was doing or even a thought that he would change my life – and now when I least expect it I find myself in a place I never would have dreamt of – full of compassion I didn’t know I had and a desire to help make a difference... alongside the dog who rescued me.

Truths: The title of stay at home mom

2011-03-11T05:06:00.001-08:00

Today I am having a bunch of “girls” – moms over to celebrate a birthday. We will have snacks and drinks and maybe a few jello shots (don’t tell DCFS) and it is my hope that everyone will have fun – nothing too crazy…

And when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but think about what my life was like 12 years – when my daughter was first born. I had been a working professional – busy with projects and corporate reports – managing things like compensation and benefits – recruitment. I loved my job and ultimately, it was pretty much what defined me.

After Abby was born and my 12 weeks of maternity leave were up, I went back part-time. But in just a few months – I was ragged. I felt like I wasn’t doing either job well so I gave up my profession and became a “stay at home mom.”

For many months it was devastating. Its not something that many people talk about until many years later. But, it makes sense.

You go from 8-12 hour days – doing work that identifies you and then one day – you are plopped on a sofa, in your PJ’s, watching Oprah and wondering what the Hell happened.

It was really hard for me – really hard. In fact, so hard that when Abby was 18 months, I went back to work. And, I flourished. I was “me” again. And I did well – becoming a manager and leading my department – making decisions that impacted a whole company…until one day – I was burned out and wondering what more could I do with my life.

I left the world of corporate America and joined the forces of charity work. I did wildlife rehab, fundraising and volunteered at Abby’s school. It was odd at first but slowly it all started to mesh.

Here I am 7 years later completely content with my life. I am involved in animal rescue, I write this blog, I am working on a novel and now I am doing therapy dog work at a school. And, of course, I am still a “stay at home mom.”

But here’s the real thing… when I woke up this morning and thought about my day – I thought about the friends I have made. I guess you could say that they are my co-workers now in this “profession.” They help me make decisions and they support me when my days aren’t so good.

It took 12 years to get to this point – to feel settled into this role – to find new purpose and be fulfilled. It also took all this time to find the right friends – the right co-workers, so to speak.

Today they are all coming over – and we are having an after work happy hour. (Our work days are never over – so Happy Hour has no boundaries…) I couldn’t be more excited and I couldn’t be more grateful to not only feel good about my role but to have all the right friends to share it with.

Tails: A hero for $65.00

2011-03-10T05:51:00.001-08:00

Three years ago tomorrow I walked into a cold, metal barn and saw what would later change my life – or maybe it changed my life the minute I walked in the barn. I would walk around haystacks and look into wire crates and see the empty eyes of dogs I only thought existed.

I would make my way to a dog labeled #171. He was filthy and matted and when I looked at him, something in my heart opened up.

A gentle spark took me by surprise and instantly I felt a desire to take this dog, among the hundreds of others, home with me.

I remember opening the cage door and touching him. My heart racing both in anticipation and pure fright. I didn’t know what I was doing here, I didn’t know if I could open the cage doors and pet the animals, I didn’t know anything that day – but I knew that I had to reach out to this dog.

#171 didn’t move when I brushed my hand on his head but as I took it away – he licked my finger and if there was any question about rescuing this dog – it was answered in just one lick.

Three miserable hours later, I walked out with #171 – whom I named half way through the auction. He cost me $65.00.

There was no conceivable reason for what I did – common sense had no place in what happened. I just acted on a feeling I don’t think I will ever have again.

Yesterday, Thorp walked into a local school and touched the lives of children who are challenged – emotionally. They each come with special needs and have a difficult time fitting into mainstream education.

They had been anticipating Thorp’s arrival for a week.

Thorp and I went and sat on the carpet area and the kids were invited two at a time to come and pet him. We introduced ourselves (no one really cared that I was there) and the kids all told Thorp their names and their grades.

They wanted to touch him, to hold him for he was their reward for the day – he was their motivation for being well-behaved – yesterday, Thorp was their hero.

One boy in particular held onto Thorp’s face firmly but gently and didn’t want to let go. He looked right into Thorp’s eyes and the moment took my breath away.

Here, a little boy, who is challenged in many ways, made this inspiring connection with a dog once only known as a number. A dog who could be bought for $65.00 and yet a dog who has the potential to change a little boy’s life.

They took a picture of Thorp and the boy and it hangs over his coat hook as his motivator for good behavior. All he desires is to be with Thorp and he only met him once.

The other kids all enjoyed Thorp and I know that they will come to love him and to look forward to spending every Tuesday with him – but the connection the little boy has with Thorp is a once in a lifetime. I know because it is the same connection I made with him three years ago.

Everyone who meets Thorp, young and old, feels something special about him. He has an understated compassion and a desire to be loved that is undescribable.

I didn’t know that day I rescued him that he would be a therapy dog, I only knew that he was something special – he would have a story to tell – a purpose bigger than I could understand.

And here he is, years later, sitting on the floor of my local school – impacting the lives of children for the better – a hero for $65.00.

Truths: Second opinions

2011-03-04T06:28:00.000-08:00

For the last 4 weeks I have been confident that I had lymphoma. I had felt a lump on my neck and went to my Dr – who felt it too and sent me to an ENT. The ENT felt it and sent me for a CT scan… once he read the scan he explained to me that I should have two lymph nodes removed and biopsied and while he didn’t think they were malignant it was better to take them out. As he put it, “You have a lot of them – you aren’t going to miss two.”

But, what I would miss was my scarless neck. And I would miss ten days of my life because I would be unable to do anything… I could “walk” he said but that was it.

Of course I did what you shouldn’t – googled every possible scenario on the web… and yes, I diagnosed myself with the worst one.

Friends and family convinced me to get a second opinion. So, I used my googling skills to find someone.

Whether its right or wrong – I wasn’t going to waste my time on local specialists – I was going downtown to the teaching hospitals and found my luck at my alma mater – University of Illinois.

Based on a detailed biography of one of the doctor’s (who happened to be a woman) I knew she would be the perfect fit. I could almost tell she would make me feel comfortable – because, well, the other Dr. just didn’t.

Bill and I drove down yesterday and I was seen by both a competent (and kinda cute) resident and after his exam the Dr. came in and did another one. (it was sort of like being on Grey’s Anatomy) They BOTH read my CT scan unlike the other Dr. who only read the report of my scan.

And with utter kindness and confidence the Dr. said, “I wouldn’t do anything.”

She was happy to take her time and explain why. The lumps (there were two now) did not feel that out of the ordinary – they didn’t present like lymphoma and she wasn’t worried.

And I knew - she knew - what she was talking about.

Sure she said I could have them removed – if they were keeping me up at night. She felt that was a valid reason, which I thought was rather understanding. But her suggestion would be to have another CT scan in 4 months and come back and see her.

We took her advice and walked out there with smiles on our faces.

Of course, there is the chance that her opinion is the wrong one. But, in my heart I don’t think it is. And if I were on the fence about it – her wonderful bedside manner is all it would take to swing my vote.

Thank goodness for second opinions.

Second opinions don’t always come from doctors… I recently went out with some friends – one of who is going through a really rough time. Her and I have been in touch about it – but when we got together we included another friend of ours to talk it through. I know my friend was reluctant at first – it is just so hard to talk about.

But as I watched her fumble to get the words out – I could easily see from the other friend’s face that telling her was the absolute right thing to do. Her concern was obvious (her tears gave her away). And once everything was out on the table – I could feel the air was lighter and warmer.

Maybe it is selfish on my part – but I needed to share the responsibility of making my friend better – with someone else. Mostly, I knew we needed a second opinion. Another outlook and of course, more love to help her through it all.

Four hours later – many bottles of beer and wine – and three friends were doing what good friends do – talking it out – sharing concerns and above all else expressing that all we want is for our friend to be happy.

I know it was hard to open up to another person – but in the end, I know she is glad that she did it. Its not something she would share with all her friends but this friend was by far the right one and her second opinion made a difference.

Second opinions are scary. They often seem to weigh much heavier than the firsts. Do we want our situations confirmed or are we hoping for different news? When we hear that second opinion – does it mean we should get a third?

Life really comes down to opinions. I like that better than this. I don’t trust him. I love her. I would rather be here. My favorite color is pink. I want to buy that car.

We spend our life giving opinions and often relying on other’s opinions to make or break how we feel.

We shouldn’t always seek out only those who agree with us (though that often feels the best) but we should be both willing to hear our opposition and yet secure enough with our own opinions to hold strong if we feel it is the right thing to do.

Holding strong to my second opinion and I know my friend is grateful for the second opinion she got last night. Life is too hard to figure out on your own – embrace the opportunity to look outside yourself.

Tails: It’s our choices that define us

2011-02-23T12:46:00.000-08:00

Whether it be the way we live our life or the simple way we react to a sudden situation – what we do says a lot about who we are.

I guess yesterday I was crazy.

There are a lot of people in my life – who know me well enough – who could have just read that sentence and not even paused for reflection. I am crazy – much of the time.

But yesterday, I knew in my heart – I was not THE crazy one.

So, I am walking into my vet’s office – more like a taj mahal - one that I like to think I helped build through my 3 ferrets, two hamsters, 7 cats, and 12 dogs – but none the less I was walking in to get some special food for my ever special dogs when I walked in with a woman who had to Italian Greyhounds.

Any animal would have gotten my attention. I love them all… but the IG breed holds a special place in my heart because a dear friend of mine does IG rescue… not just partakes in IG rescue – but leads it – is passionate about it. She was my very first real friend at my very first dog auction – and well, because of that – I will always think of Carol fondly and with respect.

Anyway, so I am walking in with this woman who has two IG’s… when we get into the lobby – I courteously confirm that they are IG’s and then proud as a peacock offer up that I have a good friend who does IG rescue.

Here’s the thing… while I know that a lot of people buy their dogs from breeders, or, god forbid, pet stores.. I try to maintain my own selfish point of view that all dogs have been rescued.

I really believed in my heart that when my conversation with this woman would come to an end – we would realize that we both knew Carol… that Carol actually participated in working out the adoptions.

It’s a perfect little fantasy world – one I like to call my own.

I have struggled ever since getting involved in puppy mill rescue with asking people where they got their dog. Because, when they tell me a pet store – I want to smack them and then I want to run down the street screaming and finally fall into a lump on the curb balling my eyes out. I have learned in the last 3 years – to stop asking – to stop torturing myself.

But, every now and then – I fall prey to my best intentions. This would be one of those times.

No, this woman did not rescue her dogs… In fact, she thought the idea of rescue in general was wasteful. No, she was about as far from rescue as she could be – she was a…. BREEDER. – And she said it as though neither her shit or her two innocent dogs’ shit didn’t smell.

I know the letters B-R-E-E-D-E-R don’t resemble any of the common four letter words we all despise. Dog breeders, to me, are like bumble bees to everyone else. Deep down we know they have their place in the world – but on a daily basis they just seem to irritate us.

She was a breeder alright. The attitude, the prance of her dogs – and the lash of her tongue – because what came out next actually took me off guard.

Here I am standing in my bright green sweatshirt that reads “Find love – ADOPT” with a big dog on it and she says, “You know who is absolutely crazy – “those idiots” who go and rescue puppy mill dogs. What is the point?”

It was a pivotal moment for me - whether to react or to take a deep breath and walk away... But, I chose to react.

In a very agitated, raised voice I "explained" that I personally rescued two of my dogs from mills - that the vet we were standing at had never seen a little uterus so bad... that my dog lost half her teeth – and that no dog deserved to be in a mill.

I haven't ranted in a year - haven't felt my blood boil - like it did yesterday. Of course she went on to say how nuts "some" rescue people are - trying to infer I was not one of "those." And, had to end the conversation on how people like me always want to put people like her in the same category as millers or mass producers of dogs.

I don’t think that is true – people just like her (not all breeders) and people who have puppy mills just happen to be the same – one sided – opinionated individuals who fail to have a lack of respect for humanity – that’s all.

She disliked people like me – who rescued dogs – dislikes the idea that we, as a nation, rescue dogs at all.

I wanted to scream – my heart was racing and I felt like I did a few years ago – when ignorant people would say ignorant things about something they knew nothing about.

This woman’s only comment on puppy mills was, “I have heard that the mills can be bad.”

I wanted to say, “Gosh, you sure know a lot about a profession you practice.”

See, if I were to be a real breeder of dogs – not only would I be a good one – I would educate myself all about the competition – I would stay ahead of them. I would seek out laws to put an end to their cruelty – not just because they are hurting my reputation or denting my profits but because I love companion animals.

And that is where so many breeders rub me the wrong way. They choose to stay in some little bubble – doing whatever they can to protect their own rights instead of taking action to protect the very dogs they breed.

To me, as an IG breeder – she should know about IG rescue – she should support it. Instead, it seems she is just out making more Italian Greyhounds as hundreds of others are left in shelters with no homes.

She walked into the patient room – her two show dogs at her side – I swear they were there to be bred.

Rattled and upset – I looked to the other side of the lobby where I saw the most amazing yellow lab ever. Blocky and stocky and down right the cutest BIG thing ever.

Being me, again, I walked over and asked if I could pet him… The owner smiled, “Of course.”

I asked if he was “just” a lab… and, no, of course he was NOT. He was a show dog – an English Labrador working on getting some special title this weekend in Chicago at the International Kennel Club show.

Another breeder.

It must have been my lucky day.

But, regardless – as futile or crazy as my actions yesterday or in all the days previous have been – rescuing puppy mill dogs and believing that I could change the world –they have helped define who I am as a person: admittedly, a bit de-ranged at time, emotionally unstable – but always passionate about the cause – and wanting to make a difference.

She thinks I am crazy – I think she is selfish and in the end – neither of our opinions of each other matter.

I fell asleep last night believing in all the “crazy” things I have done to save a dog. And I would do them all again tomorrow if I could.

Those things define me. I could have taken a deep breath yesterday and just walked over to the cute lab and never said a word about being one of those people who rescues dogs… that woman could have went on with her day – perhaps never in her life actually meeting – someone like me. But, I had to say who I was because it defines who I am.

And truthfully, if you are too embarrassed to say who you are – you should probably be something else.

Truths: The marketing black hole

2011-02-22T06:59:00.000-08:00

So, it happened yesterday. I am sure you have seen those “live” signs? For a while they were on every busy street corner. People shaking signs to get your attention, some of them even dressed in a costume like the statue of Liberty or a furry bunny. They offered up, “Sandwiches for $5.00” or “Your Taxes done TODAY” or like the one yesterday, “Store Closing 20-40% off EVERYTHING!”

Here in the midst of an ice storm were numerous people lining a busy street in McHenry waving signs that read, “Borders CLOSING – everything on SALE.”

Let’s start with the real horror: a bookstore is CLOSING! I am a writer, a writer with a novel in progress and the thought, or should I say reality, that a book store is closing is pretty devastating to me. My life long dream is to see my book published and displayed in a store just like Borders – is my pipe dream lost forever?

I know, I know – its not that people aren’t reading its just that they aren’t going to bookstores to get books and also true is that people have turned to those “Kindle” things where they can download a hundred books and just take this 8” computer with them anywhere. No heavy books to carry, no library late fees, no nothing. So, sadly, places like Borders begin to disappear.

It breaks my heart – especially the heart of my writer self. I really want my book displayed when people walk into a bookstore. I want to see the book jacket, I want to physically hold the book in my hand, I want to sign copies for my “fans.” I want the whole damn dream.

But enough about that… Borders is closing and that means a sale.

I always felt bad for the people holding the signs on the corner. It seemed humiliating to me – and at the same time was a haunting reminder of how horrible our economy had become. In the depression, they used to pay people to wear barrels with advertising on them as a way for people to earn money – to me, holding these signs on street corners was just a modern billboard for, “we are facing the depression of 2009, 2010, 20…”

I also always questioned if those signs really made a difference. That is until yesterday.

My daughter had asked if we could go to Borders because she has a gift card (which of course she left at home but I could buy the books and then she would give me the gift card). I said no we weren’t going – we had other things to do.

That is until we saw one of those people holding one of those signs telling us that we could save 40%. Well, that changed everything.

A sudden u-turn and we found ourselves amongst the hundred other people who also saw the signs and were desperate for a bargain book.

As we made our way to the front door passing numerous people carrying full bags – we walked in and it was as though we had been transported to the Eve of Christmas – the store was packed with people!

Abby went off to the “stuff aisle” filled with pencil cases and notebooks and a myriad of other unnecessary things – why did I ever think she was there to get actual books?

And I meandered to the magazines because they were 40% off. I found a writing one and a Packer one for my husband and when Abby returned from what she would consider Heaven on Earth – I found myself drawn to the cookbooks. Crazy, right? But I am still working towards making cooking something I enjoy and cookbooks on sale seemed like an appropriate way to further my education.

The thing about cookbooks is that even though there are hundreds of them – no matter what one you open you are bound to see a recipe for curry chicken or black bean soup or braised lamb, or… you get the idea… see in our family NO ONE is ever going to eat those things. Why isn’t there a cookbook for “normal” if not tastebud challenged people?

I don’t want curry in my beef stew. I don’t want sage on my turkey. I don’t want a salad that looks like someone just pulled the weeds in my garden. I don’t want to go to 10 different grocery stores just to find some spice that a recipe calls for.

I just want simple, good food.

I must be the only one.

We spent 30 minutes in that section – much to Abby’s dismay. Who at many times throughout the half hour asked, “Why are you even looking at these books – you don’t use the cookbooks you have?”

I did come across two that I later bought. The first couldn’t be more appropriate, “Martha Stewart Cooking School.” This book was written for me.

There are 200 recipes in it and most of them seem “normal.” But more importantly it explains in easy to read detail how to do all those things I never knew. Such as how to make a cream soup, how to boil lobster, how to bake clams, how to de-bone Dover Sole and my favorite, “How to fold butter into dough” – Are you kidding me?? But, I am going to do that before the year is over.

The second book is Campbell’s soup recipes – I don’t believe there is a casserole out there I haven’t loved when it had some kind of Campbell’s soup in it. Now that is true cuisine!

At some point between Martha and Campbell – Abby had walked away and began searching for her own books – she came back with two. Yay, my daughter isn’t illiterate!

When Abby had originally asked to go to Borders my one thought was to get this newer book out by Merrill Markoe, “Nose Down, Eyes Up.” I had read, “Walking in Circles Before Lying Down” and laughed almost the whole way through – I was looking forward to reading more of her work.

Well, seeing that sale sign at the stoplight intersection must have been orchestrated by fate because wouldn’t you know that Borders had one book by Markoe and yes, it was “Nose Down, Eyes Up.”

I couldn’t have been happier (at that moment).

Abby and I wandered through the fitness section gazing for Yoga books – made another trip to the young adult section, fumbled to the toddler section for my grandkids and then while we were in the very back of the store – got in line!

Yes, we stood in line for 30 minutes. But, it wasn’t that bad – we were able to browse hundreds of books as we made our way to the front. And, who am I kidding – we picked up a half a dozen new ones for our basket along the way.

The people in line were all jovial – not the typical holiday crowd who is always agitated and in a hurry. Nope these people were all out buying for themselves and allowing themselves to believe they were saving money – even though the only things that were actually a full 40% off were the magazines.

While we were in line – an ambulance pulled up – apparently someone had slipped on the ice and cracked their head open (just what Borders needs right now – a lawsuit!)

As we checked out and I read the sign that said, “Absolutely no returns – ALL SALES FINAL” the clerk asked if I wanted my receipt in the bag or with me to which I replied, “Does it matter? Can’t return anything anyway.”

We made our way back to the car – cautiously walking on the entire parking lot of black ice – (you would think Borders would put some salt down). More cars were pulling in looking for spots… The hustle and bustle probably wouldn’t die down for weeks.

And the truth of it is while those signs read 20-40% off everything – they really only mean 20% since none of the actual books are more than 20% off… and I have to believe that if Borders would have just always sold their books for 20% less – they might not have ever went bankrupt. Or if nothing else, at least advertised 40% off and kept a small corner in the back with useless items on clearance… The influx of people would have never stopped.

Maybe all they really needed was one of those damn signs on the street corner all along?

At any rate – my kitchen cabinet is a little fuller, my daughter’s junk drawer a little more stuffed and our thirst for reading a little more quenched – all because of some guy standing in a barrel on route 31.

Truths: A bump in the road

2011-02-17T05:31:00.000-08:00

So, for all of this time I have avoided ever blogging about my running. It started back in October. I, a person who thought she would never in her whole life be a runner, became a runner. I don’t mean a sprinter or a marathoner – just an average runner.

I had begun walking my dogs on a regular basis and for some odd reason gave jogging a try. At first it was just downhill, then the straight aways – then to “that” mailbox… until I was running a full straight ½ mile.

The weather turned cold and our basement was finally done – so the treadmill came out and by my 40th birthday I was running a straight 2 miles. At the beginning of this month, I had made it to 3.

I had a whole regiment: stretch, run for 40 minutes, yoga for 20. It was this magical hour for me and I had come to LOVE it.

I never wanted to blog about it because you know how that goes – the minute you tell people about it – you find yourself quitting, giving up and then later they ask how it is going and well, you bow your head in shame.

I didn’t want that pressure.

So, two nights ago I literally crawled up the stairs to bed… I wasn’t drunk – so this made this behavior completely unacceptable.

No, I was in such pain, pain that has only gotten worse as I have reluctantly taken a break from running. I went for a MRI – only to find out yesterday – that they see nothing wrong.

That is like a double edged sword: on one hand it is good: nothing is broke and the healing time is quicker – but on the other hand – you wonder, “what the Hell is wrong with me?”

No answers – suck.

It’s been a rather depressing few weeks for me. I had come so far – actually made running a lifestyle change – I was losing weight and really feeling better about myself. And then, BAM, injury strikes and I find myself sitting in front of the TV – watching HBO – catching up on all of the movies I haven’t seen in two years and eating sno-caps. It is all like a bad dream.

So, in order to make me feel a little better, the Dr. gave me some meds – while they should have been anti-depressants – they are anti-inflammatories. I am on my second one – and it seems to be helping. Who knows if it really is – but my brain is saying it is and that is all that really matters, right?

I am trying to see this whole thing differently – like just a bump in the road – not a dead end.

Many people have offered their sympathies by expressing, “Just think how awful a set-back like this would be for an athlete (inferring I am not one…). Can you imagine what it must feel like to be training for a marathon, or worse, the Olympics and have an injury like this?”

Yes, yes, I can imagine what it would be like – because even though I am not an athlete nor am I training for some amazing race – I was training to just be a more fit, more well-balanced, healthy person. My training didn’t end with any event – it was a lifestyle change and right now – my lifestyle is in the toilet. So, yes, I can imagine the defeat, the frustration, the depression.

But, it could be worse. I don’t need surgery, I won’t be getting any steel rods in my leg – the recovery should be minimal – as long as it already seems.

It truly is just a speed bump – a minor pothole – in my road. Maybe there was some anti-depressant in the meds he gave me – because I feel like the grey cloud has lifted some and that in just a few weeks – I can back on track – only looking back to remember that I overcame a typical hurdle in an “athlete’s” life and somehow am a better person for it.

Truths: A picture is worth a thousand words

2011-02-10T07:04:00.001-08:00

People say that it can’t be done – or maybe they just don’t want to try – or maybe they just don’t know how…or maybe for some, it just isn’t possible.

We are the lucky ones… But, its not just luck that put us where we are – it was sacrifice … and commitment to something more important than ourselves: our daughter – who now, four people would share.

It wasn’t always like this. – These things take time, patience, and unconditional fortitude to keep going and working towards a peaceful relationship.

Keith is my ex-husband, Carol is his wife, Bill is my husband and well – you know how I fit in.

We have been divorced for 10 years (wow, I can’t believe it is that long) and for 10 years we have worked towards what became ever so apparent last night. Its not just Keith and I who have worked towards it but Carol and Bill, too.

We started just being civil, then a bit social… and now, I can say that we are really good friends – and when it comes down to it – we are family.

We moved to the same neighborhood to make it easier for Abby – and maybe easier for us when we drink at each other’s houses and have to walk home… But, it wasn’t just that we moved here – its that it was a welcomed idea by Keith and Carol.

We bowl together, I babysit their younger girls, we have been to their lakehouse for the weekend, we have been there for each other like good friends would be – maybe even better than good friends would be.

At horrible times in our lives – we have supported each other unconditionally.

What we have might be a miracle – but I like to think we had a lot to do with it.

I say all this as a prelude to what took place last night – because while it has become second nature for the four of us to hang out – last night reminded me just how far we have come.

Last night was a fundraiser for breast cancer. It is an art auction and wine tasting hosted by Carol’s brother-in-laws company, Interiors for Business. Their facility is beautiful – this old building with lofted ceilings and exposed brickwork and a perfect place to hold an event like this one.

Keith and Carol invite us and we love it. We always find one piece of art that we MUST take home and while neither of us are wine drinkers – we gulp it down and always ask for more.

We also get to see Carol’s family: her sisters, her brothers, her nieces and nephews, Carol’s friends from childhood. And, they welcome us with open arms and friendly conversation and overall warmth. We never feel unwanted.

Each year Carol’s niece, Kelly donates a piece of her own artwork. Every year it is amazing… and usually, Carol’s family bids so high no one else has a chance… But, last night the painting she did captured our hearts… an autumn scene of the woods on a lake with a faint pier floating on the water. Of course, this reminded us of our cabin… and we immediately envisioned it hanging over our bed.

The bidding on all of the art started and we were the second to bid on Kelly’s… and there were a few other photographs I liked and so we spent the evening sipping wine, hanging with Carol’s family and circling like vultures our cherished art pieces.

The bidding on the photos was reasonable but, like every year, Carol’s family, including Keith, were nuts about Kelly’s painting. The bidding was out of hand- but Bill kept us in it. It is the kind of painting that speaks to you – and there aren’t many of those.

When it got near the end of the night and we were in the lead – one of Carol’s family members said, “What are they doing? Don’t they know that is for our family?”

To which Carol immediately replied, “But they are a part of our family.”

And that was it – we loved the painting, but we really did know the artist and she did feel like family.

Kelly’s beautiful painting will hang in our cabin, a place we treasure, and it will always serve as a reminder of the extended family we are a part of, the accomplishment the four of us worked towards and the future we have together sharing our lives.

Metaphorically – the trees in the painting are banded together – they stand tall in the strong winds and huddle together in storms. They grow old with one another and when fall comes, their colors beam. A single tree of red is nowhere near as amazing as a whole forest of reds, oranges and yellows.

And that is what we are – a forest of family…and Kelly’s picture speaks a thousand words to ours.

Truths: My everyday blizzard

2011-02-02T06:23:00.001-08:00

So, we are all home today – our town hit with a blizzard – record snowfall of 18” plus. I remember the last two blizzards in ’99 and ’79… ’99 I was stuck inside with a brand new baby and NO WHERE to go… You can imagine my insanity. And in ’79, I was 8 and thought it was the best thing in the world as me and my best friends played “king of the mountain” on a snowdrift 10’ tall in my backyard.

Today, I look out similar drifts – without, quite, the same inspiration. Yet, even my husband couldn’t go to work and there is something comforting, quieting about all being safe and secure in our own home.

The one good thing about a blizzard like this is that nothing else matters. There is no where to go, no expectations of the day – just sitting inside watching the news and hearing about how much snow we got and that there were a bunch of crazy people who failed to heed the warnings and found themselves stranded on the highway waiting for the brave emergency workers to save their ignorant asses.

I guess “roads closed” means something different to everyone.

Last night I went to the grocery store to stock up on essentials just in case the weather people were actually right this time (there is usually a 50/50 chance of accuracy). I walked the aisles aimlessly only to fill the cart with the frozen pizzas, chips, cereal and amazingly, I did get water. It is so not like me to plan for a true emergency.

As I wandered the crowded aisles filled with people just as bewildered as I was – I heard one mom reply to a neighbor, “Oh, no this is actually my regular shopping day.”

That caught my attention because it inferred one of my deepest longings, “To have a consistent way of life.” She obviously goes grocery shopping every Tuesday of nearly every week. She probably plans her whole week’s menu, kids’ lunches, etc. She probably has one of those family calendars – color coded with each family members’ activities… Yep, she is one of those… and I am soooo not.

I want to be. I constantly try to be. I don’t know how many times I have scheduled my life: days to work on my book, days to clean, days to grocery shop and run errands… But, for me, life gets in the way and the schedule I meticulously planned out gets crumpled and thrown in the trash…again.

Maybe that is why I like today… Sure the blizzard got in the way of my plans – but it got in the way of EVERYONE’S plans – yep, everyone is like me today!! Yay!! I bet those people are freaking out!

Not me – I am used to chaos – used to my plans changing on a whim. I am relishing this day.

Yesterday was a slap of reality on many levels… It started in the morning when Maggie, a housekeeper recommended by a friend, came over to quote how much it would cost to clean my house. A wonderful, Polish woman very sweet and sincere.

I had done my best to straighten out the house the night before – things put away in their places, piles of laundry hidden in closets. I managed to wipe down the bathroom sinks and figured she would just look at the other rooms and not touch anything.

I walked her through the house – God knows what SHE saw – maybe the cobwebs on the light fixtures or the dust bunnies (more like dust elephants) under the sofa… but then, just when I thought I was safe – she touched the banister… Just like a real maid, she slid her hand down the woodwork and I gasped… and she looked at her finger and did her best to hide what was caked on it…

It was after that that she said, “I was thinking that maybe the first time we come – we could spend a little extra time wiping down all of the woodwork and the cabinets – it will cost a little more than the normal rate but…”

What she meant was, “Your house is a pigsty… and I will only feel good about cleaning it if I am able to have a fresh start.”

What I said was, “You take as much time as you need to get it clean…” Looking down at the ground I added, “I know it could use it.”

To add to the kind insult – she said, “Maybe you could show me the cleaning products you DO use?”

I know she meant, “Do you use any cleaning products? When was the last time you actually washed a wall? Do you know how to dust?”

What I said was, “Well, all the cleaning supplies are in the laundry room and that is where I put the dogs…maybe you could just tell me what you need.”

It wasn’t so much that the dogs were in there – it was that everything that didn’t have a place – including the piles of unfolded laundry was in that room… After the filth on the banister – there was NOWAY I was letting her in there!”

So, instead she just gave me a list of the things she would need… I should mention that she described these things as though I wouldn’t even know where to find them at the store.

Maggie left – and I was embarrassed but the good part is that she is coming back and eventually my house will meet her approval.

Maggie left and a few hours later I found myself at the hair salon – sitting in Heather’s chair – telling her that a few weeks ago when I turned 40 – my hair actually turned grey. I told her how I swear that the grey just poured out and it was everywhere.

She sat me down and started scurrying through my hair… and didn’t say anything. She didn’t respond with, “Oh there isn’t much – its not that bad.”

No, she didn’t say anything. Until she said, “Oh… yeah… I see it all over… It’s not in the back, yet, but it is all through the top. Gosh, it sure did take over.”

“Can you make it go away,” I asked.

“Well, luckily your hair is highlighted so it won’t show that much. If we highlight it in lighter shades we should be able to cover it, for now.”

I love Heather – she has done amazing things with my hair… But, really, she couldn’t pad my ego a little and say she didn’t see any grey??

I have often lied and told her I loved how she blew my hair dry – when in reality I sped home to re-wash it.

The dust, the grey hair – those are MY daily blizzards – my personal disasters – the kind that don’t make the morning news but always seem to be the headlines in MY paper…

But like my hair, once I left the salon, the grey is “gone” (okay, hidden) and soon, because of Maggie, the dust will be wiped away and the snow piled in my drive will be plowed and then, yes, I will have a life where I can actually say, “No, Tuesday is my regular day to grocery shop.”

A girl can dream, right?

Tails: …And T(he)y lived happily ever after

2011-01-29T05:11:00.000-08:00

Well, it is about 7 weeks from the 3 year mark of rescuing Thorp from the shackles of being a breeding dog in an Amish puppy mill in northwest WI. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It is burned into my brain like no other memory I have.

Amidst hundreds of dogs – all of whom had horrible fates – this one little dog, the oldest, ugliest, maybe sickest of the lot, looked into my eyes and I could feel my soul open up. For a mere $65.00 I took him home and so started a journey that changed my life.

It has taken almost all of that time to help Thorp adapt to being a “free” dog. But yesterday, yesterday, all of that changed and Thorp became what he was meant to be all along: a therapy dog!

He, actually, earned his certification last year – but finding him a job proved to be just as hard as it is for the rest of the American people – even though he was willing to work for free. The Woodstock school system turned him down and the local library said its past “read to the dog” program had failed. So, Thorp found a way to live unemployed – I suppose we acted like the US government and allowed him to live for free.

Anyway, fate steps in when you least expect it and while my parents were in town – they took us to dinner where we met friends of theirs from Florida as well as their daughter who lives here in IL. She works as a teacher at a special needs school right in Woodstock. After thinking about it later – I texted her the possibility of Thorp working at her school. She loved the idea and immediately put me in touch with the principal!

Yesterday, Thorp had his interview – and like anyone on an interview – he was a bit nervous and I was a bit nervous (that he would lift his leg and pee on the cafeteria table or the library book shelf) but the principal loved him – most of the staff loved him and they “hired” him on the spot – especially after they heard he worked for free!

It was momentous day for both Thorp and me. In the last three years we have both fought a hard battle. I faced things I never really thought I would see in my lifetime and Thorp grew in ways I only imagined on that day I rescued him.

Yesterday serves as confirmation that there are times when fate and hope intersect – when something in your heart speaks to you – when your soul feels alive – and you impulsively act on it because you just feel like you have to. Common sense and reason don’t play a part in this chance occurrence – you just know to trust it.

That is what happened on March 12, 2008 for me and for Thorp. Our lives crossed and both of us are better creatures because of it. Thorp was meant to do this kind of work and I can only hope that the lives we touch now are just as positively affected.

*On a side note – it is important to mention that this story also proves the age old saying, “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know and thanks to Mary we had an in!”*

Truths: When determination matters

2011-01-27T07:12:00.000-08:00

Do It Anyway
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway. 
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway. 
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway. 
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway. 
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway. 
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway. 
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway. 
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you've got anyway. 
You see, in the final analysis it is between you and God; 
It was never between you and them anyway.
Mother Teresa

So, the above quote inspired me – so much that I asked for a framed print of it for my 40th birthday… Okay, I ordered it for myself. I thought it was the perfect mantra for turning 40 and realizing that my life was my own and that I should pursue things that matter to me regardless of what other people think or what might happen or even if someone destroys my work later.

The quote may infer that I believe in religion and well, I don’t necessarily. I do believe that there is a GOD, a being of sorts that we do answer to when everything is said and done – that being good does make a difference in this life. I just don’t need a book or a church to tell me that.

Well, we came home from Jamaica and I decided it was time to hang the picture that came right before I left (it was backordered until after January – I ordered it in November – apparently – a lot of people felt it was the kind of quote that should hang on their wall).

I moved around some other artwork to make room and when I went to hang the picture – well, disgusting as this is – the cat (who knows which one – none of them will tell me) peed on it! And, no it wasn’t just on the glass or the frame – it had seeped inside and ruined the whole thing.

Deflated and disheartened, I sighed. My mantra was destroyed.

Being the intuitive that I am – I had to quietly question the picture’s fate. Was this some sign that I should pick another quote – more like the one I was actually given for my birthday as a gift, “Yoga, Gardening, Bubble Baths, Medication and still I want to smack somebody.”

Fitting as that one is for me – it isn’t the way I want to live my life… No, this quote spoke to me and damn it – no cat was going to take that way!

While a part of me didn’t want to tell Bill (he already despises the cats) I was so crushed I had to share my unhappiness. He, of course, cursed the cats and then said he would be happy to get me another one.

I just ordered it… and lo and behold – it is on backorder again until February! People REALLY want to live by this mantra!!

I guess the thing is – I could have said to Hell with it and chalked it up to a lesson learned, “Don’t leave important things laying around for the cats to pee on… But, it meant something to me – and that made me want to go through the efforts and the money to get it again.

I know it is just a quote, just a quote on a piece of paper that is elegantly framed – I could just print the quote out and hang it on my bulletin board… But, I want it to be for everyone to see – because I think it is something that says a lot about who I am…and who I want to be – and maybe how I wish everyone was.

I was determined to make this happen.

Today also marks my long awaited… (really my unflailing procrastination) day to get back to my writing…my novel…my dream.

Some of you might recall that the last time I decided to get back on this train… my computer exploded and well, all of that was the perfect gateway to postponing doing any writing… Then, there was the house mishaps with all the appliances and the water problems and then there was Christmas… and well, there is always something.

And, I envisioned all along sitting down to my perfectly appointed office – everything organized and clean – the sun shining and me not having a care in the world – other than writing for the day.

Hah!

One of the other birthday gifts I got from my best friend, Kelly, was the book, “Stephen King – On Writing,” by Stephen King. For a writer, I think the book is amazing. Stephen King is hilarious and really just says it like it is and finds way to help you along the way. But, there was one quote in there:

“It is, after all, the dab of grit that seeps into an oyster’s shell that makes the pearl…”

He explains that it is the other things going on in your life that allow you take necessary breaks from your writing so that you can come back to it with fresh eyes and new perspectives. In other words, there is no perfect time to write. You just have to write, damn it!

The book is what I needed. While my life is just as busy as it always is and my office is cluttered and somewhat unkempt – I am writing today because it is time – no more excuses.

Every time I start to picture myself working on my novel – I get anxious. It’s this mix of excitement and desire and this fear of failing. And then today – as I tossed and turned in bed thinking about how the day would go – I realized that my anxiety was no different than when you start a job for the first time. The unknowing of what lies ahead and how the day will go and how hard the work will be.

People joke about being a writer and ask, “Well, what do you really do?” I understand that it is hard to take unpublished writers as serious professionals (though I have been paid to write stories before) but my determination comes down to my new mantra, “It was never between me and them anyway.”

Truths and a bit of Tails: Unexpected Revelations

2011-01-26T06:39:00.000-08:00

So, Bill and I just got back from 6 days in Jamaica with my closest friend, Delreen and her husband, Tim. (I know - poor me.)

We had an incredible time… It was the first that we went anywhere as couples and I think it all went well. That is never an easy thing to estimate – while two women can be the best of friends – what happens between their husbands isn’t always as fortunate.

But, at least from our end, we really enjoyed being together and Bill likes Tim (not that way of course…)

We stayed at an all-inclusive, which means our glasses never went empty and our stomachs were always full. And, most importantly – the conversation never stopped and the laughter was uncontainable.

I have to mention the first night – because while it was VERY memorable to the other three – I have absolutely no recollection of it!

After a long day of travel – we road a bus to the hotel… Okay let’s start with the plane ride where I enjoyed 4 Bloody Marys.. then the bus trip where I gulped down three rum and Cokes and somewhere between meeting Delreen and Tim on the beach and waking up the next morning – I have no idea of how much I drank.

I am not proud of myself – but the story is funny enough that it bears repeating. Apparently, we went to dinner that night and while we were up making our salads at the buffet… I wandered off onto the beach with my plate in hand. Tim noticed me (of course it wasn’t my own husband) and nudged Bill to go escort me back to the table before I found myself swimming with my salad in the ocean.

The next morning is where it gets really funny…. As we sat on the beach talking… and for me, catching up – It became more and more painfully obvious that I had drank way too much. For every topic I brought up – Delreen, or Tim, or Bill would say with a chuckle, “We talked about that last night!”

For me, it was all brand new conversation!

No night was quite like that again..but we did some bootie shaking and some shots and jumped off cliffs (the small ones) and you get the idea…

BUT, somewhere between bellying (and my belly sure seems bigger now) up to the swim up pool bar and lazily sipping fruity drinks in a chaise on the beach – a few things sparked insight. (This is a sure sign that I am aging because never before would I have found insight between boozing it up and basking in the sun)

The night we chose to seek an adrenalin rush and jump off cliffs (okay, we watched people jump off the cliffs – we chose to jump in from a small observation deck) I couldn’t help but notice something so humbling and heart wrenching.

On one side of the cliffs stands an exclusive bar – one of the ten best in the world (or so they say). Drinks and food and bands and the most breathtaking sunset. On the other side of the cliff - separated by a chain link fence is a barren park where the kids of Jamaica hang out and show the rest of us how skilled they are at both climbing the rocks (they don’t have a brick walkway like we do) and diving into the water. Sometimes doing handstands on the edge – back flips, you name it. These kids are as good as any I have seen earn gold in the Olympics.

But as “we” stood in our new bathing suits with matching cover-ups – sipping cocktails and throwing out leftover food – these kids swam in their clothes and dried off by the sun – not towels… Surely no drinks or food.

It would be hard for anyone with a sensitive soul not to notice the poetic irony of the landscape for it was not only a fence that divided us – but a cove of water – they on one side and us on the other. We were all there with the same intent – but beyond a bay of water was a whole lot more that divided us.

This revelation hit me again as we drove back to the airport and were able to really take in the Jamaican culture. You know not just the pretty beach and the reggae bands… The places where people actually live and work. Most of these people live in what I would consider poverty. We saw our share of people eating out of garbage cans and walking the stone roads without shoes – wearing nothing but a ragged old pair of shorts and a dirty plastic bag around their waist.

It is hard to grasp at times – the life these people live.

And, being who I am – it is indicative that I will survey the countryside for stray dogs and cats; fearing the worst – that they will be tied up and starving.

But they weren’t. I mean they probably don’t sleep in fuzzy beds or have a basket full of toys at their discretion but their tails were wagging and they looked well fed – or at least fed.

There were only a handful that actually seemed to be “roaming.” The rest were lying next to a group of people – I assume being the family dog.

And that is when true revelation struck. Here I was in a country that at times seems third world: impoverished, desolate, depressed… and yet, their dogs seem well- cared for. Living just as good as the people themselves. It is all relevant.

Passing the shacks and the run down cars – I couldn’t help but think of my own country. This place that is supposed to be wealthy and full of opportunity. Where the majority of people live in houses with adequate amenities – drive in cars and don’t walk barefoot to the nearest store with their only hope being able to buy food for their family – if they have the money today.

We are what they call a civilized society and yet, just days before I left on vacation I spoke with the director of a local dog rescue who told me that they were called in on a case where a woman who ran a grooming facility had knowingly starved over 20 dogs. Just left them in cages without food or water for who knows how long. The irony is that there were bins of food next to the cages.

This happened in a fairly well off town… and the woman had money.

And of course there is my greatest passion: puppy mills. As a country we allow people to shove dogs in cages and breed them until they can breed no more – and it takes years of legislation to make it an illegal practice.

And we are the civilized society? The wealthy, forward thinking country?

Besides enjoying the sun and the bottomless cocktails, I was given the gift of humility and the opportunity for gratitude and still the painful awareness that the country I live in, where freedom reigns and democracy thrives has yet, so much to left to do to become a place that embraces humanity and compassion.

Truths: When hormones win

2011-01-18T07:30:00.001-08:00

Sure, the title could easily suggest that I am suffering from menopause…again. That my hormones are raging and I never know if I am going to lash out or cry – if I am going to sweat like a pig or shiver from the cold that radiates my body whenever feels like it…

But no, this is not about me… it is about my 12 year old daughter. I swear that someone was feeling nasty when they decided that a pre-menopausal woman should have a pre-adolescent girl at the same time. What kind of sick person comes up with this?

We are either screaming at each other – or criticizing one another – or in those rare moments – actually getting along.

But last night – Abby had a meltdown and it broke my heart. (Luckily, I wasn’t having a hot flash or a surge of irrational thoughts at the same time.)

She couldn’t figure out her homework and was really struggling and that is when the tears came. All of a sudden she starting crying that she can’t do anything right and that she hates school because she doesn’t have anyone to talk to and her closest friends are getting new friends… and well, it was all I could do to not cry myself.

While I know her life is not that bad – I can remember what it was like to be in 6th grade… The pressure of having friends and thinking about boys and starting to worry about what you wear and what you say… all while hormones are racing through your body like a day of NASCAR.

I hated late night feedings and couldn’t wait for the tantrums to stop or the walking to begin… but last night – all I wished for was just that. To be in my baby’s room – rocking her to sleep and not holding my adolescent child in my arms as she bauled her eyes out because life was getting too hard.

I know I can’t protect her from the evils of life – the hurt she will endure and the heartache she will face. And, that was all I could think about when I tried to fall asleep.

What am I supposed to do? I really never felt so helpless as a parent.

In my case, I want my child to have the fun I did in Jr. High – to go to the dances and be a part of student council and pass notes (or texts - I guess now)… Sure, I cried… sometimes a lot – over a friend or a boy or both… But how do you express that all of that is so small compared to the rest of life without diminishing how important it is to them right now?

She felt a little better this morning but I could tell she was dreading the day ahead. I can’t help but wonder what her day is like – is she having a hard time making friends? Is she struggling academically? (even though she made high honor roll?) Or is most of it a result of the hormones taking over?

I want to be a good mom – to make her feel confident – to have high self esteem – most of all – I want her to be happy – to look back on these years and not remember only tears – but the fun she had and the friends she made.

I wish they had a bouncy seat or a baby swing for teens – to help soothe them – when they cry – some magic wand to take away the pain and give them back their smiles.

All I do know is that hormones are kicking our ass in this house… The score is them: 100 us: 0… When will the game be over? Or at the very least – when does the half time show start??

Truths: Grey hair, menopause, and burritos at 1am

2011-01-13T06:29:00.001-08:00

Aaaaaahhhh the joy of turning 40! I swear that in the last few weeks my hair has turned grey! Yep, those silver horse hairs are popping up all over my head. Everyone says they can’t see them (because my hair is highlighted about 100 different shades of blonde) but once I point them out they say, “Wow, yeah – there are a lot!”

Good friends always just tell the truth! Thanks!

But seriously, as I was driving yesterday and looked in the mirror – all I could see was grey hair sticking up all through my part. What the Hell happened?

I took a deep breath and told myself, “This is just a sign that reads, ‘you are now old enough to quit trying to be someone you are not. Relish who you are and let all your hang-ups vanish. Embrace that you have reached this time in your life because this is when people really start living.”

Its true, right? I hope.

They say that 40 is the new 20… God, I hope not – though I sure lived like I was 20 on Saturday night… We had bowling and our good friends, Adam and Nancy were there – and that means… well, it just means a lot of fun. (maybe a lot of drinking)… We were the last to leave bowling and found ourselves at a burrito place at 1am – eating like I remember doing in college at the infamous late night/early morning hangout: La Bamba.

Nancy was speaking Spanish and the rest of us were trying to figure out what she was saying. I know the employee was laughing at us – but we were having the best time. And I couldn’t help but wonder the next day (as I downed a few Tylenol) is that what 40 year olds do? When you are 20 – I don’t think you envision staying out late and hitting a food joint in the early am at 40 years old… But there I was with grey hair and all acting like I just left a fraternity party.

I also think 40 is the new 13 going on 60 because my body is going through changes that drive me insane. The inconsistent periods, the pimples all over my face, the drastic mood swings and lately the night sweats!

No one ever told me that at 40 I should really be sleeping in a baby pool not a king size bed. I wake up in the middle of the night – drenched! I have to change my shirt and wipe myself down.

I was talking to my 91 year old grandma yesterday and menopause came up. She couldn’t believe that I was going thru the early stages of it – but I told her I just want to be done with it.

She was taken back – because she dreaded menopause – not because of the symptoms but because it meant she was old. Kind of funny coming from a woman is who now 90.

I haven’t thought about menopause that way… I think of it as freeing. Once you have the children you want – why on Earth do I want to suffer a week out of each month? To rid my bath closet of tampons and pads – seems like a dream come true.

I don’t want to be old – but I don’t feel like I am. Sure the grey hairs are painted on my scalp but they remind me of how much I have already lived – and I figure that if I can eat a burrito at 1am – I can’t be that old just yet.

Truths: What would you take with you?

2011-01-05T08:48:00.001-08:00

My grandma turns 91 tomorrow and the last few months have been hard ones. She has been in and out of the hospital and has now been diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure. Its not the end of the world but it has taken its toll and she is left with hard decisions.

For over 60 years she has lived in the same house and now, with her medical condition, it seems it is time for her to move to more of an assisted living facility. It is our hope that she moves to one in FL to be by my parents and to be able to enjoy warmer weather all year long – less chance to fall on the ice and who can beat sunshine 365 days a year?

The other day I was at her house and she got to talking about how she is thinking about the move and what she wants to take with her and what she wants to give away.

She had already spoken to neighbors about some things that they might be interested in but there were a few things that she really would like to take with her.

A table and chair set out on the front porch, two wicker chairs and her bedroom furniture. She has had these things since I can remember – at least 30 years but when I asked her about some of her other pieces she said, “Oh, no – those are old!”

It is all relative right? She went on to talk about how she was going thru her shoes and her purses and that she had a friend who doesn’t have much and she would like to give her a few things.

I could tell that she had been giving all of this a lot of thought. She has been cooped up in her house for quite awhile now because she isn’t strong enough to go out and I imagine that this is the kind of stuff she sits around and thinks about.

But it got me thinking… If your family was all grown up and you were living alone and it was time to move from your lifelong home to a smaller apartment – what would you take with you?

We all have so much stuff. I guess its like the old quiz, “If there was a fire in your house what would you take first?” (Besides your spouse, children and pets)

I started thinking about it and found myself at a loss… I am not emotionally attached to any certain pieces of furniture maybe Abby’s crib - but that would be silly to take to an assisted living facility! I mean I love all of my things but what would I feel worthy of going with me – to a place where I had to pare down and simplify?

I am still looking around my house and wondering…

What would I want to hold onto?

Pictures are certainly one thing – even though all of mine are either digitally stored on my laptop or in piles in a huge armoire in my bedroom… Maybe my jewelry box and everything that is in it. But beyond that, nothing comes racing to mind.

And that puts everything into perspective doesn’t it? What we truly value and what we just feel we need are obviously two different things.

It really is all just stuff. It fills our rooms and decorates our walls, clutters our dressers and cramps are cabinets. Some of it we physically need to live like clothes and pots and pans but the rest of it is just trivial.

One of the only things that first came to my mind was that I would have to have a dog. I can’t imagine my life without one especially when my family is gone or grown-up and I am all alone. That is what would have meaning to me. I could sit at any table and chair or on any sofa as long as I had someone to sit next to me wagging his tail.

But a dog is not a thing – it is a companion. Which makes me reason that nothing is worth having unless you have someone to share it with.

Maybe that is why I can’t come up with anything in particular that I would want to take with me because thinking about it means that I am alone and that is a painful thing to come to terms with.

Is that what it comes down to when you are 90?

And, if it does, then, it makes it very clear that each day we get to spend with the people we love is our gift. The memories we make with them, the moments we share are what we have left… those are what we take with us when we find ourselves coming to the end. It’s not the chairs my grandma wants but the memories of all the people who sat in them and laughed with her.

I just hope that when I get to that point in my life – my memories are so abundant that I won’t even notice I am alone well, kind of alone… my dog will be sitting next to me.

Truths: A Fabulous First Day of Being 40

2011-01-03T15:04:00.001-08:00

Wow… yesterday has to be one of my best birthdays ever. I knew there would be a party and for the most part I knew who was coming – but none the less – I was so pleasantly surprised at how fantastic the day would go.

It was more than just my birthday – I mean the basement was finally done and the new bar open and the Bears were playing the Packers – it was an all around day to celebrate and the fact that it happened to be my actual birthday – well, it was ideal.

The day started by Bill and Abby taking me out to breakfast because “elves” were coming to decorate… and at the diner they gave me my gift… a whole year of someone cleaning my house!!! It was just what I wanted (and quite frankly – just what our house needs!) So, by 9am I already had everything I dreamed of!

We came home to green and gold streamers and balloons and piñatas and Happy Birthday plastered everywhere! It was so festive…

Bill was busy getting everything ready – because he said he would take care of it all. (By that he meant that he would get the beer and my dear friend Carol would get all of the food) But none the less – he did get everything ready and Keith and Carol would arrive with trays upon trays of food and cake and in minutes my entire house was ready for a party.

A few at a time my friends would arrive – each wishing me a happy birthday and then hugging up to the bar for something good to drink. By 2pm – our entire basement was filled with all of the people I love. (minus a few who couldn’t make it because they live too far away - different states even a different country! But the few who weren't there founds their own way to be a part of the day. One sent daily emails for a week - each one of them listing 40 things about a topic... One sent a beautiful, heartfelt gift that will always mean so much to me, so even those who couldn't be a part of the celebration were already near in spirit.)

Sure I came up with the guest list – but when I looked around – I couldn’t help but be taken back… This entire room of people were all that mattered to me – all in one room – celebrating this milestone of a birthday with me.

Friends from all different aspects of my life from grammar school to college to work friends to dog rescuing friends to my “mom” friends… they were all there hanging out with each other – some meeting for the first time.

And of course, my daughter and my step-daughter and my soon to be in son-in-law – they were all there laughing, cheering during the game…

Maybe its what happens at 40 – this revelation of what is important – what has real meaning – well, it happened to me yesterday.

I just kept stepping back from the crowd and taking deep breaths – in utter amazement. What a blessed life I have. How many people get to be surrounded on their birthday by such dear friends and family – people who want nothing more but to support you and wish you well. People who only expect you to be yourself and nothing more – and on days when you can’t even get out of bed to be yourself – they love you anyway.

Many brought perfect gifts – but the real gift was truly them. Having them in my life – making me a better person – keeping me real and honest and true. For 9 hours yesterday – all I ever wanted was right in front of me – a life filled with happiness and the people I care most about to share it with.

Yesterday was my first day of being 40 – and if it is any indication of the next 40 years of my life – I will be the luckiest, richest person in the world.

Truths: The Big Four Oh

2011-01-02T06:03:00.001-08:00

“If life really begins on your 40th birthday, it's because that's when women finally get it… the guts to take back their lives.” -- Laura Randolph

Yep, today is my 40th birthday… The big 4-0… The whopper – the birthday where you realize that you really aren’t getting any younger… At the time 30 seemed like a big deal – a turning point that shouted, “You are not 20 anymore.” But, 40 – 40 is different.

40 allows you to NOT be 20- anymore… No more trying to fit into the junior section at the store – and I mean that in two ways – the first just actually physically trying to fit into the jeans that were made for young girls who never gave birth and the second just trying to make that belly shirt look appropriate for a night out with your friends.

40 screams you are not 20 – so it is actually a relief – a new state of mind – you can stop trying to be younger and finally just be your age.

I am grateful for that.

I also think that when you get to 40 – you finally know who you are and who you are not. You have spent 40 years getting to know yourself and it is refreshing to look in the mirror and say, “I recognize myself – I know what I want and I know what I am going to do to get it.”

No more being someone else – thinking you need to minimize who you are in order to impress other people. No more wasted time on people you really don’t like or friendships that require more work that they are worth.

No more worrying about your messy house when people come over… and no more wearing 3” heels to parties.

I think 40 is when you begin really living. Seeing the world for what it is and embracing it. Sure you still have dreams – but they are no longer clouded my naïve fantasy – they are outlined with the steps it takes to achieve them – a true sign of maturity.

I have noticed something new about me in just the last few months leading up to this day… Like women who “nest” right before they have children… for me at 40 there is a different phenomenon – clearing out the clutter. I can feel my body letting go of things that just get in the way of living.

I have tried that before but it was a half empty attempt – this time I actually am being led by something bigger and it sure feels good.

I am embracing 40 – holding on with both hands and sailing into the wind for the ride. I have high hopes for this year and all those that follow it.

One of the great things about this year is that many of my friends are turning 40 also and there are lots of trips planned… Jamaica, Spain, South Beach, FL… maybe a trip back to drunken Key West… and my dad is planning an amazing trip for the two of us to Antarctica! 25 and 30 were tough for me – but 40 – is going to be like a yearlong celebration.

While there will be traveling – I am also looking forward to slowing down. Enjoying the everyday – making cooking a hobby not a necessary evil… and making sure that I am eating better and taking the time to stay fit. Secretly (or at least it was a secret) I would like to run a 5k. I know that might seem small to most – but it would be huge for me.

My biggest hope is to get a book deal for my nonfiction novel detailing my three-year experience rescuing puppy mill dogs and lobbying to change the laws. It seems 40 would be THE year to achieve that.

Having a birthday on January 2 isn’t anyone’s ideal… But, I love that fact that my age change coincides with the infamous “new year’s resolution”. What an optimal time to declare aspirations and make changes.

Cheers to 40 and to where 2011 will take me… I am ready for the ride!

Truths: The dirt behind Christmas

2010-12-21T06:04:00.001-08:00

As I was on my knees yesterday scrubbing the toilet – I couldn’t help but think about Currier and Ives… You know those beautiful Christmas Cards we think of when we hear those two words together?

I just wondered who scrubbed the toilets behind the pictures they took. Everyone wants their Christmas to be like the ones they photographed and I just can’t help but wonder how they did it?

No one thinks about scrubbing toilets when they think about Christmas… No one thinks about the long lines or the shipping costs or the ribbon tied in knots around their fingers.

We all have sugar plums dancing in our heads because all we picture are the perfectly wrapped gifts, the basted turkey in the oven and our family sitting around the fireplace just enjoying each other’s company.

We envision this year after year even though each season we swear we will never procrastinate again – we will never wait until the last minute to do our cards, we won’t buy as many gifts and we won’t make a fuss about everyone coming over…

We must suffer from holiday amnesia because most of us fall short of our dreams and struggle to keep our act together days before Christmas.

The truth is – everything leading up to these magical moments is utter chaos. The wrapping marathon, the cleaning frenzy, the grocery scramble…

I have gotten up each day for the passed two weeks with a list and a timeline of how and when I will get it all done. Its like cramming a semester worth of studying into the night before finals.

The bright side is that my house is immaculate (at least my version of immaculate). My toilets shine and my laundry is done – in fact all of the sheets in the house are clean at the same time, my fridge is stocked (it hasn’t seen this much food since we got it), I will be using my pretty stove and our new bar is open for business (thank goodness!)

Everyone is coming to our house this year – in fact everyone is sleeping at our house… Too many than we have beds for – but that is okay… I am excited to have all of my family together, in one place, for a few days.

We will be eating and opening gifts and hopefully, enjoying each others company and maybe it will be so beautiful that Currier and Ives would want to photograph it. At least I know I will!

Tails: In the Christmas Spirit…of miracles

2010-12-20T06:43:00.000-08:00

Its getting to be crunch time – only a few days left before Christmas and many people will be rushing around to find that perfect gift – the “WOW” gift that will be remembered long after the decorations are put away… A gift that everyone will love… and sadly, that can mean a spur of the moment trip to the local petstore.

Its easy to walk in and envision a cute little puppy in a stocking or hiding in a box with a beautiful red bow. Heck, that was MY idea of perfect Christmas! BUT, pet stores are NOT the place to get your fuzzy gift this holiday. Pet stores sell dogs who come from puppy mills – places that breed dogs for money – not love and companionship. Places that pile dogs in crates and give them little food, water or shelter – and no affection. I do not care what any pet store tells you – their dogs come from horrible places…and the parents of the puppies in those stores spend their lives in little crates never to see the light of the day or feel a soft human touch.

But, that does not mean you can’t surprise a loved one with a furry friend this season… Just look up a local shelter or animal rescue and I guarantee they will have many pets looking to be home for Christmas. You can also go to www.petfinder.com where you can put in the kind of pet your are looking for, your zip code and it will search their huge database of rescue organizations to find you what you are looking for – it is that easy!

And, yes, there are puppies and yes, there are purebreds… But, truthfully, I bet you fall in love with an older dog that is nothing but a mutt!

When you rescue a pet – I believe you rescue a part of yourself. Giving a dog a second chance – a forever home – something they never had before is reward in itself.

I recently got this link from one of my fellow rescuers and I think it is definitely worth sharing at Christmas… Sometimes people fail to see the potential in the dogs we rescue and if you were ever on the fence about why you should adopt and not shop for your pet – I think this will convince you of the power of love and second chances:

http://video.yahoo.com/watch/8668677

(Just copy and paste the URL - I couldn't get the link to work today! - I promise it is worth your two minutes!)

Please, if you decide you want your stocking filled by the chimney with something floppy eared or with long whiskers – adopt this holiday season and give a pet the gift of a family.

The pictures above are of Thorp - the dog I rescued from an Amish Puppy Mill... Those are his before and afters. Take a look at the video if you want to see more true heartwarming makeovers.

Truths: The Company Christmas Party

2010-12-10T05:39:00.001-08:00

Aaahhh… This weekend marks my husband’s company Christmas Party. There aren’t many like this one anymore. Hosted at the Grand Geneva in Lake Geneva, WI – it is a high class event – practically free to everyone – the food is outstanding and the bar stays open all night!

Many of the party goers will arrive tonight – to prime themselves for what will be, for most, a big drinking weekend. It will start for many at the waterpark where employees’ families will gather, watch their kids frolic in the water and play cards – chugging back a few beers – with the intent not too have too many because the party is tomorrow night. (that doesn’t seem to always work)

Because the party is so big – about 500 guests – the company gets an amazing room rate at what really is a 5 star hotel. It would be hard to pass it up – especially since no one wants to drive home.

Tonight will be laid back and fun - in anticipation of Saturday. The regulars will hang together, the kids will scream and all will be good.

Tomorrow morning the majority of the people will rise with only a slight headache and make plans for what to do to pass the time before the party. Some will go into town to shop or eat lunch and some will say, “to Hell with it” and go back to the waterpark - and some will do all three and start drinking – those are the few who usually don’t make it to the party.

But the real fun is tomorrow night.

See, I have been going to these parties for 16 years and Bill has been going to them for 30 – we are definitely seasoned. Between the two of us – we have seen it all. And, okay, been a part of some of the craziness at one point or another.

I have lost my shoes, gotten lost on my way back to the room, “borrowed” decorations from the hotel for our room party… (nothing big – just a few reindeer and Christmas trees)… I am certain I said things to people I should have never said and danced in ways that were inappropriate - and yes, I reluctantly admit – I am sure I have puked and passed out at one or two of them… Maybe at the same time.

And while I don’t think Bill has ever lost his shoes – I am confident that he has done all of the rest.

No, not everyone drinks like we do… I don’t know what those people do – because they don’t stay long at the party and tend to keep their distance from people like us.

But we drink and we watch other people drink and we all do things that we shouldn’t.

One of the interesting parts of the evening is seeing what people wear – and boy do they wear everything. From jeans and sweaters to full length gowns to mini dresses barely covering any skin.

In my 16 years – I have always worn a different dress. I have done the holiday green, the slinky black bare back, the shimmery silver and even threw in a bridesmaid dress – to get good use out of it.

This year – I turned more practical… I tried on 25 dresses – all different styles and while mostly black – some color – and when it came right down to it – I picked the most simple one. Maybe its because I am turning 40 and it just seemed like the right thing to do… It covered the tops of my arms (which I don’t find very flattering) and fit perfect – no alterations this year – and it was $100. Oh, and most importantly – it was a size 6. Honestly, I think that is what it was. Maybe it was mismarked – but I went with it anyway. Most of the others were 8’s and hey, it’s the little things that make us happy, right?

I did try on a beautiful, full length, black and white dress – I did love it but it was $400.00. I have spent close to that before – but it seemed ridiculous to me this year. Again, showing my age – I couldn’t rationalize the cost. There are a lot more things I would rather do with $400 (remodel the kitchen…paint the house…put in a new floor…) and the truth is – I am happily married – while I want to look great for Bill – I certainly don’t have to parade around in a $400 dress to do it.

When I told the nice, young girl which of the dresses I chose, she looked so disappointed. It took me back a bit – but then I figured she is 22 years old and I am soon 40 and I have reached a point in my life – where I will no longer be selecting dresses that are cool… I made my purchase and left… Happy, feeling a bit aged, and thrilled that it was a size 6.

So, anyway, there will be people of all sizes and shapes wearing all sorts of things and that will be fun to watch… but the real fun comes later – after everyone has had a few drinks and the true meaning of a Company Christmas party takes shape… when people get drunk and start doing and saying things they will only regret on Sunday.

There will be the employees who decide this is the best time to tell their boss how they really feel. They will have the courage to ask why they didn’t get a raise – or how soon it will be before they get a promotion. Some will literally shed tears about the unhappiness in their lives and how they love their job so much.

Some will makes passes at fellow employees or employees’ spouses because it seems like the right thing to do… others will dance like no one is watching and a few will pass out at the table.

Truthfully, I love it…

But, Bill and I did make one pact: no one will let the other get stuck talking to someone for more than 15 minutes – unless they give the sign that they are okay. Because when people drink – they talk incessantly… and that prevents me from getting another drink or going to the bathroom – both of which I do a lot of after 6pm.

I suggested that we make a list of people who it would be acceptable to talk to for long periods of time… I had three: Monica, Debbie and Steph – these three are my really good friends – so if I am talking to them it is either important or fun or we are holding each other up – or holding each other’s hair up while we puke… We are those kinds of friends and those kind of friends don’t need talk time limits.

Bill didn’t really have anyone he felt he could talk all night to – so we figured out what sign language we would use and promised each other rescue.

Tomorrow will be a blast… I just hope I am not the one with big regrets on Sunday – or a massive hangover that prevents me from finishing up decorating for the holidays…

‘Tis the season to (drink) and be merry!

Truths: There is a hole in the ceiling…Dear Liza, Dear Liza…

2010-12-07T06:29:00.001-08:00

So, where do I even start? I swear they don’t even make comedy shows this good anymore.

Let’s see… Remember the furnace that didn’t work last week? Well, that actually turned out quite well. All we needed was to replace the batteries and scrub off the battery acid that had decayed in the thermostat. All of which – I am proud to report I did.

The drain in the master bath did not go so well. And, lets be honest – should it? Has it not become standard operation around here for things to go wrong…really wrong?

There have been days when I struggled with what to blog about – apparently those days are over!

Yeah, the drain which my husband has bandaided for the last two years decided that a bandaid would no longer do the trick. God forbid – it was time to call a plumber!

Of course that didn’t go easy either. I got a referral from Carol and made the call. But, that plumber was going out of town for the week – so he had to give me another name… Luckily, he agreed to come out. He could have come out Saturday morning – but that wouldn’t work for me…because I had to scrub the entire bathroom before he could step foot in it.

It would have been terribly embarrassing for anyone to walk in our bathroom. I don’t know if I said it before – but I hate housecleaning – and I really despise cleaning bathrooms.

So, instead of the plumber coming Saturday – I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the entire bathroom floor to ceiling. If it weren’t for the fact that drain is leaking into the kitchen ceiling – I would have to say that the bathroom never looked better.

But, lets slow down.

We also decided that this was the weekend we would put up Christmas decorations. Its one of those things that once it is done – you sigh and look lovingly at how your house was transformed into a Hallmark card. But – somewhere between then and getting out the boxes is more like a living Hell.

By Sunday – with the boxes half unpacked, we watched football all day – drank beer and then took it upon ourselves to start putting up the outside lights – in the dark. Our hands were shaking as we saw our breath in the crisp air – Crisp, I mean more like freezing. Crisp is what they would say in poetry – this was not poetry.

At one point, Bill said, “I hate doing this with every passion I have… I hate it!”

But, I make him do it anyway – because that is what we do at Christmas… String lights 10 stories up and pray no one falls off the ladder.

Needless to say we got about half way through when we shook our heads in disgust and gave up and returned to the couch for some Sunday night football and a bowl of popcorn.

Yesterday morning, I had the pleasure of waking up to a house that looks like Santa puked in. Tissue paper, bows, lights, scattered around the floor. Boxes still stacked high and snowmen laying on the floor as though they drank too much the night before.

It was a disaster. And in a few hours the plumber would be coming. Good thing I cleaned that bathroom.

The plumber, Steve, weaved amongst the boxes in the foyer – to the kitchen where he assessed the situation. He managed to find his way around the snowmen and up to the bathroom (which really was sparkling clean) and knelt down by the shower drain as if to pray that I made all of this up.

Nope, it was broke… He described what was wrong and I shook my head as though I knew what he meant and then all I heard him say was, “I can do it for around $250.”

Sounded good to me.

Within minutes as I covered up the new stove with a towel – Steve was sawing the drywall kitchen ceiling and I was having a panic attack. I had just cleaned the whole kitchen – every cabinet, every drawer and now there would be more drywall dust.

I went back into the living room where I sank down into the sofa and wanted to scream or cry or both.

Surrounded by mountains of red and green, UPS boxes and drunken snowmen – and now a hole in my kitchen ceiling – all just in time for the holiday season!

Tails: The reward of rescuing a reject

2010-12-03T05:38:00.001-08:00

I was lying in bed this morning – and like everyday for the first ten minutes I am awake – I was snuggling with our dogs – all 4 of them and many times all three of the cats. All seven of them lie on the bed and relish the quiet moment of being spoiled.

Today as Penelope and Thorp lay on my chest and lie their heads up by mine – I couldn’t help but look deep into their eyes and recall how far they have come.

Both puppy mill dogs – rescued at an Amish dog auction. Both survivors of neglect and abuse. They came with scars I thought would never go away.

Thorp came first. I never intended to take home a dog that day…but when I saw him cowering in his cage yet eager for someone to love him… He slowly made his way to the front of the cage as I whispered to him. With utter fear and caution, he inched his way forward and gently licked my hand. I was taken and I took him home for $60.00.

Penelope came second. It was my third auction and I already knew before going that I would rescue a dog. Weeks before the auction I chose her from the auction list. Number 141. Sight unseen, I knew I loved this dog.

Both of them suffered from neglect and lack of vet care and both needed numerous medical procedures. Beyond the physical imperfections came emotional wounds that would take years to heal.

They were scared and unsocial – never had seen grass or stairs or had been held or given affection. They shook at the sight of people and their first reaction was to run. They took shelter in their crates as if it was the safest place in the house – because that was all they had known.

They lacked potty training skills and even today – have a few accidents.

But today as they clung to me – eager for attention and love – it is no mystery that they have succeeded.

The other day a friend asked me to find her the perfect dog. I laughed and said, “There are no perfect dogs.” And then she said, “Well, then a really, really good one.” And I laughed again and said, “The dogs I know aren’t like that – they all have issues that need time to be worked through.” And then I walked away.

It probably seemed cold what I said… But, people always want me to find them some perfect dog – just the right color, just the right size, the right sex and if that weren’t enough – it has to obedient, yet fun, lovable but not needy and of course, potty trained.

Yeah, right.

The dogs I know who need homes certainly will never meet all of those expectations. And, should they have to?

How many people do any of us know who are perfect? We might know people who think they are perfect – but we know different.

Why should a dog be held to any other standards?

I guess what I want people to know is that there is something special about rescuing a reject. Taking in a dog for no other reason but to love them unconditionally. Accepting that they have issues they need to work through and taking the time and being patient as they do.

Thorp has gone on to be a certified therapy dog who is now looking for work and while Penelope doesn’t have any certifications – she is a very well-adjusted, happy dog.

Along the trials and tributes of rescuing them – there is no doubt that I and my family was rescued too. We learned the true meanings of love and acceptance. We learned that it takes more than a bowl of food and a fenced in yard to have a dog – it takes courage and faith and an unconditional kind of love that you never knew you had in you until you were rewarded with the affection of a dog.

Truths: Life is not so simple

2010-12-02T05:22:00.001-08:00

So, we have been in FL visiting my parents for Thanksgiving. We got back late Tuesday night because our flight was delayed and sat on a plane where we felt like sardines. But we arrived home and passed out.

Yesterday, was Abby’s birthday. So, I awoke, to a now 12 year old, panicked about what she was going to wear to school.

I also woke up to a broken furnace and a leak in the kitchen ceiling coming from the master bath shower.

I got the emotional adolescent off to school – she could barely contain herself to see her locker which was going to be decorated by her best friends and I could barely open my eyes and face what was going to be my day…

While I was in FL, my grandma ended up in the hospital – for what they thought was congestive heart failure. It turns out that she needed more medicine for her high blood pressure and to limit her salt intake.

Yesterday, I went to pick her up at the hospital where she was staying in the extended care unit. Basically that just means it is all old people who are being kept for observation before they let them go back home or ship them to a nursing facility.

In other words… it is a very depressing place.

If you have ever been to a nursing home – you can understand the smell that goes along with it. I have worked knee deep in animal shelters and still the stench made my stomach turn.

But, more upsetting than that – is the truth – there are all these elderly people – who are basically coming to the end of their lives. Some had strokes, others pneumonia, heart attacks, cancer… and while young people would be able to overcome those things with a hard fight – these people don’t have the fight in them.

My grandma will be 91 in a month. She had never been in the hospital before (except for chilbirth) and has been healthier than a horse. But when I saw her – it was as though she had aged 100 years. The vibrancy and the stamina had disappeared… Instead, she looked grey and weak and old.

I know that 91 is old – but for my whole life my grandma has been young. Always dolled up – boasting jewels and nylons and high heels. She never left the house without her make-up done and her hair curled. And, here she was - practically naked in a bed – without any of her things.

My grandma has always been hip – she knows that Sandra Bullock got divorced – she knows that Tiger Woods cheated – she knows that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston should have never got divorced!

She talks about sex and religion like it’s a cookie recipe and has always known how to shop like there is no tomorrow.

So, it is hard to see her become frail – to see her get old…

And it is really hard to face the fact that when we get old – we become so very alone. Almost all of the people in the hospital yesterday on her floor were alone. They didn’t have visitors. Who knows where their families were… or how long it had been since they saw them last.

They were all relying on the nurses to care for them – to treat them with dignity and respect and to make them comfortable.

One lady who shared my grandma’s room had had a bad stroke – and was literally reliant on a myriad of staff to care for her – she could barely speak – and couldn’t move but a finger.

It’s the kind of thing none of us want to think about: where we will be when we turn 90 – who will be around us and looking out for us when we have lost the ability to do it for ourselves…

After my grandma got dressed and while we were speaking to the discharge nurse – my grandma was trying to zipper her sweater. I watched for some time as she struggled – unsure of when to offer help… and then I finally just did and she was grateful.

And that is when it hit me the hardest – 30 plus years ago – my grandma probably zipped up my sweater – tied my shoes – helped me get in the car… and now it was my turn to do the same for her…I was happy that I could re-pay the act – but sad inside that it has come down to this.

There is no doubt that a lot of **** has gone wrong in my life these last few weeks… and while I have known all along that it was petty stuff – it has taken over my life and left me taking for granted the magnitude of life and death.

My daughter turned 12 yesterday and for the first time in my life I saw my grandma as 90 and I fall almost exactly in between… No longer a struggling adolescent, irresponsible 20 year old or a 30 year old woman trying to defy my age.

I turn 40 next month – and am coming to terms with aging. I am finding out that its not about what boy likes you or what click you belong to, its not about where you went to college or how drunk you got last night and its not about dress size or jean size or profession or what house you live in.

It is about who you have around you – who you love and who you take the time to help and what you do to make a difference in this world.

Its not that any one of us thought life was simple – its just that none of us ever think its going to be THIS hard.

Tails: It is not as black and white as a Dalmatian

2010-11-24T07:27:00.000-08:00

Okay, so things in my house have settled down – but all around me are people screaming at the NFL for praising Michael Vick on his recent football successes.

For those of you who might live under a rock – a few years back Michael Vick was convicted of racketeering and sent to prison for 18 months. While the charge was officially racketeering – the truth was he was housing a dog fighting operation.

There are no good dog fighting operations – but Vick’s was really bad. There were rape tables to breed the dogs against their will, their were electrocutions, bait dogs, the females had all of their teeth removed so that they wouldn’t fight back while being bred – I think you get the picture.

Dogs were being mutilated for money at Michael Vick’s house and regardless of who you are – that should make you angry.

Well, it did make the entire Humane community upset. I can’t quite remember the exact number of dogs pulled from Vick’s house – but I believe that 46 of them were saved and sent to various rescues. 22 of them found homes at Best Friends Animal Society – some of which might spend their lives at the sanctuary because they are unadoptable due to the emotional scars (and some physical) from their tragic past.

Vick served his time – and is now playing for the Philadelphia Eagles. In fact, he is playing better than he ever has before – So good that he is setting NFL records and will be featured on the front cover of Sports Illustrated this week.

Which has spurred controversy - lots of it – in the animal rights community.

Now, every Sunday or Monday or even Thursday – I find a reason to bitch about Michael Vick and how the NFL should have never allowed him back into the league. To which my husband always counters with, “Well, there are players who have been accused and even found guilty of rape and drugs and the NFL lets them back in.”

True.

I think someone just commented that the NFL – should really stand for, “The National Felons League.” Sounds good to me.

It should also be said that above our new bar stands 12 bottles of wine – one for each of the Vick dogs rescued by Best Friends Animal Society. They offered them as a fundraising campaign -we could only afford to buy 12 of the 22. But, at any rate – they are now showcased at our bar along with the Sport Illustrated magazine that featured one of the Vick dogs on the cover and a story about what happened.

See, while our basement glows green and gold for the Packers – we thought it was important that any guest we had – know a bit about what Vick did.

Okay, more background… once Vick got out of prison – he found his way to the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) where he serves as an ambassador for anti-dog fighting campaigns.

No, I don’t know if I support that or not.

But, anyway, people I know are mad about Vick being on the cover of SI. I guess it does make me mad – but this is how I have found some peace…

SI has done pieces on the dogs Vick had and has said in print what a horrible thing it was. SI reached people who might otherwise know nothing about dog fighting. One of SI’s editors, Jim Gorant, has written a book titled, “The Lost Dogs” which is all about what happened and where the dogs are today. Because a SI editor wrote it – there will, again, be people who pick up the book who otherwise wouldn’t.

Almost every time that Michael Vick has been interviewed for his NFL profession the issue of dog fighting is raised. Those interviews reach millions of people – millions of people are being made aware of the tragedy of dog fighting.

I am appalled at what Michael Vick did and personally, I could never forgive him. And, I could, for the rest of my life, bitch and moan about it every week during football season. But, the silver lining to it all – is that society is learning about the cruelty of dog fighting, they are learning that it exists all over the world and in every socio-economic level and amongst every demographic.

Each week when Vick plays – the world is reminded of what he did and it spurs conversation – more conversation than would have ever taken place.

It should have never happened in the first place. What Michael Vick did was an atrocity – a sick behavior that uses innocent creatures as fighting machines – dogs lost their lives in cruel ways and forgiving Michael Vick isn’t something most people in my circles could ever do… But, at the same time – his comeback of the century is also a billboard about dog fighting – a perpetual neon sign – reminding people about the horridness of dog fighting and the importance to end it.

I think we owe it to all of the dogs who lost their lives and the ones rescued still waiting to find good homes – to embrace what the media is giving us – a voice reaching millions of people every week about ending dog fighting – because isn’t that what's important, anyway?

Truths: Picking up the pieces

2010-11-22T05:45:00.001-08:00

Well, as I write this – it is pouring rain outside. And normally that wouldn’t bother me – but we placed about 25 bags worth of giveaway stuff outside. Yes, it is under our front porch – but not exactly 100% safe from the elements. Just my luck, right?

And, it didn’t seem to start raining until I worked up the ambition to take the dogs for a run. 100 steps into it – the rain came tumbling down. Should I expect anything less?

The truth is – things are getting better. Amongst the chaos and conundrum of everything – I am learning to find the bright side. Is there really any other choice?

Twenty five bags sit outside and an entire dumpster filled – certainly that must be a sign that the crap in my life is literally leaving. The closets are emptier, the garage neater and overall, our life is starting to seem lighter.

As my husband and I stared at the tires stacked up in the garage from his previous sports car – I laughed. Thinking of how just months ago – they were sitting in our basement along with a fur lined couch and stinky litter boxes.

Now, the basement shines – with massive TV’s and a reupholstered sofa and meticulously placed Packer pictures. Our life is obviously improving.

The kitchen cabinets are completely cleaned out. Every crevice washed, every dish steamed dry. At the time it all seemed like a huge pain in the ass – but as I wiped the last pan – I realized – this was the kitchen I wanted to start my new hobby of cooking. I know where everything is and everything is organized and clean and ready to go to work.

Perhaps, it was all just meant to be.

They say (whoever “they” are”) that things have to be messy before they can be clean – and well, I guess that is what my life was these last few weeks. A mess.

Maybe it was just to make me appreciate when it would be better. When the piles would be gone and the boxes taken away.

Sigh.

The TV’s work and the appliances have either squeezed their way into their space or have grown accustom to where they sit and all is right with the Monroe household.

Other things have piled up in the meantime – housecleaning (you know where you actually remove dirt from the floor and not just boxes) – laundry… But those, too will be done and life will return to a state of normalcy. And it will be a better normal than normal…

Of course, in the meantime, Christmas will be upon us and the hurriedness of the season will take over. The parties and the presents and the hangovers to go with all of it.

So, right now, for the next few days, I am going to enjoy the peace and quiet. I am going to relish the calm, the tranquil state of the house. I am going to admire the new basement and sit and watch Private Practice on the new TV and then start my “To Do” list again.

Truths: What the Hell happened?

2010-11-16T12:52:00.001-08:00

Well, I am taking a break right now. I have to – my sanity depends on this blog dragging me up out of this overwhelming temptation to just run away to a deserted island and hide under a palm tree with a fruity cocktail in my hand.

Or at least somewhere other than where I am.

Instead I wait for Best Buy’s Geek Squad to show and hook up the TV and speakers and explain to me in 5 minutes or less how it all works so that I can spend the rest of my life explaining it to my husband.

Deep breath…

Yep, I am waiting for yet another service call at my house. The Direct TV guy, Ken, did come back on Saturday and after another hour or so – fixed the problem and we now have internet (thank God) and phone. There was, for a few hours, a total sense of uncomfortable isolation from the world – but thanks to him the phone is ringing and the emails flocking in.

However, as I wait for the Geek Squad to show up at my door – any minute now… It has been all day. I am knee deep, no make the head deep, in chaos. I don’t know what happened to my life in the last few months – but I feel like someone took it and gave me this continuum of disasters – one right after the other – leaving my house looking like a tornado just blew through.

Let me brief you on what I am talking about:

The basement is sky high in boxes… Green Bay Packer memorabilia packed away from before I think I was even alive. CD’s stacked as high as me – screaming, “You don’t even listen to me anymore.” Bottles of booze so old that they are now vintage. And of course, cartons of beer glasses and martini stems so dusty that it takes a squeegee to get them clean. That or just a shot of vodka to wipe them out… MMMM the vodka is still good.

Taking all of this “stuff” from the back of the basement also meant sorting passed all the other stuff we have accumulated in the 3 years we have waited to remodel the basement after the flood.

Okay, let me re-phrase that – that I (emphasis here) have accumulated. There I admit it and that is the first step.

So, as I gape at the basement which only days ago was sitting pristinely with its new hickory cabinets, custom woodwork, beautiful re-upholstered leather sectional – I find myself sick – because it is hard to recognize any of that now because it is covered in crap. (MY crap, of course!)

Again, sigh…

So, all of this crap begs the age old question, “Do you think it is time to give some stuff away?”

Yeah, Duh!

But seriously, it is. And that is when things get hard. Why is that? Why, when you come across some old silk plant that hasn’t seen the light of day in years – do you say to yourself, “Oh, but maybe that would look good in the kitchen window – after we repaint and get new cabinets.” Yeah because first off when are you going to repaint and get new kitchen cabinets and second when you do – are you really going to stick some old musty silk plant in the new window?” That is what I thought.

Then there are the things you always intended to give as gifts but liked them so much you couldn’t bare to part with them. This even goes for gift bags and cute boxes that are just “too cute” to actually use. I would have normally felt ridiculous saying that – but my friend, Nancy, was over Sunday and admitted to doing the same thing!

I called one of those charities that for some unknown reason agree to take all of your stuff away for free. No, maybe not everything, but almost everything. They are coming with a truck on Monday.

In the meantime, Bill called a waste company and they are coming tomorrow with a dumptser. Looks like the Monroe’s are serious about doing a clean sweep.

But see – none of that was in the cards for us. Nope, this is the time we should just be setting up the bar and the basement and downing a few beers in celebration that we completed the remodel. We should be getting ready for our first party not packing boxes and getting nostalgic about old toys.

Ugh – why does this stuff happen? What part of remodel means re-construct your whole life?

At the same time – I am cleaning out all of the kitchen cabinets and washing all of the dishes and pans and pots and silverware and whatever else you can shove in a drawer or on a shelf because as some of you might remember – Bill had to saw through concrete to get that damn sink to fit and well, that makes a fricking mess – and that fine dust is still sitting on everything we own.

So, there are boxes in the hallway, enough cardboard in the garage that could fuel a bonfire for days, green and gold garb stretched along the basement walls waiting to be hung up, booze bottles littering the floor and bags of give away stuff lining doorways waiting to ship out… and at the same time my dishwasher is going 24/7 washing kitchen accessories and my counter covered with more.

At the same time that we “moved” into the basement – we also lost some of the furniture we were using in the family room and eating area. Never steal from Peter to pay Paul (or something like that) so, that meant Abby and I would spend 2 hours re-arranging those two rooms with the new furniture we got from the garage.

Every thing that I know is turned upside down right now. None of which I expected. The boxes are growing and the dust only starting to settle and my sanity thrown out the window…

And did I mention that I have started Christmas shopping? Yep, those boxes are sitting in the living room – one of the two rooms that are doored off to the rest of the house – two rooms that are pet free, people free but even they have been exposed to the plague of brown cardboard and in a little corner I see some green and gold. Damn the Packers!

Truths: If it can go wrong, it will.

2010-11-14T05:31:00.001-08:00

OMG – do we have sucker written on our faces or what? My life has been nothing but mishaps and disappointments in the last few weeks – no, actually a month!

From stoves and sinks to TV’s and now Direct TV and a fridge.

Let me start with the fridge. It was delivered yesterday. The fridge that led to the new stove that doesn’t fit and now needs to be customized. That led to the stainless sink that didn’t fit and my husband needed to saw through the concrete and now the fridge.

Two nice men came to the door – and asked to see where it would go – the new shiny, pretty stainless steel fridge – the completion to the set. The one appliance we actually needed – and of course, the one we waited for the longest.

I suddenly remembered that I never cleaned out the old fridge – which now grew with mold. Ooops… But what the Hell right? It is just going in a landfill to ruin the environment – might as well add something organic to the mix.

Anyway, with some struggle they removed the old fridge, breaking off the handles and dropping it on the driveway… and the new one entered the house. It was like the Oscars with the actors and actresses walking down the red carpet. The anticipation of what they were wearing…

And again, with some struggle they found the fridge its new home and it seemed, unbelievable, without a scratch.

Oh yeah, somewhere in between the old one going out and the new one coming in – I managed to scrub the inch of filth off the floor – throw out one of Abby’s Picassos and re-read a report card from 1st grade…

The spot was shiny and the fridge shiny and everything was shiny – for a little while.

As the nice man hooked up the water line – all of our power in the house went out. (I later learned that our whole side of the street’s power went out) I thought maybe he had plugged in the fridge and blew a circuit – but no, someone must have hit an electric pole instead of a squirrel and saved a life – ruining mine in the balance.

No, it is not the worse thing in the world. I know that – but with the power out – that meant that they wouldn’t be able to run the water line or make sure that the fridge even works. And we all know – that with my luck – the fridge won’t work and Best Buy won’t take it back.

I signed the delivery paper and made the man note on the paperwork that we were unable to run the fridge due to a power outage. I know he thought I was crazy but based on the last few weeks of my life – I trust nothing. It has become a very jaded world for me.

Since we didn’t have power, we didn’t have a phone so I texted a picture of the new fridge to my husband – it was sitting in its new home – looking sexy and most importantly – fitting in its space.

That is until my husband called and said, “Have you tried to open the cabinets above the fridge?”

Uh… no…. and while on the phone with him – I attempted what should have been an easy task – and to no avail. The front of the fridge is higher that than the back and even though it fits – the cabinet doors cannot open.

Are you kidding me? Well, the truth of the matter is that whatever is in those cabinets is there because I never use it – so does it matter? And if I decided I do use any of it – I can change it out – and replace it with my cookbooks because I never use those!

Okay, one thing down… and while not perfect compared to the rest of the mishaps – not too bad.

At 3pm the Direct TV installer, Ken, shows up. Now don’t forget that the power is still out… when I tell him he cringes wondering how he will be able to complete the installation but shrugs it off and says, “Let’s take a look at where everything is going.”

Now before I get too carried away with a story that makes me cry and will make you laugh – lets refresh all of our brains and state that the guy who sold us on Direct TV told us that everything would be easy. No big deal…and then finished with, “just sign here on the dotted line.”

We were glazed over that night with the mere thought of purchasing the biggest TV we have ever owned and envisioning the football games we would watch while snacking on chips and drinking cold beer from our new bar. Getting the magic NFL ticket from Direct TV was a dream come true….

Or so we thought.

Should I be surprised that things didn’t go all that smooth?

So, I showed Ken the current location of the Comcast box – which started us down the path of everything that could go wrong would. At first it was that we had internet and phone with Comcast and he would have to cut the box… then he decided because it was wireless –it would could be done and he could bypass the system.

Few, one down…a hundred more to go.

Next was the fact that our old house was wired with the wrong cable lines. Apparently, what they don’t tell you when you sign on the dotted line is that your cabling needs to be up to date. And while Direct TV might have the NFL ticket they do not have the capability to run on some R59 cable.

Once Ken found all of the wrong cable in our house, he proceeded to explain that he could run all new cable – some of which would start on one side of our house and then loop over the roof, the garage, against the side of the house until it would find its way to the new Direct TV box. This pattern would be repeated one other time – all for the low, low price of a $1.00 a foot.

A call to my husband.

We want the NFL package, right?

Of course we do.

Next came the problem that all of the TVs in the basement weren’t hooked up. That would be a problem programming them with the Direct TV.

Okay, well, Best Buy informed us that they didn’t want to come out to set up the TVs until the Direct TV was installed. It is kind of like the age old proverb, “What came first the chicken or the egg?”

That one, as far as I know, has never been solved and this dilemma wouldn’t be either.

As Ken strung yards of cable around our house like lights on a Christmas tree – my husband came home in-time to hook up the TVs. You can imagine our struggle – after once having a broken TV and Best Buy refusing to replace it.

We wanted the Geek Squad to hook it up – so they would be liable. But life doesn’t work the way you plan and so we ever so carefully took this giant TV out of the box – while holding our breath and praying to the TV gods that this time we were going to get lucky.

Well, you can breathe now – because it did work and that part of the night was okay. Finally, we caught a break.

But, that break would last about as long as wave crashing on a beach… Ken came to tell us that the most important TV – this beauty that we just unloaded from the box – only had that crazy R59 cable running to it and so it wouldn’t work with the HD system.

Sigh, tears…

And it only gets better… That whole part of the house is finished and it backs up to a concrete wall – so there is no good or easy way to solve the problem. We will need a very experienced and ambitious electrician.

It was like Christmas morning where you open the biggest box, hoping for the best present ever, only to find that its underwear and that was the last box Santa had t o use.

It was 9pm now (Ken got there at 3pm, remember) and while the 6 hours was filled with problems and disappointments – it was coming to an end. Now we would just have to figure out how to use the remote and find a number to call the best electrician out there.

Ken left, we ate pizza and all crawled to bed. Another messed up day at the Monroe house.

But, HA – even though the sun has rose and I wake to embrace a new day – I am left to discover that Ken never bypassed the Comcast system – no he cut the cable – leaving us without phone service – which wouldn’t be the end of the world – but tore us away from life’s precious gift: the internet!

As I type this – I am crying inside and waiting to call Ken…

2010-11-10T07:32:00.001-08:00

Truths: “Best Buy” proves “Bad day”

Okay, so the saga at my house continues… Bill and I ventured to Best Buy in McHenry on Friday night – armed with our wallets and new Best But credit card and our hearts set on some new TV’s for our new basement.

When I arrived (doesn’t everyone go to the store in two cars?) Bill was already being hypnotized by the Direct TV salesman who was promising he could beat the price we pay for Comcast and give us better service. None of the really mattered – the real fact is that Direct TV is the only TV provider that offer the NFL ticket. And with a new basement dedicated to being an in-home sports bar – we had to have the NFL ticket. How embarrassing it would be if we had an entire 1200 square feet dedicated to the Green Bay Packers but weren’t able to watch a game?

At any rate, Bill had basically agreed to signing over our first born (we don’t have any kids together but you get the point) and I was left to fill out all of the paperwork and pay for the “great deal” we were getting. I have to admit that giving less of our money to Comcast did feel good.

Well, a half hour later and we were introduced to Jared. A nice sales specialist who was more than happy to sell us a TV. No, he really was nice and in the end spent about 3 hours with us – going through all of the TVs and sound systems and explaining to me how I would be able to listen to Pandora through my new Bosse speakers. It seemed like a dream come true.

Sure Bill and I, at one point, almost justified spending a whole lot of money on a 5” bigger TV (no jokes here, please)…But, in the end we “settled” on a 60”. And yes, I do believe, at some point, my husband was salivating. This was the part of the basement he had been waiting for all along. The Packers on a 60” TV – on any given Sunday.

300 minutes later and whole lot more money poorer and we left Best Buy – dreaming of our Super Bowl party.

That was Friday… on Sunday Bill decided to unwrap his precious 32” TV for over the bar. The 60” wouldn’t be installed for another week. He was like a kid at Christmas. – Totally excited that by 7pm he would be watching the Packers play Dallas at his new bar. (That yes, is already stocked with cold beer)

Well, like Christmas when Santa decides you haven’t cleaned your room all year, Bill’s Christmas came to a halt. The TV was missing a part to connect to its base. I could feel the disappointment from across the room – where I was washing down the furniture. (he was playing with his toys…)

So, that began a turn of events that even Michael Moore would want to make a documentary about…

Just to set the scene – remember that we bought everything on Friday at the Best Buy in McHenry.

So, Abby had a soccer game in Algonquin – we decided to return the TV there and get a new one. We went there – they were happy to exchange it but they didn’t have the TV – the store in West Dundee did. So, we drove an extra 15 minutes and picked up the TV there.

You can bet that we opened the box and made sure it had all of the parts and then headed right home to set it up. We still had a few hours before the big game.

We opened the box, Bill hooked it up and there we stood looking at the TV – wondering what the two large blobs of blue were. Yep, they were cracks right up the front of the screen. You couldn’t see them unless the TV was on.

Could this really be happening?

So, as we do almost every Sunday – we went for pizza in Crystal Lake and decided we would return the TV there (our 4th Best Buy in two days). We walked into Customer Service and that is when things got really ugly… Michael Moore ugly.

The customer service girl got the manager who told us in no compassionate way – that there was nothing he could do. I expressed quite vocally the amount of money we spent on Friday and he really didn’t care.

Bill decided that foul language would bring us the results we needed – but instead the Manager, Aaron A. (A must have been for asshole) kicked us out of the store! I wish I were kidding but I am not!

Here we are two middle aged, professional people – being escorted like criminals out of the Crystal Lake Best Buy. And if that were insulting enough – Aaron says, “Have a great day.”

Of course Bill responded – but we won’t repeat what he said.

Now, you can only imagine what we were feeling. Frustration doesn’t even cover it… Out raged – enraged – furious - . If shooting people wasn’t illegal…

We got in a car and sped to the McHenry Best Buy. At the time, we didn’t even think – we just got in the car – hoping beyond hope that Jared would be there and make this all right.

We walked into the store and headed right to the TV’s – I spotted the manager Jason who had helped us Friday night and basically, in tears, unloaded on him everything that happened in the last 6 hours – and I believe that I said it all in two minutes.

I was gasping for air and Jason was saying, “It is okay… calm down…we can fix this.”

At the same time, Bill found Jared and was frantically expressing the last few hours of our life… and Jared was saying, “Bill, it is okay, we can fix this.”

And that is what Jared and Jason did – they fixed it all. In 15 minutes, we were leaving the store with our new TV – that we plugged in to make sure it worked. We were breathing again and not feeling like dirt or criminals but the decent people we really are.

Jared and Jason saved us from insanity that day and they saved the reputation of Best Buy. Had that gone any different – everything that we purchased on Friday would have been returned.

But, Jared and Jason did what was right. It might not have been policy – but they used their own judgment and treated a good customer with respect and dignity and trust.

And along the way they did manage to say that they have had complaints about the Crystal Lake store before. I guess Aaron A. (asshole) isn’t just an ass to us.

Of course, being the person I am – it will come as no surprise to anyone that Monday morning I spent 2 hours writing letters and sending emails to the general manager of the Crystal Lake store, the general manager of the McHenry store, corporate Best Buy and of course, a personal letter to Aaron A.:

Dear Aaron,

Since you were so concerned with our situation on Sunday, November 7 – we thought it was important to share how it ended.

After you so politely kicked us out of your store, we drove to the McHenry Best Buy and spoke with their manager, Jason. Instead of agitating my husband and allowing the situation to escalate – Jason took the time to listen to our frustration and used his managerial skills to calm us.

And, after realizing that we have spent over ****** at Best Buy in just the last month (******* of it at YOUR store), he knew the right thing to do was replace the broken TV. With in 20 minutes, we left the store with our new TV and once again felt like respectable human beings unlike leaving your store where we were treated like dirt and made to feel like criminals.

Aaron, you should re-consider being the manager of any store. You do not possess the ability to work with people and instead of addressing the situation at hand and overcoming the conflict – you choose the easy way out and force good customers right out the front door, slamming it behind them so they have no reason to return.

Best Buy should be ashamed to have chosen you for a manager and should realize that you are a liability to their image.

And as you so insultingly put it Sunday night, “Have a great day!”

Sincerely,

The Monroes

While I was eager to express my anger and disappointment with the way we were treated – after spending 10 years in Human Resources, I also know the importance of sharing compliments – when people do a good job… So, I made sure to include in all of my correspondence the outstanding job Jared and Jason did.

So, it has been a Hell of a couple weeks for the Monroe household. First the fridge broke, then the stove didn’t fit, then the sink wouldn’t go in and now the TV didn’t work and Aaron A. at the Crystal Lake Best Buy kicked us out of the store… Seriously, you would think that we would just high tail it out of the country, right?

I have said it before in my blogs – but the important part of all of this is that I am happy I get to share these horrific mishaps with my husband. After all the sweat and tears – it still comes down to us – making each other laugh and smile when it is all over – which we did when we finally sat down on the couch and watched the Packer- Cowboy game on our old, reliable TV in the family room!

Truths: “A” what?

2010-11-05T07:50:00.001-07:00

It happened – I don’t know how… but Abby brought home her report card and written near the top it said, “Congratulations, you made high honor roll.”

Now to some parents that would be expected – something to read aloud and then put away – perhaps atop all of the other report cards that read the same way.

But in our house – that is not the case.

Abby isn’t slow, she doesn’t have a learning disability and has always done okay in school academically. I am proud to say that socially the teachers have always liked her and commended her for being kind and helpful and respectful.

We lived on those attributes for the last 6 years – saying that we were grateful to have raised a daughter who was those things – and that allowed us to accept that she was not going to be U of Illinois material. (Okay, these are things I struggled with… I spend my time writing for a living – how could my daughter be unable to complete a sentence. Why is it that I, at 10 years old, wrote pages of creative writing and she could barely complete a paragraph on her favorite summer vacation?)

Yes, I struggled and silently convinced myself that none of that mattered. Abby possessed what was important – the skills to be a good and gracious human being. Those, of course, are what matter on the road of life…

But, really deep down – I had aspirations for her – going to U of I – pledging my sorority – doing everything that I did… Because that is what parents do – want what they enjoyed for their children. (Okay, maybe I don’t want Abby to embark down everything I did… I had a lot of fun in college…) but I wanted to go down for parents weekend and visit her at my alma mater)

For the last two years we have toyed with the idea o f going down to Champaign for a football game so Abby could start to get the Illini bug… to see the campus and be mesmerized with the college spirit. Start ‘em young right? Brainwash them – make them feel like there is nowhere else they would rather be…

It’s sick, yes…but reality is that way.

But, with Abby being an average student – well, it almost seemed cruel. To set her heart on a school that academically would be a great feat for her… To set her up for failure – well, that was never part of the plan.

So, we stalled – we didn’t go to the games and we didn’t say much about the school – even though she already began to want to go there.

I am an honest parent and I tend to treat Abby as an adult and tell it like it is… so when she has brought up going to U of I – I have bluntly explained that she would need to pick up her grades and take school seriously – because to get in – she has to be in the top of her class.

I never said it meanly – I just wanted her to know that to have aspirations must also mean setting goals for yourself.

Usually, she would shrug her shoulders and walk away. And I would get out my college scrapbook and re visit my younger days – when late nights and skipped classes were my aspirations!

Abby started jr, high this year – and as far as we can tell – has done a fabulous job making the transition. It has been seamless and unbelievably – she has become so responsible and so much more interested in doing well in school.

She gets her homework done without constantly being told to do it – she keeps great notes and organizes her schoolwork. She keeps a calendar full of dates when things are due. I have no idea what happened – but somehow, along the way, she grew up.

That became amazingly true when she brought home her report card yesterday and it read, “Congratulations, you have made the high honor roll.”

I read it in disbelief. I re-checked that it was her name at the top of the paper – re-checked the grades and the teacher comments and basically sat gaping at my daughter’s report card – wondering what they did with Abby.

I am still wondering…

But, of course, I am elated. Sure I have pulled up the college application on the web and thought about printing it out to place on her desk as a reward… a motivation…

Or maybe I could buy her an ILLINI sweatshirt or a Gamma Phi Beta one as she journey’s toward MY dream… MY legacy.

It’s a hard choice right now – what to say – or how to say to her that we are so proud of her. I mean sure those words are easy – but do we load them with other expectations – glimpses of possibilities now?

No, probably not. We tell her how proud we are – what an amazing job she did and we leave it at that – we continue to do whatever it is that we have done to get her to here and we hang the report card on the fridge to show her it is important.

And okay… we subtly mention that we are getting tickets to next year’s homecoming game…

Truths: Happiness when you least expect it

2010-11-02T07:19:00.001-07:00

So, Saturday was our sink saga – and what was supposed to be a few hour project (I thought 20 minutes) became all day. But my daughter didn’t forget that we promised to carve pumpkins… because as she put, “We have NEVER carved pumpkins for Halloween and you said we would.”

Let me add that we have carved pumpkins before – no not every year but in years passed we have. I just wanted to make that clear. And if it matters, we ALWAYS go to the pumpkin patch to get them. What we have NEVER done is buy them at the store as an after thought. I know some people might and there are lots of things I buy at Walmart and Jewel but pumpkins are not one of them. I LOVE fall (Halloween I could take or leave) but fall… Our house is always decked out with corn stalks and mums and lots of pumpkins (just not ALWAYS carved) and scarecrows and black cats… Seriously, if it were acceptable, I would always have these things up all year. (Which I know would be about as white trash as the sink still sitting in my yard.)

Anyway, amongst the stress of our sink project gone bad – we took a deep breath, ordered a pizza and lugged in the cold pumpkins from outside. We took the box from the sink and cut it open and spread it on the table. (it was good to know that some part of the sink was going to get used).

We got out the knives and the pumpkin carving kit – which consisted of traceable designs (all of which were made for pumpkin carving professionals) and tiny little razor blades – did the box even come with an age appropriate designation? I am not sure it was even safe for me to use.

Abby found her design right away and I decided to take on one of the more professional ones of an owl in a tree… of course Bill was going to make a big G for the Green Bay Packers.

We had the music playing and the knives cutting and somewhere in the middle of it all – while I was silently questioning this ridiculous break from the job at hand: the sink – Abby said, “This is the happiest I have ever been – I love this night!”

Wow, right? When your almost 12 year old daughter speaks those words – it is hard not to be taken back – not to both be proud of the person you created and ashamed that you don’t take more time to do such simple things.

Take away the Wii, the iphone, the Disney channel and who knew these kids could still be happy? In fact, the happiest they have ever been.

As I traced my owl and heard her words, I smiled – not just an outward smile – but deep inside – I think I smiled with my heart. To know that this hour long, practically free, project brought my daughter such genuine happiness – I doubt I could have felt any better.

As I gulped down that feeling you have as a parent when you realize that somewhere between the laundry and the bills and everything else – you forgot to enjoy your kids and then, as I sighed, quietly, praising myself for my loyalty to doing this project – I was interrupted –

“Ow, I just cut my finger…OOOHHH it hurts, its bleeding… I need a band aid… I can’t do it anymore… It hurts… MOM!!!”

Yep, in an instant the pure emotional bliss I was feeling was slashed away - just like my daughter’s finger. That pure enjoyment felt only moments before was obliterated.

Bill tended to Abby’s finger as I continued work on my owl – laughing at myself for ever believing that we were having a Hallmark moment…Dreading the drama that would soon transpire instead.

Yeah, the drama started… but it settled fast and Abby quickly went back to work on her pumpkin – even doing a second.

It was just a speed bump on our yellow brick road that night… The elation lasted and 5 pumpkins came to life as we all celebrated our artistic creations.

It does pay to stop and smell the roses or in our case dig into the guts of a pumpkin and find solace in playing with sharp objects – but truthfully, we created a real family memory on Saturday night and that has certainly given me both the inspiration and aspiration to do it again…soon.

(I should add that my owl, who looks just like the picture – is unrecognizable to all who see it… Is that the letter “b” they ask… Oh well, I should stick to the old reliable pumpkin face next time!)

Truths: Everything AND the Kitchen Sink

2010-11-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

So, if you have kept up with the blog – you know by now that my kitchen has become my enemy. The place I was hoping to turn into my sanctuary – this haven for a new hobby (cooking) has revolted against me. And for every new appliance I attempt to put in it – war breaks out.

This weekend was no different.

My dear, loving husband humored me and agreed to replace the ugly green kitchen sink. (of course, I know that he did it for two reasons: 1) to prolong the kitchen remodel and 2) he undoubtedly loves me… and a lot - this I know is true after what transpired)

Thursday night we ventured out and shopped for a new sink hours after my endoscopy. (If you have never had one – they place a probe down your throat to examine your esophagus and stomach – they give you these amazing drugs that put you to sleep and cause you to forget everything about the procedure… They also tell you that you shouldn’t make any important decisions for the rest of the day… But a kitchen sink shouldn’t qualify, should it?)

After browsing two home improvement stores, we settled on a beautiful stainless steel model and found an equally beautiful faucet to go with it. You may notice that when I speak of kitchen items – I describe them as art – mostly because in my house they are art – not actual working pieces.

All along our journey I re-assured my husband that according to the Home Depot how to video – this should take about 20 minutes. The video was only 5 minutes so I was padding it. My husband smirked as he paid for the sink and the faucet and the putty and the sealant and the water hoses and the strainers and… you get the idea.

Saturday was sink day. Bill got right to it. Unhooking hoses, garbage disposal, cutting the seal around the old sink. It didn’t take long and the ugly green sink was sitting on our driveway for all the world to see… To see that we have lived with this ugly old sink all of this time and to know we were getting a new one. We were the Joneses this time. Keep up with us!

The old sink sat in the drive as the new one modeled itself atop the sparkling stove (that if you remember doesn’t fit in the space) The sink gleamed and awaited its new home.

However, it would not be moving in just yet.

Everything that happened next was NOT on the how to video… that is all I know. The disposal didn’t work with the new drains we bought – the water lines did not fit the new faucet and the absolute worst was that the sink did NOT fit in the hole where the old one did. (yes, we bought the same size sink…just like I bought the same size stove but…)

No, everything quickly fell apart. My husband started the project at 11am and now it was 5 and he had made 3 trips to Menards… Cussed many times and I am certain said a few things about me under his breath.

But it was 5 and we were hungry and we had promised Abby that we would carve pumpkins…so we took a break from what was pure insanity and ate our pizza and watched our Tivoed Modern Family Halloween episode and laughed. We really needed to laugh.

The pumpkin carving story I will save for tomorrow’s blog because it deserves its own.

Needless to say that once the carving was done – the plumber quit for the evening – staring at the hole that was too small and undoubtedly wondering why on Earth he ever married me.

Sunday morning came and Bill was up bright and early to cut through the ceramic tile countertop and two layers of plywood that were preventing the new sink from fitting in.

Saturday I had spent cleaning the house because we had friends coming over to trick or treat… or should I say the kids would trick or treat and the adults would drink a few beers – at any rate – people were coming over.

Well, my cleaning was for not because once the grinding wheel started the dust flew EVERYWHERE and every inch of our house became brushed with a fine tan film.

The dirt was flying and the saw cutting and the sink job that should have taken 20 minutes was now on 24 hours.

We took a break and drove an hour each way to Abby’s soccer game – where they lost (again) and headed back home to beat the clock and have the sink in, the house cleaned and beer chilled before our friends came by… But yeah, who I was I kidding - that was never going to happen.

Instead I dropped Abby off at our friends and returned home to stand by the man I love and cheer him on to sink victory.

He did win and the sink went in – the hoses lined up and the disposal ran and the water flowed (without leaks) and the sink shined…

My dear husband just spend over 24 hours working on a sink project for me. And I spent 24 hours cleaning the house only to realize that every glass, dish and pot is still covered in dust.

But, the point is not that I have a new kitchen sink – even though I do – and I love it and I love even more that the green one is sitting in our driveway and probably will for a week or more showing the neighbors that not only we did get a new sink and they should be jealous but that we are now bordering on white trash with our ugly sink on the front lawn…

But the point is – my husband knew all along that my pipedream of a 20 minute project was ridiculous but he followed along anyway. He knew it was important to me and did everything under the sun to do it the right way. And while I love getting flowers and gifts – what he did this weekend says more about how much he loves me than any bouquet or bracelet. And that is why I love him…that and he is pretty darn cute!

Truths: In the End

2010-10-29T05:32:00.001-07:00

Amongst my shallow angst this week, I found opportunities of deep revelation. There are no jokes today just pause for thought and contemplation.

See earlier this week, my ex-husband’s grandma – Abby’s great grandma – an amazing lady we fondly called Mor Mor passed away. At 97 it was a blessing but still a sad loss to all those who knew her – me included.

Also earlier this week, my grandma, a spry 91 years old was hospitalized for the very first time in her whole life (except for childbirth).

As I sat in the hospital room one night she said, “Becky, if I go – its okay – I am ready. I have led a very full life at 91 and have no regrets. I have always been happy – what else could I ask for?”

Her words pierced my soul… When my day comes, will I be able to except death as readily as she is? What regrets am I still agonizing over? What dreams do I still have? Are there things that keep from a happy life – what are they?

I fell asleep that night pondering her words…wondering how on Earth I could ever be that at peace with the end of my life. Is it just that I am so young and not ready? Or is my life too full of crap to be at peace with the simple things in life.

My opportunity for reflection did not end that night as I attended the wake and service of Mor Mor the following day. At 97, Mor Mor led a complete life and while I never had the chance to hear her say what my grandma was saying – I believe that Mor Mor would have said it to me as well.

The service, performed by a woman chaplain, was so sincere and genuine – her affections for Mor Mor obvious and her insight became priceless – to me.

In her words, she spoke of how Mor Mor was part of the lives of so many and because of her – all of our lives were changed forever – she would always be with us because of the way she touched us.

And with those words, I wondered – how do I touch people’s lives? If I were to die today – what would they take with them? What would I want them to keep as a part of me – not something materialistic – but heartfelt.

Its been a long, sometimes hard week. What started as a saga over a stove became an emotional, thought provoking few days.

We don’t always get chances to think about what is important so I treasure the times that I do. It gives me pause to reflect on my own life and to make course corrections so that when I am walking on the edge of my end, I can solidly say I am ready, I have lived a full life and have no regrets.

Truths: Some thing weren’t mean to be (aka: Julia Child does NOT live here)

2010-10-27T07:22:00.001-07:00

Okay, so the stove came yesterday. I spent the last two days in preparation… Cleaning out the pantry, organizing the shelves… Anticipating my moment of sheer cooking inspiration. This was going to be “it.” This long awaited time in my life when I would not only have the urge to cook and bake – but a time when I would enjoy it on my new and beautiful new stainless steel stove.

What a pipe dream.

Monday night my husband unhooked the gas line and pulled the old clunker out and found, of course, what looked like the remains of a cat – or at least enough fur to make a new cat. That and a Barbie shoe, some hair ties, toy mice and even a few crumbs – those must have come from the previous owners.

To my pleasant surprise he began wiping down the floor and by bedtime – the area was prepped for our new baby…

The delivery truck pulled in at 11am – just like they said they would and I was getting excited. The nice man came to see where the new one would go and he and a partner strapped up the old one and took it away.

I wonder where those go? Does someone want them? Or is there a graveyard for appliances that just don’t work anymore – they have done their duty and now they rest in some peaceful place conversing with each other about all the mishaps they have endured through the years – turkeys that were burnt, birthday cakes they made, water that boiled over and yes, chatted about people like me – who had no business even turning them on. Do they favor people like me – who made their life easy or would they rather be busy making feasts? Hmmm I wonder.

Anyway, the old guy was out the door and my new life was heading in. That is until deliveryman told me that I should have had professional installers with this stove. That he was unable to hook it up the way this kind of stove needed. He was just a delivery guy and I would have to contact the salesperson. I even got a call from Best Buy while the delivery guy stood in front of me – explaining the mix-up.

This can’t be happening… I was on the verge of a life changing moment.

The truck pulled away as did my dream of baking the perfect meatloaf and left me with a gorgeous range in the middle of my kitchen.

Of course I did what any wife does –I called my husband. I explained to him like the delivery guy explained to me and added that I think he could just do it when he got home – it didn’t sound that complicated.

He hesitated but like any good husband – agreed that he would look into it when he got home.

Deflated – I circled my kitchen… and noticed the ugly green porcelain sink that we have and thought, “Maybe we could replace that this weekend.”

Knowing that I wouldn’t be making homemade mashed potatoes or kneading a meatloaf in the afternoon, I got on the internet and googled, “Replacing a kitchen sink” I watched the Home Depot video and thought, “Yep, we can do this – Hell, I could do this.”

So, I surfed the web for sinks and comforted my disappointment with the stove with the hope for a new sink.

A lot of other things went wrong during the day – and by the time we got home from visiting my grandma in the hospital – my husband had the stove opened up and concern on his face.

I could see that the news he was about to share was not good… and in his nicest voice he said, “We have a bigger problem.”

See, the gas line which comes up in the floor was 4 inches from the wall – which mean that my slide-in range was not going to slide all the way in. No, instead it would leave a 4-inch gaping hole. My pretty stove was going to leave an unsightly space between the wall and the range.

This is NOT how this was supposed to go. My husband finagled a few things to see if he could make them work but to no avail… so we did what any couple does – we went down to the basement remodel and grabbed our ingenious contractor, Chris.

Unfortunately, gas lines don’t bend and kink like other things – so there was no easy fix for this rather big problem.

Instead, Chris replied, “Well, when we remodel your kitchen in the spring we could re-run the gas line and make it work…”

Before he could finish – my husband was choking on his beer and asking, “Did I know we were remodeling the kitchen in the spring.”

“That is not important right now,” I replied… “What can you do, Chris?”

Deep breath – my kitchen remodel was between Chris and I - I had planned to tell Bill about it one night after he has a few drinks… Yada yada.

So, for now Chris is going to fill the black hole with some matching trim and for now, it will be okay.

By the time my head it the pillow, my excitement and anticipation for the day was left mutilated by the realities that overcame me.

That day a few weeks ago when I left the store glassy-eyed – planning my dinner parties was now nothing more than a faint memory – a broken dream – a burnt cake.

Truths: The reality of being a citizen

2010-10-20T06:58:00.000-07:00

So, last night I exercised my right to freedom of speech and attended a Woodstock City Council meeting. I was there on behalf of a proposed ordinance change to a current leash law for dogs (go figure).

At the present – Woodstock institutes an “at heel” provision – meaning that you can either have your dog on a leash OR you can have them at your side… Of course, the intent is that only well-behaved dogs will be “at heel” but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that probably isn’t the reality of the situation.

I became involved because my groomer felt compelled to get this ordinance changed – and well, I do agree that “at heel” is a terrible accident waiting to happen.

It has taken over two years for the council to consider this proposal and last night it went up for a vote.

But, lets back up… I have never attended a city council meeting before. I have voted for council members based on what was written about them in the paper – but never actually saw them at work. It was seriously scary.

Scary in that – there wasn’t one topic brought up last night that the majority of them didn’t already know how they would vote on… They came to the meeting with deaf ears and that was very disheartening. In fact, they also came to the meeting armed with their own citizens ready to make their arguments.

I favor one of the members, not only because she voted in favor of removing the “at heel” provision (go Julie Dillon!) but because out of all the members she seemed like she was listening without tainted thoughts. There is another woman, Maureen Larson, who also appeared to be open minded (though she voted against removing the “at heel” provision) but none the less – she did her own research and gave valid reasons for why she was voting on all of the issues last night.

First it has to be pointed out that both of the members I favor are women. I never meant there to be a bias – but it does come down to the fact that the male members of the group did not listen to what anyone had to say last night – they only listened to themselves.

Second, the entire evening gave way to “the good ole boys club” phenomenon which apparently I naively believed was not something a town as big as Woodstock (22,000 people) would fall prey to.

I thought we were too big, too forward thinking, too liberal (all things I love about my town) for that sort of stuff but last night I was witness to it.

First, it was a citizen voicing his concerns about a gravel pit near his house not adhering to the regulations the city set-up so the gravel pit could operate. It just happens that the owner of the gravel pit is a prominent figure in the community and more than likely both friends and supporter of many of the members. And while I am certain the gravel pit contributes its share to the community – I also know that it does not operate in 100% compliance of not just the city regs but the state laws… And c’mon, if you live in McHenry County – no gravel pit is your friend.

But, in reality – I could sense the pretense of the issue. A supervisor of the gravel pit spoke in response (more like retaliation) to the complaint and while I am sure he meant well – there was very little remorse for the situation – very little ownership for both the problem and/or the responsibility to do something about it. And, it just didn’t seem like the majority of the council members were willing to stand up for the concerned citizen. Instead, they hid behind minor changes they would make and said that the gravel pit owner was working with the city in a cooperative effort and they were grateful for his efforts. The citizen suggested that perhaps the cooperative effort could translate to following the rules in the future.

Second, a builder was on the agenda for requesting an extension for building the sidewalks they said they would build when they started the development. Sure, we all realize that the construction trades have fallen flat on their face and that the myriad of building phases they had planned have all but collapsed. But, the fact of the matter is that they do have residents living in their communities – who thought they were going to be getting something for the money they spent and now that the builders are losing money – the people who bought the properties are left with little to say. The irony is that if the resident could no longer pay the assessment or association fee because they lost their job – I have a hard time believing that the builder would let it slide..

But anyway, the man gave a nice and caring speech and being the good boys that they are – they gave him a TWO YEAR hiatus on the sidewalks. TWO years – sure he could build them sooner – but what are the odds he will?

That was the kind of night it was… and the leash law was no different. Certain members of the council put all the right players in place to get just what they wanted. And, sadly, my first council meeting left me feeling raped of my civil liberties and flabbergasted that I lived in a community that worships the good ole boys.

On the positive side – I know who I will and will not vote for in the next council election… and I will try and make it a priority to pop in to a few more city council meetings but the reality is that I was better off never going – never realizing that I should be a little ashamed (maybe a lot) of what my council practices.

I sit on the fence with my political views – while I am certain my social beliefs are liberal my fiscal views tend to be conservative… my family calls me a democrat but I question it – I believe that everyone has a right to make money and that they shouldn’t have to give it all away to someone who chooses not to make money – but last night I was sadly reminded why there are laws to protect consumers, citizens from big businesses and why no one should be able to be in office for more than one term.

Truths: Go Team – Go!!

2010-10-18T08:54:00.000-07:00

Green and Gold…Go Packers… Yep, still intoxicated by the smell of popcorn and cold beer and fresh, chilled football air – and the loud roar of the crowd from the Green Bay Packer Game.

We packed ourselves into the car at 5:30am to drive 4 hours and cheer our team to victory (or loss as it turned out). We dressed in green and gold (two colors that should not be on the same shirt – let alone fill a stadium) packed our coolers and grabbed our mittens and made our way to the infamous, “Lambeau Field.” Often coined the frozen tundra because of frigid cold WI weather – but lucky for us – it was a beautiful fall day.

We picked up our daughter, Kristin and future son-in-law Jeffrey along the way as Abby read off the team stats from the back seat.

We were primed and ready to go. Abby’s first game, my third and to all an exciting day to be a fan of any team.

Going to a football game is so much more than watching a football team play. It is this overwhelming sense of camaraderie – this fulfilling sense of belonging to something waaaay bigger than yourself. And quite frankly, it can be scary to see just how endearing some of the fans really are.

We pulled into the adjacent lot gaping at the RV’s and busses parked – drenched in green and gold Packer garb – cooking out burgers and brats – tapping kegs and throwing footballs. This was it – this was the beginning of the adrenaline rush a fan feels as they get closer to the stadium – closer to their team.

For Abby – it was so much to take in. But, she quickly fell into the swing of things by asking for a green and gold feather boa…walking proudly around the place – now just as crazy as the rest of them.

We didn’t have much hope for our tickets even though they cost us a portion of Abby’s college tuition…A friend said, “but the experience will be priceless…” no, really, it had a price!

But, our seats were amazing. We could practically reach out our hands and touch the turf – spit on a player – We sat basking in the sun and soaking up the excitement (and the beer).

What is even more amazing is how TV makes NFL football feel so differently than regular football. When you are sitting next to the field and watching the plays – you realize that, ultimately, it is no better than high school. The quarterback calls the plays and the linemen do their best to keep him safe. It is the same field – just the players are older – and bigger.

It got me thinking to 21 years ago when I was a senior in high school (I can’t believe I am giving away my age) and I was out on that field – as a football manager. Bringing the cute boys water and hanging with them as they talked about the plans for the evening (not the plays for the game!).

I was a football manager for three years in high school – and to this day consider it one of the best experiences of my life. I did the basketball cheerleading thing in the winter – but nothing could hold a candle to really being a part of the team… Yeah, maybe I dated a few of the players – but really, they became like brothers to me and it was about something bigger than myself.

See as a football manager – we got to spend everyday with the team – from hot summer double sessions of practice – to game day breakfasts – to bus trips and my favorite: the team meeting the night before the game. Being in that field house – listening to the coach motivate the spirit of the team – feeling the way the guys cared about the game… That was moving – Shouting rah, rahs while guys shot hoops – yeah, it wasn’t the same.

I liked football before I was a football manager – but by the time my senior year came around – I loved football and felt like I was a part of it.

It wasn’t just the game – it was everything that surrounded it – the practices, the meetings, the games, - our record was important to me – winning or losing mattered – but how we played the game on and off the field – that was what captured my heart.

These guys had my back – I was one of them and that was fun, amazing, and unforgettable. (what was forgettable was some of the pre-game nights when the sunshine club – aka: football team - did tequila shots in prep for Saturdays games…)

Being that close to the field yesterday – certainly made me remember what football means to me – the memories I have of being part of a team…

I think that is what brings fans together – not everyone can be down on the field – throwing or catching the ball – or coaching the team to victory – but everyone can dress themselves in team colors (however ugly they are) and cheer and for a few hours on a Sunday and be part of team much bigger then themselves.

Truths: A picture is worth a thousand words

2010-10-16T07:44:00.000-07:00

The other day I was downloading (or uploading) photos from my trip to Cali and for whatever techie reason – my Kodak photo program kept erroring out. It has been happening a lot and since I am not a tech – I just ignore it.

Well, this time got me worried – we know the computer Gods have not been on my side lately – I dodged a big bullet just a few months ago – when my computer crashed but they were able to save my hard drive which meant they saved my pictures…

So, I wasn’t going to take any chances and decided to transfer all of the Kodak pictures to the Apple software iphoto. There were 3000 pictures spanning the last 5 plus years of my life.

As I made the transfer – I actually got to see all of the pictures flash before my eyes. And ironically, since I had Pandora playing on my computer (if you don’t know what this is – I feel like I have to tell you… My future son-in-law, Dave showed it to me in CA. So you go to Pandora.com and set up an account – its free – and then you get to put in an artist, song, etc and you set-up your own radio station that randomly plays music in that genre. I love it… I hear songs I like that I would never have heard otherwise. There are a few commercials – hey they have to pay for it somehow – but it really is the coolest thing.)

So, anyway, my genre was Lifehouse and the music was playing and my pictures were flashing before my eyes and somewhere between Abby going to 1st grade and graduating 5th grade – it hit me: this was a slideshow of my life.

My life – the last 5 years – one picture at a time – in front of me. Christmas, Easter, the cabin remodel, the pregnant cats and kittens I fostered, the puppy mill auctions, our trip to the Grand Canyon, my renunion, my friends, my family. Everything I love and everything I had done – one second at a time.

The music made it even better, music I like…. In some ways it was like being at my own funeral – thinking about how this would be what they would show. (Which is creepy and dark to think about, I know…)

But, the point is –if you keep pictures of your life and have easy access to them – it is well worth doing this exercise because you realize in a matter of 10 minutes what is important in your life: what matters – because we take photos of the things we care most about – the things and people who we love.

And, I think that on daily basis we don’t think about that enough. Our days are hectic with our jobs and mindless chores and to do lists and we overlook what we love, who we love. We are always trying to get through today – with the hope of tomorrow being better and the people we love get ignored and the things that we are passionate about have to wait another day.

What if that was my funeral slide show? What was it missing – how did I feel about it? Was it enough?

It was actually. In fact, it made me realize what a blessed life I have – embracing my passions and surrounded by the people I love. Sure there were things I have yet to accomplish but I am working on those… This really wasn’t my funeral slide show so I hope I still have some time left.

But, even though I was happy with what I saw – it was still a good reminder to make efforts to keep in touch with my friends and my family – to have more get togethers – to share each others lives more often and enjoy each other’s company.

It also reminded me to keep going… to keep trudging thru and pursuing what matters… And, of course, photographing it all – because when the holiday is over, or the event has ended, or the accomplishment fades away – they are always alive and in color in photos.

Truths: Betty Crocker Watch Out

2010-10-14T06:28:00.001-07:00

So, awhile back I alluded to the fact that our refrigerator broke. To some that might seem like awhile ago and no, we had not replaced it yet. I wanted to, right away, but life got in the way – and truthfully, I don’t cook so being without a refrigerator just meant that my chocolate milk and Bill’s beer wasn’t getting cold – but with a mini fridge in the garage – we had that covered. That and some butter, mayo and the Vidalia onions we bought from the Shriners.

I did find time to measure and re-measure the inadequate opening I had to put the fridge. I wanted one of those French door fridges with the freezers on the bottom. But, that wasn’t going to fit… We would have to get a fridge just the same as the one we had – but I could at least get stainless steel. Yay.

However, with my trip to Cali in the works ordering a fridge wasn’t going to happen and even if I did order it – I figured that they would deliver it when I was gone. (That turned out to be a pipe dream).

I had done some extensive research on-line comparing models and prices. (and I did check out some new stoves along the way.)

When I got back from Cali (and saw the mold growing in the old fridge) it was definitely time to get my act together and get a new one. Again, I spent an hour on the web surfing for prices and found the absolute best deal at BestBuy.com. And when I mean best deal, I mean I was saving hundreds of dollars and getting free shipping!

But, ordering a major appliance (maybe two) on-line was a bit intimidating to me so I got in the car and drove to the nearest Best Buy… on the way, I passed our local appliance store and feeling guilty about not supporting a mom and pop shop I made a u-turn and went in. I thought I should at least give them a chance.

I walked in and glanced at all the appliances – thinking of taking a look when the salesman asked if I needed help and when I asked if they had what I was looking for – he abruptly told me, “NO!”

Hey, I gave them a chance. On to Best Buy I went. That is where I met Karl – a nice man who would be happy to help me. I asked if the prices in the store were the same as the ones on-line. He said that if they weren’t they would match them.

We began looking up my desired fridge…

Oh, let me back up… all of this time on the web I looked for a new stove. I checked models and compared prices. Like our fridge and the dishwasher we already replaced, the stove was soon to be on the way out. Already some of the burners weren’t working so appealing to my husband wasn’t THAT hard… and while he was still in CA – looking at potential retirement homes on the beach – that we can’t afford – I texted him and said, “Well since we won’t be moving there anytime soon, maybe we could get a new stove.”

To which he replied, “Knock yourself out!”

Yay me… But see here is the ironic thing, that you already know, I don’t cook. Getting a new stove is like getting a baseball mitt when you don’t play the game – what is the point.

Well, there was the cosmetic point that our appliances would match and our kitchen would be updated (though not as updated as I would like: new cabinets, new counters)…

And, I guess at the time that really was the only point…

But, lets continue with my shopping experience… Now, knowing that I could get the stove – Karl was looking up both items and realizing that no, the prices at the store were hundreds of dollars more and shipping was not free! Talk about crazy big box thinking.

But, he was happy to match everything on-line. He really was the nicest man. Karl and I worked together to overcome the many obstacles he faced getting my order right. And, along the way he convinced me to get a credit card where I could defer payments for 18 months.

As he was maneuvering through the complex computer system, I began browsing thru the stoves that were on display – there was one similar to the model I chose and when I began opening it up and seeing the accessories it came with – I actually felt an excitement building. This cooking thing might just turn out to be…fun?

After about an hour (or more) my purchases were complete and the stove would be delivered in two weeks and the fridge, well at least three weeks. Guess I could have ordered before I left for Cali.

I left the store feeling proud about my wise shopping and saving hundreds of dollars with my research and my unwavering pursuit to get the prices I found on-line. And, I felt – excited – unbelievable enthusiasm about this new stove. Not only was I looking forward to how it would look in the kitchen…But I found myself thinking about cooking.

A long time ago, on two different occasions, I bought recipe boxes, filled with old recipes – all handwritten – at the flea market. What possessed me to make such a crazy purchase I will never know. I didn’t even like the recipe boxes to begin with and even if I did like the boxes its not like I needed any recipe boxes. But, at the time, I thought how cool it would be to prepare these recipes that were written by someone’s grandma 20 years ago.

I began thinking about those boxes that were, undoubtedly, dusty in my cookbook cupboard. This is it – this is my time to make these recipes – to try them out – to cook for my family and perhaps instead of storing cookbooks on the top shelf, that I can’t reach, maybe I will put the take-out menus and phonebooks for reservations there.

See, the other thing that has become a revelation to me is that I just want to be home. All of my recent travels have been fantastic – but since there have been so many in a short time – it has left me homesick and with the realization – that I am done seeking things outside of myself and just want to nest, to stay, to revel in the comfort of my own space.

Between this newfound desire and the excitement of a new stove – I was really enthralled with the concept of cooking. Those recipes danced in my head as I drove away from Best Buy and conjured images of me baking cookies, maybe even wearing an apron, and it felt good, really good. (okay, a little odd but still good.)

And besides the cookies, and as oxy-moron as this is about to sound, it would be good to start eating healthy. I began weight watchers 5 months ago and while I have now lost 20 pounds – eating healthy meals would be good for all of us.

I believe in feng shui and I think sometimes that clearing out the old and replacing it with new – does spark new possibilities, new aspirations.

So, watch out Betty Crocker – Becky Monroe is in the kitchen!

Tails: Dog Beach: Therapy and Hope

2010-10-13T06:36:00.000-07:00

While out in San Diego, my step-daughter, Lindsey took me and Abby to see their local dog beach. We brought Portland, their rescued mixed breed, along so she could enjoy her favorite pastime: playing with her friends.

After all of the things I have done with dogs from walking them to saving them – I have never been to a dog beach. I knew it would be fun but I had no idea how healing it would be – how moving it would be – how enthralling it would be.

We walked towards the beach down a sandy path – and as we got closer a few dogs came up to Portland as if they were asking her to play. Within in minutes, Portland was off running! We continued our path to a tall rock on the edge of the shoreline and plopped ourselves down for what was the most amazing experience of my life!

All of these dogs of all breeds from a Chihuahua (5 lbs) to an English Mastiff (200 lbs) – maybe 50 or more were really frolicking in the surf. They were chasing each other and fetching balls, Frisbees, sticks. Some playing keep away others playing tug o war. There were even a few just sunbathing with their human counterparts.

As the waves crashed onto the beach, many of the dogs surfed in riding them – enjoying them – reveling in their freedom.

It all took my breath away. This captivating happiness- it was obvious the dogs were exuding. It fed into my soul and left my heart smiling and feeling whole.

For the last few years I have been weighted down by the other side of animal welfare – the sad side – the cruel side. I have been witness to caged dogs – who never saw sunlight or ocean surf – who never knew freedom – let alone love.

It is difficult, to say the least, to expose yourself to such neglect – cruelty, inhumanity. There were many days when getting out of bed seemed like a mountain – when petting a dog seemed trite – when looking at my own dogs made me feel guilty.

It has all left me cynical and hard – disbelieving of the world’s kindness and doubtful of the future of welfare for animals. It has all left me a little cold.

When you allow yourself to be surrounded by darkness – it becomes unimaginable to see light – to see thru to the other side.

My day at dog beach changed everything. It renewed my faith in people – it gave me hope for a better place for animals – It reminded me that not all people are cruel.

It also confirmed my belief that dogs do deserve better. To see them galloping thru the ocean surf and jumping in the waves and catching Frisbees and basking in sunshine, was proof that dogs are emotional creatures – they feel happiness and they must feel the pain of cruelty and neglect.

The joy I felt as I took in all of these dogs – all of these dogs being dogs was literally overwhelming. I can’t imagine better therapy – at least not for me.

It was exactly what I needed to soften my hardened soul and to believe in the promise that tomorrow will be better for the dogs who suffer, the ones who only dream of a day at dog beach.

Truths: Building a history

2010-10-12T07:09:00.001-07:00

I just got back from my trip to San Diego to see my new grandson, Oliver, for the first time. He was born Labor Day weekend.

For the last 3 months its been all about Josee because she lives nearby and, now, it was finally going to be about Oliver – I was so excited to meet him.

I have been in limbo with this whole grandma thing at 39 – faced with reality but unsure about embracing it. But when I held Oliver in my arms for the first time – my second grandchild – I finally felt like a grandma.

Oliver is big and chunky and smiley and burpy and funny and a very good baby. At first everything he did was in comparison to what Josee was doing but after a day – none of that mattered and Oliver was just his own little person on his own little terms.

We stayed with my step-daughter, Lindsey and so it was perfect to wake up and get to take care of Oliver first thing in the morning - to see him alert and happy.

Lindsey hadn’t been out much with him – he is only a month old – but that all changed when Abby and I got there – we took him shopping, and lunching and we even took him to the zoo. Of course, he didn’t know he was there – barely opened his eyes to see the pandas (they were amazing – might be the only time I actually see pandas) but I was so excited that I got to be the one to share his first zoo experience.

And that is when it hit me – that night as I was holding him and thinking about our day – I realized that we were creating our own history. I would be a part of his life from the very beginning – I would know when he went to the zoo for the first time and when he took his first steps and what toy he liked best as a child. I will know all of these things and be a part of each of them.

That changed everything for me. See when I became a part of Lindsey and Kristin’s life they were pretty much all grown up – sure, I have seen them become adults – graduating high school, college now becoming moms – but I missed out on all the beginnings and at times, that makes me sad.

But, with Josee and Oliver I get to see it all from the start – I am and will be a part of their whole lives and that is comforting to me. It makes being this blended family more whole.

There is so much to look forward to and these first few months are only the beginnings of so much more to come.

My 5 days with Oliver were amazing. Snuggling with him, feeding him – even changing him was fun. To be a part of his life and even see him change in just the few days I was there is beautiful.

This grandma thing is pretty magical – I get to just show up and enjoy the moments – to take it all in and to even step back and just stare in awe at this little boy who is growing every day and making me smile and making me realize that we get to build this history together – to share these journeys together – I have the chance to teach him and most importantly, I get the chance to love him from day one.

Truths: The practice of yoga and the importance of today

2010-10-05T06:25:00.000-07:00

As I was struggling with Triangle at yoga yesterday – trying hard to find balance between my ability and the beauty of the pose my yogi said, “It is not about the outward appearance, it is about the inner experience.”

Aaahhh – enlightenment.

I have come to find yoga as my spiritual guide – it is my church where I re-connect with myself and literally stretch beyond my self-imposed limitations. I am both grounded and freed during my yoga practice and I am able to find peace if only for 60 minutes.

People think yoga is just a bunch of crazy stretches that defy a body’s normal function. Yoga is just about everything but that.

For some it is just a physical activity – a way to build strength and flexibility. But, if you are a person like me, who questions organized religion – I believe yoga can be a very intimate journey. Each pose allows you the ability to open up your heart center and to take in the energy you might otherwise ignore.

Yes, I have grown in strength and muscle tone – but my soul has stretched as well. It has become more open and more kind and more accepting of others and even more importantly, accepting of myself.

At each yoga practice, my yogi also says, “Do what is right for you today.”

Today always seems forgotten – we are scrutinizing yesterday and planning for tomorrow but today – no one pays attention to. Today is what yoga is all about.

When my yogi said, “It is not about the outward appearance, it is about the inner experience.” It was as though she was speaking right to my heart. She is amazing that way…

So many things have been going on in my life – things that force me to worry about everything “outside” of myself and in the process – easily lose what matters to me – how I feel about things – what I truly want my life to look like – more importantly how I want my life to feel.

Sometimes I think – I forget to actually experience anything because I am too busy preparing for what is next.

Today I leave for San Diego to see my new grandson, Oliver. I have been so crazed running from place to place and meeting to meeting that I haven’t even had a chance to breathe and celebrate my excitement to see him. I am too worried about what to pack and to get the house clean for the meeting I have here on Monday when I return.

I think we all forget to check in with ourselves and how we are feeling inside – how experiences make us grow or what they teach us. We plow through routine just hoping to get to the other side.

That is the beauty of yoga – it provides this 60 minutes of present time. Your mind and body moving together – synchronizing – stabilizing your heartbeat and calming your soul – opening your heart and teaching you to breathe.

My life, right now, does not feel right – it is pushed and hurried and too scheduled. My calendar is filled with ink – and all I want is some white space.

For now, I cannot change the things that are filling my days – they are necessary even if they are not enjoyable. But, I have hope that soon the carnival of appointments and commitments will waiver and things will settle down.

But along the hasteful journey, I find time to practice yoga – to continually remind myself that there is more to this life – that today IS important and that when it all comes down to it – it is about the inner experience.

Truths: Marital Bliss?

2010-10-01T06:13:00.001-07:00

Its true what they say – when two people meet and begin to date there is a sense of total euphoria. You can’t get enough of each other. The hand holding and kissing are unstoppable. The incessant phone calls and now, texts and emails. Communicating is constant and with every hello is an unwanted goodbye.

Falling in love is one of the most amazing feelings in the world – total admiration and adoration for one person – who undoubtedly is your soulmate. You realize that there is nothing the two of you can’t get through and want nothing more than to share every life’s journey with your partner.

And then comes planning the wedding and the babies crying and the long hours of work, not to mention the housecleaning and lawn mowing. Somewhere between all of that you are supposed to find time to gaze into each other’s eyes and daily renew the love you feel for one another.

Wake-up!

Whoever came up with the phrase “marital bliss” obviously loved creating oxymorons!

But seriously, how does one maintain that initial spark – those butterflies that took your breath away? Is it even possible?

As cynical as I sound – I think it is… I just think it is different – better really – at least it has been for me.

A dear friend of mine is having some marital issues (that is far more realistic that marital bliss) and it has made me re-examine my own marriage – fortunately coming to the realization that I really am happy.

You might chuckle when I say we have been married 5 years – aahh the honeymoon stage – but we have been together a lot longer and truthfully, we have been through a lot in just a short time. More than I would wish on anyone.

No we don’t spend hours holding hands or kissing at the movies – but I believe we still have those initial feelings – the initial belief that we can get through anything together and that there is no one we would rather share life with than each other.

I am grateful for that. All of this came together when yesterday our fridge broke down. I had mentioned to Bill the previous night that I had been hearing strange noises from it all day. He glanced into the freezer saw there was no ice, closed the door and said something like, “It just needs to make ice – maybe something was frozen up.”

As any woman would – I believed him – his strong mechanical background surely made him the expert in the situation – who was I to judge or doubt him.

The next morning as I poured my milk and drank it – it seemed warm… Odd – but maybe I was just imagining things. Later in the day, I happened to hear the noise again and I decided to take a look in the freezer and to my “surprise” everything was defrosting! There still was no ice and my pot pies were mush!

I have to admit that I smiled with joy – as though I just won a secret battle: I wanted a new fridge… Oh and yes, I smiled because, well, I was right – there was something really wrong with the fridge!

But, more importantly is when I called my husband – we could laugh about it, all of it: me being right – me getting a new fridge – the fact that since I don’t cook there were only a few things that were spoiling. What was disasterous (in a small way) was this moment for us – this tiny moment that reminds me why we are together because the small stuff is what is important and in times like these – we have a way of doing the small stuff right.

It sounds so ridiculous – but there is no one I would rather share the experience of a broken fridge with than Bill. Yes, I want to go to Australia with him and sail the Caribbean, drink ale in England but the truth is it is the day to day things that remind me how lucky I am.

No we don’t spend endless hours gazing lovingly into each other eyes anymore but when all is said and done – I am more in love with him now than I was when we got married – more in awe of him than when we dated and more eager to spend time with him than when he first asked me out.

Maybe marital bliss isn’t an oxymoron.

Truths: The beauty and reality of today

2010-09-26T07:59:00.000-07:00

Today marks the beauty of two things: I am not getting divorced and two Shih Tzus are starting a new life. The “I am not getting a divorce thing” is because I didn’t have to be the one to rescue them. It was them or my husband as he put it…and that was a hard choice. Fortunately, a rescue group in Kenosha, WI came forward. (that made my decision a lot easier!)

More importantly, these two little dogs who have never known human affection, let alone beds and toys and adequate food and water – vet care – are making their way from northwestern WI to southeastern WI today – hundreds of miles and many volunteers later they will arrive at what undoubtedly will be the best place they have ever been.

The rescue group I am so proud to be affiliated with is truthfully a myriad of people who found themselves at a puppy mill auction years back. It seems like just yesterday – but it was years back – a random group of strangers who were all there with one mission: to save as many dogs as possible from their grim lives of mass breeding.

Our efforts came with mixed judgments – but we did what we thought was best.

The group has stayed together via a yahoo platform and the unending efforts of Shayla. She has always kept us on track and moving in the right direction – which has really evolved.

Now that the auctions are non-existent and WI passed legislation to regulate mills – meaning that between the laws and the lack of pet store sales – the millers are closing shop and moving on.

The very thing we all wanted – but be careful what you ask for… Now, each week Shayla announces to the group that there are X amount of dogs available (all free) because the miller is out of business and doesn’t want them anymore. This is X amount of dogs we need to find a place for…and that X amount is always growing and the places to put them is shrinking…

That is what happened with these Shi Tzus – the rest of the original group was spoken for but these two weren’t and each night before I would fall asleep, I would look at Penelope, my Shih Tzu, and gulp… those dogs deserved a second chance just like she did. But, based on my husband’s threat there was nothing I could do – and that broke my heart.

Friday is when Shayla shared the good news that these dogs were claimed and they would be transported this Sunday… It was reason enough to celebrate. My heart felt whole.

But the flip side of this is still a message that needs to be shouted from the rooftops – pet stores and internet sales of dogs are all to blame for all of these dogs misery and while we are making strides and changing it – places like Petland and hundreds of mass breeding facilities that represent as good breeders on-line are still out there.

There are millions of dogs – like these Shih Tzus who need homes and families to love them – and when it gets right down to it – these dogs ARE the ones people are buying at pet stores and on the internet. They just aren’t groomed and cared for because they have been committed to a life of breeding – but their pups are being sold for thousands of dollars to unknowing (or sometimes ignorant) consumers.

I put this on my blog because it is so important to me that people KNOW that this is reality. This isn’t some 20/20 special or tabloid rumor – this is real and I want people to know!

The only way that this will stop is when two things happen: laws go into effect making it illegal to breed dogs in mass quantities and people stop buying dogs from pet stores and on the internet. It has been said hundred times but I will say it again – Good breeders do not sell their dogs in stores or randomly sell their dogs on line – and 99% of the time good breeders do not sell mixed breeds or multiple breeds. And good breeders want to know who is buying their dogs because they will not place them in random homes without contracts and stipulations. And good breeders always agree to take their dogs back if something happens. There are no ifs about any of this.

I hate getting on this soapbox, I really do – but when I spend sleepless nights worrying about two little dogs, whom I have never met – I get mad and disappointed with this country. We should be better than this.

What is better is that today – these two little dogs will unknowingly travel to foster homes where they will be given love and affection for the very first time – where they will find toys and beds and endless amounts of food and water. They will be scared at first because unlike “regular” dogs – none of this will make sense to them – they will be confused and unsure. Things like stairs and doorbells and even grass will be unfamiliar and frightening to them. They will probably cower and shake for many days until they learn trust and find that not all people will just treat them like objects or throw them away when they are done with them.

It could takes days, weeks, even months for these little dogs to be “normal” again…But they will be and they will offer back love unconditionally like no other dog in the world. And, best of all, these little dogs will eventually be adopted by a family who knew better than to buy from a pet store or order a dog on-line and they will be rewarded with a dog who will be forever grateful.

Truths: Life Unexpected

2010-09-24T05:54:00.000-07:00

I have been remiss: not writing about the amazing trip I just had with my close and dear friend, Delreen.

We came back on Monday night and, well, life just got in the way. It was cleaning the house to restore order, appointments to go to ( run to), etc… and before I knew it the days had slipped away and I never even expressed to Delreen what a wonderful time I had.

Delreen and I left this crazy daily life for an excursion to Florida. What I should call it now is an adventure because so many crazy, fun things happened that it was hardly a relaxing trip.

It started with me leaving my wallet on the plane! (who does that?) And then freaking out that we wouldn’t be able to get on the express cruise to Key West without an ID – because we needed one… oh and I guess I was freaked out, too, that I lost my wallet… Its just that I was so excited to go to Key West that that was my priority.

Well, thanks to modern technology and my understanding husband – he took a photo of my passport with his iphone and emailed it to me – where we were able to print it and use it to get on the boat.

After setting sail and about to reach port – my dad called and said that he got my wallet from the airport! Now we could breath a sigh of relief and, of course, celebrate with one…no 12 Daquiris!

And that is what we did from noon until 5am… celebrate and dance and drink – did I mention the jello shots and Delreen’s liking for tequila? We innocently met “boys” who wanted to talk to us – and when you are about to hit 40 – knowing that you still “have it” is almost as good as a fruity cocktail on a tropical island!

And being able to stay out ‘til 5am – well that shows stamina at our age. And it really shows what a fantastic time we had – just two girls, two friends since college – sorority sisters, old roommates… best friends living it up on Duval St…

See it wasn’t just about the partying (though that was definitely a highlight) it was about us getting together, hanging out, talking constantly. We live far away from each other and while we communicate daily thru email – seeing each other is priceless and rare. – And that is what we got to do for 6 days.

I am unsure just what made Delreen and I click… we had the same major and we saw each other in classes and became friends during our pledge year at Gamma Phis.. and then we chose to room together and I guess that is when our bond became unwavering.

20 years later and our friendship has proven, literally, life saving. If it weren’t for Delreen I know I would have been lost a long time ago. Our daily emails are inspiration for going on, for pursuing dreams, celebrating victories and at times consoling life’s disappointments, tragedies, illnesses… she is my rock.

You don’t meet many people in your life who can relate to you on such a phenomenal level – people who understand you. But Delreen is one of those people to me – she truly changed my life and for that I am grateful..

But, here’s the thing – for 6 days – our lives were interrupted by pure enjoyment – late nights of conversation (and drinks) and days of sunshine. We escaped cleaning the house and daily routine and we were able to just spend time being friends.

When you are there, on vacation, you take for granted this reward – you enjoy it but you don’t realize how precious it is until you come home and become lost in your routine life…

And then you think how lucky you were to have your life interrupted for 6 days – how fortunate you were to have your close, and very dear friend all to yourself for 6 days – 6 days of everything good and fun and happy. 6 days that will become one of your fondest memories of your friendship – memories that even photographs can’t capture – memories that you are certainly grateful for long after you come back home.