amish lifestyle…here I come!

Mike and I headed out into the country today on a quest to find a piece of land in the middle of nowhere.  Since we first met, we have talked about buying a piece of property in the woods and living like pioneers.  I didn’t really pay that close attention to the talk of pioneers, but I definitely liked the idea of living away from it all.

The discussion came back up after our romantic cabin getaway back in December.  We spent three days in a secluded cabin in the north Georgia Mountains.  I decided right then and there that I didn’t need all the stuff people think they need.  I don’t need a big house with a TV in every room to be happy. 

Then we took the entire family back to the north Georgia Mountains in May.  It was another reminder of how relaxing and meaningful life can be when you don’t have the hustle and bustle of the city to distract you.  Add to that one dose of painful reality, and I was mentally packing my bags and selling my non-essentials. I’m not saying I’m ready to turn in my cell phone or laptop just yet, but I’m more than willing to de-clutter the rest of my life.  

So it was no stretch of the imagination that I would be searching for my perfect getaway along those same north Georgia Mountains.  Although, I still don’t think anyone expected us to be serious.  The truth is, a lot of writers have mountain cabins where they soak up the inspiration.  I’m not sure if I could ever really live like the Amish.  I wouldn’t mind baking bread, and tending chickens, and even wearing clothes without buttons…but there are just certain things I couldn’t live without.  Like running water, and flushing toilets.  Of course, if I end up living in the woods, I’ll definitely need another English Mastiff to protect me from bears and lions.  Possibly even rabid squirrels.  And snakes.  Probably other things that hide in the tall grasses too.  In all honesty, I’m probably not at all well suited for places overrun with creepy crawlies, but I guess that’s why they invented bug spray. 

We found a few places that would be ideal for our mountain getaway on our travels today.  The good news was, we still had cell service even way out there past the cow farms and llama ranches.  And with any luck, we’d be able to get internet services as well.  Otherwise I may have to rethink this whole “living in the country” thing.  Being Amish is one thing…giving up all the modern convenience is entirely something else. 

Until the next time…I’ll be making a list of things I can live without.

parental guidance suggested

The new plan to “spend every waking moment” with the teenagers was in full force again today.  I would like to know if all the naysayers and parenting critics out there have ever actually spent every waking moment with their teenage children for any length of time.  It’s quite easy for the casual observer to say that a parent should be there all the time to supervise, but it is a different matter entirely to put this into practice.  Essentially, we have been with our children at all times.  They are not allowed to leave the house without a parent.  They are not permitted to engage in any activities that do not involve family participation.  They are going just a bit stir crazy. 

It’s entirely possible that we have gone overboard with the togetherness.

Overboard or not, we spent another day all together.  We set out on a fresh shopping trip to our favorite upscale boutique shopping center this afternoon, and this time we brought friends.  Each of the girls had a friend of their choosing with them. Despite the major changes, things finally seem to be normalizing.  They don’t like the loss of freedom, but at the same time, they are adjusting to the new format.  They will be seniors in high school this year, so it’s not like we can hold them hostage forever, but after trusting the wrong adults with the care of our children, we are being much more cautious.  In a quite surprising turn of events, the girls have made the major decision to willingly cut ties to all of the bad influences in their lives (something that is not always easy to do, especially when dealing with extended family), and they have accepted their responsibility in any mistakes they have made.  It has been a very valuable lesson in life for everyone involved. 

The simple truth is…no one is immune to bad judgment or making mistakes.  My husband and I made grave errors in judgment in trusting people, and the girls made errors in judgment in their decision making.  We have all learned from those mistakes and are emerging as a stronger family because of it.   And that’s what life is all about…learning and growing.  The minute we stop growing is the day we stop living.  And I have a whole lot of life left in me.  And my kids haven’t even gotten started yet.  They are going to be just fine…

Until the next time…I’ll be looking forward to a beautiful Sunday with the family!

am I the “Mom” you’re looking for?

I took the girls shopping this evening, just for the pure fun of it.  There is a new accessory store in our favorite shopping mall; “Charming Charlie’s” and we were able to get lost in there much like at an amusement park.  The jewelry and assorted items were sorted and categorized by color and finish.  It was a veritable treasure trove of accessories, and it was completely overwhelming. 

A jeweled chandelier hung from the high ceiling.  Display islands sparkled with spinning racks of dangling necklaces, shimmering rhinestones set in rings, bracelets, and tiaras.  Cubbies filled with designer handbags and dressy shoes lined the walls and below the islands.  Pretty blouses tucked in among the racks.  Watches, broaches, arm cuffs, dangling earrings, jeweled hairclips…more girlie things than I could process no matter how long I spent amongst the inventory. 

We weren’t the only women in there with glazed expressions from the sheer volume of sparkly items.  It was like being in a liquor store filled with alcoholics. 

I was personally drawn to the watches.  I have a fixation with clocks, and the large face watches pulled me in like a hypnotist dangling a gold pocket watch in front of my face.  I barely noticed the shoes, or bedazzled blouses, or sparkly rings.  I didn’t take a second look at the necklaces, or bracelets, or handbags.  I did try on the most chic hat I’ve ever seen.  It was a very large brimmed hat that had me thinking about Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.  In fact, the entire store was a throwback to Breakfast at Tiffany’s. 

At more than one point the girls and I got separated, and I was forced to track them down by the sounds of their voices calling my name.  Or rather calling “Mom” throughout the boutique. 

The problem with the name “Mom” is that it’s not overly unique.  I wasn’t the only person in the store with that name, but every time I heard it, I turned to see if it was meant for me.  In all honesty, it was usually for me.  The girls were like cats chasing string as they zipped around the store, unable to decide which bauble they wanted me to buy them.  We went in with the idea that everyone would get one, but narrowing the search down to just one was a near impossibility considering the amazing variety of choices. 

As the store began the nightly ritual of shutting down the music and dimming the lights, the girls were forced to make a choice.  They chose wisely, if I’m any judge.  I have a feeling I’ll be back to Charming Charlie’s again…and again…if they have any say in the matter.  And honestly, I don’t mind.  I had as much fun as they did, and the prices were actually pretty reasonable. 

The more I think about it, the more I think I may go back for that wide brimmed hat.  If I’m not mistaken, it would go nicely with my crazy pink sweater.

Until the next time…I’ll be making a mental shopping list.

two acres and a yurt

My husband and I spend the better part of the evening discussing and planning our future.  With the current matters our family has been going through, it seemed entirely appropriate to find a moment to focus on something completely stress free. 

Since the day we met, Mike and I have talked about moving to the country one day.  My idea of the country includes a charming little cottage or farm house (complete with central air conditioning and running water) with a cute little fence and a few chickens.  His idea of the country involves living off the grid, with solar power, deep water well, and a yurt.  What is a yurt, you ask?  It’s essentially a giant tent decked out like a house. 

I was always the hold out when it came to the yurt.  I wasn’t really up for the total commune with nature.  I like things like walls, and windows…and bathrooms.  Who wouldn’t want an actual bathroom?

My husband for one.

He has no problem with the idea of digging a deep hole in the back yard to use for a toilet.  That is definitely a little too far into the rough for me.  First of all, the idea of squatting over a hole seems a little dangerous for one so prone to falling.  Second…eww. 

Need I really say more?

Still, we enjoyed the distraction from the stress, and it was actually very thought provoking.  It made us realize that we really would like to move away from the city and live off the land.  And it gave us something to look toward in the future.  When things are difficult, it’s easy to lose sight of the future, and that can be a dangerous thing for the psyche.  Hopes and dreams are what keep us going on the darkest of days, the longest of nights.  And despite what I thought, I still have those hopes and dreams.  And I’m still willing to move toward them, even if it takes a while to get there.  At least I have a destination.  And when you’re on that long and winding road, you definitely need to have a destination.

Until the next time…I’ll be plotting my course and drawing up my map!

is there such a thing as bowling pin envy?

Mike and I took the kids bowling tonight.  It was meant as an old fashioned family outing.  The kind teenagers seem to think they have outgrown, but never really do.  With everything that’s been going on lately, it was very nice to take the time to go out for such a normal activity. 

We debated on what to do.  There were thoughts of taking in a movie, or going to an arcade, but ultimately, everyone agreed that bowling was the way to go.  Especially since we are all such horrible bowlers.  There is nothing quite as entertaining as watching a group of bad bowlers.

I didn’t trip or fall (at the bowling alley, but I did manage to trip in the parking lot getting out of the car.)  My ball never went in the opposite direction of the pins (something I have actually done before) and I didn’t even land in the gutter all that often.  My ball did get stuck at the end with the pins at least once, but my husband managed to rescue it by wasting my second ball in the first frame.  I had three pins standing that I might have been able to knock down if not for that.   Now we will never know for sure if I would have gotten the spare.

It was funny to see how excited we were to battle it out for the win.  I don’t know if either of us should be proud of winning when the highest score was still less than 90!  We didn’t even break 100.  My daughter beat me by one pin on her last roll in the tenth frame.   Those three pins that were left standing back in the first frame may have very well cost me the game!  But winning wasn’t really the thing.  We won just by going. 

We may have to have a rematch in the very near future.  I had forgotten how much I liked to bowl.  And just for the record, bowling on the Wii does nothing to prepare you for tossing actual marble balls down a wooden lane to knock down actual pins.  And you can’t perform the “granny roll” with a Wii remote.  There is something very nostalgic about using two hands to roll the ball down the lane.  Not that I did that.  That would be sort of cheating. 

Although if I was going to cheat I would have at least gotten a higher score. 

Until the next time…I’ll be practicing on the Wii for my rematch!

sleep blogging

I have no words for how exhausted I am today.  I feel as if I have been awake for three days straight, but it has only been a single day.  Still, I think we managed to cram several days worth of activities into this one day, and it started very early.

We’re at the end of this day and I can’t begin to think of how to classify the longest day ever.  Productive?  Sure.  Confrontational? Maybe.  Forward progress? Probably.  A magical fix to all that ails me? Hardly…but I wish. 

I’ll have to put more thought into it and get back to you tomorrow once I’ve put a little distance between the day and me. 

On a lighter note…my puppy is getting heavier every day!  I weighed him yesterday to the tune of 35.6 lbs.  That means he’s gaining about five pounds per week now.  He still comes and sits at my feet, waiting for me to pick him up onto the bed for attention, and although I can still manage it, I’m certain his lying on the bed days are numbered. 

My straw injury is healed for the most part, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m too tired to function, or because I’ve had a change of luck, but nothing bad happened to me today.  Of course, there is still time in the day for that, so I shouldn’t say anything yet.

I’m not going to give bad luck or bad timing a chance to get to me today.  I’m going to hit the sack early tonight and rejuvenate myself for tomorrow.  I hear it’s going to be another really hot day…with a whole lot going on.

Until the next time…hopefully I’ll be sound asleep.

I'm taking the scenic route

My dad commented on my blog the other day.  And I have been thinking about his remarks ever since.  What he said wasn’t personal, or even specific in nature, but it was profound nonetheless.  I certainly found it so. 

He said… “Life is a lot like driving a car. If you are careful and make wise decisions you generally, not always, arrive at the destination you intended. However every bad decision or moment of not paying attention risks arriving at a place you didn't want to go. Just like in real life bad decisions made early in the trip can show up later on. The good news is that if you make a mid-course correction you still get where you want to go.”

I keep trying to retrace my steps to see when and where I went off course.  I know I’ve had to make a few mid-course corrections along my road.  My first marriage was one.  And that mid-course correction was a doozy.  I wonder too often if it actually caused the trouble down the road that I’m seeing now. I can’t say my kids were unaffected by the divorce, or my remarrying.  But I can’t change the past, and playing the “what if” game is not productive.  I think maybe I need to stop looking in the rear view mirror and start focusing on the road ahead…and maybe I need to use the map just a little more often. 

The course correction isn’t so bad if you discover your mistake early on in the trip and turn back around.  I’ve made lots of wrong turns in my life without heading down the wrong road for long.  As far as my kids go, I need to remind them that they have a decision to make in choosing their course.  I wish I could plot the course for my kids, instead of just teaching them how to read the map.  I’ve managed to steer at least one in the right direction, I can only hope I can do it again. 

With any luck the road we travel is long and winding and we will make the right decision at every fork. But the reality is, we will take a wrong turn from time to time, and we will need to double back or take a detour to get back on track.  I think they refer to that as taking the “scenic route.” 

And maybe we don’t want to get to where we’re going quickly.  Life isn’t a race to the finish line; it’s a marathon through the woods.  Sometimes we need to stop and smell the roses, while still avoiding the poisonous mushrooms along the way. 

And for goodness sake, don’t forget to make a few stops along the way to enjoy the views.  Life is a beautiful place.

Until the next time…I’ll be refueling for tomorrow’s journey.

I don’t think this is what they meant by “drawing straws”

Chaos all around me, and I can still manage to find time to be tragically clumsy.  Or maybe I just have amazingly bad luck.  Either way you look at it, I am cursed. 

I don’t even know how I managed to do this…my husband seems to think it was my own fault, drinking and driving (not that kind of drinking and driving mind you)…but somehow I jammed a straw into the deep recesses of my throat cutting myself, and creating a now slightly infected injury.  Yesterday, when it happened, it seemed as if it was just a mild inconvenience.  A slight irritation.  But today, it hurts to swallow, drink, eat, talk, or just sit quietly for that matter. 

I tried in vain to convince my husband that I wasn’t actually driving when this occurred.  I was in a parked car, attempting to put the straw into my cup when something went terribly awry.  I remember ripping the paper from one end of the straw and placing it in my mouth while I pulled the paper the rest of the way off.  I have done this at least a million times before without incident.  But in the middle of everything going on in my life right now, I chose this time to stab myself (nearly slicing the uvula from my throat) just slightly to the left of my tonsils. 

I’ll survive.  Not just the straw injury, but everything else too.  I may not be exactly the same when I come out on the other side, but change is inevitable.  And some change is good.  Of course, I didn’t mean change as in a self-inflicted tonsillectomy, but maybe my luck isn’t all that bad after all.

Until the next time…I’ll be going through a bag of throat lozenges!

pardon our mess while we navigate the apocalypse

I had to do one of my least favorite things this evening.  I had to step through the doors of the local Wal-Mart.  Even in the nice area where I live, Wal-Mart is a Mecca for the lost souls of humanity.  And to add insult to injury, they are remodeling our store, so the interior reminds me of the countless “end of the world” movies that I have seen throughout my life. Mad Max himself was passing out shopping carts as we came in.

The place is completely torn up.  I wasn’t sure they were even open.  I figured I’d wandered into a fire sale, or the local Goodwill.  Nothing can be found where it should be.  The barbeque sauce is located in the same aisle as the bras, and the shoes are in the pots and pans.  We found ourselves in the electronics section, and it was even more apocalyptic back there.   When we had to check out, we discovered that there was no way to exit through the door we entered through, so we had to walk the entire way back to the car through the darkened parking lot (because there are no street lights during the end of the world.)  I couldn’t help thinking they should hang a big sign out front.

“Pardon our mess while we navigate the apocalypse.”

Perhaps I should hang that sign across my chest.  It sort of feels like a running theme in my life right now.  Cleaning up after the destruction is always a bit challenging.  I can never find a big enough broom.  But somehow the smoke always manages to clear after a while.  And we are now in a permanent no smoking section.  I would love to say that everything is back to normal again, but time does heal all things, and I need to keep saying that over and over again to myself so I will begin to believe it.  We shall overcome, and all that.

Life really isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes strength of character.  Luckily we have that around here.  It’s what separates us from the others.  That and a really high IQ. 

I’m not quite ready to give up my faith in humanity just yet, but I will be making much more careful selections when picking my friends.  I’m still in shock after discovering the behavior of another parent, who I trusted with the care of my children.  At least I know I won’t make that same mistake again!

Until the next time…Background checks for everyone!

do they still pass notes in middle school?

Back in my day, middle school was Junior High, and the note passing was legendary.  We didn’t have cell phones, or laptops, and the internet wasn’t even a sparkle in someone’s eye yet.  The effort involved in a smear campaign was huge.  You actually had to create a phone chain from home to dial everyone’s number to say mean things to them.  And if they didn’t answer the phone, there was no leaving a message either.  Back at school, our only form of text messaging was in the guise of an actual sheet of paper with words on it.  And you had to write them out by hand!  Good luck reaching three hundred people while the topic was still hot!  Then again, the incidents of carpal tunnel from text messaging were few and far between back then. 

We didn’t have Google, or instant messenger, or i-tunes, and we didn’t even know we needed them!

Amazingly, back then we actually sat in the lunch room and talked to each other while we ate the terrible cafeteria food.  We didn’t have our noses glued to our phones, because the only phones inside the school were in the office.  And they were attached to the desks with cords. 

Cords!

There were still bullies, but they had to rely on their brawn for intimidation, not their skills with a cut and paste message sent out in bulk to everyone in their address book.

And back in my day, your friend’s parents put a stop to the partying…they didn’t buy the liquor and drink along side of you!

But it seems like we aren’t back in my day anymore.  We’re in the internet age.  And like it or not, it is our fate.

But the internet age isn’t all bad.  In fact, it has a lot of good to it.  Two of my friends from Junior High found each other again on the internet recently, and after fifteen years of not seeing one another, they are now officially a couple!  I will take just a tiny bit of the credit, because while the three of us chatted in instant messages, we were effectively passing notes back and forth much like Junior High.  It was what we knew.  And I may have encouraged them slightly.  They are perfect for each other, and I’m very happy for them.  And their happily ever after has restored my faith in technology.  Without the high tech note passing, they may have missed each other in the dark, instead of riding off into the sunset. 

Besides…passing my blog in notes would be so tedious, I don’t know if I would have made it this long.  And I’m not planning on going anywhere, despite the naysayers and bullies.  As my friend Vivian has oft quoted… “Bitch keep talking shit, you’re making me famous!”

Until the next time…I’ll be writing my blog and surfing the internet as I always do…after my kids are sleeping…where they don’t need me to stand over them to make sure they aren’t dreaming inappropriately. 

you’ve got a friend

There’s an old saying that goes something like this…come into a little money, and your “friends” will start coming out of the woodwork, but need to borrow some, and they are nowhere to be found.  I suppose that’s a true enough adage. But I’ve found that in times of crisis, I seem to have more friends than I realized, and I find that immensely comforting.

I really do appreciate the wealth of wonderful friends who have supported me in tough times.  Amazingly, some friends that I hadn’t seen since high school have become some of the best supporters I have.  To Chris, Chet, Vivian, Melissa, Tabitha and all of the other wonderful friends who have offered a shoulder, an ear, and even a couch, I thank you. 

I haven’t slept in going on three days due to a stressful family situation, and so I don’t suspect tonight’s blog will be all that entertaining.  I may even fall asleep writing it, which would make it a dual purpose blog/sleep aid. Since I could use a good night’s sleep, I won’t be too hard on myself for not writing more than a few paragraphs tonight. 

I was thinking about that little adage about friends and money, and I wonder if maybe my wealth of friends could be an omen of good fortune to come.  That would be unexpected, but not unappreciated.  I bought three scratch off tickets at the grocery store tonight.  I haven’t scratched them yet because if I wait a little while, I can pretend I won, and it just might be true.  A nice windfall wouldn’t solve all of the problems, but it would certainly pay for a very good shrink! (or a completely new wardrobe so I can worry in style) Then again, a nice long cruise would be very relaxing.  I think I’ll hold onto those tickets a little while longer. It certainly can’t hurt.  I could compile an entire list of things to spend my winnings on.  But that will have to wait until a time when I can keep my eyes open.  Maybe tomorrow or the next day. 

Until the next time…I’ll be falling asleep in 5…4…3…2…

the number you are trying to reach…

Do you ever wish you could just temporarily disconnect yourself?  I’m not referring to anything permanent or life altering…just momentary.  Like a phone line. 

“The number you are trying to reach has been temporarily disconnected.” 

I used to get that message all the time when calling someone.  It was never more than a short term inconvenience.  Usually an unpaid phone bill.  But what if it was just a state of limbo you could sit in…temporarily.  I would totally take advantage of that from time to time.  Because, let’s face it, life gets pretty difficult sometimes and no matter how prepared you think you are, you aren’t. 

It’s no secret that I’m having a bad week—the kind of week that will turn the biggest non-believer to religion.  “Say twenty Hail Mary’s and it will all go away.”  I don’t even know what that means and I’m willing to give it a try. 

Not that I’m knocking religion mind you, I’m just trying to stress the level of “bad” my week has been. 

On a high note, my puppy is doing very well.  We had our regularly scheduled vet visit today and Indy is just a fraction of a pound away from thirty pounds.  He had his nails and his ears groomed and he got his last round of shots.  We managed to make it through the entire morning and afternoon without a single accident!  I was so proud of my little boy.

Then we had a pretty hard rainstorm this evening and I think he peed on my floor six times.  I shouldn’t be surprised; I always have to pee in a rainstorm.  All that falling water triggers the urge I suppose.  Of course, I made it to the bathroom without too much trouble.

I will be very pleased when Indy is all grown up.  Not that I don’t love having a sweet little puppy at home, but I do look forward to the dignified protector that he will grow to be.  Especially on those long spooky evenings when I’m home alone. 

Like tonight.

It was sometime after eleven when I heard what I was sure were footsteps creeping across the floor in the front of my house while I was watching television in the back.  I did a quick sweep of the room to determine that all of my dogs were accounted for, and asleep, and I was the only one home.  

I practically dove over the couch to hide on the floor behind it, cell phone in hand, and did what any self  respecting woman with nothing but a dog shedder and a TV remote as weapons would do…I called 911.

The first thing he asked me was if I had a weapon to which I asked if my Furminator counted.  He didn’t think so.

I stayed on the line with the operator, thankful that I had already peed not too long before, so I probably wouldn’t wet myself, and I waited for the cavalry to arrive.  It wasn’t more than a few minutes later when I saw the beams of light washing across the back fence as the police officers (armed with rifles) moved around the back of my house, and two others came around the front.  My throat had closed up from fear, and because it had completely dried up as every drop of fluid in my body ran straight to my bladder, ready for a full on assault.

I let them in, stammering out my explanation of the sounds I was sure I’d heard while my dogs slept, completely oblivious, on the floor.  Just then, Bart the cat bounded from around a corner, large feet padding against the floor with an all too familiar sound. 

If I hadn’t been too terrified to blush, I probably would have.  Instead, I thanked the nice policemen for coming so quickly to protect me from the big bad (declawed) kitty in my dining room, and I quickly got myself a nice cold glass of ice water. 

Yes, having a full grown Mastiff around will be a very nice thing.

But for now, I’ll have to settle for the oversized pup curled up on the floor by my feet taking his hundredth or so nap of the day. 

Of course, I still have one ‘fraidy cat pit/boxer, and a geriatric Labrador for protection.  Not to mention one very scary ninja kitty!    Guess I’ll be safe tonight after all.

Until the next time…I’ll be barricading myself in my bedroom for the night!

the truth shall set you free

Tonight I am going to say very few words, but they should be considered to be powerful ones. 

Honesty cannot be bought, or bargained for, or traded.  The truth is the most valuable commodity we have.  It sets us apart from those around us who would do us harm to save themselves from retribution.  No one is without faults, no one is flawless, and no one can claim to be without the frailty of the human condition.   But we can be honest.  Despite all of our shortcomings, we can strive to tell the truth without fail. 

I would like nothing more than to elaborate, but due to the sensitive nature of the current predicament, I need to tread lightly. 

First of all, I feel it necessary to say that I have been blessed with a husband who is honest without fault, and I truly wish that particular trait was hereditary.   As for my children, they are hardly perfect, but when the situation calls for it, they will come clean regardless of the consequences to themselves. 

Others are not so honorable.  Others will do whatever it takes, enlist anyone they can manipulate, and hurt those around them to cover their tracks.  I find this to be the most reprehensible character trait a person can possess.  I also find it unconscionable when that behavior is defended purely on the grounds of genetics. 

That being said, my husband and I made a horrible discovery today that will affect our family in an unpleasant way.  I can’t even begin to wrap my head around the audacity of people who call themselves allies.  The betrayals were unexpected and virtually unforgivable.  The ripple effect is still as of yet unknown.  We have no choice but to deal with the situation with grace and dignity, despite the nature of the manner it was delivered upon us.  

I have said this before, but it bears repeating…you cannot change the actions or behaviors of anyone but yourself.  Life is a game of chess…choose your piece wisely.

Until the next time…I will be planning my next move!

same drama…different summer

Have you ever had déjà vu?  Not just imagining that you’ve been to this restaurant before and you ordered the shrimp primavera both times, but got chicken.  I’m not talking about that.  I’m talking about…been there, done that, don’t make me live through it again! (Like my first marriage.)

Without going into specifics, I’m having one of those days.  I’m beginning to think I might actually be living in the Matrix!

Sometimes it’s not so bad to relive a certain event.  I wouldn’t mind going back to my fifth birthday party.  Or my kids first words, or first steps, or first days of school.  But some drama belongs where it is…in the past.   Too bad it’s often those specific days that come back to rear their ugly heads! 

Which brings me to the ugly head marathon that is my day. 

Amazingly, it has nothing to do with my ex-husband or my husband’s ex-wife—the two ugliest heads in our trophy room of drama.  This time it is the lesser known heads peeking out from the dusty drama shelves with a vengeance.  I’m sure you’re thinking that I’m being a bit too obscure to keep up with me, but unfortunately, I’ve been asked to edit.  I don’t like having to edit, but in the name of family peace, and minimal backlash, I have agreed.  

The cold hard facts are this…sometimes people like drama.  Some even more than others.  I would personally prefer my drama to come from a DVD, but that’s just me.  A very smart person once told me that the only behavior that you can change is your own.  Those around you are going to act as they see fit, and often times they won’t act their age, or their shoe size.

Speaking of acting their age, my puppy has decided that it is indicative of his age that he begins to chew everything within his reach.  Considering that, at fourteen weeks old (and 29.2lbs), his reach encompasses quite a wide area, even the other dogs aren’t completely safe.  Thank goodness my old Labrador, Cybil has a good grasp of her rank around here, because she won’t be pushed around.  But poor Joey (the pit/boxer mix) won’t defend himself against the cat!  So he’s doomed when the puppy decides that his ears are the perfect chew toy. 

It may be time to enroll him in a puppy kindergarten.  More for me than him.  It seems that my skills at dog training were slightly inflated.  I did teach him to sit for a treat.  And he’s almost potty trained.  He even took himself to his bed this evening without being told.  That must count for something.  But when your puppy is destined to weigh as much as your car, you probably shouldn’t take any chances.  It will be good for us—puppy classes.  And as an added bonus, if I’m lucky, it will give me something entertaining to blog about.  Unlike today when I blogged about mysterious drama, and a case of déjà vu.  Speaking of which…haven’t I been here before?

Until the next time…I’ll be attempting to relive the past few hours, looking for a glitch in the Matrix!

are you a wadder or a folder?

Are we really talking about toilet paper?  Pretty much, yeah.

It is a serious question to some, for reasons that I can’t begin to fathom.  I couldn’t care less if you fold or wad.  And you shouldn’t care what I do either.  Even if wadding is more efficient, (if perhaps a bit less organized.)  It appears to be somehow rooted in gender. 

At least that’s what my husband tells me.

This very topic came up the other evening as I was preparing to clean up a fresh puddle of puppy pee with my giant wad of quicker picker uppers.  My husband made that face that I’m so familiar with, the one that says, “You aren’t doing that the right way.” And then he smiled and said, “Women and their wadding.”

It’s true…men pay attention to things like this, and I can’t be more grossed out that they do.  This coming from an entire gender of people who shake instead of wipe when they pee.  Where is the logic in that?  But do I really want to address the realities of that?  Probably not. 

I can say, however, that when it comes to cleaning up a spill (or a puddle) on the floor, a nicely wadded bunch of paper towels gets the job done way better than a neatly folded bunch.  The wetness seems to collect better in the multiple folds of a good wad.

As for the bathroom debate, we may never really know which way is better, and I’m ok with that.  I try to think of it in terms of killing a bug instead.  I could use a folded tissue, or a wadded tissue, but the folded one doesn’t give me nearly enough distance from the subject matter.  And that’s what this debate is really all about isn’t it?  Women just don’t want to be that close to the matter.

A dear friend gave me a solution this evening.  He said that things are always done best if you compromise.  As in…wad up the side that goes toward the clean up, and fold the side that goes toward your hand.  It’s the best of both worlds! 

Now if we could just tackle the whole shaking vs. wiping debate.  Would it really be that hard to dab?  Guys?  Come on…

Until the next time…I’ll be waiting for the backlash from tonight’s blog!

that is one blog I do not want to write

So much for thinking the puppy had a strong grasp on potty training.  This evening I went through the last of the paper towels and an entire roll of toilet paper.  I don’t know if I can lay the blame entirely at his paws, however.  I was suffering from a case of cold related sleep deprivation and missed his cues more than once. 

Such is a busy Saturday.                

It was the last full day of the nephews’ visit to Georgia, and we had to squeeze in as much excitement as humanly possible in the last remaining hours of daylight.  Although, aside from frequent trips to eating establishments, I can’t for the life of me think of a single exciting thing we did.

I apparently sleepwalked my way throughout the day, thinking of things I WOULDN’T want to write a blog about.  For example, we were talking about going to a major league baseball game the next time the boys come to visit and all I could think of is, we would have to sit somewhere out of “foul ball” range.  Because if there was a foul ball hit anywhere in my direction, it would surely hit me in the head, and THAT is a blog I do not want to write. 

We went to dinner with my mother, my sister, and my sister’s husband tonight, and her husband was kind enough to buy dinner for everyone.  They took us to their favorite place to eat—a little hole in the wall place with two entrances, one for smokers, and one for non-smokers.  Yes, this may be the only restaurant left in Georgia that has a smoking section! 

The food was very good, not your typical restaurant fare, it was more like having Sunday dinner at your grandmother’s house and ordering your favorite meal.  They even had food that a northern girl, like me, could relate to. 

But my favorite part of the restaurant had nothing at all to do with the food they were serving, but rather with a sign posted directly outside.  It was one of those signs that typically lists the daily specials up in lights to tempt passersby to stop in for a bite. Only this sign didn’t post any specials with bite—on the contrary—the sign had bite in a totally different way.

“Safest place to be when the zombies attack”

Considering that I was feeling a bit like a zombie myself, it was enough for me!  The place was five stars from then on. 

Until the next time…I’ll be shooting for a few extra hours of sleep tonight.

what do blackberries have to do with romance?

Today was the most successful day of potty training.  Somehow, after trial and error, Indy just seemed to get it.  He woke me up at six-thirty, as usual, with a little whine and a paw to the side of his crate.  I rolled out of bed and took him out, praising him—as I always do—before taking him back in, and putting him back to bed.  For the rest of the day, I stuck to him like toilet paper to the bottom of a shoe. 

The minute I noticed him heading toward the back door, I asked him if he had to go potty, and I ran to the door, opened it, and followed him out.  When he peed—as he inevitably would, as he seems to pee almost non-stop while awake—I praised him as if it was his birthday.  By the middle of the day I noticed that he was sitting at the back door, waiting for me to approach.  By nightfall, he was actually walking away from the door to see where I was. 

Eureka! 

Could this have been the proverbial light bulb above his furry little head signaling that he finally had the right idea?  I don’t think I’ll know for sure until several days more of this back and forth exchange, but for the first time in weeks, I have real hope. 

As impossible as it may seem, chasing the puppy around did not take up my entire day.  On the contrary, I spent a large portion of the day…the parts when the puppy was sleeping…entertaining the children (our nephews and our youngest.)  I had promised to take them swimming at my sister’s house after lunch today. 

After they had their fill (or rather I had mine) of swimming, we drove back home for dinner.  My husband had agreed to make jambalaya for dinner while we were gone.  Just to hedge our bets, the kids and I made a quick McDonald’s run for a snack before heading home.  And it was a good thing we did.  Mike was swamped at work, and never got around to cooking. 

Out to dinner we go!

It had been a while since I’d eaten in a restaurant.  I can’t say I’ve missed it as much as I thought I would.  I actually like a good home cooked meal these days. 

After dinner we came home to walk the yard and check on the fruit production.  Our apples and pears are coming along nicely, the peaches aren’t.  The blueberries didn’t do so hot this year, but the blackberries have gone crazy.  We’ve been getting about a pint of fresh blackberries a day!  The kids have been picking them every morning.  The nephews commented that they’d never seen thornless blackberries before, to which my husband replied, “They don’t come that way in nature.  These are laboratory engineered blackberries.” 

He just sucks the romance out of things sometimes.  Can’t we just think they’re thornless because that’s the nicer way to be?  Next thing you know he’s going to tell me that my roses are genetically modified!  That’s what happens when you’re married to an amateur botanist!

Until the next time…I’ll be making a laboratory engineered blackberry pie!

the dreaded summer cold

Day two of the summer cold started out early, as in just past midnight.  I had taken a special concoction of cold medicine and vitamins before bed in hopes that I would be able to breathe in my sleep.  The combination gave me heartburn so I asked my husband to pass me the Tums.   (Note to self:  do not ask someone to “pass” you a semi-large container of something in the dark.)  I caught the Tums with my face as they went sailing across the bed.  Apparently, my clumsiness is so potent that it spills over to those around me. 

I drifted off to sleep with an ice pack on my bloody, swollen lip.

By six thirty, my malfunctioning internal clock went off and I was delighted that our puppy had slept through the night, even if I was slightly worried that he hadn’t stirred at his usual times.  I couldn’t help but wake the puppy to be sure he was actually breathing.  (This appears to be a leftover paranoia from having human babies in my youth.)

He was breathing, and as it turns out, I had forgotten to fully close the door to his crate before falling asleep the night before, so he happily took himself for his morning potty time without bothering to wake anyone.  Of course, since he was unable to open the door to the outside, he went potty in the next best place…my bathroom.  He has seen us do that a number of times, so surely this was an appropriate venue for his needs.  And when he was done, he went right back to bed and back to sleep. 

As much as I should have been upset with him, I found myself absurdly pleased that I got to sleep through the night for a change.  Still, I won’t make that mistake again. 

Parenting a puppy through his infancy is more challenging than what I remembered.  He still has a propensity to put everything in his mouth, including enormous bugs that he finds on his last potty run before bed.  I don’t have a problem fishing the odd thing or two from his mouth (poisonous mushrooms, bread twists, half a roll of toilet paper, even cat poop) but I draw the line at bugs.  Specifically gigantic antenna wearing roach-type bugs.  I cringed, and struggled to keep my stomach in place as the antennas hung out of his mouth as he crunched away on his treasure.  He was so happy to get a snack before bed, and didn’t seem to care that I refrained from giving him a goodnight kissy before tucking him into his crate. 

As much as I enjoy having a puppy, I must say I’m looking forward to him growing up into a dog.  My other dogs have the good sense not to eat bugs or toilet paper.  They do however like cat poop, which is why we have the cat door into the cat room.  I will be glad when Indy is too big to fit through that door.  But I do worry that he may get stuck as he grows; much like Winnie the Pooh got stuck in the honey tree.  But that’s a blog for another day…

Until the next time…I’ll probably be drooling and snoring in my sleep from the summer cold!

the quest for rest

I begrudgingly woke up from a delicious dream this morning to a sore throat, stuffy nose, and a headache.  I tried in vain to drift back to my dream, but I couldn’t escape the reality of the rising sun, or the whining puppy.  It was morning whether I liked it or not.  And I didn’t particularly like it.

After a trek through the yard with puppy, I fixed his breakfast (puppies eat several meals a day), took a dose of cold medicine, and prayed that a full belly would make Indy sleepy again. 

I didn’t have to wait long.  After a second trip to the yard, my giant puppy was ready to go back to sleep. 

If I only I could breath out of my nose.

I lay in the bed waiting for the cold medicine to take effect and listened to the puppy snore.  He had no trouble at all sleeping. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t fall asleep.  Not when I couldn’t breathe.  So instead of sleeping, I tried to replay as much of the dream as I could remember—it was a really good one—and hoped that the medicine would kick in before the puppy woke up.

I was ready to sleep just as he was ready to play.

I gathered up as many of his toys as I could find and tried to drift off to sleep while he played.  It wasn’t working.  For some unknown cosmic reason, puppies would rather play with anything other than their own toys.  My flip flops come to mind…as do my magazines…and an entire roll of toilet paper!

After I gathered all of his contraband, I climbed back into the bed to attempt a quick nap again. 

This time Indy disappeared under my bed.  I could hear him rooting around under there, and I could see his tail and back legs poking out from under the side.  A minute later he popped out with half of a pair of shoes that I was certain were lost for good.  I really liked that pair of shoes too, so I collected the shoe and hoped he would surface again with the mate.  

Three tennis balls and a mouth full of fluff later, he emerged with an entirely different mate to a different pair of shoes.  Another favorite of mine.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what else as down there.  I was beginning to think that Indiana Jones, the puppy, truly was an archaeologist, unearthing long lost treasures from under my bed. 

Again and again, I slid the puppy out from under my bed.  Again and again, I retrieved fluff and assorted objects from his mouth.  So much for grabbing a quick nap. 

The rest of my day was much of the same.  An endless cycle of decongestants, cough suppressants, vitamins, and puppy. 

I really do love my puppy.  I love looking at his sweet little face after he’s guzzled a bowl full of water, and the water is still glistening off his nose, and his chin, and the side of my leg as he leans into me—all twenty six pounds of him.  I know this lack of sleep is just temporary as we adjust to each other.  It won’t be long before Indy is completely potty trained, and not only able to feed himself, but able to open the refrigerator to bring me a snack.  Maybe breakfast in bed. 

Maybe I’ve been awake for too long.  I could really use a good night’s sleep.  I wouldn’t mind a rerun of that dream while I’m at it! 

Until the next time…I’ll be succumbing to the effects of the decongestants!

is it really a deadline if it’s self imposed?

I missed my deadline tonight.  I didn’t post my blog by midnight.  I didn’t really even try.  I was too busy.  Yes…too busy at midnight.  Too busy in the hours leading up to midnight.  On a Tuesday night.  And amazing as that may sound, it was pretty nice. 

My husband and I are entertaining his two nephews for the week.  It was an even exchange (if you can call it that…his sister got the two teenage girls.)  So we have the two boys and our youngest girl.  Tonight we spent a nice evening exploring various outdoor stores, shopping for camping gear and the like.  Then we stopped off for ice cream and watched a movie at home.  It was rather relaxing except for the occasion interruption caused by puppy pee.  Puppy pee by the door.  Puppy pee in the hall.  And even puppy pee in the yard.  Let’s just say we need to crack down on the puppy pee. That will be my focus for tomorrow.

My focus for today was writing, and I managed to get in quite a bit of it.  The whole “full time writer” thing has been more difficult than I expected.  The writing isn’t so hard, it’s the setting aside time that’s difficult.  I hope it’s just the unusual scheduling during the summer.  The kids are out of school, and therefore more demanding of my time.  Even the almost grown ones. 

Tomorrow we have a full day planned for the kids.  That should give me the time to write—and time for puppy training.  Neither the kids nor the puppy will be young forever.  I need to enjoy them while I can.  And there’s always tomorrow for a longer blog…and one that’s posted on time. 

If I’m lucky, something brilliant will come to me.

Until the next time…I’ll be grabbing some sleep before the next time the puppy has to pee.