I'm feeling that I at least owe my followers an uplift from last weeks emotional roller coaster posting - and I'm doing fine, by the way - and since Kahlua is at the vet with John right now emptying our bank account, let's pick on her.
Getting married later in life, I immediately started going through my personal and biological checklist. Married. Check. Babies - not check. Hmmmmm - maybe we needed a test run.
I have always loved chocolate labs. There is just something sweet and endearing about their big paws, their soft flopping ears and then there's the whole chocolate thing. When a co-worker mentioned that her neighbors dog just had a litter, I couldn't convince my husband quickly enough to "just go and look." I immediately received the eye brow raise, because everyone knows you don't just go to LOOK at puppies.
Six weeks later we brought her home - all 8 pounds of squiggly, squirmy puppy fat with over sized paws, ears and a slight wall-eye going. Cute! We named her "Kahlua Lolly."
Kahlua was a naughty puppy. She figured out how to pull rolls of toilet paper off the holder in the bathroom, spreading it throughout the house. She chewed the back out of one of the chairs in the basement. She religiously ate the tassels off of friends shoes when they visited. She pooped EVERYWHERE. She ate the liners out of my boots, shredded carpet, nibbled peoples toes, destroyed a bobble head in my car that had vexed her for weeks - you name it, she did it. After reading Marley, I almost believed the book was based on Kahlua!
But - though it all - she was lovable, adorable, perceptive, good natured, easy going - everything you would want a dog to be - and naughty to boot.
Kahlua is now 10+. She is still naughty - she's just more clever about it these days. She eases through the changes in our family dynamic with no challenges what so ever. Okay - the cats kind of freaked her out for a week and she wouldn't make eye contact, but in general - the world is easy-breezy-lemon-peezy for Kahlua. We should all be so lucky to go through life this way!
Words of wisdom - because at some point I should make a point in this posting...
- Approach life as if you were a dog. Wag more. Bark less. Greet those important to you as if you haven't seen them for ages and they are the best friend you have.
- If there are bones, take the largest.
- If there is steak on the counter, figure out how to get up there and enjoy it! Life is short and for dogs it goes 7x faster than for people!
- When at the vet, shed lots and attempt to hide behind your person. If you can't see them, they can't see you.
- Don't make eye contact with kitties - they will steal your soul.
- The "scary floor" can be conquered - it is just easier with your person walking next to you.
- The bed belongs to the dog. This is non-negotiable.
- Kids are an excellent source of food. Embrace them immediately upon arrival in your home. At the very least, lick their face - they often leave extra food there!
- The beach rocks - no matter what the season.
- When you see a squirrel - run toward the closest tree - you can almost catch it with this strategy.
- Life is short - enjoy every minute, every sunny spot on the rug, every run on the beach, every bone and every tassel on visitors shoes!
If you don't love dogs, you won't survive at our house, and Kahlua proved to be excellent learning ground for parenthood. Katrina hasn't eaten the tassels off of any shoes - that I am aware of - but many of the other things...
Coming soon - Koko is nuts - tales (or tails) of dog number 2!
Peace out!
A trap door opened this week, letting all sorts of ghosts and ghouls out of my subconscious and into my now.
Four months ago I said goodbye to a little boy that I barely knew, but had spent 4 1/2 years waiting for. I still see snap shots of my brief time with him at unexpected moments throughout the day. His shy little smile. His fierce need to find solid ground. His little sense of humor. He wasn't mine, but I had waited so long that I still find it difficult to completely let go.
Around the same time, I had the opportunity to close my "cancer" chapter - removing the pieces and parts of me that had caused challenges for almost half my life. It was such an easy decision - at the time.
So what happened to let all of these feelings and emotions resurface?
Strangely enough, a post-surgery check-up.
Somehow in seeing the post-surgery pictures - the healthy before and the dead, cold after brought everything that I had tucked away in my subconscious to the surface and I found the glimpses of Kye and his shy little smile to me more frequent, the regret of waiting so long to have children stronger and the anger over all of the pieces of my past that I had been forced to endure alone surging to the surface of my conscious forcing me to confront them.
I cried for no apparent reason in my car on the way to work.
I couldn't talk about what I was feeling. (Not that this was unusual.)
I wouldn't look at myself in the mirror.
When I look down deep inside myself, I know that I did the right thing. In all cases, I made the best decision for all parties. But I'm still sad - and I don't know quite what to do what that.
I also know that I need a break - and that I likely need to let all of this emotion out, I just don't know how, and to who.
This isn't about my family - this is about me.
Writing is my outlet - but in this case, I don't know that it will be enough.
So - as much as this is for me, this is for others I know are out there - who have made similar decisions, or wish they had. That need to talk, but need a neutral party. This says, it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to not know how to handle all of the feelings that flood you. It's okay to be sad. We don't always have to be alright all of the time.
I'm a strong woman, and I've survived far worse, but somehow the little face that almost was with Kye, and the little face that never will be my own have pulled something to the surface that is stronger than I've dealt with in awhile.
Tugging my ear like Carol Burnett to let you know I'm okay - but the sadness is sitting just under the surface - so just be my friend and we'll get through it together.
One of my best friends is slowly starting to think about totally maybe starting to date again.
I love her like a sister, and so I am supportive. She and I have been thick as thieves since John and I got married. An old high school friend of Johns, we see each other more frequently than most any other friend I have and have promised each other to NEVER allow "old lady haircuts" to reside on either of our heads, as well as a number of other aging things we don't need to go into within this blog.
Being supportive, in my case, can't mean setting her up with a friend-of-a-friend OR being with her on her first date. Years ago my husband and I established these rules after one of the longest evenings of our lives, and the rules remains non negotiable. Period.
It all began as an innocent connection between two friends-of-friends. Knowing both of them from a distance, I got the eye-brow raise from my husband, but I was CONFIDENT that chemistry would prevail and love would bloom! In fact the two connected by phone instantly and spent hours each night talking about their likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams - all that jazz.
When they finally decided to meet, I was the first sap that they contacted for help in facilitating. Being the good dooby that I am, I coordinated the entire thing AT OUR HOME including munchie food, drinks, etc. with the understanding that they would meet on neutral ground, there would be love at first sight, and my husband and I would be dismissed as they took their romance to dinner.
What could possibly go wrong? Famous last words. In fact, by the end of the evening I was asking, "What could possibly go right?"
From the minute the laid eyes on each other the chemistry evaporated like ice on a grill. He was balding. She was skinny with a nose like a beak. Strike 1 - no physical chemistry. My husband looked at me from across the room and rolled his eyes.
Strike 2 followed shortly thereafter. She didn't drink, which caused him to drink like a fish. "My God!," I thought to myself, "we're going to have to drive him home at this rate!"
I don't recall exactly when strike 3 mercifully came, but I do recall looking over at my husband on the couch, his head laying dead aross the back pillows, staring at the ceiling. He was silently screaming, "KILL ME NOW!"
Shortly thereafter they both left and went their seperate ways. I never spoke of the evening again with either of them and have only kind-of kept touch with one since.
We made a promise as a couple to NEVER bring blind dates into our home, our precious and few date nights, or anywhere near us moving forward - and we never have!
But - she is my BEST friend, and I DO love her like a sister...so maybe just this one time...
Or maybe it's me that has gotten bigger.
In my 20's and early 30's I was one bad ass athlete. Cranking out a triathlon every weekend in the summer. Conquering the Riverbank 25K annually. In freakishly awesome shape.
Now I'm in my 40's, with husband, child, dogs, cats and the occasional mouse that runs through the house...what happened to the rockin bod that I had just yesterday?
The body I remember has been replaced with a tummy and boobs. Girls want boobs when they are teens and into their 20's. Quite frankly, I really don't at this point in my life! They just get in the way!
So - I bring this up because Spring Break approaches and I absolutely MUST purchase a new swim suit. The last one served me well for far too long, and it is time. Even looking at all of the options on-line is intimidating - let alone getting to the trying-on part!
I knew that this day was coming, and in preparation I made all sorts of promises to myself. I would run and/or row every day. I would eat healthier. I would only have a glass of wine on the weekends.
Yea, right!
So - it's my own fault, but with less than a month until we depart, I either need to starve myself or learn to love this new 40-something body and find a swim suit that does as well!
My husband, also in the same boat as me less the boobs, has promised himself he would lose 10 pounds by vacation or wear a dreaded "banana hammock" on the beach. hmmmmmm I'm routing for him to make it, because he rocks my world, BUT, the potential of viral video footage is intriguing.....
Stay tuned! I have a month to a). lose at least some weight - I owe that much to myself and b). find a swimsuit that makes me look like the awesome 44 year old that I am AND chase a busy 7-year old around the beach! (And my husband as well! ;) )
Stay tuned for the next installment! And, stay golden, pony boy.
