Choices

I began a post yesterday evening before I abandoned it all in favor of my bed after a tiring day. By rough day I mean I was visited upon by misfortune thrice: my back began to kill me; my car died when it should have idled; and my Harli was showing signs of having the illness, which Brandy (another elderly poodle) did not survive. Other than physical pain, a little frustration and embarrassment for stalling at a light before my car ran again and a brush with deep sadness and worry over Harli's health I was mainly exhausted, but okay. As if in reward for yesterday's calm, today my back doesn't hurt as much, Harli is right now asking in her demanding, spunky way for food and my car is sitting in my driveway without me needing to drive it. Tonight was a great night with the good company of my sister, a trip to a bookstore (nearly nirvana for me, but that is another story) and a delicious dinner at a local cafe.

Yesterday also marked the 32nd wedding anniversary of my parents. If that isn't cause for a feeling of well-being and awe, what is? My parents' marriage is in no way perfect, but it is strengthened by my parents' resolve, dedication and commitment in each other and in their relationship.

When I was a young teenager I once asked my mom how she fell in love with my dad. At the time her answer profoundly troubled and disturbed my notion of love. After all my parents met while they were both in high school--my mother 15 and my father 18 and I had seen more than enough movies of young love. My mother's answer was that she chose to love my dad. I have often pulled out this memory and examined it...looking at what she said this way and that. As I have grown older (and one can hope wiser) I have also come to appreciate her honest answer to me all the more. Mayhap I am wrong, but what I understand her meaning to be now is that everything is a choice and we must choose to love someone and recommit to them every day even when the bloom of passion has faded or when you are having a bad day or an even worse year.

Dear reade, I applaud my parents and others who are likewise choosing to love each other.

Prayers Answered

A quick post to let you know, dear reader, that Harli is doing beautifully according to her vet. Thank you for your prayers and well wishes! Harli I am sure would agree that it made all the difference in the world.

Montage Monday

I am rather scatterbrained today. I want to do a thousand different things so as a result I am not able to do much of anything. I feel like inside me is a gleaming ball of light moving so quickly it only leaves glowing remnants. Perhaps that will explain how disjointed this blog will be.

This past weekend I have been trying to wade through my old studio. I can only go for about an hour before I want to pound my head against a wall. I am not exaggerating when I say I would prefer giving blood or visiting the dentist than go through the things I have amassed. I am half-convinced that I have some disease that makes collecting a compulsion and throwing away a torturous and painful occurrence. Somehow I imprint way too much significance, emotional meaning and memory onto objects. Much like some cultures believe a soul can be captured in a photograph, I think I may place a little of myself in the objects which I live with day in and day out. I do know I displace how I feel about a person into something they have to given me. I am not properly able to express how I feel to them, so I hold on and treasure something that represents them to me. I am getting better at letting go, but the process is no less agonizing to me. I realize others don’t understand how overwhelmed and lost I feel at these times. They perhaps are not swallowed up by the mundane and I envy them. I have no talent for all the details involved in living.

One of the positive aspects of organizing and sorting accumulated junk is the discovery of misplaced beloved trinkets. In one box that probably dates from 2001, I found high quality color copies of old photographs not used in a scrapbook project. I am going to share some of those photos as for once I did not get that sick, leaden feeling upon seeing my own face. I wasn’t the prettiest or cutest kid out there, but I think I show some spunk in my pictures. Here are a couple of pictures for your viewing pleasure. I believe I was around 4 years old on a trip in Colorado. I was much more stylish in those days than I am now.

Lastly, in my new quest for openness I am going to share something I would usually keep to myself. Harli goes in for her yearly teeth cleaning tomorrow which means she will be put under and there is always the possibility she won’t regain consciousness. Every year I go through facing Harli’s mortality and my anxiety is intensifying with each passing year. Harli is old and my time with her is waning. To tell you the truth, dear reader, I am not sure how I will be able to handle her death. Harli may be the only living being to love me wholeheartedly. Tonight, at least, I will be sticking by my little pup and she, I imagine, will love all the treats I give her although not by being smothered with hugs and kisses.

Public vs. Private

For those would-be stalkers out there I have been considering what should and shouldn't be included in a blog and more particularly my blog. For instance, I am not going to post any pictures of people without their permission (I asked all my dogs if they were okay with me posting their pictures and they said "whatever", of course I also gave them some treats for their complicity). Some people who read this blog will fully understand how strongly I feel about seeking permission about publishing photos and perhaps at one point I may go into the real reason behind this, but I am not at that point yet. I also feel I might need to ask permission to include mention of people by name, so I will probably give people aliases or refer to them in vague terms. If you are personally connected to me and have a nickname you want to be addressed as let me know. Privacy is important and I respect others' privacy. I realize as this is my blog what I only have control over is the extent of disclosure about myself and my life.

It is a constant juggle as to what is private and what is public. I am in a generation which is torn between the trend for being extremely open and those much more reserved. I myself deal with a need to be real and present to others and conversely, a need to be secretive and mysterious or in other words the "Look at Me, But You Will Never Truly Know Me as I Am Too Deep" dilemma. I am also considering whether someone I don't know can identify me in real life and where I live. What are the potential dangers and the possible benefits? At this point I doubt many people are actually reading this post, so I am relatively safe--the benefits outweigh the dangers.

I am going to disclose in this post is a picture of my new bedroom. I think some of my friends and family are interested in what the addition looks like and I am proud of my room although it is not at all complete and rather spare (for me that is). I have nothing on the walls and I am still using my old duvet with rips in it thoughtfully added by Bella when she was a puppy and I remain worried about the state of my new linens with the three doxies and Harli. Did I also mention that Shelby has snuck up on more than one occasion to use MY BED as her personal bathroom?! She's jealous of the other dogs sleeping on my bed, but I simply don't trust her in these matters and if she does that again she will find out what it is like to have her sleeping quarters contaminated!

This is as clean as it gets, dear reader. See the books and magazines? That is only an itty bitty part of the collection (you don't want to see under the bed!). Do you see the bench at the foot of my bed? I love that piece of furniture which is actually a coffee table. My parents refinished it and have had it for decades. On the underside of it is art (crayon scribbles) from me when I was a toddler. I just wish I had a better grasp for color back then.

What My Dogs Go Through for MY Blog

My blogging is now becoming torture for my dogs. You will see just how harassed they are by the expression on Dexter's face above. He hated the flash on the digital camera and other dogs ran away. Most notable was Bella's reaction: she barked, terrified, at the cyborg creature following her around (see the picture to the right to get an indication of just what I mean).

As I, crazy person that I am, chased down my dogs, I created a little camera-happy boy. Every time Dexter would allow me to take his picture the more praise I heaped upon him (more importantly to him was the fact I was also bribing him with leftover rice that was going to be thrown away--look at his physique and you will note how motivated Dexter by food) until he was following me around hoping for a picture and therefore a treat. Isn't he handsome?

Dogs make tough subjects for an inept photographer and my dogs in particular. They scatter, become defensive or move during the pause between hitting the button and the capturing of the image. I have a lot of ridiculous butt shots or only a tip of the tail. When I did capture a dog there was usually glare in the dogs eyes (see Dexter's picture) that I have not yet found how to correct (any suggestions?). Still, I am going to post many of the pictures for your amusement and also because even with such woeful photography my dogs are still adorable. Let me introduce you to the rest of the crew.

The picture above is Bella again after she had adjusted a bit to the camera, although she was still very wary. Due to her being a double dapple she has malformed eyes or devil eyes as we call it. To make up for her poor eyesight she is doubly as loud.

At left is Shelby. She's a pretty, gray stray and is a favorite with anyone who visits (unlike the doxies who aren't fond of strangers or even people they have met a dozen times). She has impulse control issues and has run out of our house, jumped fences and the like.

Below right is Princess Leia. Princess is a title and not actually part of her name. This tiny Yorkie has BIG attitude. Her fur looks a little worse for wear right now, but she's really very cute.

Below left is Sophie our head dog. She's the beauty of the doxie bunch with deep, shiny ebony fur. Her parents were both wirehair so although she is considered to have a smooth coat she has all the curiosity of a wirehair. If a cabinet door is open she jumps right in. As a puppy she crawled behind furniture like the tv and washer and dryer. There was nothing funnier than to see her stand on her hind legs and pivot in order to change directions behind said furniture. This girl is smart and creative and found a way up onto the couch the second day we had her (she used the end table).

At right is Harli, the last of the bunch, and our oldest. Can you tell she is a poodle? Maybe you can see that she is sadly in need of fur transplants. For some reason she lost nearly all her hair several years ago. As a puppy she looked just like a chia pet. Oh, Harli, where has your fur gone?

This takes much longer than I would have imagined to take the picture, transfer it from my digital camera, crop the pictures and then upload all these images, while still having it all turn out in some way that is less than a jumbled mess.

My hats are off to bloggers everywhere for having the patience to do this often and well. I really have no idea how you do it, but I aim to find out. With more time and practice I think I could make the images much more pleasing (and dare I say it artistic).

Watch out dear reader for a bumpy ride!

Needed: Umbrella Stand

I don't recall any year when we have been subjected to so much rain. This morning as I got ready for work the house shook with the power and strength of the thunder and knocked out the power. My poor puppy (I mean this only as a term of endearment as she reached the venerable age of 15 years last month) Harli ran up to me shuddering and compressed into herself the minute she heard me come downstairs. Of course I rescued her and placed her in the safe haven found under the covers of a big fluffy bed. I myself had to combat the rain in my little white Honda. I only work 7 minutes from my house and yet going no more than 45 miles per hour even on the highway makes 7 minutes stretch.

I have been driving through pouring rain the last few days. The backyard looks like a bog. In these times I am reminded of two important things: 1) nature still is far, far more powerful than anything created by man and 2) without electricity we are in sorry shape.

I love rain, but too much of it like anything else is dangerous.