As usual, this may be random, disjointed and sound like it was written by someone with A.D.D.. It was--I am taking a few minutes to clear out the clutter in my head from this last week so that I can wake up tomorrow and be ready for what it brings.
I grew up as the middle child so being in the middle is pretty typical for me. I have spent my life as the peace keeper, the diplomat, the neutral party or whatever other term there is for the "middle man". Sometimes I choose to be in the middle but more often times than not I just find myself there. Being in the middle this past week was probably one of the hardest things that I have had to endure in my life so far.
My Aunt has three "coffee table" books on her beautiful coffee table. I couldn't really tell you what the bottom two are. I know the title of the one on top though. It is called "Women to be Reckoned With". She enjoys stories of strong women who helped tame the west. I jokingly, or maybe not so jokingly tell her that the book should be about her and her three sisters. If you have ever seen Steel Magnolias or any other movies with strong, opinionated Southern women, then you can picture my aunts. My dad is the oldest of 5. He has three younger sisters who adore him and therefore will fight tooth and nail to make sure that he is getting the attention and care that he needs.
As the adult daughter of stubborn parents it isn't easy reassuring everyone that things are under control. My parents are adults themselves and are able to make their own decisions. I have no legal right to overturn any of those decisions. We all have the freedom of choice though our choices may not be understood by all. In the end the choices we make are the one thing that we truly own and they have to be made because they are what is best for us personally whether it is the popular opinion or not.
My father entered the hospital last week with what we thought was complications from pneumonia. We quickly learned that it was more than likely cancer that was making him so sick. No one is ready for an out of the blue cancer announcement. My dad has always been healthy. Until now he had never spent one night in a hospital. Though he was a smoker for years he has spent the past several trying to exercise and stay healthy. His diminished size and sudden weakness was hard for all of us to take. The decision was made by the hospital in White Salmon to send him to The Dalles. Some people did not agree with that decision. They believed the best care was in Portland and if he were to go to Portland things would have gone more quickly as far as getting his biopsy and getting the answers. I respected the doctor in The Dalles and believe that she did things in my dad's best interest. She wanted him a bit more stable before doing the biopsy. When it was apparent that his overall health was not rapidly improving the decision was made. I believe that the cancer has been in his lungs for several months. Waiting a few days for the biopsy was hard on all of us, but in the long run it isn't going to make or break what is or isn't. They know there are cancerous tumors in my father's lungs. They know that my father is too weak for most treatments at this time. Maybe by this time tomorrow we will have the pathology report that tells us what stage he is in and how aggressive his cancer is. It doesn't do any good to wonder if the cigarettes caused the cancer, why it wasn't caught sooner or whether he would be better off anywhere else right now. He is where he wants to be for the most part. He actually wants to be home. I can't blame him. He has endured a lot of poking and prodding this week.
My brother sent me a link called Lung Cancer 101 this morning. It was highly informative and stated that most lung cancer is not detected right away. Once detected it is usually in stage 3 or 4. It quietly grows and takes over while you are either oblivious or thinking it is something much more minor. Two weeks ago I thought pneumonia was bad--now I wish we had that diagnosis again.
Being in the middle has left me bombarded with questions, opinions, frustrations, guilt, anger, sorrow and a list of possible outcomes. I have done my best to sort through things, answer the questions I can, give assurances that all is in control and secretly hope that I am advocating for what my father wants and not for anyone else's agenda. There are those who will say that he is too sick to know what he wants. I beg to differ. He is sick, he is weak, but he is also stubborn. When we get the answers tomorrow I will ask him what he wants. He will be given a voice and choices. I will make sure that he is heard and that he is comfortable, happy and safe.
Days in the hospital are long. The clock moves so slowly as we sit and wait for answers that we may not want to hear. I am trying to keep the faith. A few more years would be nice. Another beach trip, a jam session with friends, that long talked about trip to Texas to visit family or to Nashville for the music.....so many moments I hope to have. He just wants to be home with his wife and his dogs relaxing and living his simple life in familiar surroundings. I always wanted bigger things for my parents than they aspired for. Maybe they have had the right idea the whole time though. Peace, quiet, love and happiness, what more could anyone really want? The answer for now is time.........
Monday, March 24, 2014
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Well, it's Cancer.........
At the end of February they said my dad had pneumonia. At 80 years old and being somewhat frail this alarmed me. I was worried but they didn't want to hospitalize him. I couldn't understand this since every day you hear of older people dying of pneumonia. It doesn't take muck for them to get dehydrated and to decline rapidly. I needed to go visit, but couldn't. First there was the awful virus that I had which had me coughing and feeling like crap. He didn't need to be exposed to that. Then there was the super busy weekend at work that I needed to prepare for and work and the freak ice and snow storm in the gorge. All of these reasons why I couldn't drive the hour to my parents house to visit them and see how things were going. I took their word for it and worried from afar. Pneumonia isn't something to mess around with.
Sunday night I called. He sounded great for the first three quarters of our conversation. He was upbeat, sounded strong and was telling me how much better he was doing. Then the coughing started. It was a scary cough. It didn't sound like he was getting better. He dropped the phone. I yelled for him and for mom for a few minutes. I wanted to get their attention so they could pick up the phone and tell me everything was okay. They didn't pick up the phone but I could hear them talking and watching television in the background so I hung up. I tried to call back but of course the phone was off the hook and they weren't answering the cell phone. I told myself I worry too much. I could always call back Monday night and check in.
Monday morning started like all Monday mornings. A little frantic, busy at work, trying to prioritize the week and get ready for another busy weekend of events. My job as the scheduler is challenging at times with ever changing circumstances and the fine details involved. I was trying to figure out how to juggle everything to make it work when my cell phone rang. My brother was calling to tell me that dad was in the hospital and that he had lung cancer. How do things change so fast? He was home the night before getting over pneumonia. Pneumonia is curable. I just wanted him to go to the hospital, rest, get some IV fluids, find a strong enough antibiotic and be back to normal in a week or two. It is noon on Monday--how does he suddenly have cancer?
My heart breaks as I hear about him waking up in the middle of the night looking for people who weren't there and having conversations with the invisible ones who were. Hearing how he fell several times, refused to let mom call and ambulance and fell again in the yard as she talked him into going to the hospital in the car. She was in her pajamas, her phone was dead, she didn't have our numbers and didn't want to bother anyone anyway. She sat in the hospital alone and waiting. She was alone when the doctor walked in and said "well, it's cancer." Cancer wasn't on her radar. It wasn't on any one's radar. The doctor was so blunt. I know that maybe blunt is best, but a little warning would have been nice. Having support there with her would have been nice. How could I be oblivious at work? I know my brothers feel the same way. We were all hit hard by it yesterday. What happened to pneumonia? Apparently the x-rays of his lungs were hazy and they thought it was pneumonia. Further x-rays showed the truth. The proposed truth. I haven't seen them yet, I haven't talked to a doctor yet--I have so many questions.
Kyle made the trip down the gorge with me yesterday. We picked up my Aunt and headed to the hospital in The Dalles. My dad went from hallucinating to lucid and back again. He asked the nurse if there was an extra bed for me in his room. I told him I had to leave but would be back the next day. He told me not to waste the gas--he'd be home the next day. I told him fine--I would visit him at home. It was hard leaving him last night. I know I will be heading back that way in a few hours and plan to stay tonight. I am hoping for some answers. I need to know as much as possible so we can plan for the coming days, weeks, months and hopefully years. I am trying to be positive so I can squelch the dread in the pit of my stomach. His age and overall health are against us, but he is a fighter.
So many things go through your mind when you hear news that changes everything. My excuses for not visiting sounded stupid. I haven't gotten around to recording his music onto a CD--I have a cassette floating around somewhere lost. I need to have his music. I didn't appreciate it as much as I should have when I was young. There aren't enough pictures of me and him together. I want a picture of me and my dad when I was little. I know there must be several in the boxes and boxes of pictures, but there are too many and I don't have time to dig through pictures right now. I am just lost. I feel like a little girl. Helpless and scared-- I'm not ready to lose my daddy.
Sunday night I called. He sounded great for the first three quarters of our conversation. He was upbeat, sounded strong and was telling me how much better he was doing. Then the coughing started. It was a scary cough. It didn't sound like he was getting better. He dropped the phone. I yelled for him and for mom for a few minutes. I wanted to get their attention so they could pick up the phone and tell me everything was okay. They didn't pick up the phone but I could hear them talking and watching television in the background so I hung up. I tried to call back but of course the phone was off the hook and they weren't answering the cell phone. I told myself I worry too much. I could always call back Monday night and check in.
Monday morning started like all Monday mornings. A little frantic, busy at work, trying to prioritize the week and get ready for another busy weekend of events. My job as the scheduler is challenging at times with ever changing circumstances and the fine details involved. I was trying to figure out how to juggle everything to make it work when my cell phone rang. My brother was calling to tell me that dad was in the hospital and that he had lung cancer. How do things change so fast? He was home the night before getting over pneumonia. Pneumonia is curable. I just wanted him to go to the hospital, rest, get some IV fluids, find a strong enough antibiotic and be back to normal in a week or two. It is noon on Monday--how does he suddenly have cancer?
My heart breaks as I hear about him waking up in the middle of the night looking for people who weren't there and having conversations with the invisible ones who were. Hearing how he fell several times, refused to let mom call and ambulance and fell again in the yard as she talked him into going to the hospital in the car. She was in her pajamas, her phone was dead, she didn't have our numbers and didn't want to bother anyone anyway. She sat in the hospital alone and waiting. She was alone when the doctor walked in and said "well, it's cancer." Cancer wasn't on her radar. It wasn't on any one's radar. The doctor was so blunt. I know that maybe blunt is best, but a little warning would have been nice. Having support there with her would have been nice. How could I be oblivious at work? I know my brothers feel the same way. We were all hit hard by it yesterday. What happened to pneumonia? Apparently the x-rays of his lungs were hazy and they thought it was pneumonia. Further x-rays showed the truth. The proposed truth. I haven't seen them yet, I haven't talked to a doctor yet--I have so many questions.
Kyle made the trip down the gorge with me yesterday. We picked up my Aunt and headed to the hospital in The Dalles. My dad went from hallucinating to lucid and back again. He asked the nurse if there was an extra bed for me in his room. I told him I had to leave but would be back the next day. He told me not to waste the gas--he'd be home the next day. I told him fine--I would visit him at home. It was hard leaving him last night. I know I will be heading back that way in a few hours and plan to stay tonight. I am hoping for some answers. I need to know as much as possible so we can plan for the coming days, weeks, months and hopefully years. I am trying to be positive so I can squelch the dread in the pit of my stomach. His age and overall health are against us, but he is a fighter.
So many things go through your mind when you hear news that changes everything. My excuses for not visiting sounded stupid. I haven't gotten around to recording his music onto a CD--I have a cassette floating around somewhere lost. I need to have his music. I didn't appreciate it as much as I should have when I was young. There aren't enough pictures of me and him together. I want a picture of me and my dad when I was little. I know there must be several in the boxes and boxes of pictures, but there are too many and I don't have time to dig through pictures right now. I am just lost. I feel like a little girl. Helpless and scared-- I'm not ready to lose my daddy.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Random Musings
Since I re-post my blog posts onto my Facebook page I should remind people that the name of my blog page is Rediscovering, Reinventing and Rewriting......Stories, Musings and Random Babbling. With that in mind you can understand a bit more why some of my posts are pretty random and may lack direction. When I haven't written in awhile there is a lot of stuff rattling around in my head which needs to just be cleared out. Kind of like the junk and cobweb in the attic. I used to be able to sit down and mindlessly write whatever came to mind. Lately I believe I have been over thinking things. I try to be funny, serious or whatever it is I think I need to be on a given day. I need to go back to just going from the gut and not thinking much about it at all. It is Random Musing so if it doesn't flow right or make sense, no worries. It doesn't always have to!
I think I lost my sense of humor recently. I have been looking everywhere for it, but it isn't in any of the usual places. I hate taking myself seriously. I guess I am supposed to--turning 48 was surreal, I know age is just a number, but 48 is different. I need to get over the fact that I am definitely middle aged, I have been in denial until now. My early 40's didn't bug me; I felt a little more adultish but not ancient. I realize that 48 isn't ancient by any means, but it is alarmingly close to 50. I have high hopes for my 50's, but what about my 60's, 70's and 80's. I need to start getting a little more serious about those healthy changes I always daydream about making. Just yesterday I was 30 which means tomorrow I will be 60. Time flies so much faster as we age. My reading glasses have gone from helpful to necessary, I have occasional short hot flashes which are irritating and I'm starting to get a little more forgetful. It would be interesting to know how many times I actually put deodorant on in the morning. I can never quite remember if I did or not--I bet there are mornings when I put it on three times. I guess over doing it is better than not putting any on at all.
With the loss of my sense of humor I have been having to do mandatory things like work full time. I haven't done that in years. I am so sorry to all of my hard working friends and family who couldn't make time for lunch, movies or fun weekends. The time for those things is hard to find when you are working. I get it now! I love my job but am wiped out at the end of most days. I can't fill every night of the week anymore, I used to be on the go constantly. I need two or three nights to just chill out now. Crap, I'm 48--am I supposed to say chill out? I need to relax more often than before. I work occasional weekends-my free weekends are spent cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills and trying to do all of the things I used to do when I had more free time. Facebook is no longer a daily thing, blogging has become harder to accomplish once a week and I go weeks without calling people that I really need to call. I have never liked the telephone, but lately I like it even less. I need to make more of an effort to call my mom, my aunt, my mother-in-law, my two sons who don't live with me, my brothers and friends. That is a lot of people to call--I would much rather e-mail or text. My 22 year old son informed me that he was going to go ahead and visit my husband last night even though I wouldn't be home because at least my husband calls him to check in. I text--shouldn't that count? I try to put important things in my Facebook Status so that friends and family see them. I know they would rather get phone calls. I get that. I wouldn't post super important life events like births, deaths or terminal illness on there before calling certain family members and friends, but it is the fastest way to get other news out there quickly without spending endless hours on the phone saying the same thing over and over and over......I swear I am not whining, just trying to justify my preference for e-mail and social media. I know it isn't as personal. For those of you who are awaiting phone calls from me-have mercy and allow me to e-mail and text the majority of the time--please! I would like to look at my cell phone and not feel tremendous guilt for not actually using it to make phone calls. I use it as an alarm clock, the check the weather, to play Words With Friends, to check my e-mails, text my children, listen to music and occasionally to Google something. The actual phone feature is probably used the least. I have a lot of available minutes left over each month! I am digressing from my lost sense of humor. I guess I am blaming my guilty conscience for not being in touch with relatives on my increasingly grumpy moments.
Recently my daughter told me that she prefers me when I am hanging with friends relaxing and being silly. She doesn't like seeing my serious side--I am different and not much fun. I want to be fun more often but can't justify humor 24/7. I have to be somewhat grown up since I am 48 now. Not everyone is amused when I channel my 13 year old boy silliness or make sarcastic remarks. Luckily they put up with me at work. Sometimes they even laugh at my jokes. I guess I do have a bit of a sense of humor. I have to in order to cope. I handle stress best when I can laugh about it. There are those who frown and think I don't take life seriously enough. Those people need to see my super serious home side when I am trying to balance the check book or figure out how to juggle my to do list. I don't laugh at home as much as I should. Wow, I just solved the mystery--my sense of humor is somewhere in my desk at work. I will dig it out tomorrow and bring it home with me! My seriousness at home seems to stem from the guilt that I am not managing my time wisely. There are nights where I actually plop down on the couch and watch mindless television for an hour or so. I could be using that time to make phone calls, clean the house or pay bills so I don't have to waste precious weekend time doing chores. I am getting old. As a teen I would never have lumped phone calls in with chores.
I vow to quit harping on my advancing age. I will stay the same silly, random person I have always been both at work and at home. I will attempt to laugh at home at least once a day and occasionally pick up the telephone. Am I the only person who sometimes picks up my cell phone and listens for a dial tone? I really shouldn't admit to that, but it has happened more than once recently. Of course I am the only one who knows what I am doing. Others probably just think I am making a call~which is something I should do now. Since I have figured out where my sense of humor is I can stop writing and go call my mother.
I think I lost my sense of humor recently. I have been looking everywhere for it, but it isn't in any of the usual places. I hate taking myself seriously. I guess I am supposed to--turning 48 was surreal, I know age is just a number, but 48 is different. I need to get over the fact that I am definitely middle aged, I have been in denial until now. My early 40's didn't bug me; I felt a little more adultish but not ancient. I realize that 48 isn't ancient by any means, but it is alarmingly close to 50. I have high hopes for my 50's, but what about my 60's, 70's and 80's. I need to start getting a little more serious about those healthy changes I always daydream about making. Just yesterday I was 30 which means tomorrow I will be 60. Time flies so much faster as we age. My reading glasses have gone from helpful to necessary, I have occasional short hot flashes which are irritating and I'm starting to get a little more forgetful. It would be interesting to know how many times I actually put deodorant on in the morning. I can never quite remember if I did or not--I bet there are mornings when I put it on three times. I guess over doing it is better than not putting any on at all.
With the loss of my sense of humor I have been having to do mandatory things like work full time. I haven't done that in years. I am so sorry to all of my hard working friends and family who couldn't make time for lunch, movies or fun weekends. The time for those things is hard to find when you are working. I get it now! I love my job but am wiped out at the end of most days. I can't fill every night of the week anymore, I used to be on the go constantly. I need two or three nights to just chill out now. Crap, I'm 48--am I supposed to say chill out? I need to relax more often than before. I work occasional weekends-my free weekends are spent cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills and trying to do all of the things I used to do when I had more free time. Facebook is no longer a daily thing, blogging has become harder to accomplish once a week and I go weeks without calling people that I really need to call. I have never liked the telephone, but lately I like it even less. I need to make more of an effort to call my mom, my aunt, my mother-in-law, my two sons who don't live with me, my brothers and friends. That is a lot of people to call--I would much rather e-mail or text. My 22 year old son informed me that he was going to go ahead and visit my husband last night even though I wouldn't be home because at least my husband calls him to check in. I text--shouldn't that count? I try to put important things in my Facebook Status so that friends and family see them. I know they would rather get phone calls. I get that. I wouldn't post super important life events like births, deaths or terminal illness on there before calling certain family members and friends, but it is the fastest way to get other news out there quickly without spending endless hours on the phone saying the same thing over and over and over......I swear I am not whining, just trying to justify my preference for e-mail and social media. I know it isn't as personal. For those of you who are awaiting phone calls from me-have mercy and allow me to e-mail and text the majority of the time--please! I would like to look at my cell phone and not feel tremendous guilt for not actually using it to make phone calls. I use it as an alarm clock, the check the weather, to play Words With Friends, to check my e-mails, text my children, listen to music and occasionally to Google something. The actual phone feature is probably used the least. I have a lot of available minutes left over each month! I am digressing from my lost sense of humor. I guess I am blaming my guilty conscience for not being in touch with relatives on my increasingly grumpy moments.
Recently my daughter told me that she prefers me when I am hanging with friends relaxing and being silly. She doesn't like seeing my serious side--I am different and not much fun. I want to be fun more often but can't justify humor 24/7. I have to be somewhat grown up since I am 48 now. Not everyone is amused when I channel my 13 year old boy silliness or make sarcastic remarks. Luckily they put up with me at work. Sometimes they even laugh at my jokes. I guess I do have a bit of a sense of humor. I have to in order to cope. I handle stress best when I can laugh about it. There are those who frown and think I don't take life seriously enough. Those people need to see my super serious home side when I am trying to balance the check book or figure out how to juggle my to do list. I don't laugh at home as much as I should. Wow, I just solved the mystery--my sense of humor is somewhere in my desk at work. I will dig it out tomorrow and bring it home with me! My seriousness at home seems to stem from the guilt that I am not managing my time wisely. There are nights where I actually plop down on the couch and watch mindless television for an hour or so. I could be using that time to make phone calls, clean the house or pay bills so I don't have to waste precious weekend time doing chores. I am getting old. As a teen I would never have lumped phone calls in with chores.
I vow to quit harping on my advancing age. I will stay the same silly, random person I have always been both at work and at home. I will attempt to laugh at home at least once a day and occasionally pick up the telephone. Am I the only person who sometimes picks up my cell phone and listens for a dial tone? I really shouldn't admit to that, but it has happened more than once recently. Of course I am the only one who knows what I am doing. Others probably just think I am making a call~which is something I should do now. Since I have figured out where my sense of humor is I can stop writing and go call my mother.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Annoying Dog Mom
Have you ever seen one of those annoying dog mom's who talk baby talk to their dogs, treat them like humans and get offended by people thinking anything even remotely negative about their dogs? Well, I've become one of them. I didn't intend for this to happen. I was happy being the owner of a couple of dogs who are nice enough, even family members, but not connected to me as much as other dogs in the past. Last January my family coerced me into getting a puppy. I was not thrilled with the idea. I had often said that if we were ever to get another dog it would be an older rescue. I barely survived Sydney's puppy hood and there was no way in Hell I would go through that again. Like many mothers, I have a hard time saying no to my youngest. As the baby his siblings often label him as the "favorite" child and believe he has it so much better than they ever did. I don't agree with that. I believe that each child is loved and has gotten perks that the others didn't. Nicholas is my firstborn, Kelli is the only girl and much to his dismay, Kyle is the baby. His injury last January deeply upset me and made me susceptible to moments of weakness. I can only say that I must have been momentarily possessed when I agreed to a pit bull rescue puppy. I am not a stranger to pit bulls. We had a couple of very sweet ones when I was in high school. They have big hearts and are unfailingly loyal. They love with all of their being and want only to please their people. This naive desire to please is what gets them into trouble. Many dogs of this breed have been trained to fight or have been abused so badly that it is their only recourse. They have gotten a bad rap. No one looked at lovable Pete, the dog friend of the Little Rascals and claimed that he was dangerous and would probably mall one of the kids on the set. I have seen viscous dogs of all breeds. Believe me if poodles, shih tzus and chihuahuas weren't so little they would be in the headlines daily. Those little things can be mean and like to bite. Don't even get me started on mini dachshunds or mini pincher's. Pit bulls are big, they are strong, and when you run into a bad one it does more damage then other breeds. That doesn't mean that the whole breed is bad. They are completely misunderstood, labeled and unfairly hated. For this reason I was not keen on the idea of bringing one into our home. I knew all to well how neighbors would feel and the public would react to him.
As I said, I lost the battle and Rooney was picked up and brought home on a Sunday while I was at work. The dog was to be Kyle's so I didn't have any choice in which dog he would get so the family went to the shelter without me. They went to look at a puppy they had seen on line. They made the trip across the Columbia to a little shelter in Washougal, Washington. The dog that had caught their attention was spoken for but he had siblings and there were other puppies at the shelter. Rooney won their hearts and I came home to a little guy who was cuter than I wanted to admit. He was a fast learner and was soon potty trained and didn't do as much damage in chewing as I expected him to. Unlike Sydney he didn't dig giant holes in the grass, eat my shoes or wreak havoc with the neighbors. He was sad that the two older female dogs weren't readily charmed by his cuteness and didn't want to cuddle with him. He cuddled with everyone else. He was affectionate and before I knew it, I was hooked. I worried about him being in his kennel too long, I bought him toys at Ross where they are cheaper, created a toy box for him and spoiled him rotten. When no one is around I talk baby talk to him. It makes me throw up in my mouth when I realize what I'm doing, but I go on doing it. He is sweet and deserves to be loved back. He wants the world to love him. When new people come into the house it is hard to control his enthusiasm. He wants to kiss them and play with them and make them his best friends. He doesn't understand how big he is and that for most people he isn't really a lap dog. Our family has adjusted. We cuddle on the couch with him and treat him like the lap dog he believes he is. We deal with the occasional eaten sock and the "pit fits". His pit fit is when all of the sudden he just has so much energy that he picks up a toy and runs full speed through the house several times. He circles things, knocks a few things over and jumps furniture. When he is finished he drops on the floor exhausted by his efforts and gives a big loud sigh that signals that he is ready for a long nap.
My daughter informed me today that although Rooney is cute, he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. This made me sad. I don't want anyone to think he is stupid. He is my baby. He is big, clumsy and sweet. He may chase his tail and think that the dogs on TV will come out and play with him, but he isn't a complete idiot. He can undo knots in ropes and socks, he shares his toys with Sydney by playing with it in front of her, then pushing it over to her. He does taunt her with toys at times, but that is when he is trying to get her to play.
We also have a neighbor who lives next door to the house behind us. Sometimes Rooney lifts himself up to look over the fence to see what is going on in their yard. He is super curious. He likes to get into grocery bags, boxes and laundry baskets. He just likes to see what things are and when he hears a noise in the yard he wants to investigate. The irate man came to inform us that our pit bull looks at them and that they feel threatened because they have dogs and kids. Well, we have dogs and kids. We feel completely safe. He do our best to keep Rooney away from the fence now. That neighbor doesn't deserve Rooney's curiosity. He is shortsighted and shallow minded. See--I am labeling a man I don't even know because he dared to make assumptions about my dog. I've lost it. I take pictures of him watching TV with me. We record Pit bulls and parolees every Saturday night because he loves that show. I love that show. When I first heard the title I pictured something completely different. When I watched if for the first time and learned what big hearts they had and the passion they have for the rescue work they do I was hooked. Like many on the show who adopt rescue dogs, they end up believing it was actually the dog who rescued them. Does Rooney make me a better person? Maybe. He makes me laugh, exasperates me at times and loves me with the unconditional, adoring love that only a dog can give. My children are growing up and distancing themselves from me. They are becoming their own people and asserting their independence. My motherly instincts are now focused on a 70 pound pit bull who has stolen my heart. I am not the over the top annoying dog mom, but annoying dog mom I am. :)
As I said, I lost the battle and Rooney was picked up and brought home on a Sunday while I was at work. The dog was to be Kyle's so I didn't have any choice in which dog he would get so the family went to the shelter without me. They went to look at a puppy they had seen on line. They made the trip across the Columbia to a little shelter in Washougal, Washington. The dog that had caught their attention was spoken for but he had siblings and there were other puppies at the shelter. Rooney won their hearts and I came home to a little guy who was cuter than I wanted to admit. He was a fast learner and was soon potty trained and didn't do as much damage in chewing as I expected him to. Unlike Sydney he didn't dig giant holes in the grass, eat my shoes or wreak havoc with the neighbors. He was sad that the two older female dogs weren't readily charmed by his cuteness and didn't want to cuddle with him. He cuddled with everyone else. He was affectionate and before I knew it, I was hooked. I worried about him being in his kennel too long, I bought him toys at Ross where they are cheaper, created a toy box for him and spoiled him rotten. When no one is around I talk baby talk to him. It makes me throw up in my mouth when I realize what I'm doing, but I go on doing it. He is sweet and deserves to be loved back. He wants the world to love him. When new people come into the house it is hard to control his enthusiasm. He wants to kiss them and play with them and make them his best friends. He doesn't understand how big he is and that for most people he isn't really a lap dog. Our family has adjusted. We cuddle on the couch with him and treat him like the lap dog he believes he is. We deal with the occasional eaten sock and the "pit fits". His pit fit is when all of the sudden he just has so much energy that he picks up a toy and runs full speed through the house several times. He circles things, knocks a few things over and jumps furniture. When he is finished he drops on the floor exhausted by his efforts and gives a big loud sigh that signals that he is ready for a long nap.
My daughter informed me today that although Rooney is cute, he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. This made me sad. I don't want anyone to think he is stupid. He is my baby. He is big, clumsy and sweet. He may chase his tail and think that the dogs on TV will come out and play with him, but he isn't a complete idiot. He can undo knots in ropes and socks, he shares his toys with Sydney by playing with it in front of her, then pushing it over to her. He does taunt her with toys at times, but that is when he is trying to get her to play.
We also have a neighbor who lives next door to the house behind us. Sometimes Rooney lifts himself up to look over the fence to see what is going on in their yard. He is super curious. He likes to get into grocery bags, boxes and laundry baskets. He just likes to see what things are and when he hears a noise in the yard he wants to investigate. The irate man came to inform us that our pit bull looks at them and that they feel threatened because they have dogs and kids. Well, we have dogs and kids. We feel completely safe. He do our best to keep Rooney away from the fence now. That neighbor doesn't deserve Rooney's curiosity. He is shortsighted and shallow minded. See--I am labeling a man I don't even know because he dared to make assumptions about my dog. I've lost it. I take pictures of him watching TV with me. We record Pit bulls and parolees every Saturday night because he loves that show. I love that show. When I first heard the title I pictured something completely different. When I watched if for the first time and learned what big hearts they had and the passion they have for the rescue work they do I was hooked. Like many on the show who adopt rescue dogs, they end up believing it was actually the dog who rescued them. Does Rooney make me a better person? Maybe. He makes me laugh, exasperates me at times and loves me with the unconditional, adoring love that only a dog can give. My children are growing up and distancing themselves from me. They are becoming their own people and asserting their independence. My motherly instincts are now focused on a 70 pound pit bull who has stolen my heart. I am not the over the top annoying dog mom, but annoying dog mom I am. :)
The Strange Woman in My Mirror
Recently my friend told me that when she looks in her mirror she sees a chunky, middle aged woman who looks really tired. I find that astonishing because when I look in my mirror I see the same thing! I don't recognize the stranger with the tired eyes and pale face. I wonder if that is who my friend sees. I believe that my mirror is defective and there should be a recall notice. I wonder how many other people are seeing this woman in their mirrors? She weighs more than I do, is older than I am and just looks exhausted. I think she needs a tropical vacation that includes a a hammock and a tropical drink with an umbrella. At the very least she needs a decent nights sleep and good concealer.
I tried in vain to find me in the eyes of the woman in the mirror. There was no sign of me at all. I should be average height, average weight, brown hair, sparkly brown eyes and bounds of energy. This woman is pasty white, bloated, has dark circles under her eyes and needs to comb her hair. She doesn't look very interesting at all and probably eats too much processed food. It doesn't matter what time of the day or night I check, the chunky chick is still there looking perplexed. I think she is just as surprised to see me as I am to see her. I'm at a complete loss as to why she is hanging out in my mirror. I wonder how she has time to hang out in my friends' mirror when she is always in mine!
I try to imagine the life of the woman in the mirror. I see her reading way too many books in dark rooms when she should be out in the fresh air hiking or working in the yard. I think books are good in moderation, but this woman reads obsessively. I think she is trying to escape her mundane life or something. I'm not sure why she reads so much. Maybe it isn't a bad thing. She just seems to need balance. Maybe if she read a few of the books on her nightstand regarding health and fitness she would learn balance. Instead she picks them up, hesitates, then puts it back down preferring the fictional characters to the hard cold facts of what she needs to do in order to make the changes she day dreams about.
I sense her fear of failure, her low self esteem and the many little battles she has lost against herself. She is defeated before even really trying. Her intentions are good and she has a big heart. She just lacks the courage and drive. She needs ambition and the tiny seed of faith. I wish I could give it to her. She is stubborn though and doesn't hear me when I try to reason with her. She just puts me off until tomorrow. I will visit with her again in the morning. I hope to see color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her eye and just a tiny bit of confidence. Maybe I will even catch a glimpse of me. I have to be in there somewhere since it is a mirror.
I'm curious as to how many other people have strangers living in their mirrors. Maybe there needs to be a massive recall on defective mirrors. While they are recalling the mirrors, they may want to recall my scale as well~don't even get me started on that!
I tried in vain to find me in the eyes of the woman in the mirror. There was no sign of me at all. I should be average height, average weight, brown hair, sparkly brown eyes and bounds of energy. This woman is pasty white, bloated, has dark circles under her eyes and needs to comb her hair. She doesn't look very interesting at all and probably eats too much processed food. It doesn't matter what time of the day or night I check, the chunky chick is still there looking perplexed. I think she is just as surprised to see me as I am to see her. I'm at a complete loss as to why she is hanging out in my mirror. I wonder how she has time to hang out in my friends' mirror when she is always in mine!
I try to imagine the life of the woman in the mirror. I see her reading way too many books in dark rooms when she should be out in the fresh air hiking or working in the yard. I think books are good in moderation, but this woman reads obsessively. I think she is trying to escape her mundane life or something. I'm not sure why she reads so much. Maybe it isn't a bad thing. She just seems to need balance. Maybe if she read a few of the books on her nightstand regarding health and fitness she would learn balance. Instead she picks them up, hesitates, then puts it back down preferring the fictional characters to the hard cold facts of what she needs to do in order to make the changes she day dreams about.
I sense her fear of failure, her low self esteem and the many little battles she has lost against herself. She is defeated before even really trying. Her intentions are good and she has a big heart. She just lacks the courage and drive. She needs ambition and the tiny seed of faith. I wish I could give it to her. She is stubborn though and doesn't hear me when I try to reason with her. She just puts me off until tomorrow. I will visit with her again in the morning. I hope to see color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her eye and just a tiny bit of confidence. Maybe I will even catch a glimpse of me. I have to be in there somewhere since it is a mirror.
I'm curious as to how many other people have strangers living in their mirrors. Maybe there needs to be a massive recall on defective mirrors. While they are recalling the mirrors, they may want to recall my scale as well~don't even get me started on that!
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Confessions of a Chameleon
When I was younger I wanted so much to fit in with the crowd. I tried to mimic the thoughts and behaviors of whoever I happened to want to emulate on a particular day. I tried to accept everyone and be kind, but I know there were times when I could have said or done more to help those who felt isolated or persecuted. I did go through a phase in high school and college where I tried to stand out and become something other than the bland girl next door. I set myself up for disaster on many occasions and finally felt broken and unworthy. I started making rash decisions without thinking things through which damaged my psyche even more.
I didn't aspire to be a chameleon; it wasn't a conscious decision. I believe it was a subconscious survival tactic that I adopted in order to keep myself safe. I have always been too sensitive. I can read strong emotions and am acutely aware of people's perceptions of me. I try not to take them personally. We weren't all designed to be accepting of everyone. Though I try to be I still have a very hard time not completely shutting some people off. I can't handle extreme prejudice, bullies, constant negativity or spitefulness. There is no need to be cruel to any living thing and no need to belittle anyone. We are all capable of belittling ourselves, we certainly don't need help.
As a chameleon I worked hard not to cause friction, steered clear of conflict and made a habit of not offering strong opinions on anything. I still won't offer any opinion on politics because I don't have the time, energy or desire to fully understand them. I have my own personal views on religion that aren't widely popular and would be seen as blasphemy by Bible purists who wholeheartedly believe that their interpretations of scripture are the only right ones and therefore damn everyone else who may see things differently. I am spiritual and believe in a loving God who wants me to love my neighbor and treat others as I would like to be treated. By others I mean animals, people of all colors, races, religions and sexual preferences. I am not here to judge. I will not condemn anyone because I am far from perfect. I do believe in past lives and soul connections. This is way out there for many people. I respect that, we are all on our own journeys and someday we will all know the absolute truth. For now it is up to us to take the bits and pieces of knowledge that we do have and come to our own conclusions.
When I was younger my experiences caused me to erroneously equate sex with love. Unfortunately that leads to painful lessons and regrettable decisions. I believe that I booby trap my attempts to lose weight because I don't want to feel objectified. I want people to look deeper than the surface to see who I really am. Not everyone takes the time to do that. Many people make snap judgments based solely on outer appearances. I have been guilty of this and have to work hard not to do this myself. I will continue to try to lose weight and become healthy. I hope to make it past the mental blocks that I have posted so that I can allow myself to be successful. I am the only one holding me back.
I have tried in the last few years to come out of my chameleon state and show my true colors. I would never have admitted my religious beliefs before because I would never say anything that might offend anyone. It is really hard being politically correct and unoffensive at ALL times. I was a born diplomat, but have suppressed so much of myself by trying to be who others wanted me to be. It isn't worth the price of acceptance to completely lose the essence of who you are and who you want to become. I have to believe that those who really love me and want me in their lives will continue to love me despite our different views.
So in searching for the real me after all of these years I have realized that I am an old soul who has an open mind and likes to think outside the box. I never thought I would actually publish my thoughts and beliefs in a blog. It is scary but liberating. There are so many people out there who want to judge people and bring them down. I want to encourage people and lift them up. I don't need to hide anymore, I accept myself flaws and all. My scars make me more interesting than the bland girl next door.
I didn't aspire to be a chameleon; it wasn't a conscious decision. I believe it was a subconscious survival tactic that I adopted in order to keep myself safe. I have always been too sensitive. I can read strong emotions and am acutely aware of people's perceptions of me. I try not to take them personally. We weren't all designed to be accepting of everyone. Though I try to be I still have a very hard time not completely shutting some people off. I can't handle extreme prejudice, bullies, constant negativity or spitefulness. There is no need to be cruel to any living thing and no need to belittle anyone. We are all capable of belittling ourselves, we certainly don't need help.
As a chameleon I worked hard not to cause friction, steered clear of conflict and made a habit of not offering strong opinions on anything. I still won't offer any opinion on politics because I don't have the time, energy or desire to fully understand them. I have my own personal views on religion that aren't widely popular and would be seen as blasphemy by Bible purists who wholeheartedly believe that their interpretations of scripture are the only right ones and therefore damn everyone else who may see things differently. I am spiritual and believe in a loving God who wants me to love my neighbor and treat others as I would like to be treated. By others I mean animals, people of all colors, races, religions and sexual preferences. I am not here to judge. I will not condemn anyone because I am far from perfect. I do believe in past lives and soul connections. This is way out there for many people. I respect that, we are all on our own journeys and someday we will all know the absolute truth. For now it is up to us to take the bits and pieces of knowledge that we do have and come to our own conclusions.
When I was younger my experiences caused me to erroneously equate sex with love. Unfortunately that leads to painful lessons and regrettable decisions. I believe that I booby trap my attempts to lose weight because I don't want to feel objectified. I want people to look deeper than the surface to see who I really am. Not everyone takes the time to do that. Many people make snap judgments based solely on outer appearances. I have been guilty of this and have to work hard not to do this myself. I will continue to try to lose weight and become healthy. I hope to make it past the mental blocks that I have posted so that I can allow myself to be successful. I am the only one holding me back.
I have tried in the last few years to come out of my chameleon state and show my true colors. I would never have admitted my religious beliefs before because I would never say anything that might offend anyone. It is really hard being politically correct and unoffensive at ALL times. I was a born diplomat, but have suppressed so much of myself by trying to be who others wanted me to be. It isn't worth the price of acceptance to completely lose the essence of who you are and who you want to become. I have to believe that those who really love me and want me in their lives will continue to love me despite our different views.
So in searching for the real me after all of these years I have realized that I am an old soul who has an open mind and likes to think outside the box. I never thought I would actually publish my thoughts and beliefs in a blog. It is scary but liberating. There are so many people out there who want to judge people and bring them down. I want to encourage people and lift them up. I don't need to hide anymore, I accept myself flaws and all. My scars make me more interesting than the bland girl next door.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Writing Prompts
Note to self : When suffering from Writer's Block use a writing prompt. Here was one that came in an e-mail today from Jen Violi, an author whose work I enjoy:
Winter Sustenance Idea #2:
Start with One Word
Start with One Word
For one small writing step this month, why not use one of the most basic increments?
All you need to do is open the book closest to you, let your finger drop onto the page, see what word you landed on, and using that word to fill in the blank, write for five minutes from the prompt: "Everything I know about ____."
So pick a word, any word, and write from there. Turn off your inner judge/critic/butthead commentator, and go. Five minutes. You've got this.
All you need to do is open the book closest to you, let your finger drop onto the page, see what word you landed on, and using that word to fill in the blank, write for five minutes from the prompt: "Everything I know about ____."
So pick a word, any word, and write from there. Turn off your inner judge/critic/butthead commentator, and go. Five minutes. You've got this.
The book closest to me is "Joy for Beginners" by Erica Bauermeister. It is by my desk waiting to be returned to the library. The word my finger landed on was "boundaries".
Everything I know about boundaries:
I know that sometimes I forget about boundaries and share too much information or ask too personal of questions. I am pretty good with personal space boundaries, but when it comes to feelings, emotions, etc I am much too open and curious.
There are boundaries for land. The lot we live on has boundaries that are marked in the back by a fence. Countries have boundaries, many of which you can't cross without proper documentation. Relationships have boundaries. There are things that are inappropriate to do or say to certain people depending on your relationship. The boundaries you have with your close friends are very different from the boundaries that you have for your relatives, neighbors, authority figures or the other people who inhabit your life.
Boundaries is a pretty boring word to have picked. Why couldn't I have picked something more interesting? I guess I followed the rules which are basically boundaries. Some people like to overstep their boundaries. I'm pretty sure this is the most uninteresting blog post I have ever written.
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