This dog fostering thing can really suck sometimes. Sometimes they chew up a shoe or a window sill. Sometimes they dig a hole in the yard. Once or twice they've had accidents on the floor. Occasionally they bark or whine. And then every once in a while they make you fall in love with them so hard that it just nearly rips your heart out to let them go. Is it worth it? Yes. Do I still hate it? Yes. Would I recommend it? Absolutely.
pit bull who made me cry my eyes out
in the middle of the shelter. Something you might think would happen a
lot but had actually only happened once before when I accidentally
witnessed the mountain of euthanized dogs being loaded onto a truck for
cremation. Then there was the great dane who was so attached to me that he
ripped down the blinds of his new home as I walked away from his home
visit. And then there is Bernadette.
Now that I have made this fostering thing sound just like a barrel of laughs I'm sure you'll be rushing out to find your nearest rescue group to volunteer with. You should. You will not regret it. How can you regret saving a life?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
So, with that exhausting intro said and done I can now get to my point. I am overwhelmed with a capital Oh my God am I overwhelmed. I see my life in four large chunks: Work, Blue Dog Rescue, Family, and Friends. And right this minute they are all in overdrive. I can handle it when one is high maintenance. Even when two are. Three and things start to get a little iffy. All four, well, I'm just gonna start to suck at everything then.
I read this book a long time ago by Leo Buscaglia. It was called Love. There was a part in it that was about the broad based education in the school system, but I think it applies to a lot of different aspects of life. So he lays it out like this: there's this school in the forrest...Squirrels, birds, fish, turtles, rabbits, etc. The squirrels are great at tree climbing, birds excel at flying, fish at swimming, and so on. But then the broad based education is implemented. The fish has to learn to fly, the bird to tree climb, the squirrel to swim. All of the sudden the bird who used to get an A in flying is getting a C in flying because she broke her wing in tree climbing and she is still getting an F in swimming. My point: instead of doing one thing well I feel like I'm doing everything half ass. What to do? Honestly? I've got no ideas other than ride out the storm or drop one of the balls I'm juggling.
At least I'm not bored, right?
Bloggified by Metalsgirl at 11:13 PM
Saturday, May 12, 2012
I was just three years old when my parents divorced. I'm not gonna get into why they divorced and all that, let me just say that a lot of women might wallow, be bitter, and begin to settle for less than they deserve after something like that. My mom decided to go to grad school. We packed up and moved away from any family, just the three of us - me, my mom, and our dog. I was just barely six years old, my mom was a whopping 27. Looking back I am amazed at the bravery that must have taken. I honestly don't think I could ever have done it.
We were poor. Poor with a capital P! But I never knew it. Never even suspected it. Not because she spoiled me or bought me things. She just never ever let me see her worry. Again, when I look back there were signs. Like when you open the freezer and out spills 20+ balls of tin foil filled stuffed bell peppers because bell peppers were on sale 20 for a dollar that week and ground meat and onions are cheep stuffin'! But at the time I just thought my mom really liked bell peppers!
My mom let me be a kid. There are a lot worse things out there than being poor and having divorced parents - but if your parents handle it wrong those two things can be much harder than they have to be. I didn't spend a lot of time with my dad... again, don't need to get into that too much here, but there were times when that was hard on me. I didn't understand. It would have been really easy for my mom to make digs at him, at the very least not defend him. But she defended him every time. Every single time. Because she knew it was best for me. How in the word did she know that at 20-something? I had friends in high school whose parents talked all kinds of shit about their former spouse to their kid, in front of their kid, to their ex in front of their kid. Its appalling! I truly cannot emphasize enough how insanely important it is to never, ever, ever let your kid hear a single bad word from one parent about the other. I'll get off my soap box now, that's not what this is about, but take it from a kid of divorce - it matters.
Now I'm 40 and my mom is a speech pathologist who hammers bangles and does post office runs for me on her days off. We spend time together because we want to, not because we feel obligated. I could tell a million stories that would qualify me for the above title but I don't need to. As long as I know I have THE best mom and as long as I make sure she knows that I know - well, that's all the matters.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. I love you.
Bloggified by Metalsgirl at 10:22 PM
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul Varjak: The mean reds. You mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat, and maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid, and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
For me it's this impending doom feeling mainly because it just seems like icky stuff keeps happening. Not the worst of the worst, I haven't lost all perspective. My uncle recently had a heart transplant AND stem cell replacement, so I know what real difficulty is. Mine are just a series of things - getting an email from a couple who wants to return the dogs (dogS, plural!) they adopted from us eight years ago. EIGHT years people! WTF? getting pneumonia, losing our sweet kitty. Stuff that sucks on their own but when you string them together over two weeks time you get a case of the mean reds.
Then watching your efforts transform, smelling that yeasty aroma, seeing a small ball of dough rise up and over the top of its bowl, watching gooey batter become a spongey little cake...oh, it's just happiness for me.
Just to wrap up. When you are feeling blue or red maybe you need a friend or maybe you need to bake or maybe you need to bake for a friend. But I can tell you this for sure - all of the above work way better than that angsty wallowing I used to opt for!
Bloggified by Metalsgirl at 4:25 PM