Do I post to much about my dogs? I've probably asked this question before. But I can't help it. Two reasons: they are a huge part of our lives and they're just so darn cute!
It's funny, when people hear how many dogs we have they invariably ask two questions. "Do you live on a lot of land?" and "Do they all get along?" Well, no and yes. We have a small house with a decent sized yard in suburbia. No land really. And yes, for the most part, they all get along. They have their squabbles over who gets to go outside first and who gets mom's lap, etc. But when you put a Dingo, a Great Dane, two Chow mixes, a Pit Bull, a whole slew of Chihuahuas, two cats, and two humans together in one house, I'd say we get along very well.
See? How can I resist sharing these precious faces? I mean, really.
Last weekend Tom was shooting some jewelry photos for me and, I guess, got bored with the jewelry and just started shooting random things around my studio. When I looked at them later it made me wonder - what do the things we surround ourselves with say about us?
I have lots of stuff in my studio that is not useful. It is simply there to make me smile or because maybe I have some sort of emotional attachment to it because of who gave it to me, or some odd association to someone or something. But seeing all of these photos together made me think: what if some stranger walked into my studio? Who would they think I am? It's like those emails you get that say "Pick your favorite 80's movie out of these 10 or choose your favorite desert out of these and the scroll down and see what personality matches - Angel Food Cake."
So, I picked Tom Selleck, Angela Lansbury, my friend's movie Left Field, dogs, Augustus McCray, Paulo Nutini, family photos, old albums, Raymond Burr, and Smurfs. What does that say about me? Go.
It's been a couple of months since I have posted a Preacher update and given the milestone we recently passed, I thought it would be a good time. June 16th marked two years since Preacher's first visit to the oncologist and his first round of chemo. Wow. It's hard to believe. It's hard to remember where I was mentally two years ago. I never would have thought that things would feel "normal", where he was concerned, ever again. But time passes and you get used to your new circumstances. I think even going through the chemo began to feel normal in the later months. And then when chemo was finished there were some pins and needles for awhile and then, slowly, you settle in and things just get, well, normal. Of course we've had our ups and downs. He's an almost 13 year old Great Dane after all, his body isn't what it used to be. His degenerative back issues have become our new battle. But after a round of injections to help regenerate some of that tired, old muscle, he's doing pretty well.
Every so often he has a bad day and it sends me into a tailspin of worry. I can be so reactionary. I've always thought that I will try to think about it like this: as long as my dog is having more good days than bad we're good. And Preacher has FAR more good days than bad. But when a bad day happens it terrifies me that the next will be bad, and the next. But then he pops off the couch the next morning barking at me like "Where's my breakfast?!", I breathe a gigantic sigh of relief and we move on. So that's life right now. It's good.
This is that time of year where you just cannot predict the work you're gonna have. One week I'll be up to my earlobes in work and in a panic and the next week - nothin'. While I would like to be in over my head all the time, the good thing about this time of year is I get to experiment with new ideas that have been floating around. So here's a little peek at what I've been up to.
I cannot believe it's been over a month since I've been over here. I didn't fall off the face of the earth but things have been a little nutty. I could list everything that's been going on but it would make me feel a little sea sick, so let's skip that. Every time I sat down here to write I would get overwhelmed by how behind I was and I'd abandon the whole thing. Tonight it occurred to me - I don't HAVE to recap everything. It is quite possible that people just might not care! And that thought came as a huge relief to me!
Two things I do want to share: The foster dog we rescued and have already adopted out and the foster that we rescued and still have.
Meet Kit Pistol.
So, after nearly 12 years of Blue Dog my best friend Kim has decided that she has, in her words "found her calling in life."! So we were going down to the shelter to find a foster for HER! And even though I thought I had made it out of there with out a dog, this little one was haunting me. She had an adopter, but something about her was bugging me so I called the shelter just to check on her and sure enough - the adopter had fallen through and she was scheduled to be euthanized that evening. "Can you get here by five?"
The crazy thing is, within ten minutes of having her posted on the Blue Dog website I had an email. And within a couple of days I had a great application. So this little doll already has a happy ending - living with her new family in South Austin!
Another trip to the shelter with a friend. This time my friend Pat asked me to join her for Bloody Mary's and then a visit to the local shelter! Win Win. But before I left the house Tom said "Don't bring home a dog, we don't need another foster." I agreed and had every intention of keeping my promise. Pat found a incredible dog whose story I will have to share here later...but-in-the-mean-time-you-can-meet-her-here...because it's so tragic and yet you'd never know because dogs are so resilient. Anyway, I was about to leave when I see one of the staff unload this little "thing" from out of a towel into what all of the sudden seemed like the most gigantic kennel ever. I looked down to see this teeny tiny little bit of nothing sitting there...he was so far beyond pitiful...the thing is, he had such a raging case of mange that his hair was barely sprigs. He had the skin of a 100 year old elephant, all wrinkly and scaly, and it was about the same color as the concrete walls of the kennel. And then, as if he wasn't killing me already, he let out this little howl where his snout pointed up and his little lips made the tiniest O. That was it. I called Tom in tears and he said "Do what you need to do." My perfect husband who knows me so well. He knew that I would never be able to sleep if I left this baby at the shelter, he could hear it in my voice.
So the baby came home with me. All four pounds of him. He's on the mend and looking for a home. He still barely has any hair but we're workin' on it. Day by day.
My boy has been having some rough days. If you can put those magic good thoughts to use again they would be so, so appreciated. Tom took this picture of him today and I LOVE it!! I know I am biased, but he is gorgeous! His nearly 13 year old back end is giving him fits. We just started some new meds (injections twice a week) that the vet is hopeful will help. So cross your fingers, toes, legs, arms... much love.
How adorable is this!?!? We bought this vintage suitcase back in January to convert into a dog bed for the chihuahuas...didn't realize at the time that a pit bull could cram himself into it! The bedding inside is an adorable doggie duvet from Molly Mutt. Next thing I know Preacher will be trying to get into it!
I have been lax about blogging, but I have been working hard trying to get some new ideas out of my head and into real life! Here is one of my new babies. Here's my problem: I can't seem to make anything not in this color scheme! But is that really a problem? Nah!
I think my love of dogs came before I was ever born. My mom and dad were shopping Canton, a big flea market in Dallas, when my mom was pregnant with me. The story goes that my dad had been reading a book that had a woman in it named Permella. He wanted to name me Permella. Lucky for me my parents stumbled across a litter of puppies at the flea market, precious little catahoula mixes. I'm sure the last thing my young, about to have a baby, parents needed was a puppy but thank God they didn't think about that because the puppy saved me from a life of being called Permie or Nella or Nellie or something dreadful like that. But for this dog who I later referred to as my sister, Permella was the perfect name.
I grew up with this dog as a constant in my life. She was there when my parents divorced. She was there when we moved to a new town and I didn't have any friends. She was there when my grandmother died. For 10 years it was just me, my mom, and Permella. She died when I was 13 years old. Here I am, 26 years later and it is still dreadfully painful. Pets have never been "just" a dog or "just" a cat for me. But Permella was even more. She was there through my childhood, through very emotional times of my early life. I told her my secrets. When I look back I guess she was the beginning of so much of what my life has become. I know what the love of a dog can bring to your life. I know how they can enrich you. I am sure that Permella had everything to do with making me want to save dogs now. I hope I can give back just an ounce of what she gave to me.
This month our sweet Daisy turns 18 years old. You wouldn't know it. She looks and acts like she always has. She's weird. Cats are weird, but Daisy is REAL weird. In the nearly 13 years that we have lived in this house she has been out of the bedroom maybe, maybe three times. Maybe. I know, you're thinking "Of course she doesn't leave the room! There is a gang of dogs out there waiting to pounce!" But that's not it, I swear! One: she was like this when Tom and I had a little house in Austin and no dogs. The difference: she lived in the guest bedroom there. Two: at night she lays on the bed with the dogs, even rubs up against them. Weird. Also weird, she won't drink out of a water bowl. She has a glass on the dresser and if it's gets even slightly low she sits and screams until we fill it. And even if her water glass is full she would still prefer to drink out of the water I bring to bed at night. We go through the same routine every. single. night. She hears me set my glass down and she comes running, jumps on the bed, leans onto the night stand, and sticks her paw right into my glass. eww. She's a character and we adore her.
My brain has been going a million miles an hour since Friday night. Well, maybe since the Saturday before. I thought this was all just about me getting to see my hero, but it's turned into this whole thought process on "what the hell is going on?" Let me recap:
This picture was right before we left the house for the show and I was giddy with excitement and nerves and anxiety. I've probably had a similar look since last Saturday when I found out that Bob Geldof was playing SXSW. I flipped out in the biggest way. He is my hero. But I'll get to all that in a minute. I began this frenzied, panicked attempt to ensure that I would get to see him. I mean, it's Bob freakin' Geldof, I couldn't just see where he was playing and plan to waltz up to the door. I needed a game plan. Tom started emailing the organizers of the event. I even hit up my friend who is a well known musician and has connections. I never hit her up for tickets, I just don't like to, but this was different. But here's the thing I haven't mentioned. The show was FREE, first-come-first-served. After begging my friend to get me in to this show she texted me back to tell me that her manager probably can't do better than "free." My point in telling all of this is to explain how desperate I was to ensure I got into this show. He was to play at 6:15 so I planned to get there at around noon. Hopefully that would do it. Another part of my plan: don't tell a soul that this was happening. I didn't want any more competition. Tom started to post it on Facebook before the shrill "Nooooooooo!" escaped my lips.
So, here's how the day DID go down. We arrived at Jovitas - did I mention that the show was at a fairly small mexican food restaurant? Anyway, we arrived at 11:45 to an empty parking lot, empty restaurant. All I was thinking was, okay, I can breathe. I'm in. What happened between now and 7:45 when he actually went on was a large amount of drama over whether this was even going to happen due to some code violations regarding the makeshift parking lot stage, the restaurant, exit plans, and more. But that did all work itself out while Tom eavesdropped and I tried to hold my shit together. But regardless of that, where were the people? No one was really showing up. I did find out that there was a small bit in the paper about the show being cancelled due to all these violations, but it was small, and who reads the paper? Was it that? Was it the apparent crappy event organizer (I had it on good authority that he was an idiot)? Or was it that now, in 2011, no one knows who he is? I've been thinking about that so much the last two days. How can this man who I have adored and admired and been inspired by for 25 years be non existant to this generation? HOW, how can that be?
The show was indescribable. It was everything. I know there was a real chance of disappointment. When you love someone for that long you run the real risk of being let down. But I wasn't. If anything it made me love him more. He sounded amazing, the band was incredible, he was passionate - he was even passionate while sining "I Don't Like Mondays." I always feel sad for bands/singers who have to sing that one song that they are known for over and over. But he sang it like it was the first time. It was gut wrenchingly beautiful. So the good thing about finding out that no one knows who your hero is anymore, is that you get a front row seat. I was literally leaning on the stage. My hands were inches from his feet. It was the best possible experience I could have had seeing him. When I was 13-14 years old I discovered Bob Geldof. It was around that time that the whole Band Aid thing happened and then Live Aid. Here was this man who saw one of those starving-children-in-Africa commercials over dinner and decided to actually do something. In his words "I refused to watch one more child die in my living room." I was 14, I was easily influenced and impressionable and he made an impression that stuck. I followed his career, bought his music, read his book, felt sad for his personal drama, dreamed of seeing him but never ever thought I would. Back in 2005 I was in Canada while Live 8 was going on. We were on the opposite side of the Canada show and I still thought I was as close to Bob as I would ever be. And now I've seen him. I am left with the warm fuzzies of it all, but also with the shock that there were probably less than 200 people at this show and I guarantee that a good part of those had no idea who he was. How does the lead singer of the Boomtown Rats, the founder of Band Aid, writer of "Do They Know it's Christmas", the organizer of Live Aid, and then Live 8, the man knighted by the Queen become forgotten? And in this tabloid obsessed nation there's the over-the-top drama of his personal life surrounding his ex Paula Yates and Michael Hutchence. Which brings up my added admiration of him for fighting to gain custody of his ex wife's love child with Hutchence so that she could grow up with her half sisters. But I digress. How has he disappeared from our minds? It makes me so, so very sad.
So people, do me a favor. #1. Play good music for your kids. Shoot, just have music on in the house. Turn off the tv and turn on the stereo. #2. go buy "How to Compose Popular Songs that Will Sell". It's Bob's new CD and it is wonderfully romantic. "Dazzled by You" is painfully beautiful. #3. Grab your computer and watch some old Live Aid clips (here, here, or here), watch the Band Aid video - it was such an incredible moment in time, both musically and as a socially conscience people and then consider that this all happened because of this man. #4 check out this little interview with Bob from just a few days ago during SXSW. I think it's a pretty good snippet into who he is.
It's taken me two days to write this post. I felt this huge weight to "get it right" and say it in a way that didn't sound like some star struck teenager. I don't get star struck. I've been lucky enough to get to see some great artists over the years but I'm never like the nutty Beatles fan screaming like a banshee. So I really hope this doesn't come off that way. More than anything I don't want this profound life to be lost in the hustle and bustle of it all.
"If you don't set out to make your own future
If you don't set out to create your own world
Then you're just there at the behest of everyone else
Just being whacked around in the flotsam and jetsam of history"
It's been an utterly nutty few weeks. Shortly after my bout with the flu I got strep throat with a virus chaser. I feel like I have spent the majority of 2011 either sick or getting over being sick. I am done. I am just now getting back to normal and I never knew normal felt so good! I even went to get my hair cut and colored (thank you Lisa!) and it felt like my own mini version of Spring!
Anyways, I have a question for everyone. Do any of you have a "People I want to see before I die" list? Like musicians? 'Cause I have a had a list like that for years and have been slowly chipping away at it. Well, I am down to one person on my list. And he was probably the one I would most want to see of my whole list, but also the most inaccessible. He rarely plays, certainly never in the states. I just resigned myself to it not happening. WELL. He is here in Austin for SXSW. The thing about South by is that it's new bands mainly. It's not like your big week end festivals that are cram packed with big name bands. This is a week of getting to see new, up-and-coming music, a chance to say "I saw them when" kind of thing, a way to discover and be discovered. So it's not the place to cross names off of your "before I die" list. And the way I found out that this person (who I have loved since I was 14) would be at South by was totally random, happenstance. Just last Saturday I heard one of his songs playing behind a commercial for an upcoming episode of a tv show. I said to Tom, "I don't know that song. He doesn't have anything new out does he?" Tom says, "I don't know, let me look" and he pulls up the computer and a couple of minutes later says, "He is going to be playing here on Friday" to which I said "Shut Up, you're lying" to which he said, "Seriously, he's playing South by". It was surreal. Like if I hadn't seen that commercial I might not have know he was in town and I would have heard later "Did you see so-n-so when he was here?" and I would have said "NO!, I didn't know he was here!" and I would have fallen over and died. Anyway, I did find out and he is playing tomorrow and I am getting there like six hours early just in case. And no, I am not telling you who it is until it's over because I am being ridiculously superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. I'm still scared it's not real. I know I sound like a complete nut job. I really am not normally like this. I don't get all worked up about famous people at all. But like I said, I have loved this man, his music, for 25 years. When it's all said and done I will happily report back and if I am really lucky I will have photos.
So my loooooong story was leading to this: who is on your "before I die" list? I would love to know who other people hold dear, musically speaking. Share your list with me and I will throw your names in a hat and send you a surprise bit of jewelry. How's that for fun?? Don't forget to add your email address so I can let you know if you won. Have fun.
This is my post office. Awesome, huh? I'm not a big fan of change, can't stand it in fact. I usually don't think that newer is better - every time "they" update my email or Facebook I mourn the old version. That's how I feel about my post office. This precious little building is actually a genuine, real-deal general store. It's in the town of McNeil Texas, population zero. The only thing in McNeil is this building and a plant where they excavate white lime. The store primarily serves the employees of the white lime plant. The employees even carry lines of credit! I'm telling you, it's the real-deal. The post office is just a tiny corner of the store with just one post-person. It even has the old brass post office boxes. The one employee loves her job there so we are never met with the surly post office employee, but a cheerful face who knows our names, asks about the family, the whole nine. It's like Cheers in a post office. "They" recently threatened to close the place down but after an uproar from the patrons of this little throw-back the word on the street is we get to keep our little gem. Whew! A brand-spankin'-new post office might do me in!
...to this brownstone on West 11th. Is that too specific? When Tom and I do our unrealistic dreaming of owning a place in the city it is always, always in the West Village. And truthfully I am even more picky than that, I want to be between 8th and Greenwich Ave. and between Horatio and Perry. It's a tiny pocket but I loooooove it so much. Anyway, I saw this place on our last trip so when I dream this is what I see in my imagination. Isn't it the cutest!?!? I guess it's not a typical brownstone with the wide steps up the front, but it'll do in a pinch!
The last couple of weeks have been off. I had a mean case of the flu which always messes me up for a good long while. I am a dreadful sick person. I am whiney and needy - I know, two qualities everyone loves! But this particular flu came with an extra helping of emotional ickies. There is the typical flu with the sore throat, head, body aches, nausea - but I swear this strain was accompanied by a heaping dose of depression. I would think it was just me but I had two friends that experienced the same thing! Weird, I know. But major bleck!
So, I have gotten behind on everything, blogging being fairly low on my urgency list. But at the same time I am missing it so I have a quick list of topics that have been running through my head that may or may not become full fledged posts in the near future...probably mostly NOT since they were conceived by a bogged down flu brain.
how do you begin to catch up on 430 emails?
the flu sucks.
how do my dogs know when I am sick and there fore wake up a half hour early?
my husband deserves a medal for putting up with me
On a completely unrelated note, go see The King's Speech. Tom and I went on my first day of beginning to feel normal again and it was soooooooo good! Go see it.
oh, and the photo has nothing to do with this post. It's just that my dogs are adorable and I can't help it.
Do I post to much about my dogs? I've probably asked this question before. But I can't help it. Two reasons: they are a huge part of our lives and they're just so darn cute!
It's funny, when people hear how many dogs we have they invariably ask two questions. "Do you live on a lot of land?" and "Do they all get along?" Well, no and yes. We have a small house with a decent sized yard in suburbia. No land really. And yes, for the most part, they all get along. They have their squabbles over who gets to go outside first and who gets mom's lap, etc. But when you put a Dingo, a Great Dane, two Chow mixes, a Pit Bull, a whole slew of Chihuahuas, two cats, and two humans together in one house, I'd say we get along very well.
See? How can I resist sharing these precious faces? I mean, really.
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