From where I stand

Bounce

2011-11-22T22:06:00.000-08:00

Be yourself. Best advice ever. I guess.

In the end, who else can you be, right?

I didn't get the PA seat at University of Utah.
Myself didn't suit theirselves, apparently.

I'm deciding to let that be ok.

I used to have a big, glorious red ball. No matter what it slammed into, it always seemed to rebound beautifully, in its own awkward, resilient way. I miss that ball.

Let it Rain!

2011-10-24T22:17:00.001-07:00

Stare

2011-09-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

Why is it that what we stare at those we love? How does stretching beyond all limits, working harder then humanly possible, losing precious chunks of sanity and wringing your heart in directions unimaginable cause you to stare? I don't get it.

I stared at my babies, I stared at my children, I stared at my teenagers, I stared at my young adults. It was irritating to them but I couldn't stop. It wasn't possible then, and its not possible now. As the years continue, I am as enthralled by them as I have ever been. I am in awe and wonderment of the people they are. Thus, I am staring. Still. Maybe forever.

The generations roll forward and those who have been stared at for years are now hopelessly fixated on their own wondrous creations. I love it.

Volunteering

2011-05-17T20:47:00.000-07:00

So today was my first day to volunteer at the health clinic. I learned a few things.

1-bring your own pen.
2- people who come to health clinics are called patients, not clients.
3- if you push the button on the thermometer (to activate), it eventually beeps, which means that it has actually recorded a temperature. If you don't push the button, everyone's temperature is 97.2 and you look like a real idiot.
4-you don't have to speak Spanish to know that the 3 year old who is screaming at you isn't going to let you take her temperature.
5-when you pop the plastic ear cover off the thermometer, its cool if you can make a long shot into the wastebasket. If the patient is under 10 years old, you can get a million dollar giggle if you miss it by a mile.
6-a smile is worth a thousand words and gesturing is entertaining, but sometimes it just works better if you go get the interpreter.
7-the PA admissions committee was right, I wasn't ready. I have a lot to learn.

Pause

2011-04-22T13:44:00.000-07:00

Amy's blog about her annual reflection got me thinking about my efforts to get into PA school. I realized I had a list of my own.

1-Chemistry is as hard as everyone says it is, BUT hard doesn't mean impossible and I actually like it and may (MAY) be kinda good at it .

2- Just because I'm busy and trying to do too much, is not an excuse for not being prepared. Walking into a prospective PA school without knowing their mission statement cold, is foolish. Period. What was I thinking?

3- No more black business blazers and stiff white (ugly) dress shirts from Express. I was trying to be who I thought they wanted. (they being the Head of Admissions). The next face to face encounter, I will be wearing something from Anthropology.

4- I periodically feel ridiculous for not just settling down with the life I've created and just cruise it until the end. But I don't believe the "end" is really the end and cruising for 40 more years sounds really boring.

5- I don't really know if I must be a PA or not. What I do know it that I must serve the world's children and that I don't have enough education or resources to do it. Becoming a PA just makes sense. If there is an alternative, I'm listening....

6- "Without sufficient sacrifice, winning isn't meaningful and losing doesn't hurt" (Words off of the back of a really cool t-shirt). Last application cycle I had a dream. I worked hard in that dream, but there was still a fair share of glittery illusion in the background. This year there is nothing dream like about it. I'm tired, dinged up and my ego terribly bruised. It feels very real. Real is better.

Elimination Reaction

2011-04-02T18:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Organic Chemistry,
Its true. I loved you once. Back at the beginning. But now I think it may have actually just been infatuation. You were bright and engaging and challenging. There was such a rush when I would finally break through and understand your language and see your world.

But over that last one million hours of being your constant companion, I'm sad to say that the love is dying. I really want you to quit talking, stop making exceptions for all of your rules and quit cramming your postulates down my throat. I told you I didn't like to cook, yet you insist that I synthesis epoxides, alkenes, nucleophiles and alcohol (of all things)! I am in such a jumble I no longer know what is appropriate....do I flip it, hydrate it, reduce it or hydrogenate it?
Lately, I catch myself just staring at it. Yes, it is definitely time to part ways. Today would be good.

After weeks of recovery, its possible I will miss you. I may long for the engaging conversations and the convoluted way you organize and re-organize yourself. I may pine away for the mechanisms you taught me that I can no longer recall. But right now all I feel is burned out. You are exhausting. Good by. Please go away.

One Breathless Ballerina Moment

2011-02-05T16:59:00.000-08:00

Staring right into the eyes of the dream you've been cradling in your heart since forever. You only get a handful of those in a lifetime. They ought to be treasured.

Traditions

2010-12-19T21:32:00.001-08:00

So I've had enough of the yearly comments made by my children under their breath (and over their breath) about how we don't have any Christmas traditions in our family.

Now I could argue that. (There has always been a Christmas tree, Scott.)

But then again, growing up, they had to be flexible with their holidays as they shuttled back and forth between parents and adapted to a blended family. Maybe their point is valid.

This is the year it's gonna change. There will be TRADITIONS.

New socks on Christmas Eve. From now until the day I die, each one will open a present on Christmas Eve that will contain a new pair of socks. Everyone will have happy feet.

A pickle in the Christmas tree. That's right. A pickle. It is a Norwegian tradition (from what I've heard). I'm adopting it. The pickle is hidden in the tree and there is a treat for every girl and boy who can find it :-)

And lastly, there will be music. Jingle Bells and other tunes played on wrapping paper tubes. Those lovely cardboard instruments resonate a fabulous tone when whacked on one's own (or someone else's) head.

Everyone should have a few traditions tucked in their heart pocket as they go through life. I hope I'm not too late. Merry Christmas to all.

Slugs, Snails, Puppy dog tails

2010-11-21T11:07:00.000-08:00

Does every boy need a dog?

Or is it that every dog needs a boy?

Driving the Dream

2010-10-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

So I didn't get an interview with University of Utah. It knocked the wind out of me for a moment. Then I realized. That first rejection letter is like getting the first dent in your car. It's a big deal. All of the subsequent dings, however, are barely mentionable.

So it will be with getting into PA school.

The first dent. Done.

Now I can refocus on driving. I'm sure there will be a few more dings along the way, but they will be more inconvenient, than upsetting. As long as the car still drives, I'm still in the game. For as long as it takes.

Today

2010-09-30T22:02:00.001-07:00

I've been to Scotland and back. There is much to say. But its a bit overwhelming at the moment to put thoughts, pictures and stories into any kind of coherent offering.

So... I would just like to say. That today. I stained E. coli in microbiology lab and looked at it under the microscope.

I'll call you!

2010-09-06T20:53:00.000-07:00

Historically, I have been dragged into the cosmos of technology one microchip at a time and only then by very persistent and determined children. Not so with this iPhone. The minute I saw it, I was knocking and begging at the door of opportunity. I wanted one SO BAD that I had to have the "grown-up" talk with my heart (you know, the one about your money being committed elsewhere yadah, yadah, yadah....) When my family presented me with a box, just the right size and weight, my heart skipped out of its pocket and became erratic (another "grown-up" talk about being grateful so as not to be disappointed). But, there it was, sitting in my hand!!! Stunned and dazed. Then giggles, then tears and then a weird gripping and wringing of my hands (a gesture I have adopted when I am emotionally "over the top", I guess.)

I listened so hard to all the instructions so I would do everything right. I got my itunes loaded, all my phone numbers in, took a few pictures, surfed the internet, downloaded a really cool medical app and a princess app for Scarlet, checked my email and sent a couple of celebratory texts. It wasn't until this morning, when I realized I didn't know how to make a phone call! (True story)

THANK YOU FAMILY! I wanted it so much. So much. Thank you.

Haiku Two

2010-07-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

Sleeping ok now

Still reach for the phone on the late night drives home.

Old habits always flicker with hope.

Still not in Hawaii

Soon, no longer in Iowa.

Hearts breaking. Hearts mending

Transitions. A messy concept.

I've been brave. Can I cry now?

She's being brave. She's definitely crying.

Touch down.

Touch back.

Still point, then

Back to the endless ocean

Heaven

2010-07-07T19:47:00.001-07:00

Avocados.

Chocolate brownies.

God's gift to man.

2010-06-29T07:07:00.000-07:00

Chirp didn't make it through the night. Sorry Chirp. I don't know what else I could have done. I'm glad we met. I loved your song.

Meet Chirp

2010-06-27T21:51:00.000-07:00

Chirp fell from his rooftop nest on Friday. Kind of a scrawny little guy/girl (how do you tell?). I soaked some of Abby's food and mixed it with Gerber's Rice cereal. When he opens his throat and starts flinging his head around, I shove it in. He sleeps through the night and eats every hour or two all day long. Chirp is gonna have to go to work with me tomorrow. Abby offered to tend, but I said no. Abby is attentive enough, its just that when her big snout touches his beak, her breathe knocks Chirp over... and Abby's big, wild, misplaced paws are a bit dangerous. I've rescued hundreds of baby birds in my lifetime, never had one actually survive. I'm not quite sure what happens next....

Luck be a Lady

2010-06-21T10:48:00.001-07:00

Sorry to be so obsessed with this PA thing, but its pretty much been the "giant monster shadow" in my life for the last 6 months. I really, really, really want this. Really. I finished the CASPA application (with a 4998 character narrative, thank you very much) and turned that in. Finished my chemistry lab class (this afternoon), and just completed the timed, on-line supplemental "tell us why we should choose you" application for U of U. Does close count? No.

I still have to finish the supplemental application for Anne Arundel in Maryland (multiple forms and verifications; no online, think-at-your-keyboard essays, thankfully) and take a microbiology lab in the fall. If (when) I get an interview with U of U, I have to take a physiology/anatomy test during the process, so I need to be studying for that. Gotta rock it.

Invitations for interviews won't come till the first of Fall. I've applied to University of Utah, University of California-Davis, Loma Linda University and Anne Arundel Community College. Only four. Not good odds, but the only odds I have. I only need one. Would someone blow on the dice please?

Oh pLEAse!

2010-06-07T00:13:00.000-07:00

It's 1:30 am. The CASPA application is all but done. The narrative that I worked so hard to carefully craft to 6,000 characters, I now discover is suppose to be 5,000.

Playtime

2010-05-13T21:39:00.000-07:00

Abby and I were out in a grassy field early this morning. On the other side of the fence was this horse. Abby and the horse were quite intrigued by each other and spent a few minutes touching noses and breathing on each other through the chain link. Then, Abby went into a play bow, the horse snorted and they were off... racing each other up and down the fence. I have never seen anything like it. It went on for the longest time until they both were sucking air. Then, after a few final moments of "nose to nose", the horse trotted off and Abby resumed sniffing and peeing. I wish I had gotten a better picture!

Hallelujah

2010-05-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

I got an A !

There is dancing in the streets...

Here goes...

2010-04-21T10:32:00.000-07:00

I am now the proud and somewhat anxious owner of a CASPA ID number. The PA application process has begun.

What I Really Need.

2010-04-16T21:07:00.000-07:00

Chemistry class is in its final week. Its been good, bad, and a little ugly, but truthfully, I've converted. I'm still in way over my head, but something about it is fascinating.

There is one week left and I have to take two tests. One problem. I really don't know where I am going to fit any more information. Truly. Never mind that my thought processes are exhausted and tend to drip sweat from the exertion. Never mind that my cortex goes on equation "searches" and doesn't come back for hours. Never mind that the calculator gives me a different answer every time I enter the same exact numbers. The game buster is that I am simply out of room.

Out. of. room.

So last night, I asked God for a bigger brain. I'm waiting to hear back.

A Language Whose Time Has Come

2010-02-28T11:48:00.000-08:00

I have spent the last 33 years (exactly) carrying the shame of the chemically illiterate. Chem 105, my freshman year at BYU, was the defining experience that has framed my life in many subtle and not so subtle ways over the years. I really struggled in that class. I studied, cried, prayed, begged for help, begged for mercy, begged for anything that would push back the dark foggy clouds that engulfed me every time I entered that classroom. As it turned out, I got a C+. I vividly remember destroying the book after the final. I didn't learn anything in that class except how inept I was. The next semester I changed my major.

Just last month, my soul was hit with the obvious and I decided to apply to PA school (Physician's assistant program at University of Utah. A blog for another day). I needed one more chemistry class to meet the prerequisites. Hiding had done no good, my deep inadequacy was going public. Again.

My window of opportunity was brief. I joined the class at UVU three weeks after it had begun, took a test on those three weeks of material just three days later and before I could blink, was engulfed in one of my worst reoccurring nightmares. I got through that first class on sheer bravery and determination, but as one class has turned into another, I'm beginning to feel a twinge of hope and even a love (?) for this new found language. I have a few things going for me this time that I didn't have before.

AGE. I'm older this time and while aging isn't good for a lot of things, the maturity difference between 17 years old and 50 is monumental...in my favor.

DUSTIN. Who would have ever guessed that the boy who slept through high school would step up in college and become masterful at chemistry! And just in time to rescue his mother. He is a very talented and willing tutor. If it doesn't make sense, he keeps finding different ways to draw it until it does. When I overload and shut down, he just keeps knocking on the door of my brain until I find my way back. Sometimes, that is alot of knocking.

URGENCY. I don't have any many more chances at this. If I want to be a PA, the moment is now. Not tomorrow. I don't have time to coddle fears or run from big bad mathematical equations with electrons attached to them. I let this chance go by and it will be gone. For good. I don't want that to happen.

Chemistry is a language. Its the one God used to create the earth. Its how he orchestrated our marvelous bodies. I don't really know if I want to create entire planets....that a little bit overwhelming (and optimistic). But still! Someday far. Very far. Very, very far. In the future. I might change my mind about the planet thing and I might be glad I can order from the periodic table.

Wish me luck. I'm still packing straight up hill. My brain hasn't really changed any since all those days ago. But this time, I'm going to get there. I am.

Something About AC and DC Currents

2010-01-24T19:13:00.000-08:00

May it rest in peace :(

Month and a Half Later

2010-01-17T15:07:00.000-08:00

Guess who is still on the roof!

Twenty bucks worth.

2010-01-12T20:02:00.000-08:00

So I've been wanting to get a treadmill for Abby. I have been patiently fixated on KSL waiting for the deal of the century. And then it happened. Practically new, for only twenty bucks! The only catch was that the computer didn't work. Hey....who cares about the computer as long as the belt goes around, right? I talked to the owner and asked several different times in several different ways, to be sure that the belt actually turned. He assured me that it did.

So Al and Dustin ponied up and went down to Spanish Fork to get it for me. Seems that the 100 lb machine was actually considerably more than that and twice as awkward, BUT it truly is beautiful, practically new and perfect in every way and... I'm sure the belt can go around. Except, it really can't because the computer won't come on to tell it to. It doesn't run. At all. At. All.

So I guess it falls under the "too good to be true" catagory. But Al knows a BYU student graduating in electrical engineering. He is looking at the schematic. He says he thinks he can rewire and bypass the computer. So I am keeping the faith. Until then... Abby and I practice getting on and off. She's got that part down really well. She stands there wondering whats suppose to happen next. Now...if it would only move.

Important numbers for 2010

2010-01-10T19:54:00.000-08:00

150
12
100,000

I wouldn't bet any Lotto tickets on them, but these numbers are my New Years resolutions.
I've had alot of resolutions go soft as the year actually began to show teeth,
But this year I'm feeling particularly motivated and especially clear.
No distractions.
No weak sauce excuses.
No more wasted time.
Done, done and done.

Help.

2009-12-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

Is this a posture of yearning? Or of gratitude.

But wait.

What about this posture?

Gratitude? Yearning?

Are gratitude and yearning the same thing? I didn't think so. But how do they express themselves in the same posture? And how can two postures be so entirely different and yet be expressions of the same emotions?

What?

2009-12-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

Abby and I met this chihuahua while we were out today. Abby was very confused about what to do when dogs bark at you from their rooftops. So, she sat quietly next to me in bewilderment as I took this picture. Gotta say, it was kind of odd!

In Short

2009-11-29T20:15:00.000-08:00

Since my last blog became an epic tale, let me just simply state that as this Thanksgiving weekend closes, I feel immense gratitude.

In My Defense

2009-11-14T13:55:00.000-08:00

This blog is for the benefit of my children. There have been two popular accusations as of late.

First: Abby is getting treated WAY better than Roxy (our Dane of 10 years, now deceased) and

Second: I forget Abby is a dog and treat her better than my own children.

FOR THE RECORD:
Accusation #1

1. Yes, it is true. When Al and I go to Burger King, we always buy a plain hamburger for Abby.
Two reasons: It's not polite to eat in front of her and she likes hamburgers. Now WAIT! We bought a few for Roxy too, but because there wasn't room for all of you kids in the car plus the dog you wouldn't remember it .... that was something Roxy and I usually did while running errands. Trust me. Roxy liked hamburgers too.

2. Yes, it is true. We take Abby to a dog socialization class in Salt Lake almost every Saturday.
If you had been there when she was doing her "pre-socialization" behavior, you would see the need too. A 120 lb dog with no "party etiquette" makes you very unpopular in the neighborhood. Roxy on the other hand, was socialized as a pup by a constant flow of children, friends and weird teenage activity. She had "skills".

3. Yes, it is true. I take Abby out for a walk every morning, and to the store and on errands every chance I get.
Roxy didn't get daily walks, that's true too and maybe not fair. BUT, Roxy belonged to a pack of eight (plus four or five) and she went to soccer games, Petsmart and played Steal the Flag with us at the elementary school. When she was home, there was usually commotion on the trampoline, or playing tug of war. When Abby is at home, she is either alone while we're at work, or stuck with Al and I. A pack of three. Hanging out with just your parents can be kind of a drag....ask Amy.

4. Yes, it is true. Abby has a coat to wear when we go for walks in the winter.
Abby has fur, but no thick undercoat like many of her cousin dogs. Danes have a hard time keeping their body temperature when it gets ridiculously cold (It's true. Google it!) I really want to walk as long as possible. So she got a coat. HOWEVER, Abby's coat is not a weak sauce "I'm a spoiled chiweenie coat". There is a difference. Abby's is warm and functional while still allowing her to keep her dignity, in a muted dark blue with light blue reflector tape. Somewhat like a boat cover......

5. And Yes, it is true, I use a little bit of food from our dinner to flavor her food. And NO, it is NOT true that I gave the only two meatballs to Abby instead of Dustin.
Yes, I know that when Roxy was in the house, it was a cardinal rule to not feed her from the table (like Al ever felt obligated to follow that one!). That still IS the rule. Dogs are not allowed to beg for food while people are at the table eating. BUT, Abby has a hard time keeping weight on so I scoop just a little bit to help entice her to eat. She turns into a walking skeleton pretty easy. I'm pretty sure Roxy doesn't mind....she snagged enough pizzas and lasagnas off of the counter to be way ahead in the count. Which takes us to the meatball thing.... simmering on the stove was a pot FULL of meatballs, which I was in the process of bringing to the table. Dustin, you have my solemn word, if there are really, truly only two left of ANYTHING.... I will always give them to you. Always.

Accusation #2

I know my dog is different than my children because...

1. Abby sleeps on the floor. I provided beds for my children. Not that they always used them, but I provided them. Roxy on the other hand, slept in Cami or Amy's bed every day of her life until the last bit when it was too hard for her to get up and in. At that point she slept with her huge stuffed bear on the floor and stole Amy's wizard blanket (every night). So maybe that distinction isn't as clear as I thought it would be. But anyway....score one for Roxy!

2. I have to put chairs up on the couch every time I leave the house so Abby doesn't get up on it. My children are always allowed to use the couch unless your name is Scarlet, are 2 years old and trying to eat hummus with your fingers.

3. My children eat from plates at the table. Abby eats from a bowl set on a storage bin. Roxy's bowl was also on storage bin, but she wasn't opposed to eating anything dead, rancid or putrid off of the ground, out of the grass or out of the garbage.

4.When Abby did a really stupid thing and attacked another dog, I promptly made plans to evict her from our family. When my children did stupid things, I attempted to ground them for the rest of their lives, but never, EVER entertained the thought of sending them back to their previous owner.

5. My dogs pretty much sleep when I'm not home. I don't have to make sure they are going to school just because they say they did. I don't have to worry about where they are at night and who they are with and what they are doing. They don't take their friends out on the roof or cut their hair. They don't jump off of other people's roofs and swim in other peoples swimming pools or ski on the roof of cars. They don't squirt water guns at policemen (or water balloons) and they don't do tricks off of cliffs. When I leave the house, the dogs are there. When I get home, the dogs are still there. Can't say the same for my children.

6. I found my dogs in the classified ads. My children took nine months, thirty boxes of cheerios (gingerly nibbled, one cheerio at a time), my every waking and sleeping moment and all my hopes and dreams. The level of investment between my children and my dogs: Not even close.

In conclusion:

Roxy came when there were two very different camps of people housed in one place. Roxy came to bridge the gap, soften the edges and encourage everyone in this house into a person, not a surname. Her days were eventful, and busy. She had a full life. She didn't need other people or other dogs. She had a family to take care of and faces to lick.

One of Cesar Milan's favorite sayings is "You may not get the dog you want, but you will always get the dog you need". Abby has taught me some crazy life lessons in the last seven months. Exposed parts of me that I was clueless about, and then took the brunt of my learning curve as I've wrestled with sorting them out. I owe her alot. And then again...the same could be said of my children. They have the same knack for exposing my weaknesses and then patiently riding the curve while I flounder. I owe them even more.

I'm ready now to rest my case. Only problem is maybe things are not as clear as I intially assumed. ..my defense not as air-tight as I had originally thought. Nevertheless, I will declare until the day I die, "Those were NOT the last two meatballs."

If I Am My Own Biggest Obstacle, Then Why Don't I Get Out of My Way More Often?

2009-11-11T21:43:00.000-08:00

Without fail, every time I get in my car, there is a moment of cringe and then shame over how dirty it is. Not big stuff like paper and cups, but little stuff like crumbs, loose dirt and bits of junk. On Saturday, I pulled into a local car wash and used the vacuum. Five minutes and four quarters. No more cringe. No more shame. Well...THAT wasn't hard!

Markers

2009-10-17T15:58:00.000-07:00

These shoes represent the 20 people (plus or minus a couple) who play Ultimate Frisbee in the freezing cold, wet, sometimes snowy month of December, just as the New Year is about to break. What you don't see is the "other" pile of shoes that missed the actual porch. They are much older, have had many more years experience and are basically thrashed beyond recognition.

There are other things that mark this group of people. Nickle Arcades, racquetball, hiking Provo Canyon, paint ball, board games and pot banging on the stroke of midnight. Yet, its this ritualistic piling of the shoes, that stops my heart every time. My brother. My nephews. My niece.

My porch never looks more content, more fulfilled, more glorious.

Some thoughts about waking up....

2009-10-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

We were putting our granddaughter Scarlet to bed. She was all tucked in and comfy when she turned to my husband and with all the wise earnestness of her two years and eight months inquired, "Papa, how will I wake up?"

Come again ?! We inherently trust that every night as we close our eyes, there will indelibly follow a morning when we open them again. Waking up is not something that you do...it is something that happens. Does anybody besides Scarlet wonder HOW ?

It got me thinking....

Do you remember Christmas mornings as a child, when you couldn't stop waking up until your parents finally say its was OK to meet Christmas? Or when you woke up in school with your face smashed on the desk and drool all over your arm?

Today....there are many mornings when I don't want to wake up; other days when I wouldn't mind waking up...I just can't.

And what about dreams?! Remember the ones where you think you're awake only to actually become awake at the worst possible moment and discover that all of the wonderful (or awful) events you were just thrilling to (or horrified by) were really just your subconscious acting out. And how the realization brings waves of disappointment (or relief)?

Or what about when you know you are dreaming and want desperately to wake up but don't?

Have you ever been suddenly jarred awake with the sound of your own snoring and your head jerking back to upright and all the people on the plane are politely NOT staring at you.

And "wake up calls". ..not just the kind hotels offer, but the kind life gives you. Like when you're driving and you thought you were awake and then narrowly miss an oncoming car and that really wakes you up?Or the relationships that you are kind of sleeping through and suddenly you are jarred awake into realizing that people really do leave? Or when being awake makes you responsible for things you'd rather not see and so you just kind of doze, thinking you're getting away with it.

What about when your eyelids are so, so heavy that you close them for just a second only to discover that you missed the entire church service, missed the movie, missed the joke, missed the boat, missed your decade or missed your chance.

And finally, what about that one inevitable moment when we don't wake up....except we do , and find ourselves in that whole other dimension. Then we ask ourselves, which one was the dream...where we came from or where we are? Are we truly awake now? Had we really been asleep our entire life?

Waking up.... what is that really all about?

The Unveiling

2009-10-01T20:21:00.000-07:00

So here it is! The new coat. Not the fancy "yacht" models we perused on the internet ($150.00, thank you very much). I went with more of a "dinghy", the kind you find as Petsmart ($34.95, ding ding). I actually took her into Petsmart so we could try them on. That was a first for both of us.

Abby is quite pleased with herself and her new "look". We had a fabulous walk this morning, turned a record number of heads as people drove past and thoroughly enjoyed our toasty, warm little selves.

So tomorrow morning, just as the moon sets and the sun rises.....that blue boat, with the fluorescent reflector tape you see out on the horizon..... that will be my dog. Just thought you'd like to know.

140 days and counting...(my dog is not a boat)

2009-09-20T16:24:00.000-07:00

So Abby and I go walking every morning. Haven't missed a day since she got here. That makes 140 days if you count today. (There were five days in there, where I was in Austin. Amy was babysitting and refused to walk her. Abby jumped up and down on the bed. They walked.)

Lately we watch the moon go to bed and the sun rise. No talking, just walking. Traveling buddies. But its turning cold. The other day, 6:15 am, we stood at the door, all leashed up and ready until the cold air hit our faces. We both hesitated. I pulled the "pack leader" card and pushed us both out the door, but I can see up ahead as the winter comes on that the weather is going to be our enemy. The only real answer is to get Abby a winter coat. I've been cruising the internet to see what's available. I've included pictures of current dog coat styles for your browsing pleasure. Please keep in mind that Abby is not a purse dog...those coats are ridiculous. But I included them so you could appreciate what fashions Abby will NOT be sporting this winter. Katie commented on how the Great Dane coats look like boat covers! Well, she will not be mistaken for a boat once I get her winter boots on her :)

2009-09-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

The back 50

So I'm turning 50 years old soon. By my reckoning, that puts me at about half way. I expect to get to 100 (give or take a month or two) and so while time isn't actually "running out", I am approaching my "hump day".

The first 50 years were pretty set out for me.

1. Grow up: check (depending on the day)
2. Getting married: check and check again
3. Have children: check then double check
4. Raise the children: check and almost check

That pretty well sums up the front 50. The back 50 isn't quite so mapped out. I'm afraid if I don't consciously create something, then nothing will happen. I don't want to live by default.

So this isn't a comprehensive list, but its a good start, I think.

I want to belong to a global neighborhood. I want to find myself on the back streets of foreign countries. Walking with a purpose and a project. I want to know the people that I pass by and be able to greet them in their own language. I want to inquire about their families and know the name of their dog.

I love words and the sounds they make and the meanings they represent. I love the people that use them and the way they wrap them around their own personality and expression. I want to speak Russian fluently and then maybe French or Spanish or Italian or something.

I want to sing really loud. Really really loud. Heidi got pulled over one day because she and her friends were singing Michael Jackson really loud and the car windows were rolled down. I'd maybe like to try that.

I want to dance, in the middle of the night, with long lines of people snaking and circling around a bon fire or an impromptu band like that night in France.

I'm sure there is more, but I think that's a pretty good start. Walking, talking, singing, dancing. That's not so far fetched, right? Here I go...wish me luck :)

That time

2009-09-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

Its that time. The milkweed is out. I see it everyday on my walks. Its all along the roads. Each time I pause and look... just in case I see one. Do you remember? So many monarchs born during those years in the yellow house. That was fun.

A Haiku: Time Zone

2009-09-08T22:00:00.001-07:00

I went to bed early.
Couldn't sleep.
Got up.
Did computer stuff.
Should go back to bed.
Don't want to.
I used to call Cami in the middle of the night.
She lived in Hawaii.
She would be on her way to soccer practice.
Cami went on a mission.
Guess I'll go back to bed.

Ode to Amy

2009-09-01T20:20:00.000-07:00

I don't know who exactly made Amy my fashion police, but it is a job she took on at a very early age. One look from her would send me back to my closet.

There was a time I was not allowed to go shopping without her. I think the conversation started out something like,"Next time you go shopping mom, I need to go with you." And if on occasion, I would sneak out by myself, I always had her voice in my head as I tried things on. I knew I would have to answer to her when I got home. We didn't always agree, but I know for a fact she saved me from a major fashion nightmare, multiple times.

My most favorite pair of shoes of ALL time came from a shopping trip with Amy. She noticed them on the rack and demanded I try them. They didn't look very interesting to me, but I tried them on anyway. HOW DID SHE KNOW!? Invariable, the times Amy has "dressed" me, or I'm wearing some of her stuff, people notice.

Over the years, I've come to depend on it. Even now, all's it takes is a look, or a comment or even an unspoken energy from her and I realize that I need to tweek the outfit. And she's always right. I'm sure I rarely hit the top ranks of fashon, but without Amy's vigilant eye, I would regularly be quite the embarrassment.

So the other day at work, a group of girls were talking about hair fashion and the current trends. Out of the blue, one of them turned to me and said, " You know, Kathy, you can't wear scrunchies anymore." "Of course!" I replied confidently, "Those are so outdated." (Amy already told me).

Cow Tipping

2009-08-26T19:17:00.000-07:00

So everytime I walk past a motorcycle that is parked, like in front of a house or in a store parking lot, I get an overwhelming urge to push it over. So far I've managed to restrain myself, but what if one day it just happens!? That's ok, right? Isn't it just like cow tipping?

The Final Concession

2009-08-23T22:51:00.000-07:00

I remember how opposed I was to using a word processor to write my school papers....a typewriter was so much easier. My daughter insisted I get a debit card....I preferred writing checks. Long story short...I now own a laptop, depend daily on a jump drive, have wireless internet in my home, can text, have a Facebook page and a Netflix account. I never wanted to blog. Blog pages have to look like you and the wallpaper and music and clip art represent all that you are, or want to be, or hope to be. That overwhelms me. At this moment in time, I don't have a clue as to who I am. Who I wanted to be has fallen by the wayside somewhere and who I hope to be never quite materialized. Which font type, pictures and special designs represent that?

The final concession is that I'm going to give this running dialogue in my head, a voice. A page. My life is truly of no great consequence or meaning. But from where I stand, there are moments so intriguing, questions so puzzling, hearts so troubled and truths so stirring that I really must comment.