The Williness of a Determined Pooch

So I sit down in my Office/Library/Craft room/Dog room to get some writing done.  I fire up my computer, set up my notes, plug in my back up drive, wait for the cats to realize I’m not succumbing to their flirtatious suggestions to pay attention to them instead of the computer and finally leave, and then start to type when…

My beautiful Zander boy (that’s the black beauty in the picture below) decides he wants his bone back.  Somewhere in between the time I let the boys out this morning to when I sat down to write, Alex (the tantalizing tan lad in the picture below) had stolen his brother’s precious bone.

Well, I quickly become entranced as I watch Zander try to figure out how he’s going to get his property back without instigating a fight.  He first stands there, staring into the kennel, probably wondering when his brother had found the time to gather three (yes, three) bones and stash them in his bed (the kennel).

Then he realizes that two of the bones are in one corner while his bone, his precious bone, is all by its lonesome in the opposite corner.  I’m sure he would have jumped for joy at that moment except it was a covert operation and stealth was imperative, which cannot be accomplished if one is jumping up and down with glee.

So, he eyes it for a moment.  His gaze flickers over to his brother, who is happily chewing on his own bone.  When he determines its safe enough he carefully moves in.  But of course the moment his mouth opens to take the prize, Alex swoops in like a hawk to reclaim it.  

In a very gentlemanly manner, Zander backs off and re-evaluates.  He doesn’t get upset.  He doesn’t snap or brood.  He simply watches.  Then an idea pops into his head.

He goes for the abandoned bone.  I figure he really doesn’t care which bone he has, so long as he just has one of them.  To my surprise, when he reaches the bone he doesn’t try to take it.  Instead he nuzzles it, and as he does so, one eye is always on his brother.

It takes a second, but as soon as Alex realizes Zander is interested in one of the bones, of course he wants that one now too.  So, as before, he dives for the bone, which of course Zander quickly relinquishes.

Now it seems he had learned from his previous mistake, for he doesn’t try stealth mode anymore, but quick as a flash snatches back his property before Alex even knew what hit him.

The old bait and switch worked like a charm.  Both boys are happily chewing on their own bones with their person looking on in awe, realizing she just witnessed the williness of a very determined dog.

I’m feeling so blessed to have these boys.  They provide such comical distractions.

Before the Break of Dawn

So I’ve been sick all week.  There’s this monstor cold going around and it happened to team up with my allergies to kick me in the ass.  

On the morning of the fifth day, I suddenly wake up, wide awake, and it’s freaking 4:30 in the morning!  It’s still dark outside, the misty musings of predawn light haven’t even gotten out of bed yet and here I am – eyes open, brain alert.  Shit!

I try to go back to sleep.  Close my eyes and will myself to the sweet dreamworld.  As I feel myself start to relax, maybe even drift, I freaking cough!  Damn it!

So, that doesn’t work.  I then sit up, start to scroll through social media for a while, look at the clock and it’s creeping past 5 am.  I don’t want to get up yet!  Stubborn as I am, I decide to try again, lay back down and try to sleep.

Nope.  Then I think, maybe I should use this time, and my rare wakefulness at this hour, to get some valuable work done.  I have a novel to finish, readers waiting patiently for my next post, and if I ever want to get published I need to actually finish the story. 

But my bed is so warm, so soft.  I had hit that sweet spot where comfort meets euphoria, and I just can’t seem to move.

The problem is that my alarm keeps going off, and I can only hit the snooze button for so long.  Before I know it, it’s 6 am and time to get ready for work.  I just wasted an hour and a half of potential writing time.  Procrastination at it’s finest.

Lesson of the story?  Remember to take my freaking Nyquil!

How to be Romantic

So here’s a lesson, or an idea if you will, for those of you who are romantically handicapped.  And before I begin, let me just add that you don’t have to be a Cassanova to be romantic.  It’s the little gestures that make the biggest impact.

My husband is not the spontaneous type, nor is he the soulful-poetry-reading-pour-out-his-heart type either.  But when he does something romantic, it leaves an impression.

For our 5 year anniversary he planned ahead, came up with a whole day itinerary.  And he wouldn’t tell me a thing!  To add to the suspense he laid before me a trail of clues that successfully built up the excitement for our big day.

This is what he did:

5 days before our anniversary. 

I walk into the bathroom to get ready for work to find my first clue.

A simple reminder to bring a wrap.  My husband knows I always am cold.

4 days before our anniversary. 

I head into our bedroom to change into my work outfit and find this taped to our dressor mirror.

Just asking me to bring a swimsuit, and I can’t help but wonder where the heck he plans on taking me on our special day.

3 days before our anniversary. 

I’m all ready for work and get in my car to go when I find the next card.

This time I’m told to pack an overnight bag.  An overnight bag!  My thoughts go into overdrive (pun somewhat intended) and me being the ocd person that I am, needs to know what to pack!  Of course my husband refers me to the clues, which drives me crazy since I like to plan ahead, but at the same time I am so excited I could just burst.

2 days before our anniversary. 

I walk into the kitchen to find the next note sitting atop the book I was reading.

This one slyly hints that we are going somewhere where I will need to dress up by suggesting I bring the things I need to “doll” myself up.  So now my mind is racing, wondering where we are going, what we’re going to do.  (Well, after all this planning and surprising, I know  one thing we are going to do 😉

1 day before our anniversary. 

We had to mail this one bill out.  Now normally I would juat drive by the post office that’s just down the street, but my husband reminded me that it was just as easy to place it in our mailbox with the flag up.  Sly dog.

This location made me laugh so hard, but the note had me tingling.  It said:

“Dress code: Dinner – dressy, after dinner – sexy”

Now we’re talkin’!

Day of our anniversary. 

My bag is packed.  I’m waiting for my husband to get home so we can get going to wherever it is that we’re going, when there is a knock on our front door.

The dogs go crazy, barking excitedly, and it takes me a moment to wrangle them in before I can answer it.  When I finally manage to open the door, there is a woman standing there holding…

She was the florist, sent to deliver me my final note.  The bouqet, while not large, is more significant with its five roses than it would have been if it had been a dozen or more.  One rose for each year of our marriage.  

The final card was the beginning of one fantastic celebration.  As wonderful as each of the activities he planned were, what I remember most are these notes.  Just knowing he took the time to bring a surprise to me each day leading up to our day made that day all the more amazing, romantic.

So, just remember that its the time put in that makes or breaks it.

Happy romancing!

I am the Moonlight

There is darkness in my soul, clouded over by endless regret.

I cannot see beyond the cotton fog.  There IS no beyond this.

Wandering in hopeless descent, I wonder if I ever had known light. 

For all I can remember is the cold touch of bitter lonliness.

Do I have a choice?  Do I even have a voice?

The emptiness is consuming, burning, swallowing me whole.

Is there a want left in my soul?  Has desire and need melted away in this frozen heat?

If only there was something, anything, even if just a tiny sliver of light to hold onto. 

I might then be able to bear the pain.

So lost I feel.  So gone.

I close my eyes.  Or have they always been closed?

I had forgotten to see.  Forgotten to look up.

And oh what beauty there is in the darkness, illuminating the shadows of my heart, offering me a small relief in this abyss.

For a moment I am alive, reaching and yearning for breath.

So that when the clouds take away my respite,  I may remember what it feels like to live.

And I WILL live for that moment, push through my darkness in its honor.  Breathe, hope, and see.

I WILL seek out my light, the light within me, silvery and beautiful, powerful yet soft. 

Now I can truly see.  This is me.  I am the moonlight.

image thanks to so-pale-girl.tumblr.com.

Seeing Double

Double, double, boil and trouble,

What mischief should we get into tonight?

We plot and plan, and do what we can,

In keeping our marks in our sights.

You think we are sweet.  You think we are cute.

But truth be told, we are actually quite shrewd.

So enjoy your fun photos, and post to your heart’s desire.

For when your back’s turned, we team up and conspire.

To be honest, you’re not a target.

Our intentions are always to be nice.

We’re just playing, and we’re just saying,

We’re a bit less sugar, and a heck of a lot more spice.

Mornings…

The air is soft.  The blanket’s warm.

The light is slow, but quickly gaining.

My thoughts are muted.  The world is surround sound.

I beg for silence, but my prayer is empty.

The comfort still holds me, while the morning reaches for me.

I don’t want to go.  I long for long nights.

But alas, the bright future, that holds so much promise, prods and prods, hoping that I wake.

One eye pries open.  

I see the hope through the haze, but I also see the disappointment that lingers in the shadows.

I only need to push through the fog and take a chance.

Closing my eyes again, I sigh.

I’ll try again tomorrow . 

Who You Looking At?

No words need be spoken.

No thoughts need be expressed.

This is who we are,

No need to be impressed.

We are not the type to judge.

We are not the type to preach.

And as it now stands,

We are not the type to teach.

At times we may seem idle.

At times we may seem bland.

Then on the rare occasion,

Those times we may seem grand.

But hear us now for what we say,

For time is surely wasting away,

And what we have to say is that,

Who do you think you’re looking at?

The Waterfalls of Life

Life flows like a river, with its bumps and curves, falls and rises.  When it rains the water might sweep you away; when the sun burns the water may recede to a trickle. 

We hope for warm days under the shade of a blossoming green tree with a gentle breeze cooling our skin and the relaxing sounds of flowing water.  But we often find ourselves climbing the rocks trying to find shelter and safety.

Whether good or bad, life can either be seen as beautiful or painful.  I guess it just depends on your point of view.

Like Cats and Dogs?

*Warning: this post may cause debate and/or hate.

Black lives matter vs.  All lives matter

I recently watched a video that shocked me to my core.  A white man held a sign in a white community that said “Black lives matter”, and almost everyone just walked by.  Those that did comment felt the sign was racist, that it segregated and de-unified our nation.

This same white man went to a black community and held a sign that said “All lives matter”.  He was continually chased and even struck at.  One man warned him to leave, that it wasn’t safe for him to hold that sign.  One reaction stuck out the most, a man asked “You saying black lives dont matter?”

What does all this mean?  Is our nation divided?  I’d say after watching that experiment…Yes.  Slavery and segregation may have been legally abolished, but our nation is far from unified.  

I feel my perspective is tainted.  Im just a 34 year old white female, raised in a middle-class suburban neighborhood.  What the hell do i know?  I’ve never experienced the kind of racism that others have, so I won’t pretend to understand what’s going on.  But I will admit that “All lives matter” sounds so pretty to me, like a song out of some musical that makes you feel like the world is perfect and beautiful and….

Wake up!  This was my wake up call. The world is not a perfect place.  I want to be angry, but am not sure who or what to be angry at?  If we really think about it, both of those signs spoke the truth, but maybe “All lives matter” may feel patronizing to those who have experienced the pain of racism in a world that promises equality.

I had an epiphany, maybe… What if it was a women’s rights protest, and us ladies are holding signs that say “Women’s choices matter”.  And then some men show up holding signs that say “All people’s choices matter”.

Both signs are accurate, but the men are missing the point.  Women’s rights have come a long way, but isn’t finished yet.  And if we women are still working on it, then how can we assume that all the rights of our black community are the same of our white community. 

Maybe I’m wrong here.  And if I’ve offended anyone here, I truly and deeply apologize.  This is just one white woman trying to understand, because I believe the first step to healing the pain, to bridging the gap, is through understanding. 

Yes, all lives matter, but maybe that is missing the point.  Maybe we all need to acknowledge the pain others feel, to listen, to be understanding. 

We fight like cats and dogs over these issues, but hey… there are cats and dogs that can come together, why cant we?

Reflections

The strangest thing / I find strange to me / is the strangeness of a stranger / who will not flee.

The oddest part / of this odd belief / is the oddness of oddities/ within this scene.

Desperate hearts / that despair all things / will in desperation then plant / despair’s small seed.

Yet hopeless as / this hope may now seem / it is hopelessness that brings hope / to those in need.

Reflection that / reflects something neat / may be reflected reflections / of what is seen.

Mirrored figures / that mirrors may leave / are just mirroring what mirrors / barely can see.

How strange that despair reflects / the odd hopelessness mirrored next.