It's a Dogs Life

My parents always watch our Pom puppy when we are away.  So as soon as we get home I usually help Sweet with the unloading then I go and get our Pupperton.  I walk in my parent’s home and he is in the backyard with the other dogs.  When I say the other dogs, I mean my parents dogs, which are his mom, pop, grandmother and brother.  This is Oliver’s family.

I look through the screen door and call him, he comes running and jumps in my arms with licks and kisses.  The other dogs come running as well and are jumping at my feet.  I talk with my parents for a little bit with tales of our travels and they tell me about Pupperton’s fun, I put him in his travel crate and then we make our way home.  When I get home, Sweet and I give him a bath then he is usually tired and passes out from all the playing he did.

Sweet and I were traveling on and off this last week and as stated above the same ritual went on with the addition of my daughter’s dog that is Oliver’s aunt, who stayed with us for several days in between trips.  They played and slept and ate and it’s just a Pom festival!  Until Middle Kid comes to get her then he is alone with us and again passes out from the fun.

So this last time when I picked him up and watched them play through the screen door.  I made an offhanded comment to my mother saying that Oliver would be bored with us since he has been visiting a member of his family for the last two weeks and that he has a better relationship with his family than all of us!  Mom and I laughed then Pupperton and I left.  On my way home, I thought about what I had said and wondered if it were true. Mom didn’t deny it and my thoughts turned into memories of when I was little and how we used to go over to my aunts and uncles homes. Visiting and playing with cousins, spending weeks at a time in the summer, birthday parties, holidays, reunions, marriages and sadly funerals.  Then it all ended.  We grew up, grandparents passed, people moved, second generation began having children and families.  Jobs, school, successes and tribulations got in the way. 

 

Now all these years later, I have cousins that I don’t know.  Some of them, I don’t even know their names and they aren’t sure who I am either. Which is sad because I am also trying to keep my own family together.  It’s trying when this one is not speaking to that one, or someone said something that ticked another person off so much that a phone number is blocked from calling.  Alliances are formed then diverted, Facebook messages are sent that says somebody defriended you or you have been blocked from requesting them again. I could go on but I think you get it.

Please don’t get me wrong, we all still get together for the occasional wedding, we email and text the ones we still have a relationship with and of course the facebook.  But it’s not the same and I still have scars from the explosion that was my life and my children’s childhood.  I still get hairs on the back of my neck when I hear my kids talk about that side and how they are a family.  I want to shout out, so are we!!

I thought more about Oliver’s simple family when I nearly escaped the seduction that is my children’s fathers machine the other day.  I call it the W machine and it used to be a part of me and my family so I can tell you from experience it will roll along grabbing, snatching and snarling at anyone that dares to get in the way of it’s definition of a superior and all knowing family leadership and yet the bite always comes with a smile. 

I have been a part of this viciousness since I was sixteen and even after divorce and the remarriages, the machine continued to grow and the teeth got bigger and more righteous.   

Weird that all that time I thought that I had to live through those daily assaults from him and the new Mrs. W.  I actually thought that this was my life and I just had to be strong and deal with it, not that I was completely innocent in the opinion war.  HA!  Though me thinks great fodder for a yummy protaganist!

Not until I met this woman that had been leading a group I participated in, did I realize that I didn’t have to be.  We had started on a discussion of relationships, emotions and the social unit.  I brought up some stories of my life intending to help the person that started the discussion.  Then Whammo!

The instructor looked at me and plainly said, “You are in charge of your own emotions, no one can tell you how you should react to something nor judge you on it.”  I stopped cold.  Whaaaa?  How come no one told me that before?

She went on to say, “If I jumped on this desk and screamed, shouted and pointed to a mouse in the corner.  Would you yell at me to calm down and not act that way about seeing the mouse?  Or have your own emotion about the mouse?”

Of course I told her that I would probably jump up on the table also and yell louder than her while instructing the remaining souls on how to catch the mouse.  After I left the class, it resonated so loudly with me that I told Sweet about it and many others since.  I am allowed my own emotions! I have been freed!!   I will no longer have my actions defined by others and am free of the W machine.  As I was dancing with my scarf (saw it in a movie and thought is was time to use it) swirling in the kitchen and enjoying the release, Sweet asked in his infinite innocent way.  “Why would you think you had to answer to anyone?  Blah… (dancing stops and eyes look to the side) 

I tell you all this because I learned a few things about this thing called family with my new epiphany.  It doesn’t matter who is talking to who, who is right or wrong, who did all the work, who didn’t.  Opinions and gossip no longer rule the day.  In the simplest terms I note, a bloodline makes no difference, a family is the people closest to you to whom you care, hope and pray for, laugh and cry with, fight and love for no matter what. It’s all about who is running around the backyard with you panting, barking, biting and who’s arms you can jump into with licks and kisses!

Me and the Universe

I am a born and raised Catholic and pretty proud of it.  I was baptized, went to catechism on Saturday’s when all the other kids were sleeping in or watching cartoons.  Then came the first communion and lastly or dare I say finally the confirmation!  Oh, then of course I put my children through all that as well!  Which meant I had to go to church while they were going because I couldn’t be a hypocrite, right? 

Then came the day, about four years after Youngest Kid made his confirmation when I was sitting by myself in church one beautiful Sunday morning and I had an epiphany!  I was still going to church all by myself out of habit.  Of course I didn’t walk out, but I did daringly not go the next Sunday, then the one after that and so on.  Until one day, the old catholic guilt set in and as I laid in bed I was actually arguing with myself whether I should get up and go.  So as I watched the clock tick closer to the D-minute where I wouldn’t be able to make mass, I declared aloud to Him.  

“I don’t have to go if I don’t want to!”  (no, no, lightening did not strike but I thought I heard a thunderstorm)

So now I am in charge of my own beliefs and free of guilt!  Yayyy right?  I still toy with the idea of going back to church even though I pray and have developed a guilt free relationship with Him on my own. 

Well cut to six years later and I am sitting in my apartment with my daughter’s dog, a glass of Merlot watching Under the Tuscan Sun with a box of tissue and some Chinese Food.  Wondering what the hell happened to my life!!  When my Besti FF calls and asks if I want to go to the Friday night melee that is downtown in the summer.  “But of course” I say in my worst french impression.

So here we are, Friday night, dressed up and the band is starting.  I am standing next to her and holding a beer, we are looking around and bobbing our heads while swaying back and forth to the music.  (yes it looked just as I described it.  I’m cool right?)  When I see him, the ex coming through the crowd with each arm around a girl.  OMGsh, heart squeezin’, can’t breathe, scream building, calm, calm. Wait, did he walk through a cloud of light?

When a person whose name I can’t remember (a little league acquaintance) steps in front of me and begins talking about relationships, blah, blah, blah. I am trying to look around her to see what he is doing and if he saw me, yep just like grade school on the playground.  When her voice comes back into focus and I say what???  Then she repeats it…

“What kind of man do you want?  Let’s throw it out there to the universe!”  Whaaaaa?

I said what any good and loyal catholic girl would say.  “You mean to God?  I already have, actually ever since the debacle that was my kids’ dad.”

No she says, make a list and throw it out there and ask for it!  You’re drunk I quip back.  Well, what do I have to lose!  So I do.

* I want him to be 6’2” to 6’4” (I’m 5’2”)

* I want him to have blue or green eyes

* I would love Brown hair, preferably a little long

* He is one or two years older than me

* Must be responsible

* Must have had a job for a long time

* Must be good with money

* Must be honest

* Must like kissing

* I want him to have a good heart

* He has to own his own house, so he has somewhere to go

* He has to be a traveler

* He has no kids or current ex’s in his life

* Bonus would be if he had a Harley

There it was!  My perfect guy, the One that I have been looking for while making my way through this thing called life.  The One that doesn’t exist.  Oh boo hoooooo!    


Two weeks later I am walking into a lobby of a bar/restaurant whilst out with friends.  A tad tipsy, I see this guy coming towards me so I stop him and ask if I can ask him a question because I just have to know.  He says sure and smiles.

*gulp*  I ask if I can kiss him.   So not like me!!  He says yes.  Yuuummmmoooo!!  I was right, just as I thought it would be.  The rest they say is history, we have been together ever since and the list thrown out to the universe?   Everything except the hair, well Sweet Significant had long brown but due to follicle challenges he began having, he is now bald.  Sexy, sexaaaay!

Since then I have had many discussions with people who are in need of something or someone and I let them boo hoo for a while then I tell them whether they pray or not, whether that have a religion or not, whether they have watched The Secret (I haven’t but Sweet wants everyone to) it doesn’t hurt to just ask and throw it out there.  The only thing to remember is to be true to your conviction.  Know what it is you are asking for because you might get it and if you do.  You better be ready.

So here is my next request to the Universe….  Question:  What do I want for my future?

Here it is Universe!  I will work hard to get it…

* A full time writing career as an author

* A fabulous go get ‘em agent that gets it and me

* A research assistant that enjoys traveling, giggles and laughs while we work

* A publishing company that brings with it a family and a team oriented working relationship

* My published books on shelves and in libraries,

* A part time career as a Travel Writer

* Earn just enough money to spend, play, pay my bills and save money for retirement without worry.

* Actually find my safe harbor to work and play there with family and friends.

* Bring back Book Mobiles with books of my newly formed writer friends

The last one reminds me of when I was little and I would wait by the sidewalk for the bookmobile like the other neighborhood kids waited for the ice cream truck.  *sigh*   good times~

So with that, it’s out there.  No need to finger cross, believe and throw yours out there.  Remember…    Conviction!

Have a great weekend my friends!

Crazy Creative Emotions

Sometimes as I write on my blog, my short stories, writing prompts or the book that I just know I will be able to share with the world one day. I am often brought to tears at my own writing.  *dork*   Yep, as I am writing the tears just begin to flow.  I once wrote a story in the middle of Costco so I could test the keyboard of a laptop and just boo hoo’d as though noone else was there.   

With each heartfelt stroke of the pen or keystroke I find that some things just jump up and become something that I didn’t even know I had within myself.  Like a memory of personal tribulation or great joy, even a story that was told to me by a friend or passing stranger that I have held onto deep within. I can also say that certain stories bump up against my pocket of happiness or my bubble of sadness even though I thought I had blown that bubble away.

So today I wrote a story for a writing prompt on Writer’s Digest.com (which I love!) that wanted us to write about a special anniversary.  The story started as something I had once heard from a friend and ended up a story about two people I never met, but now consider friends.  Yes, I cried.

So I thought I would share this with you all and please if it connects with you or someone you know please let me know.  I would love to find out if others have the same experiences and if not, what are yours?

Thanks so much!!

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In the Rearview Mirror

He pulled up in front of the old church as the whispering winds swirled the leaves up around the tall steeples on either side of the building.  Martin walked in through the large oak doors and waited in the vestibule for Henry.  He could see him standing there with the others holding a chip.  They were patting him on the back and everyone was smiling.  As the crowd made their way to the refreshment tables for coffee and desserts, Henry looked up and finally saw him then walked over and looked Martin carefully in the eye and said what he said every year.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it this year.”

“I told you I would come as long as you needed me even though I don’t agree with it”

“Ya Ya, I know.  Look eight year chip”

“Nine year anniversary, are you ready?”

They walked out of the church together and down the steps to Martin’s car and they began the drive they made every year to Tahoe and back.  As the familiar drive took them through the freeways, tree lined and mountainous roads they talked about Martin’s new baby and his job.  Henry wanted to know everything that was happening to him.  Oh the joy of a good life!  Something that Henry knew deep down that he would never have but wouldn’t admit it.

Martin finally pulled into the familiar parking lot at Henry’s old watering hole, McP’s pub. They entered and sat at the bar.  Martin ordered an ice tea and water for them as they sat in silence and remembered that night so many years ago.  The drinks, the women, dancing and getting in the car for the long drive home, then the crash, the fire, the blood, the sirens, the chaos, the hospital, the regret and the enduring sadness that will forever linger.

“Are you ready for the drive back?”  Martin said with an understanding look as Henry nodded.

Back in Martin’s car they drove in silence until they came upon the site where it all happened.  Martin grabbed the flowers in the backseat and got out to lay them against the scarred tree as Henry stood with his hands folded in front of him.  They stood in silent comradeship.  Martin then walked back to the car and got in while Henry took a minute more then followed him for the long ride home. 

“Just drop me back at the church man,” Henry said as they drove into town. “I’m going to need another meeting.”

“Are you sure?” Martin asked with a heartbroken break in his voice. “You need to forgive yourself, it’s not your fault she died.”

“That’s what they keep saying but I was driving.  I am just glad you were ok.”  Henry was out of the car now and walking up the church steps towards the oak doors. As Martin drove away, he looked in the rearview mirror at the old abandoned church to see his friend vanish into thin air.

*sniff*

A delicate flower of spring

A delicate flower of spring is how I have often described Middle Kid.  She is tough, mean at times and has a tongue like a sword.  She is also caring, loving, loyal, beautiful, funny and just plain delicious.  I can hear the laugh that grows from her belly and pours out of her smile and dimples.  I wouldn’t have it any other way and as I sit here thinking of her and the baby that is growing inside of her, I get so melancholy that my stomach often jumps with love and pride. 

This isn’t to say that we haven’t had our moments!  Oh you betcha!  Screaming matches, slamming doors, tears, nose to nose confrontations that I won of course.  Pets passing, school bullies, brothers (need I say more?), divorce and remarriages.  Unfortunately for the only girl in the family besides myself, her Dad and I put her and her brothers through so much just so we could one up each other and boast or defend how much we loved each of them.  She always took it to heart.  That’s not to say that we didn’t have the best of times too!  I want to remember those times forever and I pray that her and the baby have three times the moments we did.

Things I remember….

I remember her in my arms and wrapped like a burrito.  The wide brown eyes looking back at me and after telling her Hi, the wide dimpled, toothless grin.

I remember MK (age 3) and First Born (age 4) in the backyard of our first house with McDonald Happy Meal plastic pumpkins on their heads with the handle around their little chins playing pirates in the dirt with sticks.

I remember the years of Wednesday night female bonding (age 7, 8, 9) where it would be just her and I (the boys were with their dad) doing whatever we wanted.  Out to dinner, doing homework, talking and laughing, dancing, singing, shopping, cooking, watching our favorite TV shows, her wearing my shoes and walking around the house.

I remember when we would shop for her birthday (age 12) and she would walk around Mervyn’s and look for the items that she had hidden over that past year throughout the store.  Gifts that she wanted to buy for me, her brothers, stepsisters, grandparents and even her dad.  I had to wipe her tears and convince her that although it was nice to buy them stuff, the trip was for her birthday.  Then she would convince me that that was what she wanted for her birthday, give them presents.  It made her happy.

I remember her first day of high school and stopping at the coffee shop for first day of school mochas then driving right up to the front of school and giving her hugs and kisses with a tear in my eye waiting for her to get out of the car.  MK sitting in the car frozen and staring forward, not wanting to get out, me leaning across her to open the door from my seat just to get her out and walk in.  She closed it again and with a nervous giggle and saying “I don’t want to go”.  Us repeating this two more times before I could get her out. 

I remember her first car that she purchased on her own by saving all her money from the bobby sox umpire earnings she had mastered all spring and summer.  The piece of crap blue Camaro that looked like it had been decorated for a mexican fiesta parade.  The fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror, the red cloth bobbles that surrounded the inside, the bouncy head dog that she got rid of, the sarape blankets that were used as seat covers.  She loved it!  I was worried…

I remember the first night that she moved out so excitedly and I cried all night in bed just wondering if she had food or was warm.  Yep, first night.  Don’t think I didn’t get crap for that one.

I remember her first big girl job after she had moved back in to save money.  We would get up and have breakfast and coffee, getting ready for work together and leaving the house with our coffee mugs.  Kisses and hugs as we got in our cars and driving away.

I remember her wanting to move in with me to take care of me after my divorce.  Resting my head on her shoulder so I could cry.  Bringing her crazy friends over to cheer me up with bar b q’s, swimming in the apartment pool, dancing in the kitchen, watching movies and most of all just watching them laughing and talking about their 20 something party stories.  So much fun!

Now here she is about to have her own baby, living with her Sweetheart, working two jobs to save money.  My baby girl….    *tear*

My delicate flower is grown up and her spring is unfolding into a beautiful garden to which I pray no thorns will ever poke.

Eat a Hamburger!!

When one purposely embarks on a journey that will eventually change one’s life, they must realize that the original journey has many vein journeys that are available to stay on track.  Your job is to know which veins are needed to assist you.  One such vein journey for me is getting back to my comfortable weight so I feel healthy and strong again, even confident, oh and most importantly my photo on the back of my first novel.  wink wink

So after talking with an old friend and learning how he had lost 18 LB’s in the last two months by walking (little jogging) for exactly 1 full hour everyday.  I thought yayyy!!  I can do this too! As I have mentioned before, I have gained 20 LB’s in the last two years through love, laugh and happiness.

I bought a harness for my puppy, trained him on the leash and off we go.  By the third day, we have it down and I’m feeling really good.  I can feel the weight dropping off and falling to the earth as I walk. I feel like the sewing slaves in the movie OZ,  when they start unzipping the thick skins that they had to wear and reveal their dancer bodies.

I mapped out a route in our residential community for my hour and I’m watching the clock on my Iphone and note that we are on the home stretch.  Oliver and I are walking along one of the main roads and a car coming from the opposite direction is about to pass us when someone leans out of the car window and yells…

“Eat a Hamburger”

I turn and yell back as they drive off…

“I did, why do you think I look like this!!”

Then the skinny, very fit jogger passes me.  So they weren’t talking to me, oh embarrassed.  I ask the jogger about it and she just throws out that it happens all the time as she turns a corner.

I look around and just keep walking, it’s a journey.