Day Off - or - an Off Day

I have to confess. I ran a stop sign this morning. Yes, there were witnesses, but thankfully none worked for law enforcement. On the plus side I didn't get all the way through the intersection. If you stop part way though I think that counts for something. Like you are only partly a psycho driver. And, especially good was the fact no one else was in the intersection either. Truthfully my brain got in the way, and I was driving on automatic. It seemed like it was time for the light to change, so I automatically went.

Another confession. While cooking today I set a silicone hot mitt on a burner I'd forgotten to turn off. Again, my brain must have been to full to process everything at once. Sigh, two blonde moments (in one day), with the potential for dire consequences. It has me thinking - which is what caused the problems in the first place.

I know I got lucky, I know we all have moments like this. Don't hesitate to raise your hand if you can relate. But dang, I feel almost dangerous. That is not a feeling I like. I am not a fly by the seat of my pants, throw caution to the wind kind of gal. I'm the kind that feels guilty for eating meat on Fridays during Lent. I can't help it - I just do, at least for the first bite or two.

No, these aren't monumental errors - just ones the make me stop (or go, as the case might be) and wonder. I believe I'll stay off the streets and out of the kitchen for the rest of the day. It might be safer that way.

You Can Lead - the other side

You can lead a woman to logic, but you can't make her embrace it. Some things defy logic.

You can lead a woman to patience, but you can't make her.....well......patient. Why, yes, I do resemble this remark.

You can lead a woman to the hardware store, but her head will be at the Mall.

You can lead a woman to a sports event, but she'll still be looking at what kind of shoes the gal a couple seats over is wearing.

You can tell a woman she's beautiful, but she'll still compare herself to other women.

You can call your female dog your baby, but you better not call your girl friend/wife a bitch.

You can stop thinking the minute you enter your cave, but a woman doesn't have that luxury. Our brains almost never stop working, except during blonde moments. In these cases the brain temporarily leaves the body.

You can hope a woman will stop talking, but odds are not good it will happen.

You can love to cuddle with your woman, but during a hot flash, or PMS it can be taking your life in your own hands.

How do I know these things? Well, duh, I'm a woman, I know everything. When will men (children and teenagers) understand this?

You can try to have a conversation with a woman, but she will be two pages ahead of you at all times. Plus we have the tendency to want to get the last word in. Okay, perhaps a slight understatement.....

You can lead a woman to rational thinking, but it will not erase a propensity for irritability.

See, I did present the other side as promised. Relationships are never easy, but they are interesting. And great fodder to poke a little fun at......

You Can Lead.....

You can lead a man to a project, but you can't always get him to finish it.

You can lead a man to jewelry, but you can't get him give it to you.

You can lead a man down the right path, but unless he feels like he chose the route, you are walking alone.

You can lead a man to the Mall, but you can't make him like it.

Men may be visual creatures, but they don't always see the obvious.

Men may be great problem solvers, but they sometimes can't see the answer right before their eyes.

How do I know this stuff? Well, I had a Dad, have brothers, sons. an ex-hubby, and a honey.

Man caves take on many forms - bathrooms, garages, offices, golf courses, work shops, basements. Men like to hibernate in their caves. Women don't have caves, we have kitchens, laundry rooms, grocery stores -trust me, it's not the same.

Men love to be connected as long as it doesn't require communication, a commitment, or seeing a doctor or dentist. They say women are stubborn, my guess is we learned it from the men.

Men rarely hear exactly what is said. Of course, women may not always say exactly what they mean. What was said, what was heard, and what was comprehended are almost never the same thing. It keeps things interesting though. In spite of what they say, men like to be kept guessing.

And, the remote control??? Well, that is man's equivalent to a fast pass to the man cave. A remote control completes a man, much like a woman might say a man completes her.

Bare in mind, all these wonderful man thoughts aren't directed toward, or the direct result of any one event, man, or experience. I'm not upset with Reno, haven't had a fight with my son, boss, or any other man I may have crossed paths with in this lifetime. Well, maybe one, or two tops, but they shall remain nameless.

Men are simply men. They are never simple and yet can always be simple. Maybe you can relate...... And lest you men feel slighted or picked on, equal time will be given to intricacy's (absurdity) of women. I promise.

Reminiscing

Jackson, Kobe, Buddy, Bo, Pete, Sidney - all fosters. Dusty, Abby, Kobe, Fancy, Mickey - all forever dogs.

So we didn't have them all at once. Probably a good thing. Only one was from my adolescence. The other ten took up residence in my heart within the last ten years. Only one was a puppy - and I believe one puppy was enough. Amazing, when I think of my capacity for loving dogs, that I went so many years without one, or two, or three. Obviously, I'm making up for lost time.

I've come a long way. Three seems pretty quiet. But then one is our little Tripod and the other is older than the hills. Only Mick is old enough to know better and young enough to still get into trouble.

I think a lot about Sidney's last day with us. For months, when he was in the shelter in Oklahoma, he lived in desolate filth. Leave it to me to bathe him the night he died. He smelled awful, I thought from being ill in his crate. Now I think it was just from being ill. Not realizing how sick he was we gave him a bath. He probably didn't appreciate it, but he died clean. I hope that is better than living dirty.

I also keep thinking about the last time I took him out in the yard. Sick as he was he gazed out into his yard and his tail wagged. Not much, but some. I have to believe he was seeing the angels coming to get him. He knew a good thing when he saw it.

Now, if nothing else Sidney was a butterfly boy. Leaping after them was his bliss. So I will be planting a butterfly bush near his grave. After we buried him I was wandering my garden, looking, but not really seeing. Thinking, but not comprehending. To my surprise I saw a colorful moth dance by. That warmed my heart for two reasons. First of all because Sidney loved them, and secondly, because it is definitely not moth/butterfly season here yet. Chance or a sign....you make the call. I know what I think.

In spite of everything, because of everything, before, during and after everything the dogs live on in our hearts. It's what makes me, and perhaps you, whole.

Loving

I've heard folks say, I'll never get another dog, or cat, or pet again. Losing them is just too hard.

I cannot contest that it ever gets easier. But I still think it beats the alternative.

Face it, grief is not a walk through the park. It tests the very heart and soul of us. It leaves us limp, reduces us to a pile of rubble, it shakes us to the core. It causes us to question everything, every little thing. We question our abilities, our faith, our trust. We cry big drowning tears, and raw aching tears. Grief can be a veritable tsunami of emotion. It can be a desert of emptiness. It can also lead us down path's we would never embark upon without a giant push in that direction.

It makes us stronger and softer at the same time. It increases our capacity for love and empathy. It can multiply our faith. You might ask if I am talking about love or grief here, because both have this affect.

Without weeping there is no healing - so tears are a good sign. It is better to have loved and lost - it means we are still alive. Being alive means there is a portal of hope. Within that hope is the opportunity to love again.

And I will.

Emptiness

I was thinking I have nothing at all to write about, but when in fact I do. Truth be told I'm feeling kind of empty and lost. I know it's because of losing Sidney. I still keep replaying the events and wishing something else could have been done. I keep listening for the thunder of his paws on the steps. All of which is totally normal, all of which will pass with time.

Still, it's a hard place to be in. We all get to those places in life that are just a hard places to be in. We get into them and we do get out of them. In the purgatory of it we just have to keep moving toward normalcy. Of course, normal is such a hard concept to define. Some would insist a multi dog household is not normal at all. Others would submit that life gets more normal the more pets you have. Guess it depends how much "normal" you can find joy in.

So we keep moving, even when it's difficult, until we get back to where it's joyful. It's only a matter of time.

Random Thots

I was laughing at work on Friday. Someone ditched a perfectly good door in the alley, and of course, it was deemed too good to throw away. I commented that they say when one door closes, another opens. But that when a completely new door is delivered something big must be about to happen. Of course, I meant big in a good way, perhaps I should have verbalized that part.

Today has been a better day, but then perhaps there was only room for improvement. I did tell Reno that in spite of it being a horridly sucky weekend, it was a good weekend because we shared it together. Sure makes me happy he's on my team.

It would have been a wonderful weekend to do yard/garden clean up, but without Sidney racing the yard, I didn't have the heart for it. I did manage to dig a few dandelions, prune a part of one rose bush, and do a little bunny reconnaissance project. It's only the 3rd day of Spring and Momma Bunny was trying to build a nest three feet from the front door. I'm surprised she didn't just wander inside and ask for a mid-wife and a wet-nurse. I got out the Liquid Fence and hopefully sent her packing.

I know tomorrow will be better. Just like I know the really hard days are when we are healing. I know Sidney crossed that bridge just like he'd launch himself up the stairs and dive into bed. He went full throttle and is yipping his way across pastures of butterflies. He's all about joy now, and I love that thought.

With that we end one week and begin another. Always life is good, even when life sends you tears.