Hi, *waves* remember me?

I have no excuse for why I've neglected my blog for so long. I could make up something like I've been super busy (stretching the truth) or work has been ridiculous (absolute truth) but really, I just haven't felt like sharing my thoughts in a long time. Not that I'm not having thoughts, because my god, the thoughts never stop. Ever. Some things though...some things are just better left in your head. Rather than a verbal run down of the past six months here are some pictures instead. But only from the last couple months because my phone died in April and I haven't finished trying to get pictures off it because I have to do that at work (Macbook + Droid = FAIL) and there really hasn't been time. Nor have I felt like making any effort to do it. But I digress. The end of April saw a road trip to visit a friend from college:

And then there were the baby bunnies in the nest directly against the foundation of my house:

If this one explodes while I'm using it, I fucking give up:

The garden got fenced and planted:

And the compost bin got rebuilt since the October 2011 storm ruined my original one (I still have PTSD from the power outage by the way. Awesome.):

A quick trip to the other side of campus at work allowed me to take a photo of one of the most beautiful parts of campus. I miss seeing this daily:

The garden has turned into a jungle (dog for scale):

I hope to do more of this (with a book in hand) now that work is heading into a "quiet" time. Not that quiet times really exist anymore, but maybe I'll be able to leave at more reasonable times for a while and actually get to enjoy some summer. Maybe.

So, that's it for now. At some point I need to get back in the habit of writing more regularly. I do miss it.

2011 in review

It's been a LONG time since I blogged. I needed a break and while I had so much to say I also had nothing to say about it. Some of you will know exactly what I mean by that. If you don't, you're lucky. I wasn't going to do a year in review post, but I decided I needed to. I need to see 2011 in writing and know I lived through it, I survived, and am stronger for it. Without further ado, a month by month rehash of the suckatude that was 2011.

January
What to say about January other than holy mother fucking SNOW Batman. It was the snowiest month in recorded history in CT. I own a house and live alone (with very vigilant neighbors, burglars be warned!) which means I was the one who had to snow blow and shovel all of it. I think it snowed every three days for the entire month. By the end of the month I was walking full shovels of snow from the end of my drive way up to the middle of it because I could no longer throw the snow high enough for it land on top of the (over 6 foot tall) snow banks. I swore a lot that month. And I was sore a lot too. Thank god for snow days, vacation time and comp days. They are the only way I survived last winter.

Also in January my cat, Moonshine, got sick. We upped his meds and hoped for the best.

February
Moonshine didn't get better no matter what we tried. He got worse and by the end of the month I knew the end was coming very soon for him. He was 13 and to me that's still young for a cat. My cats growing up lived to be 18. I thought I had more time with him.

Also at the end of February my garage door broke. One of the springs finally rusted completely through and snapped. I'd known that day would come since I bought the house, but I still wasn't prepared for it. My car was in the garage when it happened. Thankfully, the only damage was the garage door. Somehow the spring completely missed my car when it snapped. No idea how that miracle happened, but I'm glad it did!

March
The beginning of March brought the death of Moonshine. His heart disease was too bad for the medicine to work anymore. I had to put him to sleep. It was one of the absolute worst days of my life. That cat was like a child to me and for a cat we had a lot in common. I still miss him every day and even writing this paragraph has made me cry.

The only good to come of March was my new garage door. The new one doesn't have holes in it that you can put your fingers through and it has springs that are brand new and not all rusty. Of course, I had to pay for the door, but still. New garage door! And you know you're a grown up when a new garage door is exciting.

April
Ahhhh April. The month of my birth. April started with $1300 worth of unexpected car repairs when my check engine light came on and my car randomly stalled twice while I was driving. That's not awesome. After the car was fixed I'd driven it 36 hours before said light came BACK on. Needless to say I was back at the mechanics and PISSED about it. That visit was free because they "probably" should have caught the problem when I was there previously, but I shouldn't have had to go back at all.

May
I don't remember much about May. I think it was the only month where something bad didn't happen last year. It's one of my favorite months of the year so that's a bonus. Everything blooms and the days are noticeably longer and warmer. It's just an overall good month.

June
Oh June, how I loathe thee every year. June at work is crazy. And by crazy I mean infuckingsane. I work in fund raising and the end of our fiscal year is June 30th. This year we stopped being able to process Visa card charges for a week because someone at some company somewhere did something that effectively broke our account. A colleague and I spent literally five full days on the phone, either on hold or on conference calls or being shuffled from person to person and company to company to try to get the problem resolved. It wasn't anyone's problem, no one caused it and no one could fix it because there WAS no problem on their end. A nice man named Justin finally had the answer for us and was able to fix the issue in less than 18 hours once we finally got to speak to the right person. That was stress I didn't need in June because June is stressful enough as it is. Oh and one of the days when we were on those damn conference calls? The power went out at work so we sat in a dark office in a stuffy hot building where the windows don't open trying to convince someone that they really needed to figure out what the problem was. Good times. Good. Times.

July
This was the July where I had to push my vacation back by two days. On the plus side to compensate for that I ended up taking an additional week off so that was nice. On the minus side, pushing your vacation back because of work SUCKS. It was the right thing to do, but let me tell you how that isn't going to happen again.

August
August brought Hurricane Irene and the destruction of the area I grew up in. I, personally, had a hurricane day at work (think snow day, but with a hurricane instead of snow) and thus sat on my couch refreshing my Facebook page and scouring Youtube to see photos and videos and read personal accounts as the water rose and swept away everything people owned. I don't often feel helpless, but let me tell you that day I felt as helpless as I've ever felt in my life.

On the plus side from all of that my faith in people was restored as I reached out to friends and colleagues for aid and they (you all) gave generously to people they've never met and to an area which most of them have never traveled to. Thank you again to everyone who donated anything at all (or even tried to). You all are my heroes and are just awesome people.

September
I had to think a bit about what happened in September that was bad. I think I've blocked this event from my mind because...ugh. September was the month that my lawn tractor blew up while I was mowing my lawn. BLEW. UP. with me on it. My first thought was thaaaaaaaat's going to be expensive. My second thought was holy shit, I hope I don't have to call the fire department, that would be embarrassing. I mean, the damn thing was on fire for a short time directly behind my kitchen and under a huge rose of sharon bush (tree?). It didn't occur to me that I could have been hurt until hours later. That's when I started shaking. Gotta love the delayed onset of shock. Oh, and you know how in movies when cars explode their hoods fly up? That also happens in real life when lawn tractors explode FYI.

October
Fucking October. On October 29th we got 13 inches of snow. And because it had been unseasonably warm all the leaves weren't off the trees yet. Which, of course, caused damage beyond what you can even imagine. My power went off at 4:20 pm on October 29th. It was off for a very long time (see November, below). I lost the cherry tree in my front yard. It just tipped over. My beautiful magnolia lost half it's limbs. My enormous maple in the back lost a limb the size of a 40 year old tree. It was HUGE. I spent the night cringing every time I heard the snap of another limb breaking convinced that would be the one that would crash through my roof and into my bedroom. I was lucky. My house suffered no damage, my psyche on the other hand....jury is still out on that one.

November
My power did not come back on for 10 days and 5 hours (245 hours). Have you ever been without power for more than a day? It isn't fun. I had running water and that was it. No heat, no hot water and obviously no electric lights. I "cooked" on my gas grill and with sterno. My house smelled of candles and sterno for a VERY long time. It was 42 degrees inside one morning when I woke up. I opened my windows that day because it was warmer outside than in. I'm pretty sure I now know what it feels like to be crazy. I was not in my right mind by the end of day 5 with no power. I started to do stupid things on day 6 when I grabbed the hot pan off my gas grill with no oven mitt. Thankfully the burn wasn't too bad. I am SHOCKED I did not set myself on fire while lighting candles. I have never in my life been more conscious of when sunset was and of the need to be home before dark to get the candles lit and dinner started.

Next time it's 45 degrees outside go stand in the shade for an hour and then go ahead and change your clothes. All of them. Get completely naked and enjoy the hell out of that briskness. That was my life (inside my house) for over a week. I'm just going to go ahead and say it again, FUCK YOU CL&P (Connecticut Light and Power), FUUUUUUCK YOU, the storm wasn't your fault but your piss poor response to it was. Someday I'll write more about what those 245 hours were like. Someday.

I am eternally grateful for the offer and use of hot showers and for the fact that my place of work had power and heat and I could charge things there. I might not have gotten ANY work done, but I was warm and fully charged for a few hours a day. I think that helped keep me sane. I'm also grateful for everyone who offered a warm place for me to stay or shower or do laundry and the warm food people brought me. You guys are all awesome. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The crews from Pike Energy in one of the Carolinas turned my power back on at 8:20 pm on Tuesday, November 8th. 245 hours almost to the minute from when it went off. I missed the one day a year where we get a bonus hour to sleep or watch a movie or walk our dogs or do whatever we want because I was sitting on my front steps shivering and trying to warm up a full week after the storm.

Oh, and Halloween was canceled. Just canceled. Most towns in my area just skipped it this year because it was too dangerous with downed limbs and downed power lines. I know it's not a major holiday, but it still strikes me that it was canceled.

The morning of the day before Thanksgiving I was in the shower, just rinsing the last of the conditioner out of my hair when the power went out again. I turned off the water and stood in my shower for a few seconds hoping the lights would come back on. They didn't. I got out and got dressed and shook for the full five minutes the power was out. Pretty sure the PTSD from the power outage of 2011 is going to take a long time to go away. I've never been happier to have a reason to leave my house. Getting the hell out of CT on that day was the best thing that could have happened to me. Thank god for Thanksgiving!

December
I guess December wasn't all that bad either. It was just busy. Frankly after the rest of the year I'm not sure I could have handled anything going wrong in December.

So here's to a 2012 that is NOTHING at all like 2011!

Hurricane Irene relief for upstate NY

My home area in NY was devastated by Hurricane Irene. I grew up in a tiny mountain town in the Catskills, the kind of town where there’s only one road up the mountain and no stop lights (or as I like to say, don’t blink while you’re driving through or you’ll miss it). It covers 88 square miles of hilly, mountainous farm land and encompasses three small hamlets (Roxbury, Denver/Vega and Grand Gorge). My parents were lucky, they live on a hill and were spared any damage and for that I am incredibly grateful. All of my family are also safe (including my cousins in Vermont). Main street in my town however was covered in water. The town directly to the north of mine (Prattsville) was basically washed off the map and the town directly to the south (Margaretville) is in ruins. These are the towns which you might have seen on the national news. This is where I grew up. All the pictures and videos of the devastation are familiar sights which my brain has trouble processing. It's like seeing my childhood destroyed. Hay bales should not be floating down main streets. Houses should not be jammed under bridges.

People have lost everything, their homes as well as their livelihoods. They’ve been left with just the clothes on their back and a hope that their friends, neighbors and people they’ve never met will help them get back on their feet. I know that we’re all financially strained right now; the economy isn’t the greatest and the price of everything has gone up (not to mention this isn’t even in Connecticut), but I’m hoping you’ll open your hearts and help me to help the people in need back home. I’m collecting anything and everything to bring home to help in the relief efforts. And I do mean anything. Have extra toothbrushes from the dentist in the closet at home? I’ll take them. Have an extra bar of soap? Time to clean out your closet? Gather what you’re ready to part with and I’ll take it.

Items needed include, well, everything really, but specifically:
- Clothes - all ages (infant through adult), all sizes (gently used or new), all seasons
- Shoes - all ages, all sizes (gently used or new)
- Non-perishable food items (including formula and baby food and canned goods)
- Toiletries (soap, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, deodorant, tooth brushes, toothpaste)
- Feminine Hygiene Products
- Diapers and baby wipes
- Cat/Dog food
- Cleaning supplies (paper towels, toilet paper, bleach, laundry detergent, etc.)
- Bedding, towels, blankets
- Kitchen items (can openers particularly, but anything is appreciated)
- Gift cards to Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Lowes or Price Chopper (there are no Targets, Stop & Shops, Whole Foods or Trader Joes) or Visa gift cards

Monetary donations can also be made to the following organizations. No amount is too small. Every single dollar helps, even if a dollar is all you can afford to give.

MARK Project
Box 516, Arkville, NY 12406.
or www.markproject.org

Relief Fund c/o NBT
PO Box 380
Grand Gorge NY 12434.
Please write the name of the town in the memo line if you want funds to go to that particular town. Towns hardest hit include (but are not limited to) Prattsville, Margaretville, Fleischmanns, and Windham.

Interfaith Counsel c/o NBT
PO Box 140
Margaretville, NY 12455.

I will be collecting items for as long as people want to give and making sure they get to the areas which need them. The need is both immediate and long term. My home is in Connecticut now, but my heart is in the Catskills. Let me know if you're local you'd like to contribute and I'll be happy to come to you to pick stuff up.

Please feel free to pass this message on to anyone else you think might be willing to help out. And thank you in advance for anything you can do to help.

Below is Main Street (State Rt. 30), Roxbury, NY – my hometown. The little sliver of green lawn on the right is the lawn of my K-12 school where my father taught for 30 years. This is the middle of town.





This is Freshtown, the grocery store in Margaretville NY. It is the grocery store closest to my parent’s house. The CVS has since collapsed.




Part of State Rt. 30 in Blenheim, NY. Blenheim also lost their historic covered bridge. Built in 1855 it was the longest single span covered bridge in the US and withstood the flood of 1996, thought then to be a 100 year flood.





This is the Rt. 23 Bridge in Prattsville, NY. It was completely undermined and is also the bridge I take to get to my parents’ house. Or it was the bridge I take. Just out of the frame to the center left is the site of what used to be O’Hara’s gas station. Any trace of the gas station is completely gone. It looks like an empty lot.

Day Two

Day two of the 30 day song challenge is your least favorite song. I posted the Rebecca Black Friday video on Facebook. I mean, it is pretty bad. Later on I heard the cast of Glee sing their version and I....almost liked it. It was actually catchy. I might be slightly ashamed to admit that.

Anyway, I'm not going to post either video here. If you haven't heard the song you can YouTube it yourself. But trust me, save your ears.

I could easily have posted the following song instead. I quite dislike it. It actually makes me uncomfortable for some unknown reason. And as such I tend to forget about it which is why I didn't use it when I posted Day two on Facebook.


Landslide - Fleetwood Mac

I sometimes feel like the only person in the world that dislikes this song, but I have recently been reassured by a good friend that she too loathes it with a fiery passion. In fact, I didn't even watch this video before posting it. I just made sure it didn't start with an advertisement (with the sound on my laptop off). I have no idea if the sound quality is good or if the picture is decent. There could be a weird dismemberment or sex scene in the middle of the video and I wouldn't know.

I can tolerate the Dixie Chicks cover of Landslide. Their voices don't grate on me and make me uncomfortable like Stevie Nicks's (Nicks'??) voice does. If I never heard this song again I wouldn't mind at all.

I suck at the blogging this year. Also, Day One

So, it's been two months since my last post. I suck at blogging this year. Oh well. Not going to beat myself up over it, just going to try to make a more concerted effort to actually blog.

I've been doing a 30 song challenge on Facebook. One of my closest friends suggested I also put it on my blog so I could more fully explain my song choices. And I think I will. I doubt I'll do this on a daily basis, but eventually I'll get through all 30 days. And perhaps doing this will help kick me back in gear with the blogging.

So, Day One of the song challenge is your favorite song. I don't have an all time favorite. I have lots of songs that I will always love and which will probably be meaningful to me for a very long time. Instead of an all time favorite I chose to go with my current favorite.

When this pops up on shuffle on my iPod I never listen to it just once. There have been days when I listened to this song on my entire drive to work and then again on my drive home from work. We won't talk about how many times in a row that might be.


Soldier - Ingrid Michaelson

Had you asked me what my favorite song was 5 years ago or even 10 years ago, hell even 15 years ago my selection would have been different. The album Fumbling Toward Ecstasy basically got me through college. I would stick that CD in my discman, put on my head phones and stay up all night writing papers. I probably listened to it a million times. The first memory I have of my friend Nick was as he turned the corner in our dorm with a boombox on his shoulder singing along with the song Ice Cream. I remember hearing Hold On on a compilation CD I bought through BMG Music. When I think back like that I remember humming it as I was getting vegetables out of the walk-in cooler to stock the salad bar over the summer when I was working in our dining hall doing catering. Needless to say, the album holds many memories for me.

My favorite song off the album is Elsewhere.



I think it was these lyrics which really struck me:

Oh, the quiet child awaits the day when she can break free
The mold that clings like desperation
Mother can't you see I've got
To live my life the way I feel is right for me
Might not be right for you, but it's right for me
I believe...

When I was in college I was that quiet child who felt as though she'd been clinging to the mold which she'd grown into. I felt like I had to be a certain way because it was expected of me. As I grew into an adult and grew into who myself and gradually started coming out to myself it was hard to let go of that mold even though I desperately wanted to.

That mold is gone now and has been for many years. I live my life for me and if you don't like it, well, that's your problem. Not mine.

Long time no blog

I didn't intend to take so many lengthy breaks in my blogging this year. But 2011 hasn't been off to the most fantastic start. For me at least. But, I'm not going to dwell on all that. I'm going to focus on the fact that it's spring now. Plants are starting to poke their first fragile stalks through the still cool ground. Crocus are blooming. Daffodils should soon follow with tulips right around the corner. Days are lengthening and the quality of sunlight has changed. All these are awesome things.

I've spent a lot of time thinking already this year and we all know I already do more than my fair share of that to begin with. But it's been good thinking. Solid, self understanding type thinking. And I'm pleased with where I all this thinking has left me. I feel stronger. Perhaps more confident. I'd say wiser, but I think it's that I've gotten more in touch with myself rather than gained any wisdom.

So, it's on 2011. Take notice. I'm going to make you my bitch. The crap you've thrown at me thus far is not going to drag the rest of my year down. I will return to the happy and the awesome that I felt and was when this picture was taken last September.



And I might listen to this song on repeat a few times because it seems fitting and I love it and it reminds me of the amazingness of spring:

Moonshine

I had to put one of my cats to sleep on Friday. Moonshine was just a couple months shy of his 14th birthday. And I feel like I failed him. Even with multiple reassurances from my vet that he beat the odds and that we did everything we could for him, I still feel like I failed him. He was just a kitten like a couple years ago, how could he possibly be old enough to have heart disease???

And how could I not know that he had it? How could I have focused solely on his thyroid problem and completely missed the heart disease diagnosis in January of 2010? On the one hand this gave us a full year of normality. Well, normality and twice daily medications. On the other hand it made his decline seem so sudden and shocking.

Moonshine was given to me as a one year anniversary present by an ex-girlfriend. Another friend had given me a kitten for a college graduation present a couple months earlier (a little fluffy male bundle of orange fur which I named Sunshine) and that kitten desperately needed a playmate. Or rather, I needed someone other than me for him to play with in the middle of the night and while I was at work. Enter Moonshine. Who hide beneath the pedals of my ex-girlfriends car. He was a master at hiding. Even I couldn't find him in my own house at times he was that good.

Sunshine and Moonshine were literally night and day from each other. Sunshine is orange, Moonshine was black. Sunshine is outgoing, Moonshine was timid. Sunshine trusted everyone, Moonshine trusted few. Sunshine is a lot like Ms. Ex and Moonshine was a lot like me.

When Moonshine was a kitten he had an awful time controlling his tail. I just don't think he understood how it worked. He'd often walk around with the tip of it bonking him on the back of his head. His lack of tail control caused an unfortunate incident with a candle when he was a year or so old. Singed cat fur smells awful by the way. Thankfully he was no worse for the wear once the fur grew back.

He also loved to play fetch when he was little. He'd bring me a toy and I'd throw it in my tiny apartment and he'd chase after it and bring it back for me to throw over and over again. He outgrew this after a while, but it was adorable and the closest I've ever come to owning a pet who actually fetched. What about Maggie you say? I mean, she is a dog after all. Go ahead, I dare you to get her to play fetch with you. Go for it. I'll give you $100 if you get her to play.

Moonshine saw me through five moves (one interstate) and three girlfriends. We lived in six different homes together (three apartments, one townhouse and two houses). He and his brother Sunshine have been there for me for my entire post-college life. They were a constant no matter what else was going on in my life. When the bottom was falling out and my world was collapsing around me, they were there. They were steady and the same and normal. And even though you know when you adopt an animal that someday the day will come when you will lose them, I honestly thought that day was still years away. 13 isn't old for a cat to me. I really thought I had another 4 or 5 years.

Instead of an outright purr Moonshine would start off by making this grunting noise which would then lead into a deep purr if he was really happy, a deep purr which still had a grunting quality to it. I'd often call him my little grunty boy because of it. He was a sneezer (allergies maybe? Who knows. None of his vets over the years was concerned about it). And he was a puker (again no vet concern there) which the dogs who appeared later in his life LOVED! Maggie woke me many a night by vaulting off the bed to go clean up some puke. I think she was afraid someone else would get to it before she did if she didn't go get it RIGHT NOW! What she doesn't understand was that no one else in the house wants to eat the kitty vomit. Yuck!!!!

Speaking of dogs, Moonshine hated the dogs. HATED them. He ran away from home for a few days after Ms. Ex and I got our first dog, Joanie (who lives with Ms. Ex now).

My dad called Moonshine squat walker because whenever I moved into a new place Moonshine would squat walk through it until he got settled in. He was a very cautious kitty and would hide every time the door bell rang. Just in case. And he was an excellent judge of character. If Moonshine liked you then I knew for sure that you were a good person. I'm going to miss bringing people over and seeing whether or not he'd let these new people pet him.

Like me, Moonshine loved a good thunderstorm. When I first moved to CT we lived in a third floor apartment with a tiny little porch. At the first rumble of thunder Sunshine would dart under the bed to hide and Moonshine would beg to be let out on the porch to watch it. It didn't matter to him that it was raining and he might get a little wet, he was bound and determined to watch the storm.

Also like me, Moonshine adored olives. I could never open the olive jar without him knowing it, no matter where in the house he was when I opened it. I always saved one or two of the olives I was eating just for him as a treat. They weren't a daily thing, but he LOVED them. I knew he was really really sick when he would no longer eat the pieces of olive I offered him.

Between the two cats Moonshine (who was found on the street with his mother when he was just a little kitten) was the better hunter. While I love my Sunshine dearly, he is not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Moonshine is such a good hunter that one time he even brought me a mouse from the basement with the trap that actually killed it still attached. He was really proud of himself that evening.

Maggie was terrified of Moonshine. Probably with good reason. He would sit on the dining room chairs and swat at her when she walked by. He was black and blended into the shadows so she never saw it coming. Quite a few times he trapped her in a hallway in the house. All he had to do was sit in the middle of the hall and look at her and she'd flat out refuse to walk around him. I had to rescue her from him quite a few times. Even after all that Maggie would still try to get him to play with her on occasion. Maggie might be an eternal optimist.

Over the last six weeks I watched Moonshine get sicker and sicker and weaker and weaker. He had fluid drained from his chest cavity twice. The last week of his life he was barely going through the motions and weighed about a third of what he weighed in his prime. I watched him like a hawk to see if he was still breathing. That's exhausting. One morning last week I couldn't find him in the morning when I got up. When I did find him in the basement he didn't respond to me calling his name and I actually asked him, out loud, "Moonshine, did you die?" But he hadn't. He was just in the in between. Not quite here but not quite there either. He spent quite a bit of time there during his last week or two.

Moonshine never got as much attention as his brother did. Or the dogs when they came. Part of the reason for this was because I was really really allergic to him, the rest of it was because affection was always on his terms. He hated to be held (and I have the scar on my left wrist to prove it). His idea of snuggling was sleeping on the same couch as you. Later in life he finally started sleeping next to me on the couch, actually touching me. I still have guilt that he didn't get as much attention as the others. I probably always will.

I am now thankful for the ridiculous winter we had. I am so grateful for all the days when it was too snowy to do anything but sit on the couch because I got to spend quality time with Moonshine in what I didn't realize were the final weeks of his life. He would sit with me, next to me, as I knit or watched movies. And he'd purr that grunty purr of his and we were both happy.

It's the silly things about him that I miss most. The house is so quiet without him (and he was a pretty darned quiet cat). He used to meow every night after I got in bed. A lot of the time it was just as I was drifting off to sleep and I would get so annoyed. He was playing with his favorite green catnip sock and would find the perfect spot to meow so as to maximize the acoustics of the house and make it as loud as he possibly could. I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss that meowing now that it's gone even though I'd have to yell at him every night to get him to stop. He stopped doing it a few weeks ago when he got sicker. I even miss him scratching his claws on the sisal rug in the entry way even though I'd yell at him for that too.

I also miss him meowing when it was dinner time. He wore a tiny little watch under all that fur and no matter the weather he always new when I was supposed to be giving him his dinner. He'd be meowing right now actually if he were still with us. And even though he was the smaller of the two cats and the definite beta he would push Sunshine out of the way and eat both dinners some days. I loved to watch him do this and assert himself for a change.

I know have far too many litter boxes and food bowls and food for one cat. And the house feels unbalanced, lopsided if you will. The energy is all wrong. I miss that little guy terribly. He and I were a lot alike, well, as alike as a cat and a human can be. I didn't think losing him would affect me as much as it has but I have been a wreck for weeks now. And while I am relieved that the waiting is over and that he's no longer suffering his loss is palpable to me. It physically hurts.

I'm sure there's a ton more I could write about him. Like how he would follow me around the house if I were on the phone and beg for attention, meowing quietly at me if I didn't give it to him. Or how he would hold a grudge and was cold and calculating and would take revenge on Sunshine hours or days later by a vicious sneak attack for one offense or another. He was a unique little guy.

I know putting him to sleep was the right thing to do. I know there was no other option. I know it was the kindest, most humane thing for him. I know he beat the odds for his diagnosis according to my vet. I do know those things. But it doesn't make me feel any less of a failure to him. It doesn't make me miss him any less. It doesn't make the void any smaller or put the house back in balance. I hate how all this feels. They just aren't with us long enough.

Rest in peace Mr. Man.

Enough with winter already!

Apparently Connecticut has done something to anger Mother Nature. Or maybe Old Man Winter. Or perhaps both. Because we've had storm after storm after freaking storm since the day after Christmas. Each dumping more and more snow. January was the snowiest month in history in CT. Well, since 1905 at least when they started keeping records.

Normally I'm not a jealous or envious person, but right now? Right now I envy those people in my state who have only to clear off their cars and shovel out a parking spot. It seems all I did for the month of January was snow blow and shovel and then do it again. And again. And again. And again.

And don't get me started on the people who are posting things online about how they're inside having hot chocolate watching hubby, or significant other or whomever shovel or snow blow or plow. To that I say, unless you have a medical reason NOT to be out there helping get off your ass and go freaking help. Snow removal is exhausting and if there are two of you in a household you should be splitting that job.

I have burned so many calories shoveling and snow blowing (which takes a lot of effort even though the machine does a lot of the work) that I can't eat enough to be full most days. I'm constantly hungry which is a pain in the ass.

And yes, shoveling is wonderful exercise and I'm grateful for the chance to get out and move this winter. But what I'd really love is a break. My neck/shoulders ache. My forearms burn. My hands are sore so knitting is hard or just impossible some days. The other day even my ankles hurt from all the shoveling.

The snow is up to my hips. The fence in my front yard is nearly completely snow covered. All you can see is the center light post which is 7ish feet tall. I can't see to back my car out of my driveway anymore which makes me even more thankful that I live on a quiet street. I had to shovel a path (and then snow blow it) for the oil delivery folks so they can bring me oil so I can heat my house. Maggie is bored out of her mind since we haven't been on walk in weeks. I've lost track of the number of days of work I've missed from all the snow. Today is the second day just this week.

Now, I do love winter. I love all the seasons. But I'm ready for this one to end. I have a feeling the snow is going to be around until at least May though. The piles are deep and compact. And somewhere in one of them lies my Christmas tree.

Wherein I whine for a moment

Sometime last week a contemporary of my grandmother's fell at school (the same school where my father and grandmother taught and where my mom, dad, aunt, uncle, cousins and I all went to school) after tripping on a book bag which a ten or eleven year old threw down in the hallway without looking. This 90+ year old woman fell, gashed her head open and broke her hip. We won't talk about how she probably shouldn't be teaching any more at her age. Instead you get to listen to me whine for a minute or two.

Four and a half years ago a similar incident is what lead to the death of my grandmother. The only grandparent I ever knew. Grandma tripped on her walker on July 4th, 2006 and broke her hip. She passed away four days later, five weeks short of her 87th birthday. The difference in these situations is, of course, that my grandmother died and her contemporary coasted through her hip replacement surgery without a single issue. She's likely to leave the hospital tomorrow or the next day.

And this, I am ashamed to admit, makes me angry. Which in turn makes me feel horrible and ashamed of myself that I should be wishing ill on a woman who spent her entire life teaching. A woman who has made a difference to so many young people. It's not even that I'm wishing her ill exactly, it's more of a "why did SHE get to live and grandma have to die?" kind of whining. I don't want her to die, that would be awful.

My mind is perpetuating the selfish whining of a little child instead of the rational thoughts of the woman who knows that her grandmother had been ready to go for years. I have some how managed to block out the knowledge that grandma asked the doctors to stop trying when they weren't able to get her blood pressure back up after surgery. She knew she'd had a good, long life and that her time had come. She was ready to go. She wanted to see my grandfather again, her husband who'd died 29 years before shortly after they'd retired. I was only 2 years old and know him only from pictures and stories. I don't remember him at all.

Rational, adult me knows that these two falls and surgeries have no relation to each other at all. Different circumstances, different women, different everything. Selfish child me cannot separate the two in my head. Rational, adult me is happy for this woman and her family. Selfish child me is mad that she got to live and my grandmother died. Rational, adult me feels awful and is ashamed of the selfish child me. Rational, adult me and selfish child me both wish we'd spent more time with grandma than we did.

Not to mention thinking about all this brings up thoughts of Ms. Ex and how she didn't want to go to my grandmother's funeral with me. That was awesome. Apparently having to take a day off work to be supportive of me was an inconvenience to her schedule.

I'm going to go let rational, adult me wrestle with selfish child me some more. And perhaps have a good cry.

So, it snowed

We got some snow today.



The news said 24 inches of it fell in my town.



Took me a very long time to clear my driveway and walk way and find my mailbox again.



Needless to say, Maggie was not amused.

Reflections on 2010

The end of the year is as good a time as any to reflect on what I've learned over the course of the previous 12 months. And since I love lists what better form to use for reflection than list form? In no particular order, here is a list of some of the things 2010 taught me.

1. There's always going to be someone(s) there for me to lean on. Lots of them in fact.

2. It's okay to lean on those people when I need them. When you reach out people reach back.

3. Everyone is doing the best they can. It may not be your best or my best or the best that we might want from them, but it is their best. And that's all we can ask of anyone. (This isn't something newly learned, but it's something I reinforced in myself this year.)

4. It's okay to light candles even if you're the only one around to enjoy them. In fact, that's the most important time to do it.

5. No matter how old I get I will always be the girl who falls too hard and too fast. I get my heart broken because of it. I'm okay with that and I wouldn't want it any other way.

6. My intuition and gut are always right. Always.

7. As crazy as my dreams are (and oh my god are they crazy) they always give me a clue to the issues I need to work out while I'm awake.

8. Letting go and trusting...two very hard things which I'm still learning how to do, but two things which can be the most rewarding.

9. Purling. Can't forget finally learning how to purl! Oh the beautiful things I can knit now!

10. I am enough.

11. I'm not willing to compromise myself. I deserve the best.

12. Dating just for the sake of dating isn't worth it. Even though you do get some good stories out of it. (I already knew this too, but again, it was simply reinforced.)

13. I am exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life even if sometimes that place makes no sense.

14. Everything I write here is my truth at the time I write it. I might not feel the same after I've written it and some of it might be written in the heat of the moment, but I don't regret a word of it. Even if I no longer feel the way I did when I wrote it.

15. I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore, including myself.

16. Reconnecting with old friends is very rewarding. Not only do you get to learn more about them, but you get to learn about yourself as well.

17. It's okay to ask for what you need. People can't read minds no matter how good their intuition is.

18. I am not broken.

19. As much as I might complain about my job sometimes, I do enjoy it or at least aspects of it. And the folks there have become a family to me in their own way (even when they frustrate the hell out of me). They will never know how much that means to me.

20. I need to be more open. This is a goal for 2011. I don't do resolutions, but I think goals are a reasonable alternative.

21. Fear doesn't protect you, it only holds you back.

22. There is nothing at all wrong with seeing the same artist in concert multiple times a year. Nor is there anything wrong with having perhaps too many jack and cokes during those shows and wooing a little too loudly and a little too much.

23. The Universe works in mysterious ways. You might not always get what you want, but you always get what you need. Instead of asking for what I want, I now ask only to be provided with what I need.

24. When I stop to listen my body tells me everything I need to know about it.

25. Instead of fighting the emotions and holding them back it's best to allow yourself to feel them, fully feel them, and then move on.

26. Giving feels infinitely better than getting. (This is something that Ms. Ex could stand to learn. I'd like to think she has in the years since our split, but something tells me this is a lesson she'll never learn which is sad.)

27. Some people are simply meant to be in your life and you recognize them nearly instantaneously.

28. When something feels right, it is right. If it feels wrong, it is wrong. Seems sooooo simple, but it took me thirty-five years to figure this one out.

29. In the past I haven't spent enough time telling the people I care about how much they mean to me. I'm working on changing this.

30. This one is something I didn't think I'd ever say again, but I am no longer averse to marriage.

31. Sometimes I just know things. I don't know how I know them, but I do and I am learning to trust in this knowing.

I'm sure there are more things I could list, but I think the list is long enough as is. I'm also sure that I've left some big self discoveries off the list, but that's okay. I've written what I needed to write.

Lyrics are hard to choose for this post. I mean, how do you sum up a year's worth of growth and learning and self reflection in a song? Instead I'm going to post some lyrics from a couple of my favorite songs from this year.

First up is Soldier by Ingrid Michaelson. I'm pretty sure I've used this song before, but I don't care.

I don't believe in anything but myself
I don't believe in anything but myself
But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else.

But how do I know if I'll make it through
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?

And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won

Next up is The Light by Sara Bareilles.

In the morning it comes, heaven sent a hurricane
Not a trace of the sun, but I don't even run from rain
Beating out of my chest, my heart is holding on to you
From the moment I knew
From the moment I knew

You were the air in my breath filling up my love soaked lungs
Such a beautiful mess intertwined and overrun

Wishing you all a 2011 filled with joy and love!

Ghosts of Christmas Past

I miss these Christmases. Not the being a kid part (although, that's totally appealing sometimes), but the getting together at my grandmother's house with my aunts and uncles and cousins.



But grandma's gone. And my cousins have families of their own now. And we're more spread out geographically than we were growing up. So, it's just me and my mom and dad at Christmas. And the older we all get the more I start to think about what it's going to be like when they're gone. Which is totally not what the spirit of the season is about, but it's where my brain goes.

I know I've glamorized these family Christmases. I mean, I do distinctly remember how awkward they would get. How no one really wanted to go, but we all did anyway. How we would all eat before we went because grandma's cooking was never very good (and often consisted of leftovers from a church supper, in like April) and gave everyone gas. How very COLD her house was and how we would secretly turn up the thermostat while pretending to have conversations outside the bathroom.

I guess...I guess I just miss getting together with my family. I never see one set of cousins anymore. It's been years. The other set I see once, maybe twice a year, which is partly my fault because I don't go home for every holiday. But none of us really make an effort. Which I feel bad about sometimes. But then proceed to do nothing about it. And then I feel bad all over again.

I kind of can't wait for the holidays to be over. I'm looking forward to returning to my normal routine. The one where people everywhere aren't so stressed with Christmas cheer and where traffic returns to normal and you can set foot in stores without wanting to hang yourself. And where I can stop thinking about the ghosts of Christmases past.

This Christmas

When I sat down to write this post I thought I'd just dash off a few quick words, something akin to "and so, you know, this happened five years ago and explains why I think all those "buy her a ring for Christmas!" commercials are such bullshit" and link to this post from a couple years ago and call it a day. There really isn't much more to say about Christmas of 2005 than what I've already said in that post.

What struck me as I re-read the words I wrote back in 2008 was how different a person I am today than I was then. Back then I was really focused on finding someone to be with. I thought that would make me happy. I think I had something to prove, to myself, to others, probably to both.

Since then I've realized that when you try to fill what you feel is a gap, a lack, an emptiness in your life with someone else or by buying more things (crap you simply do not need) you're doing yourself a disservice. Focus on yourself first and things will then fall into place. Focus externally and you will spend weeks, months, years and even decades feeling that emptiness and wondering why you never feel full or complete.

I'm not the lonely girl with something to prove to the world anymore. I'm just me. I'm happy, whole, complete and I have nothing to prove to myself or to you or to anyone else. I am blessed with the best friends you could ever ask for. My family loves me just as I am. I own a beautiful home. I have enough food to eat and heat on this frigid December night. I have a good job and health insurance and a car to drive. I have three wonderful four legged children who love me unconditionally (unless I forget to feed them, then all bets are off). There is nothing lacking from my life. That is a wonderful feeling.

And this Christmas I put up a Christmas tree for the first time since that Christmas.



And maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll finish my Christmas shopping in the next day or two!

The voices in my head

I've been having long discussions with myself lately. Not aloud of course. Well, mostly not aloud that is. I do talk to myself with a frequency I probably shouldn't publicly admit to, but the voices never tell me to do anything bad....

Anyway, these self talks have been wonderful and very grounding for me. Or maybe centering is the better word. Regardless, what it boils down to is the fact that I feel myself again. And I can tell I feel myself because of things I've been saying to dear friends of mine. Things that would not have come out of my mouth (er, fingers? since they've been said via text and e-mail) a few weeks ago. Welcome back me!!

During these self talks there have been a few key phrases which have been repeated over and over and over ad nauseam. In no particular order they are:

- Life is short
- Get over yourself
- Listen to your gut
- It's not about you
- Let go
- No, really get the fuck over yourself

And so, that's what I plan to do. Get the fuck over myself because life is short. And you really don't know what tomorrow will bring.

We can plan for the future until we're blue in the face, but I think most adults know by now that life rarely goes as we've planned it. And that's okay. That doesn't mean you shouldn't make plans for the future or figure out a path and a way to follow your dreams, it just means don't be surprised if things don't exactly go as you planned.

Had my life gone as I imagined it would I'd now be married to a boy named Eric (or maybe James even), with a house and kids and all that. And as wonderful as Eric is (and James too), I would be completely fucking miserable because I don't like boys in that way (but James does, so we'd both have been miserable!).

So, here's me starting to get over myself. And letting go. And not being afraid. And all sorts of other good things that make me who I am, who I'm meant to be.

And I'm taking a friend's advice and not over editing this post. I have a tendency to write and re-read and edit and re-read and edit and re-read and edit instead of just writing. I need to learn to let go a bit better, in so very many ways....

Enough

I guess I decided not to disappear from my blog for too long. Apparently I have things to say even though I'm very much still licking my wounds.

One of the folks I follow on Twitter posted a link to this article today and it got me thinking. Okay, fine, what doesn't get me thinking? In this case, I started thinking about courage (If you don't want to read the whole article, at least read the last three paragraphs) and how it relates to my life over the past five years.

For most of my life I haven't let people see my vulnerable side. God forbid someone should think I might be weak! My answer to "are you okay" has usually been to paste on a smile and reply with "oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking." Very few people have actually seen me cry and I cry at everything, books, movies, music, commercials, you name it I cry at it. But I can't remember the last person I cried in front of. Might be Ms. Ex during one of our many, many, lengthy "discussions."

When Ms. Ex and I were having our issues during the 18 months it took for us to get engaged and then finally split up I kept everything to myself for the most part. All the screaming matches. All the "discussions" during which she repeated the same few phrases over and over and over again. I think I talked about it, really talked about it, with just one of my friends. Who lives 3,000 miles away. I might have shared bits and pieces with others, but no one really knew the full story. I kept all the pain and anger and shame and embarrassment and feelings of complete failure inside. It boiled inside me, bubbling to the surface only when I could no longer contain it all without exploding. But never in front of other people. It slowly ate away at me, making me feel small and broken. And so very, very, utterly alone.

When FMHW and I broke up I was more open with my pain. I started to open up about what I was feeling. Started letting my friends see my vulnerability. Sharing what I was feeling, letting them help me through the rough times. I was starting to understand that vulnerability didn't equate to weakness. I let people in, let them see the side of me that was messy. And for the first time in a long time I didn't feel quite so alone anymore. I even started this blog to share my story with anyone who might happen to read it.

What I've learned in the two plus years since then is that it's okay to be honest about how you're feeling. It's okay to have a bad day for no reason. It's okay to be sad or angry or hurt and to let people know how you're feeling. People will still like you. In fact, they will put their arm around you (metaphorically speaking) and listen, really listen. They won't turn away from you, leave you there raw and exposed and alone. In fact, they will begin sharing with you in return. All of this takes courage, not the heroic kind of courage we're so used to hearing about these days, the kind where a fireman runs back into a burning building to save an infant or a kitten, but the original meaning of the word courage, "speaking one's mind by telling one's heart" as the article says.

It also takes a bit of coming to terms with the fact that, no, in fact you aren't perfect. No matter how strong you might be there is still a weakness inside of all of us. A vulnerability which should be shared with friends and loved ones. The messy side of each and every one of us is a beautiful thing. And in that imperfection is where you find perfection. I am not perfect. I make mistakes. I say the wrong things. I do the wrong things. I make bad decisions. I quote song lyrics in an attempt to win someone's love (okay, so it was just that once, but it still haunts me). But all those things make me who I am, this perfectly imperfect mess of a person.

The hardest part of being vulnerable, of letting people in, is realizing that it's okay to just be me. That me, as I am, is enough. I am enough. Took me 30 plus years to realize this. For a fast learner I can be really obtuse sometimes.

No matter how broken I might feel, and believe me right now I feel so very very broken, deep down there is still a little part of me that knows I am enough. Knows that I am exactly who I am supposed to be and you know what? That's more than good enough.



So, yes, right now I feel broken. I'm hurt and angry with myself still (for fuck's sake I KNOW better!). There are tears (hey look, I admitted to the entire world that I've been crying!), tears for something that wasn't even really anything to begin with. Tears for the possibilities. I'm a sensitive soul. I feel deeply, very deeply, and these things, well, they cut me to my core. Always have and always will. It's just part of who I am. I don't think I'd want it any other way.

But, I will be okay. I will be more than okay, I'll be amazing again someday. Because I am an amazing person. Ever since I wrote this post I feel like I have to qualify my posts by saying I'm not in the tunnel. And if I was I would reach out and I know that there are people there to help. People who don't care if I'm messy, people who love me as I am and who just want to see me get better.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out to me, those both near and far, new friends and old. You guys are awesome, I don't know what I'd do without you. You are all very special to me and I cannot believe how incredibly lucky I am to have you all in my life. I don't tell you all that nearly enough. So, thank you, thank you, thank you. And should you ever need anything in return just ask and it's yours.

Oh, and if anyone has seen my focus and concentration could you please send them back in my direction? I'd be forever in your debt.

Lyrics for this post...there weren't going to be any when I first started writing, but as I kept typing all I could hear over and over and over in my head were these lyrics from Good Enough by Sarah McLachlan. So, here you go:

Hey your glass is empty
it's a hell of a long way home
why don't you let me take you
it's no good to go alone
I never would have opened up
but you seemed so real to me
and after all the bullshit I've heard
it's refreshing not to see
I don't have to pretend
she doesn't expect it from me

Always a bridesmaid and never.....

History does have a way of repeating itself. Whether it's because we haven't learned the lesson well enough the first (or second or third or fourth or whatever) time around or because the lesson wasn't for us this time, but was instead for the other party, I'm not sure. But it definitely does repeat itself.

One of these days I am going to get it right. One of these days it won't be a case of wrong place wrong time. One of these days it's going to be my turn. Please for the love of God let it be my turn.

Tonight, the other shoe dropped, just as I knew it would for a few weeks now. And it dropped after my poking at it so you could say I brought it on myself. And though I fooled myself into thinking that perhaps I was wrong, perhaps for once my instinct, gut and intuition were all off base I knew deep down they weren't.

I'm angry with myself for letting things go as long as they did without clarity. I know better than that, but I put on my rose colored glasses and pretended it wasn't happening.

It's not the honesty that bothers me. The honesty is a good thing and I truly mean it when I say I want people to be honest with me even if they think the truth will hurt. Being lied to or misled hurts even more. Been there, done that and won't stand for it anymore. The honesty is a definite sign of respect and thoughtfulness which I totally appreciate. What bothers me most is the fact that I know better and yet I let my heart lead the way instead of my head. I let myself get in deeper than I should have without a net even though I knew I would fall. All the signs were there, I just chose not to read them.

Some would argue that following your heart is a good thing and I agree, it can be a good thing. But only when heart and head agree. When heart and head are not in agreement then following your head is a better course of action. Trust me on this, even though it is a lesson I apparently haven't learned yet.

So, it's almost 3 am, and I'm left wondering what to say, how to respond, what's right and healthy for me, what I want and need and can handle. Wondering when it's going to be my turn and for the love of God what do I have to do to finally get it right? Wondering why I even bother any more. For real, what's the fucking point if you're only going to get hurt? Again. And those, my friends, are answers I simply don't have right now.

I feel like a cliche of myself or maybe just a cliche in general. I'm that single friend who no one can figure out why she's still single. The truth is? She can't figure it out either. Everyone, including her, knows she deserves the best and yet the best never seems to appear. Or when it does appear it's unavailable. Everyone sees what a good person she is, including her, and yet still, nothing. Or more accurately no one. It's like there's some sort of curse that she (I) hasn't (haven't) figured out how to remove yet.

I also feel like a child throwing a tantrum because the phrase "It's not fair" keeps running through my head. The rational/adult part of me answers the child with "life isn't fair, get used to it." And the child responds with "I want my mommy!" I think that about sums it up.

Deep down I know I'll be fine. I always am. I've been through enough crap (heartbreak) in my life to know that. I will always come out the other side better and stronger. I'm a fighter. Right now though, it hurts. It's an open wound and it motherfuckinghurts. And a raw, open wound coupled with being angry with yourself makes for an unpleasant mix of emotions. And lots of snotty tears. Which would be why I now sit in bed with my laptop (puffy eyes, a damp shirt sleeve, and a headache) instead of sleeping.

Maybe now though the dreams will stop. The dreams in which it was so obvious that a part of my life was out of control. I would love for the dreams to stop for a while. Even a day or two would be heaven. To be able to lose myself in a deep, dreamless sleep for hours and hours on end would be amazing.

You'll have to excuse me if I disappear for a while. I'm going to need some time to lick my wounds and get my head together. And probably wallow, because let's face it, I'm me and I will need to wallow. And over think. Because who am I kidding, I'm totally going to think this thing to death and then some. But who knows, maybe I won't disappear at all. I don't think I even know that right now. I don't know much of anything right now other than once again my gut, instinct and intuition were right. Once, just once, I would like them to be wrong about something like this. And, um, hey Universe? I asked, believed and received just like you're supposed to. Is there a money back guarantee if what you ordered in fact turns out to be unavailable?

I guess in the end it's true what "they" say, timing is everything. Too bad my time ran out before it even started. I'm not tagging this post with any labels. The folks who know what I'm talking about already know the labels it should have. I'm also not giving it any lyrics. Sometimes, I just have to speak for myself.

And in the end I'm glad I asked the questions. In the end I'm glad I stood up for me. Glad I looked out for myself. I should have done it weeks ago. But at least I did it. Which, for me, is progress. And I suppose if there can be a silver lining, that's it.

Wordless Wednesday

Happy dog.

Six degrees of...

Recently I've been doing a lot of reminiscing and thinking about times long since passed. It's fun to remember the good things and it's also good to remember the bad and see how far you've come since those days (I have come a long way that's for sure!).

Today at work I had the most random memory. I'm not even sure what prompted it and I can usually trace these things back to something, some sort of trigger, but not today. And this memory is in no way related to anything I've been reminiscing about or pondering recently.

Anyway, today at work I randomly remembered Tyler. Back in 2002 Ms. Ex and I decided it was time to get a dog. We each spent hours and hours and hours combing through the dogs available for adoption on Petfinder. We knew we wanted to rescue rather than buy from a petstore or breeder and we agreed that we wanted a smaller dog rather than a huge dog. I'd never had a dog before. In fact until I was in my early 20s I was scared of dogs. Getting bit in the face by a dog when you're three will do that to you I suppose.

After a ridiculous number of hours combing through all the dogs within like a billion mile radius of where we were living at the time Ms. Ex finally found one she really wanted to see. His name was Tyler and he was at a no kill shelter about two hours from home and a bit over an hour from my parents house. I forget exactly how it all went down, but somehow we arranged a visit to the shelter and a visit to my parents for the same weekend.

Ms. Ex had grown up with a Welsh Terrier and really wanted another terrier type dog and Tyler definitely fit that bill even though he was a mix (a very cute mix, I'll give you that).

When we got to the shelter we were told we'd need to drive down the road to the house of the woman who ran the place because that's where Tyler was being kept. So, we got back in the car and followed her out the driveway only to have her pull over not too far down the road. She got out and walked over into the horse pasture across the road. Confused we sort of sat there until she walked back over to our car and asked us to please help her contain the horses while she went to get some wood to fix the broken fence.

Yes, that's right we stood in a horse pasture for an hour while waiting for her to get the materials and people to help her fix the fence. Because really, that's what we were there for and that's what you ask two complete fucking strangers to do on your way to seeing a dog they want to adopt. But stand there we did, bewildered the entire time.

After that detour we drove to her house where she was keeping god knows how many dogs in the garage. She led us around the back to her fenced in yard and asked us to wait while she got Tyler. A couple minutes later the door opened and out shot this small white ball of fur who proceeded to race around the yard. I bent down to try to pet him and he promptly leapt up and bit me square on the chin. He didn't break the skin thankfully.

We visited with him for a few minutes, but I'd already made up my mind this was definitely NOT the dog for me. He was far too hyper. And besides that he BIT me. I think the woman knew we wouldn't be taking him and she asked us to come see one other dog before we left. We agreed to humor her so back in our cars we got to drive back to the shelter to see this other dog. The one she thought would be far more suited to us.

When we got there she walked us past the goats and the pot belly pigs to the outdoor runs next to the cat house (literally a brick house which was home to all the stray cats). As we walked up we saw this small, mostly black dog climbing the fencing of her run. This was Joanie. This was the dog that the woman wanted us to see. I was already convinced this visit wasn't going to go well either. The woman leashed her up and led her out of the run and we all went to sit on the front steps of the cat house. Joanie sealed her fate then by sitting next to me and leaning her entire body gently against me before licking my ear.

Joanie had been rescued from a high kill shelter in West Virginia. She wasn't scheduled to be on the transport that brought her up to New York, but the volunteer who was pulling dogs managed to squeeze her in. She only had a few hours left to live and they just couldn't leave her there.

It was weeks before we were able to finally go get Joanie and bring her home with us. I won't go into those details, but this woman did not make it easy on us. At all. I won't speak ill of the dead, but I wonder if there might have been some hoarding tendencies there.


This is one of my favorite pictures of Joanie. She so loved her monkey toy.

Joanie was my first dog and as much as I wanted a dog it was a difficult adjustment for me. When she first came to live with us she loved to chew on my arms. I didn't particularly enjoy that. She wasn't trained in any way shape or form. She was head strong and stubborn (very much like both Ms. Ex and I in that regard). But we figured it out eventually and even though she ate my Aurora Shoes I still loved her.

I'm not sure when it was or how long it might have been after we adopted Joanie that I found out who had adopted Tyler, the dog who bit my chin upon first meeting me. Normally this wouldn't make for any story what so ever. Dogs get adopted into loving families all the time. Maybe it's your neighbor or the family two streets over or your coworker. Usually it's no one special.

Tyler though, he got a special family. He was adopted by Matchbox Twenty front man Rob Thomas and his wife Marisol. And this was the random memory I had today at work, Tyler biting me on the chin and how he then went on to live with a rock star. I spent a few minutes on Google during my lunch and discovered that Tyler went to the Rainbow Bridge last November. He'd been diagnosed with cancer in the summer and lived just as long as the doctors predicted he would.

I'm sad for the Thomas's and their loss, but I'm happy that Tyler got to have such an amazing seven years with them. Even if he did bite me on the chin. Every dog deserves to be adored by their humans.

Joanie lives with Ms. Ex now. I do miss her at times and wonder how she's doing (she has hip dysplasia and had surgeries on both knees after tearing the cruciate ligament in each of them), but my Maggie has my heart and soul (why yes I AM a crazy dog lady, how nice of you to notice). And though you might think splitting up the animals (who were our children) would have been one of the most difficult things that happened during the great breakup of 2006 through 2007 you'd be wrong. I was relieved when Ms. Ex said she wanted Joanie. I knew they were right for each other and that Maggie needed my care.

So, that's my story. And that's how I can connect myself to Rob Thomas in one move while playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. I can also connect myself in one move to John Meyer and Ani DiFranco, but those are through humans, not dogs.

No song tonight. Instead, if you have a dog (or a cat or bird or iguana or whatever) go give it some love and affection. Poor Maggie and the boys are about to get accosted. I hope they know what they're in for!

Touched by....

So, that last blog post kind of threw me for a loop. It needed to be written and I'm still very glad I wrote it. But it left me unsettled and not feeling like myself for days after. When you dredge up things from your past which you've locked away and moved on from (in whatever manner and to whatever degree of success that was possible for you) it's sometimes hard to put them back in their nice locked cabinets in your brain until you've mulled them over for a while. Perhaps a long while. But, rest assured, they are locked up again. As they should be. The past is in the past and it shall stay that way.

My parents came to visit last weekend. That could be a whole other series of blog posts in and of itself, but it was good to see them. It's always good to see them. It was also tiring and I was already tired from all the over thinking I did after writing my last post so that made for a long weekend.

But, I ended the weekend by seeing Ingrid Michaelson in concert for a fifth time this year. It was the opening night of this tour so the set list was a little different than the previous four shows which was a nice change of pace. Although I did LOVE the other shows this year so I'd have been content with that set list too.

It's funny, I get this weird, inexplicable moment of sadness during a concert. Happens nearly every time I see live music, no matter the artist and no matter the venue. And it's not necessarily induced by a sad or maudlin song. It's just a wave of sadness sweeping over me for no identifiable reason. Very odd. This time it wasn't as severe as it has been at other shows which was great. But it was still there for that fleeting moment and as inexplicable as always.

Also great? Ingrid doing her a cappella cover of R.E.M.'s Nightswimming which is, by far, my favorite R.E.M. song. I have been waiting (hoping!) for her to do this in concert and was finally rewarded. It was amazing. Wait, see for yourself (the video is from her show a few days later, can't find a video from the show I was at):



Anyhow, during this song it started. Not the sad which I spoke of above, although there were tears in my eyes because I was so moved and so very happy to finally see this live. No, instead I could feel the music reaching out and wrapping itself around me, embracing me. It was like being completely enveloped in strong and loving arms. A feeling of love and protection and happiness, of everything being right in the world. I could feel the pressure of it surrounding me as I sat blissfully entranced.

It may sound crazy but it felt as though the Universe was hugging me, reassuring me I was right where I was supposed to be in my life. Wrapping it's warm arms around me and assuring me I was, indeed, on the right path. I think this is the sort of feeling that those who believe in God must feel when they say they've been touched by God. I can totally see how they'd think that even though I do not believe in God myself.

I needed that embrace from the Universe. Because sometimes (okay, maybe more than sometimes) I doubt myself. I doubt that I'm doing the right thing(s). And this not so subtle reassurance was very well timed indeed. It helped reinforce my belief that the Universe does indeed provide, we just have to continue to believe it will. And I do believe.

Words, though I adore them, can be so limiting sometimes. I cannot fully describe this feeling using only words. It's like the best hug of your life multiplied by joy and love and peace. Suffice it to say that I hope each and every one of you experiences this feeling at some point in your life. Because it is profound. Funny it should happen to me at a concert in a venue I'd never been to before instead of, oh, I don't know while sitting and contemplating life in Bar Harbor for instance. It's just another example of how amazing life can be. And how full of surprises.

And the night after the hug from the Universe? Well, that next night was awesome in it's own special way. I'm sitting here smiling just thinking about it. Nothing momentous happened that night. There were no earth shattering, mind blowing events. But it was great none the less. There was no place in the world I would rather have been than standing in Stalker's kitchen talking and watching her cook (and trying to stay out of her way).

So, thanks again for dinner Stalker, it was delicious and the company was fantastic as always. You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, both inside and out. Which is why (besides the fact that I have never in my life known what to do with my hands) I tend to keep them firmly jammed in my pockets or my arms crossed when we're together. I want to make sure you have the time and the space you need to figure your stuff out and I don't want to fuck it up no matter how smitten I might be (and yes, I am indeed quite smitten) (also? Smitten is an awesome word which totally stops looking like a real word the more times you read it) (also also? I am a bit over tired and rambly now) (but that doesn't change the sentiment, still smitten!). So, while you were there washing dishes or whatever I was leaning against the refrigerator smiling a goofy smile and restraining myself from hugging you from behind.

Also? I'm horrible at making the first move. Just sayin', you know, to get it on record (for the entire world to see. Go me!). (Huh, apparently I get honest and over share when I get tired. Good to know.) Besides, the ball is still in your court and it can stay there as long as you need. All I ask, all I ever ask really, is that you're honest and open with me and I, in return, will be the same with you.

The song for this post is hard for me to choose. I mean obviously I could go with Nightswimming. But there are a couple others which stand out as equally appropriate and I'm going with one of those instead. For quite some time leading up to my trip to Bar Harbor I was rather addicted to this song. It might have been played on repeat for my entire commute to and from work some days. And of course it was one of my selections for the Bar Harbor 2010 playlist. So, I give you, the beginning of Soldier by Ingrid Michaelson (of course).

I don't believe in anything but myself
I don't believe in anything but myself
But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else

But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?

And so it goes this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won.
And so it goes this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won.
But it can be won, but it can be won...

It gets better

I've been thinking about this post for days now. What follows later in the post may surprise those of you who actually know me. The point of this post though is, as the title says, that it gets better. Let me repeat that, it gets better. And again, it gets better.

The recent string of suicides by gay teens due to bullying is appalling to me. Tyler Clementi (18), Billy Lucas (15), Asher Brown (13), Justin Aaberg (15) and Seth Walsh (13) didn't have to die. They'd barely even begun to live. I can't believe that our society hasn't put an end to bullying and harassment yet. How can we call ourselves civilized when we still allow this to happen??? It saddens me that these young men thought their only option was to end their lives.

After watching the videos below I knew I needed to share my story too. This is the most difficult and one of the most honest things I've ever written.





When I was a teen I was just about as far from self aware as you could get. In high school I knew I was different, but I never really knew why. Looking back now, I can remember sitting on my bed when I was 16 or 17 and thinking "I don't want to be gay, I just want to be normal." At the time though, this thought seemed completely out of the blue and just plain crazy talk and so I pushed it away and carried on with high school life. I mean, it was preposterous to think that I could be gay! No way! It was a couple more years before I started opening the closet door to myself. And slowly at that.

My freshman year in college was eye opening in so many ways. I left my barely a dot on the map hometown to go to a tiny woman's college where my freshman class was five times the size of my high school class (there were 27, yes twenty-seven, of us in my high school class). I was finally exposed to, among other things, different cultures, different socioeconomic upbringings, different philosophies, different religions, and of course different sexualities.

My coming out story is far from sensational. I am one of the lucky ones and for this I am grateful every day. My family has always been incredibly supportive of me. As have my friends. I was never bullied in school for being different or for being gay (not to say I wasn't teased because I certainly was and I don't think anyone can escape some form of teasing in school, but teasing and bullying are very different in my mind). I've never been scandalously outed. I've lived a very dull gay life, and again, I am grateful for that. I know I am one of the lucky ones.

Those of you who know me in real life know that while I am snarky and cynical I am also a pretty positive person. I can find the bright side in almost anything. I'm a firm believer in every day being a fresh start. My glass is usually more than half full. What you don't know about me is that I didn't always think it would get better (but it does get better, I promise).

I started coming out to myself when I fell madly in love with an upperclasswoman who lived next door to me in the dorm the second semester of my freshman year (we'll call her T). At first I didn't understand my fascination with her. She transfixed me. I was enthralled by her. I'd never before in my short life been so deeply under someone's spell. One night we were in her dorm room and T pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. A very deep, very meaningful kiss. And that was when the light went off for me.

It would be untrue for me to say that moment was when I completely understood myself, because I didn't and I wouldn't for many years yet. But it was a very defining moment in my life, perhaps the defining moment. A point of no return if you will.

T and I embarked on what would turn into about two years of a ridiculously complicated, codependent (on my part) and somewhat emotionally abusive (on her part) relationship. I call it a relationship, who the hell knows what she might call it. I was probably more of a nuisance to her than anything else. She was, after all, straight. And she had a boyfriend. But she still slept with me.

During these two years of my life is when I first started to think about suicide. Yes, that's right I've thought, very seriously, about suicide. I've never attempted it, but I have, most definitely, thought about it many (many) times. Because I didn't think it would get better. Because I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Because I didn't feel like anyone could possibly understand me or what I was going through. Everything was so dark and heavy and my not existing anymore just seemed like the easiest way to deal with it all. You can't hurt if you don't exist right?

As I said earlier, I'm one of the lucky ones. I've been so incredibly lucky to have such wonderful support my entire life and yet I've still contemplated ending it on various occasions. What must people who haven't had this support feel like? How do the kids (and adults for that matter) who are harassed and bullied feel? I can't even imagine. It sends chills down my spine.

In some respects I think those of us who are positive in our outlooks are more at risk for suicide (personal opinion only here, not basing this on statistics or facts, just opinion). We're the ones you'd never suspect are weighing which option for offing ourselves is best as we give you our bright smiles (which don't always reach our eyes). Should I slit my wrists or should I try to drown myself or should I jump out a window, etc., etc., etc... Smile, smile, smile as brightly as possible!

We roll these thoughts over and over in our head until they seem so abstractly concrete they confuse even us as we seek clarity in our muddy muddled thoughts. College isn't the only time I've thought about saying the hell with it all and ending it. During the 18 months it took for Ms. Ex and I to end our relationship I'll admit the thought crossed my mind a time or two. And then the thought came creeping in again when I hit the absolute rock bottom lowest point in my life six months after we were finally through. Once you let the kernel of "it would just be easier for everyone if I wasn't around anymore" into your head it's really hard to let go of it.

You keep suicide in the back of your mind as an option in case it gets worse. And you never know what might make it actually BECOME worse. It's never the big stuff which makes it worse, it's the little stuff like the grocery store being out of your favorite potato chips or not being able to rent the movie you were looking forward to or someone not saying "bless you" when you sneeze at the office. You're trapped inside that incredibly dark tunnel without a light to guide you out. The walls press in on you and though your hands might be stretched out searching for something, anything, to grab hold of, you can't find it. You're there alone in the heavy darkness spinning in circles until it just becomes too much and you crumple to a heap on the ground. There isn't anyone there standing beside you lighting a match or a lighter or holding a candle or a flashlight or the iPhone flashlight app and taking your hand to lead you out.

That's what I think about when I hear about the Tyler Clementis and the Asher Browns and the Seth Walshes. I think about that feeling of hopelessness, helplessness and despair because I've been there. I've been crumpled in a heap on the floor of that dark tunnel unable to see anyway out.

The only difference between us is that I made a deal with myself that I have to sleep on it before I do anything. And if it's not a little bit better in the morning then I can think about it again. It's always been better in the morning. Maybe it's not much better in the morning, but it's always a little better and it's been enough. And it gets better every day. The point is it does get better. It always gets better.

I'm glad I'm still here to experience my life. I have known so much joy. I've gotten to experience so many wonderful things. And I know I have a lifetime's worth of amazing things still to come. I can't wait to live them all. Life IS good no matter how corny that might sound. And for those of you who know me and might be worried, don't. I love my life and I'm in no way, shape or form even standing in that dark tunnel. And if ever I am there again at any point in my life I know now that it gets better. And I know I can reach out and find a hand in the dark to help guide me out.

The tears are rolling down my cheeks as I write this. It's cathartic and yet dredges up all these dark and tangled emotions from my past. Things I've chosen not to think about for years and years have floated to the surface and they still hurt, they still take me back to those dark places in my life, to the inside of that dark tunnel where I felt helpless, hopeless and alone. But even though it still hurts, even though I know these things will be with me forever, I also know that it gets better. And I also know that I had to go through them to become the person I am today. They made me stronger and for that I am grateful.

If you'd sat me down when I was 15 and told me what my life would be like when I was 35 I would never have believed you. No way in hell could it be possible that I'd be a 35 year old lesbian with two cats and a dog living alone in a house I own in Connecticut (of all places!!!) who sits at a desk all day at work dealing with data. None of this was on my radar at all when I was 15 (except maybe the cats, maybe). And I love every last bit of my life now. It's rich and full and all mine to live.

If you're contemplating suicide or just feel isolated and alone there are resources available to you. All it takes is being a little brave and reaching out. There are people there who want nothing more than to help you. There are people there to take your hand in that dark tunnel and walk you toward the light. The Trevor Project is a place to start.

You have too much to look forward to in life to end it. Don't you want to find out what's next? Don't you want to go to college? Or fall madly in love? Or travel around the world? Or find a cure for cancer or AIDS or some other debilitating disease? Or maybe you want to write a novel or a hit song or learn to fly a plane or how to build an ark or whatever it is that you want to do?

There are so many people waiting to meet you, waiting to see your next painting, read your next poem, listen to you sing, watch you dance or score a goal or a touchdown or simply sit down with you and laugh over coffee or tea or hot chocolate. We're there cheering you on as you strive to reach the goals you set for yourself. We are out there. And we love you for who you are. There's only one you and that is an incredibly special thing. Be the best you that you can be because nobody else can be you. Hold you head high, be proud of who you are, be strong. And know you are not alone.

It gets better, trust me I've been there. I know. It gets better.