Rescue Dog

I rescued a dog the other day. It was a wounded dog that had been chewed up a bit. By another dog. By my dog. By T-Dog.

But it’s not as terrible as it sounds. My dog received a few “Bad Dog”s, but that was about it.

Tanner in Time Out

Because the dog he chewed was a stuffy. The assault happened one evening, a number of years ago, when we were all out for the evening. Lonely T-Dog went to town on a bunch of stuffies. I fixed the others right away, as they belonged to my son and daughter, who were distraught. But I had never fixed this one.

This stuffy has a story. It is called a Warm Buddy, and has a pouch inside it that is filled with rice. The pouch comes out and can be heated or cooled, depending on what is best for the person who needs it. I bought it almost 13 years ago.

I bought it out of guilt.

You see, my mom was in the hospital. For the last time, as it turned out.

I bought it to keep her company.

She had often said that she would like a little dog. But I kept telling her not to get one. I wasn’t fond of dogs at the time and my experience with other family dogs had not been positive. I thought her dog would impact my life... that I’d have to take care of it when she went on trips. And that it would bark. And be a pain. I was so not down for that. So I kept telling her that she didn’t really need a dog. 

Then when she got sick, I bought her a dog.

(not a real dog)

It really wasn’t much of a dog, just a stuffy to help warm her or cool her, whatever she might need.

It really wasn’t much of a dog at all.

And it didn’t make me a better person for having bought it for her. Not at all. But Mom was a special soul, so she thanked me and kept it close with her in the hospital.

I took that dog home with me on January 14^th, 2005.

It lived with us. It had a place in our home, if not a purpose. It even came to New York with us and back. But I didn’t use it much.  

Then it got chewed up. By our dog. By T-Dog. He chewed a few holes in it, right into the rice bag, so every time it moved, it spilled its innards everywhere. I just couldn’t deal. So it was given a space, on a shelf, in a corner, where it had to lie upside down, to keep its innards in. It spent about 6 years in that state. On a shelf. In a corner. Upside down.

I came across it last weekend while we were trying to clean up, empty and refresh. There it was, still leaking its innards. My first impulse was to get rid of it. But my husband said, no, we can keep it a bit longer. So I sat down that day with needle and thread and began the mending. I’m not much of a seamstress, so I made mistakes and fixed them, made more mistakes and fixed them too. And it took most of the day to do it.

A mended puppy and her rice bag

The mending choices were deliberate.

• New pretty blue eyes (because only the most special ones have blue eyes.)
• Purple thread for the hole in her leg (because Mom and all the Aunties would descend on each other to celebrate 65 with purple clothes and a red hat.)
• Orange thread for her abdomen (because there are very few mothers who will let their 12-year old choose screaming orange for a bedroom wall colour.)
• Rich red thread for the tear tucked under her arm (because it’s closest to the heart.)

Within the day, I rescued the dog. She’s not perfect. Her new nose is a little crooked. Her eyes don’t really line up. But she is whole. She has been fixed. She’s been rescued.

As I mended, I thought about regrets. We all have regrets, some greater and some lesser than others. For the most part, it’s best not to dwell too much on these things.

But I have a very great regret that I kept talking Mom out of getting a dog. A dog would have been perfect for her… to be her companion, to love her unconditionally, and to crazy-jump every time she came through the door.

I made a big mistake. One that I couldn’t fix with a stuffy.

I bought it out of guilt. I mended it out of love.

No more words. Just love. 

Butterflies (are Free to Fly)*

A week or so ago I was trompling through the forest with trusty T-Dog.

Not feeling great about things.
Too far into my head.
Ignoring everything around me.
Staring at the ground.

Then I felt a fluttering. 🦋 Felt it more than I saw it.  Soft air very close to my face.
It drew my eyes upward, as if my head was being given a gentle tug on a thread.

The monarch was oh so near. It settled on a branch. And waited. Patiently. While I brought out my phone. To take a photo. And then moved closer to it. To take more photos. It waited. Patiently.🦋

I ascribed all sorts of portent to it. To me, it was Mom saying 'Everything's all right. I'm gone but I'm not. You can still find me when you need me."

Melodramatic, fersure.

Yet I took the photos.🦋 Posted one to Instagram and thought to myself "That was nice. I needed that."

I figured that was the end of it.

Four days later, I was attending the girl's university graduation in Kelowna. Definitely some emotion and anxiety, as I tried to make sure we were all there, dressed and ready, and on time for the early morning event (not least because the husband had fallen very ill and couldn't make it to the ceremony with us.) More anxiety as I realized I wouldn't get the perfect 'aisle' photo that I'd planned. Even more anxiety as we tried to get all the right pictures with all the necessary groups of people afterwards.

I was a stress-ball as we walked back to the car from the event. Too many people. Too much uncertainty. Just too much.

But then I saw her. 🦋 As we reached the parking lot.
The monarch. Telling me it was all ok.
Honestly, I almost cried. And thought to myself "That was nice. I needed that."

If it had ended there, I probably wouldn't be writing this post. But I'm writing this post (hint hint.)

Two days after that, we were attending the boy's high school graduation.  It started with a lovely garden party in the backyard of a friend's house before we went downtown for the grad dinner. Probably 50 kids and their parents in attendance at the house. We knew some of them, met some others and didn't know the rest. Lots of people.

Gorgeous location. Especially as the sun broke through and lit up the yard. Smiling. Laughing. Exuberance. Youth.

And even there, I saw her. As I watched my son joking with friends.
The monarch. 🦋 Directly overhead. Soft air very close to my face.

Telling me that it was all good.
The kids are moving forward. 🦋
🦋 Things are changing.
Which is something to treasure, not regret.




*Swiped the title from Elton John's 'Someone Saved My Life Tonight' (which I am old enough to remember)

Do You 'Scarve'?

I have become a woman who 'scarves'.

Not to be confused with a woman who scarfs. Although I also do that. Which is, perhaps, one reason why I am a woman who now scarves.

So what is this scarving thing, exactly?  I'd seen it happen to others. Females who'd started wearing puffy colourful lengths of cloth wound around their neck, dripped and draped over their decolletage.

I remember wondering 'Hmmm, that seems to be a new look for her... I wonder what prompted that new look... I wonder where she gets those scarves... I wonder how much they cost.'

I was mildly intrigued, to be sure, but more as an observer rather than a participant (story of my life, TBH)

Until... I wanted to be scarved.

I wanted a nice bright red scarf. For International Women's Day. For solidarity.

But I wasn't sure how to procure such a thing. Many options raced through my mind. Many forays (internet and bricks-and-mortar) made unsuccessfully.

Nevertheless I persisted... and eventually managed to find a budget shop in the local mall selling cheesy nylon scarves as 'pashminas' (a total disgrace to a proper pashmina, of course.)  But they did have a red one. And now I really needed one. So I paid my $5 to the indifferent cashier and walked away with my treasure.

• I wound it around my neck. 
• I draped it over my decolletage. 
• I dripped it over my expanding middle. 

And I had my 'Aha' moment. Scarves can be a wonderful thing for the wearer.  It's like an invisibility cloak. It can hide neck wattles... lizard skin on the breastbone... ponderous, saggy bits... and all the lumpy stuff below*.

That cheap red scarf immediately became a cornerstone of my wardrobe. Then I found a nice blue patterned one that I'd been given a few years before but had relegated to a side drawer. In a heartbeat, it became much more valuable. I embraced scarving. And now:

• Every outfit is dressed with a voluminous scarf. 
• I feel naked without it. 
• It is the answer for all of my middle-aged body problems. 

Mind you, as time has passed, I am starting to think it's not a cure but a crutch. But I'm not quite ready to give up my scarving and the invisibility that I think it provides.  

So I'll ponder it for a bit longer. I'll wish I didn't feel the need to 'scarve'. I'll promise to moisturize, eat less and exercise more. 

T-Dog showing a fabulous drape

But in the meantime, if you know of a place that sells great big scarves, let me know. 

*Note to reader: Although this is what motivates my personal scarving, this won't be true for all scarvers. Many are simply fashionable people - those are the ones who actually know how to artfully drape a scarf, instead of just bundling it in a mess around their shoulders (comme moi).

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

... FIND OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ME...

Moody AF

Life has its ups. Life has its downs.
I'm ok with that. We all expect it, don't we?

And we know that we shouldn't assess our self-worth by the reactions/inactions of others.

Unfortunately, we do. (sad face)

Sooooo... we should remember that our own reactions/inactions/actions have the potential to help or to hurt others.

Admittedly, sometimes we can't help those others as they hope we could.
But let's be careful not to hurt them.

Let's be quick to respond when someone reaches out. Let's be honest. Let's listen. Let's be a little bit humble (hey, even fake humility is better than none at all!)

I won't always get it right. But I'll try. Let's all try.

Let's show a little respect.

Life has its ups. Life has its downs.

Gratuitous Dog Shot

Be Kind.

Always.

This Actually Happened

Said good-bye to my ride recently.

Buh-bye!

Good-bye to my (once-?) beautiful Audi A4 V6 Quattro Convertible. Black on black on black. 

She was awesome.  Lively, powerful, sexy as hell.

Took me to cool places and made me experience great moments.

Hugging it out
 (Chevley lurks in the background...)

She was my gift to myself after a super-challenging stretch of life. 

It wasn't easy to let her go.


We had a little hug. 

But (and there is always a but...):

• it was time for me to change it up a bit
• she needed someone new to lure to cool places
• I love my dog, but didn't really love my dog in the backseat of the Audi 

So I went from an over-powered sunbelt import to a marginally-powered sensible domestic.

Let me introduce to you... Chevley!

My brand new 2016 Chevy Trax. It's a 'Compact SUV' - 4-door and super comfy in the back seat. With enough room for the dog in the hatch (although not sure the dog entirely agrees.)

Plus the seats fold down in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways. Must think of strangely-shaped items to transport to and fro, willy-nilly... just for the heck of it.

Check out the mileage when I bought it.
Only 10 kms... This baby was fresh, fresh, fresh. 

AND I can press a button and the On Star lady talks to me.

• When I need something. 
• Or I've had an accident. 
• Or maybe just because I'm lonely...

I can finally plug in music with a USB. (Not sure what I'm going to do with all my CDs...more coasters, I guess.)

The best part is... Chevley is awesome also! Bought a stick shift (echoes of my NY Mini Cooper) so that's fun. And they were practically giving these things away, so I don't even feel guilty, money-wise.

Plus an opportunity to teach the kids how to really drive...  

It's the next chapter in my automotive life. It's the next Ride on the Road Trip.

And I love it.

The dog?
Looks like the jury's still out...

And then the rains came

Thumping on the roof. Drains overflowing. Steady streams down the road.

It's been a miserable week, moisture-wise. 

I'd say 'apocalyptic', but I've always imagined that the apocalypse would be more fire than rain.

But perhaps the apocalypse doesn't come with a flash and a roar. Perhaps it just wears us down with its relentlessness.

• Bad weather. Worse weather. 
• Sad news. Terrible news. 
• Half-truths. Bald-faced lies. 

Chip, chip, chipping away. Until we are too weary to challenge anything anymore. We just want to curl up. Under a thick blanket. Watch some Netflix. Forget about the liars, the bullies, and the assholes on the world stage and in our daily lives.

We can deal with the ones on the TV screen because those aren't real. Or at least, we don't think they're real. Although it is becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between the false (entertainment) and the real (actual life).

Chip, chip, chipping away at our perception of the false and the real.

When the rains came this year, I bought a nice new rain jacket. Bright blue. A happy colour. I am cheerful when I wear it because it protects me from the rain. But am now thinking it won't be very useful in the snow (too thin), nor in warmer weather (not breathable). And definitely useless in a fiery apocalypse (should that ever come to pass).

Most importantly, not so good at protecting from half-truths and bald-faced lies. No matter how nice the rain jacket may be, I don't think it can protect us from those things. So if we can't protect ourselves from the outside, we will have to do it from the inside instead.

We'll gird our loins (love that phrase.) We'll steel ourselves (like Wonder Woman & Superman) We'll brace for the relentless drip, drip, drip that chips, chips, chips away at our resolve to take action, to do better,

We Will Resist. And we'll march. Not just for one day.

Every day. In some small way. Every day.

Head-on Collision on Route 66 (aka "OMFG")

How evocative are these?

• Route 66. 
• Americana. 
• Nostalgia. 
• Simpler times. 

[... Good words. Good thoughts. Right?]

But somehow Americana became very badly twisted. Like Detroit Steel in a head-on collision on an iconic road. Leaving behind blood-flecked shards of glass (but not from a glass ceiling.)

Just over 3 months ago, I wrote about choosing Baggage over Fear. I really thought Hope (even with Baggage) would prevail in the U.S. But I was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Am I surprised? Not entirely. We've seen intolerance, hatred and fear rearing its ugly head pretty well across the world. Everyone needs to "go back" to where they came from. Even though that might actually be Windsor, Ontario. Or Brooklyn, NY. Or Leeds, UK.

[... But someone who looks different from me must be from somewhere else. Right?]

I am very afraid that a lot of glass will be broken. And it will be bloody. People will be harmed. Because people who look different must be from somewhere else. Whether 3 years ago, 30 years ago, or 300 years ago.

And women? Well, women are just c*#ts. The pretty ones are prey... and it's always open season. And if a fugly one says she's been prey... well, she's obviously a liar.  A lying c*#t... because who would want a piece of that?

And women who dare to stand up as leaders - as intelligent, informed, rational, logical, and loyal human beings - they are the worst c*#ts of all, who need to be knocked down a few pegs to remind them of their station. Never let truth stand in the way of a good take-down.

Is this Americana? Is this nostalgia? Is this the legacy of getting your kicks on Route 66?

Yes. Yes. Apparently it is.

So Kill Hillary. Kill Obama (clearly shouted out during Trump's acceptance speech - yet not reported) Because they created ISIS, right? Kill all those who look different or think different, including those who just might think different. Who's got time to fact-check, after all?

Let's get back to simpler times. Homogeneous times. Homophobic times. Misogynist times.

Let's charge full-steam ahead. If we don't turn around, we won't see the destruction and devastation left in our wake. And let's ignore that "simpler times" are a very bad fit for today's complicated, nuanced, multi-faceted world.

[... It's simple. Right?]

When we lived in the U.S., I came to appreciate, on a very personal level, that logic and reason are not relevant on a political level. At that time, it was 'selective information' that ruled the day - ignoring/burying all reasonable facts that did not support your view and using/amplifying only those details that helped your chosen conclusion.

But now the disregard for logic and reason  has doubled down.

Hubris. Lies. Threats. These are today's discourse. And apparently, that's ok.

[... OMFG. Right?]