My Name Is Blondie, and I Have a Pit Bull

Wow. I can't believe I haven't posted anything since 2011. I think Facebook distracted me, but I'm over it now. It's a little weird to post things in such a public way when my Facebook Friends are so diverse--from high school/college classmates to church friends, relatives, and co-workers--there is a whole lot of censorship going on over there. Also, I use way too many words, and the posts I want to post are way too long.

So, I'm back!  Because I'm pretty anonymous and only "talking out loud" here!

For today's discussion, I'd like to talk about Pit Bulls.  And my son. But first, I must provide "background" because I don't create "blog posts," I write ESSAYS.

BACKGROUND:
I have always been a "dog person" and grew up in a single-dog household. My parents started with Reagan, a mixed-breed dog found on the Indian Reservation that they had for years, until I was around 2, and she was old and cranky and started snapping at the annoying toddler in the household (me). Several years later, we acquired a St. Bernard-Collie mix from a neighbor (named Conan after "Conan the Barbarian" books, because my Dad was reading them at the time.)  After Conan, they had cocker spaniels, Toby, a sweet, adorable blonde, whose remains are buried under a juniper bush in the backyard of my childhood home, then Skyler, a black-and-tan cocker spaniel with an "attitude," who they had until my dad's retirement.  Both cockers had expensive health problems, and my parents shelled out thousands of dollars to keep them well and comfortable until their suffering became just too much. They wept and grieved with every loss, as did I.

When I got my first apartment, I got MY first dog--Princess, a mixed-breed/part German Shepard--from a no-kill shelter. I got Princess as a puppy, at around 14 weeks old, and raised her in an apartment. She was a great dog--the BEST dog, and I had her for 15 years, until I had to make the same awful decision my parents had to make--having to put her down because she was dying a slow, suffering demise from congestive heart failure. My kids were 4 and 6 at the time, so they have also been raised in a "dog person" household. After Princess died, I got divorced and had to move into a rental house with brand new carpet, so no pets, which was fine with me because I still needed time to get over losing Princess. I wasn't ready for a new dog, nor did I have the time or focus to care for one properly.  My sister, just like me, quickly acquired a dog of her own when she got her "first place" after college. She got a beagle. Then, she met and married a man who also had a dog of his own, a golden retriever. My sister told me she would never be a single-dog owner ever again because the dogs were such great companions for one another, especially since she and her husband worked and had to leave them home alone for several hours each day. They were the best of friends and complemented each other perfectly.

About 4 years after my divorce, my mother purchased a Welsh Terrier puppy from a pet store, and since my kids often went to Grandma and Grandpa's house for after-school care and "Nanny Services" when I had to travel out of town for work, they got to help train and play with the new puppy (Molly.) My mother went into the hospital for a difficult surgery and because my parents live "out on the mesa" with an unfenced yard (frequently "patrolled" by coyotes), they needed someone to take care of Molly. Since I had a fenced yard and lived in a more Suburban area, I got permission from my landlord to let Molly live with us for a few weeks. We installed an insert for the sliding glass door with doggie-door access to the backyard, so she could go in and out of the house on her own on the days I had to work in the office. The kids, of course, loved having her with us. Sadly, my mother suffered complications from the surgery, and died in the hospital. My father was still working full-time and had no desire or energy to take care of Molly, so we kept her. Shortly thereafter, my ex-husband moved back to town and promised the kids they could get a dog to have at HIS house, so when they stayed with him on alternate weekends and when I traveled out of town, they would have a dog there, also. He picked a Rottweiler-Cross from the Animal Shelter that was 9 years old with a questionable history (found chained up in the backyard of an abandoned house with no food or water.) The dog had recently been neutered, but had not fully-recovered from the surgery, and, in fact, may have had a bad infection with painful swelling in his nether-regions. While riding home in the car after visiting me, the dog shifted his weight during a turn, experienced severe pain, yelped, and when my daughter reached over to try and pet him and comfort him, he attacked her. My daughter has a 4-inch scar down her jawline from the base of her ear, to her chin. She also had puncture wounds in her scalp. My ex reacted quickly, throwing the dog out of the car, and Animal Control later found the dog, and immediately put him down. My daughter cried and cried because she felt so bad for the dog. To this day, the scar does not bother her--in fact, she LIKES it because she thinks it makes her "look like a bad ass."  Just 24 hours after the incident, my daughter said, "I still want to get another dog--just not a Big dog."  The City Animal Shelter, fearing a lawsuit (because they never should have released that dog to anyone, let alone a household with young children), offered my daughter the opportunity to take a look at some pure-bred mini-Doxie puppies that had recently come to visit, as their mother had died after birthing them, and they were being nursed by a Pit Bull-Cross Momma dog, who had recently weaned a litter of puppies.

Well, I don't know what it is about mini-doxies, but elementary-school-aged children LOVE them and find them irresistible!  Especially when they are tiny puppies that fit in the palm of your hand!  OF COURSE my daughter wanted to bring one home! So, that's how Buddy came into our family unit. Remember, he was supposed to be the dog that my Ex would have at HIS home. Well, my Ex did NOT grow up in a dog-friendly house. He grew up in a neighborhood where you had dogs to deter thieves. You kept them chained up in the backyard, and if they became destructive or pissed you off, you just threw them in the car, drove them out to the mesa, let them out, then drove away. He had no patience and no experience in dog-training, and had been known to KICK my beloved Princess after he came home to find that she had an accident or chewed up something he had left lying around. (I HATED the way he treated dogs--reason #23 why I divorced him!) He also lived in a remote area, was gone at work Monday-Friday for 8 hours a day, while I was working from home 2-3 days per week. The gate to his backyard had a 4-inch space between the gate and the dirt that Buddy could easily squeeze out of, and his neighborhood was frequently patrolled by both coyotes and hawks that could snatch our Little Budster for dinner. I also had the kids pretty much full-time, except for alternate weekends, AND a doggie-door. So, it just made sense for Buddy the Puppy to stay with me MOST of the time, so I could housebreak him and train him. Well, you know where this is going, right? I have to SHARE custody of my children, but I got FULL custody of the dog!

So, now I have a 2-dog household which includes 2 pure-bred dogs that I did not personally select. BOTH of these breeds are described as "high-energy, high-maintenance, stubborn, willful, and difficult to housebreak."  Molly, in particular, exhibits "aggressiveness towards other dogs"--to the point where she has drawn blood and got into nasty disciplinary sessions with Buddy or other unleashed dogs she encounters on walks. She has mellowed a bit now that she is older, and most of these incidents sound worse than they are (dogs snarling and yelping are like teenage boys fighting--there's a lot of posturing and "swinging and missing" going on.) Still, I worry about her because she is very intense and focused, and it is very difficult to distract her during an attack. These attacks are few and far between (mostly she just attacks the dogs and cats she sees on TV during pet food commercials), but that is only because we DON'T take her to dog parks or introduce her to other dogs on walks (usually, when we see one approaching, we just cross the street.) I'm just glad she doesn't attack Buddy anymore, but that's only because he is so submissive, he just immediately rolls over on his back and wets himself, even after he instigates the confrontation!)

I have to admit that I am a pushover when it comes to owning dogs and parenting. I love my dogs, and I love my kids, and I am indulgent with them all. I am very deficient when it comes to affection and nurturing, plus I am generally "distracted" by my job and other responsibilities, so I am not very structured, consistent, or attentive. To summarize, there is a lot of FREEDOM in my house, for both dogs and kids.

CURRENT SITUATION:
So, our Dog-Friendly Household has settled--Molly no longer attacks Buddy.  Molly and Buddy still pee and poop in the House if I travel out of town and leave them alone and unattended overnight. (Nowadays, when I travel, my Ex comes to stay at the House, so the dogs are never left alone for more than 6 hours a day.) Both dogs have access to most of the House, all the time.  The kids keep their bedroom doors shut while they are at school, but the dogs routinely sleep on our beds (Buddy sleeps under the covers in our beds), nap on the furniture, and yap at birds, ghosts, passing coyotes and skunks that may or may not be somewhere near our property line.

And then there is my 16-year-old son. He has been pestering me for WEEKS now about getting a "dog of his own" (Molly is MY dog, Buddy is his sister's dog, and he doesn't want some yappy, little dog, he wants a Big Dog.) My son is also, I think, going through a "coming-of-age" thing. He is shy. He lacks confidence. He is worried about his future--has no idea what he wants to do after high school. He has never been involved in sports. He fills up his free time playing video games, but I think he is finally "bored" by them and looking for something else to do. The kid needs a hobby! So, he comes to me and begs me to allow him to get another dog--he will train it, walk it, pick up after it, take care of it. I'm not sure Molly can handle another dog in the house.  Buddy can handle another dog, but he is such a little pest, he is likely to get a "beat-down," and I don't want to see him get hurt. Then my son tells me he wants to get a Pit Bull because he knows they are hard to place, and there are just WAY too many of them in our area, and he thinks they are a misunderstood and maligned breed and wants to provide a good home and save one.  While he was on Spring Break, he actually drove around to various shelters and noticed that they are FULL of Pit Bulls/Pit Bull Crosses--the dogs people abandon and nobody wants to adopt.

Hoo Boy!  A Pit Bull? I have to admit, I am prejudiced against them myself. I don't want to be, and it makes no sense for me to be afraid of them, but I am. I am used to little dogs--cocker spaniels, terriers, mini-doxie.  Big dogs kind of scare me, as much as I want to believe that "there are no bad dogs, only bad owners." However, considering what knowledge I DO have, I know at  least a dozen people who own Pit Bull/Pit Bull Crosses and declare them to be the BEST dogs they have ever owned--intelligent, easy to train, gentle, good with kids, good with other dogs, etc. Yet, the NEWS provides stories of Pit Bull attacks on little yappy dogs (like Molly and Buddy) and small children. Of course, the news stories are 15 seconds long and leave out a lot of important details, like the fact that these Pit Bulls were kept chained up in backyards without food, water, shelter, human interaction, obedience training, etc. I tell my son that he needs to do some research and PROVE to me he is willing to take on the responsibility of caring for yet another dog, especially one that REQUIRES training. I'm also thinking, "Wow, this could be a great opportunity for my son to develop confidence and a Hobby!"

So, we start googling! My son is watching Cesar Milan videos on dog training. I start looking at Rescue Groups and trying to "follow my heart" and provide a home for an older, fostered Pit Bull with a "profile" declaring his or her demeanor, behavior, and ability to get along with other dogs--especially difficult, annoying little yappy dogs (like Molly and Buddy.) Also, I really, REALLY don't want to endure another Puppy-Destructive-Housetraining Stage--it was so nice to see profiles of older dogs in Foster Homes that were "crate-trained, housebroken, and great with other dogs!"  We visited the City Animal Shelter, which made me cry. I want to rescue ALL of those dogs, but so MANY of them LOOK so scary and behave so badly because they are in such a horrible environment.  We even played with a 4-month old Pit Bull Puppy, and while she was adorable and happy, she bounded around like a Jurassic Park dinosaur, ripped holes in my skirt hem, and all I could think of was Buddy, trying to play with her and getting thrown to the ground and slipping a disk because mini-doxies are actually kind of fragile. And then I thought of Molly, getting annoyed with the puppy and snarling at her, and the Pit Bull possessing a jaw large enough to engulf Molly's entire head.

I found a Rescue Group dedicated to Pit Bulls and they were having an "event" at a local pet store in Albuquerque on Saturday. They had about 7 "older" Pit Bulls (6 months - 7 years old) for adoption, plus 4 wiggly, adorable 6-week old puppies.

My son instantly focused on the puppies. I wanted to focus on these sweet, older (house and crate-trained) dogs so in need of a good home. We took a few out for a walk and spent a lot of time observing them--poor things, confined to crates in the hot sun! Considering the conditions, these dogs--ALL of them--were the calmest, gentlest, sweetest dogs I have ever seen! Even my daughter wanted to take one of the bigger, sturdier pit bulls out for a walk.  He walked right next to her side, never pulling on the leash, and as soon as he found a bush large enough to provide some shade, he promptly laid down, and rolled over. He "looked scary," but he was so relaxed and well-behaved! The great thing about getting a dog from a foster home is that the foster owner is experienced with socializing and training. They can turn an abused, neglected animal into a great pet by providing security, necessities, kindness, and trust. Dogs are so resilient that way--they just want a good home. I wanted to take one of them home, and I would have--if I didn't have two other dogs already.

I have Molly, who has established herself as the "Alpha" (next to me) and has already exhibited aggressiveness towards other dogs. I did NOT properly-socialize her or discipline her. I also have a submissive, but annoying, mini-doxie who is incredibly fit--even "ripped" (we joke about how he thinks he's a Pit Bull because he is the most muscular mini-doxie you will ever find because he has been chasing around a Welsh Terrier his entire lifetime, which is quite a workout--we should have named him Rocky!) Buddy is kind of a pest. Molly has learned to ignore him, and finds his antics to be rather boring, but a boisterous Pit Bull? Well, not sure how that dynamic will play out.

And then, there is my son--the reason why we are here. He is wanting to "take a stand" and prove himself, but he is also unsure of himself and looking at those older Pit Bulls made him question his abilities, and the last thing he needs right now is an experience that makes him feel like a failure.

We both reached the same conclusion--we WANT to rescue Pit Bulls, but we also have NO experience or qualifications to do so; however, we are willing to learn! So we brought home a 6-week old puppy, named Arya (after a Game of Thrones character.)  I think Molly and Buddy will accept a puppy into the house more readily than an older dog who is far bigger than they are. My son can better prepare for training a younger dog than an older dog. Pit Bulls require/need an owner who provides direction and commands--a skill my son needs to develop, that will be more easily tested/administered to a dog than his peers right now.

I think we made the right decision, even though I am exhausted already by the thought of puppy-proofing my house again! My son thanked me, over and over again, for giving him this opportunity. He NEEDS this, and this sweet, little puppy, who is a Blank Slate right now, also deserves this opportunity to be loved and trained and cared for. Her ears and tail will NEVER be cropped. She will be spayed and never "bred" for additional dogs that will only be mistreated and abused. She will have access to the best quality dog food, veterinary care, and human attention/interaction a dog could ask for. We will love her, engage her, exercise her, and make her an Ambassador for her breed!

A little more about Arya's background:  she is the offspring of two Pit-Bulls owned by the same family that never bothered to spay or neuter their dogs.  Inevitably, they mated and birthed 6 puppies. (DUH! That's what happens when you own a male and a female and don't get them "fixed!") They "had to move" (probably because they were getting evicted ) and could only take Mom and Dad--puppies (the result of their failure to be responsible pet owners) were an "inconvenience." The litter included 2 males and 4 females. They placed the 2 males at less than 4 1/2 weeks old (puppies really shouldn't be separated from their mothers until 6-8 weeks.) They dumped the 4 females with a Rescue Group. The pups were born in a county in Northern New Mexico that is known for dog-fighting--which is WHY the MALE pups were easily-placed. I shudder when I think of what will happen to those male pups!

At this stage of my life, I think it is important to demonstrate and engage my kids in value-based decisions. While many of my friends and ALL of my family (which, at this point, consists of 2 people--my Dad and my Sister) will disagree with those decisions, I want my kids to be strong and fearless and willing to take on a challenge. I don't want them "backing down" out of fear that is based on news reports/media rather than actual facts and independent research, which includes consideration of oral testimony of actual Pit Bull owners.

Raising Arya is important to my son. Providing him with this opportunity reinforces my values, and represents the compassion and integrity I have tried to model. How could I NOT support it?

This is what Arya looks like now--cute, right?

Here is what she will look like a year from now. It won't matter how sweet and gentle and obedient we have trained her to be--people will still see her as "threatening."

Funny how the adjectives used to describe Pit Bulls are no different than the adjectives used to describe Welsh Terriers and Doxies. The ONLY difference is that Welsh Terriers and Doxies look like this:

 All 3 breeds are described as "energetic, willful, intelligent, focused, loyal, good with children, need regular exercise, and require leadership and direction."

Arya will grow up to have an Ugly Mug and a muscular build, but that does not make her a "Bad Dog."

My Name Is Blondie, and I Have a Teenager...

My son is a Freshman in High School this year, which, apparently, is a much bigger deal for ME than it is for him. I bug him DAILY about school, desperate for information about how he is faring in the scary world that IS high school. I worry about my son a bit because he is a keen observer of behavior and careful to "process" those observations in a way that ensures his own behavior flies "below the radar." He is careful NOT to draw attention to himself and to "stay out of trouble." He is sensitive when it comes to the volatile, neurotic interactions that define his peer group. I worry about him because I'm always afraid he will be "too nice" to navigate the minefields, and boys that are "too nice" often become targets.

But, I am learning that my son is actually far more astute and confident than I ever was at that age. He is still a "nice guy," but he is also equipped with certain advantages I never had. For starters, he is a BOY, and he is BIG for his age (5' 10" tall and 150 pounds at 14.) For boys, size matters, and we happen to live in a town where many boys in his peer group are little, wee persons, so JCH has an advantage by towering over most of his peers, plus, he also possesses a generally friendly, jovial disposition that makes him universally "likeable." He is also equipped with a quick wit that disarms potential attackers. He has a core group of friends that have been his friends since first grade, so even though he has no classes with them, they still meet up for lunch and spend countless hours connected through technology with their video games and social networking. These are GOOD KIDS, and they stick together. Also, they are BOYS, which means they are NOT subject to the "drama" girls have at this age. (PHEW!)

I have been trying to figure out where my son will "fit in" in the High School Clique Index. He is not an athlete, but he is also NOT a nerd because he has social skills. He is one of the millions caught "in the middle," flying under the radar. And I am okay with that as long as he is happy.

Homecoming Week took place a week ago. His FIRST HOMECOMING! I remember Homecoming in my hometown, and it was a BIG DEAL when I was his age. I kept bugging him about it--are you going to the game? What about the parade? Are your friends talking about going to the dance? And he looked at me like I was a complete idiot.

"Gawd, MOM, I don't care about the football team. All of the football players are assholes, and parades are stupid. YOU grew up in Los Alamos, 30 years ago, where nobody had anything better to do than go to a stupid dance."

Then Tuesday night rolls around, and he asks me to drive him to school at 7pm to attend the "Homecoming Bonfire." Wednesday night rolls around, and he "announces" that he is going to the Homecoming Dance on Saturday, and I need to take him shopping for suitable attire (semi-formal.) I, of course, ask "probing questions" and soon discover there is a GIRL involved, and Thursday night turns into a very dramatic shopping session, where my sweet, Momma's Boy Son suddenly becomes obstinate and REJECTS every suggestion I make as to appropriate pants/shirts/tie combinations. Much bickering ensues, and since there are several other teenagers and parents milling about JC Penney, we have an audience.

My son, for some strange reason, wanted to wear black pants and a black shirt.

I said, "Absolutely not! Only Maffia Dons wear black pants and black shirts, and you have a Baby Face and totally cannot pull off that 'Look'! At best, you will look like a Bouncer, or worse, a MIME!"

So we settled on a charcoal grey shirt or a deep teal shirt with grey or khaki pants. (JC Penney had a Buy One Get One Free sale going on.)

Lord have mercy. WHO KNEW it was such a problem to BUY PANTS? Pleats or plain fronts? Sleek, synthetic blends versus cotton? And don't get me started on dress socks (my son was perfectly happy to wear athletic socks, and when I tried to mock him by calling him "Cliff Claven," he looked at me with total confusion--"Cliff Claven? Who the hell is that?")

And then there was the "Choosing of the Tie"...

I LOVE selecting ties for men. Selecting ties for my dad, my ex-husband, and my brother-in-law are some of the happiest shopping excursions I have ever had. And today, men's ties are in their greatest glory. So many choices--so many colors--so many patterns! But, alas, all my son wanted was a boring old diagonal stripe or subtle geometric print in neutral colors. No paisleys, no fun colors, nothing that would distinguish him as a Sharp-Dressed Man.

Much bickering ensued. After my son retreated to the Dressing Room, not one, not two, but THREE males approached me asking for my opinion about tie selection, after over-hearing my "lecture" to my son about the importance of selecting a tie, and how it established Image and Style. All three of them left with gorgeous ties (that my son rejected!)

In the end, I allowed my son to make the final tie selection because I didn't want to be one of "those" mothers who is overbearing and smothering. (Yes, sadly, he picked a boring diagonal stripe in muted tones.) I did, however, insist on appropriate dress socks and since he didn't care about the socks, I managed to pick up a pair of classy, preppy argyle dress socks for him!

Now, about that girl...my son was very unclear on how she fit into the picture. Back in my day, Homecoming Dances were always Date dances, but nowadays, girls are far more liberated and since they universally love to get dressed up and hang out with their friends, they are not about to leave events like Homecoming up to Clueless 14-year-old boys. They buy their own tickets, and if no boy asks them to go, then they will just show up with their friends and have a good time without them. And, I think, this is EXACTLY the approach "the girl" my son is smitten with took. (He actually confided in me that he went with her to stand in line to purchase her ticket and didn't mention a word about going to the dance himself until days later--because he is a CLUELESS 14-year-old boy that can't get a HINT.)

At first, when I tried to ask "probing questions" my son was reticent about giving me ANY information--telling me he didn't trust me to not "freak out" and embarrass him. But, he really does LIKE this girl, and he couldn't hold it in and eventually agreed to provide me with her first name only. I promised him I wouldn't "make a big deal out of it," but that I hoped she was a nice girl that got good grades. And the whole exchange was kind of sweet--me prodding him for information, him objecting, me begging, him torturing me, me making promises not to "embarrass him," and then, him finally telling me her first name (and then, immediately after I returned after dropping him off for the dance, I went through his Middle School Yearbook and FOUND her! My son is such a dope! She is the ONLY girl in the entire 8th grade class last year named Sharon! LOL!)

So, here comes Saturday night, and I realized that my son is seriously in need of a shave (he has peach fuzz on his upper lip and weird curls growing along his jawline.) His Dad is nowhere to be found. So, here I am, trying to show my son how to shave with a REAL razor for the first time. He tells me he has no confidence in my directions, since I have only shaved my legs, not my FACE. I tell him, "well, I watched your Dad shave for 14 years. Make a face--like this...." and proceeded to make crazy faces in the mirror and walked him through the process. I had purchased cologne for him in small sizes for his Christmas Stocking last year, and he chose my favorite, the cologne my Mom bought for my Dad, Canoe--and it made my heart happy! (Secret Confession: I LOVE any man that smells good, so I think my son should smell good.)

And, then, I had to tie his tie! YIKES! I have only tied a tie about four times in my life, so I am no expert, but I was the ONLY expert present that night for my son, so I stepped up to the plate and shared that moment with him--his first "Date." Yes, it occurred to me that his father SHOULD HAVE been performing these "firsts," but we had left messages on his voice mail about the whole Homecoming thing and had heard NOTHING in response, so it was clearly going to be my responsibility to teach our son how to shave and tie a tie. And, so I did.

It took a lot of pleading, but I finally got my son to agree to let me take his picture before the dance. We started out with serious poses, but it didn't take long for my son, the Ham, to start mimicking fashion mags and striking all kinds of ridiculous poses that made me laugh so hard, I couldn't take the pictures! He is a truly, funny kid!

As it turns out, two of his Guy Friends were supposed to show up at the Homecoming Dance, but both of them chickened out at the last minute. JCH was the only one of their "group" to actually show up. The Girl was also supposed to show up with a "group" but all but one of her friends "backed out" at the last minute, too. So, my son, the Nice Guy, showed up and Saved the Day for her and her friend. He did not call me to pick him up until after midnight and tried to tell me the dance was "boring," but I knew better. Those two freshmen girls, attending their first High School dance, probably felt very intimidated by all of those "paired-off older" kids, and my son provided a much-needed buffer. And, to his credit, even though he found the whole experience to be "awkward and boring," he stayed because he understood that the event was NOT boring to those two girls, and he stayed to make it easier for them.

I am so proud and pleased to know that my son is a Nice Guy!

Money Pit

One day last fall, while pulling weeds in my sideyard, I was approached by a Man with a Gold Tooth, offering to take care of my weeds and remove the dead tree from my backyard, for a low, low price. He also pruned all of my trees, and removed the "burial mounds" that existed as "landscaping elements" when I moved in. Living where I do, it requires a great deal of effort to grow anything in the poor quality dirt we have here. Consequently, most people fill their yards with rock and concrete, and landscaping generally involves decorating with, you guessed it, more rocks--different sizes, different colors, but, still rocks. There is a growing trend towards artificial grass to add a little green. My backyard has all of those elements, including the artifical grass, but it is an ugly backyard, without much to look at, so I committed my income tax refund (and then some) to pay the man with the gold tooth to haul out a good amount of rock, some ugly bushes, the dead apple tree, and clear space for a future garden.

"Before" picture of one side of my backyard and my crappy patio furniture, taken 3 years ago when I first moved in. (Note the creepy raised "mounds" of rock--the first time I saw them, I whispered to my Realtor, "Do you think there are BODIES buried under there?")


Well, the Man with the Gold Tooth got more than just my income tax refund. He also got most of my savings account and at least one entire paycheck. Before I knew it, he had talked me into putting in a pond, complete with 3 large koi and 5 large goldfish that he provided "for free" because another one of his customers wanted to get rid of them because he was getting too old to take care of his pond and the fish.

"After" picture, taken in April, just after the pond was "finished."



I had to hire a licensed electrician to add a dedicated electrical line to run the pump for the waterfall/filter and the lights, because, yes, my pond also has interior and exterior lighting.

Pond at night.

Here is a picture of some of my "decorative" fish. There are 3 speckled koi, all of them at least a foot long and retail for around $100.

I also have 5 goldfish--1 orange, 1 orange and white with fantails, 1 white, and 2 black. Yes, I know, sounds ridiculous, but some goldfish are black or white instead of orange. My plain, black goldfish arrived with a bonus baby black goldfish in tow. Junior has been elusive and hard to spot, probably because he hides in the shallow areas of the pond, in between the rocks, because the koi could swallow him whole. I am happy to report that he has tripled in size since acquisition.

Here is another picture of the fish, their first day in the pond, before the water had become murky and pond-like.

Well, if I wanted to sit out on my back patio and enjoy the new "look" to my backyard, I also needed better patio furniture, right? Yes, of course! So, I spent another $1,000 on a new patio set, which arrived in pieces, and my son helped me to assemble. There were 2 washers and 1 bolt remaining after assembly, but, so far, nothing has collapsed out from under us yet, so I think it's okay.

You would think that would be the end of the story, but, no. I own a terrier and terriers are not only curious, but incredibly focused--to the point of being borderline crazy. Molly was fascinated by the fish, and would spend all day and all night in the yard "stalking" and terrorizing the fish. She would jump around from boulder to boulder, and inevitably wind up falling into the pond 2 or 3 times a day. I had to "banish" her from the backyard for about two weeks, only allowing her out in the backyard on a LEASH, for crying out loud. Fortunately, after about two weeks, the novelty wore off, and her obsession for stalking the fish waned, although she still spends a half hour or so every day stalking them, but at least she no longer falls in because I put potted plants up around the perimeter of the pond to minimize the number of "perches" she could access.

Molly, stalking the fish

Another $200 for pots and plants to create obstacles for the terrier.

The statue to the right of the waterfall is my grandmother's St. Francis statue that I "inherited." He is a little worse for wear after spending four decades in a blazing hot Phoenix, AZ backyard. He has been beheaded more than once (knocked over by wind, grandchildren, or exuberant Labrador or Golden Retrievers owned by those grandchildren), but we just keep resurrecting him by glueing his head back on. After I put St. Francis out there, my daughter asked, "Why is there a creepy priest lurking over our fish, when we aren't even Catholic?" Well, that's a long, complicated story for another day, and, wait a minute, just HOW and WHEN did you become so suspicious and cynical of "creepy priests" when we aren't even Catholic?

I thought the pond project was complete and my dealings with the Man with the Gold Tooth could finally come to an end, but, no, he keeps coming around to check on the pond. I started not answering the door, but then he would just go around to my side gate and go check on the pond himself, rapping on my back door and peering in through the living room windows on that side of the house. It's like having a "stalker"!

Having a pond that is pretty much in full sun for most of the day is problematic because of the algae that builds up. To keep the algae under control, you have to either drain and clean the pond every 3 months, or provide shade, either through aquatic plants, trees, or some other structure. So, I wound up hiring the Man with the Gold Tooth to build a shade structure over the pond. I decided to make it look "southwestern." Don't let the "rustic" appearance fool you--it was ridiculously expensive.

I have more aquatic plants in the pond now, including water lilies that attract dragon flies and other bugs for the fish to feed on. The fish are thriving--the koi have grown another 2-3 inches, and I noticed last weekend that there were at least a dozen tiny new baby fish in the pond!

I have not yet managed to get rid of the Man with the Gold Tooth, but I'm working on it. He is a horrible little man--his speech is filled with profanities and atrocious grammar, and he can't do math or provide an estimate that even closely resembles the actual cost of a project. Every time I hire him, it winds up costing me 3 times what he originally told me it would cost. The "final" price is reduced if I pay "cash," which means he is trying to avoid paying taxes on his income. I swear he shows up every time he runs out of money proposing additional projects for me. I think I may have to claim him and his 3 little kids as dependents on my tax return because I'm fairly certain I am providing over half their support--that's how much money I have given him this year.

I had Big Plans for a Garden this year, but I ran out of money, thanks to the Pond/Money Pit. But, there is always next year! I will hire someone (NOT the Man with the Gold Tooth!) to fence off my garden plot to keep the dogs OUT of the garden, since they not only love to dig and poop in the garden, but they also like to eat my tomatoes and herbs. I'm going to plant corn, tomatoes, garlic, green chile, jalapenos, zucchini, beans, and sugarbaby watermelons. I have a smaller garden plot on the other side of the yard that will be reserved for herbs. I have a few nice planters for flowers, and I want to add a lilac bush or two over by the shed, as they were my mother's favorite.

We have had a particularly hot, dry, windy, miserable summer this year, so we haven't spent too much time out on the patio, but I expect that will change once it cools down a little. I'm considering putting up some misters around the covered patio and planting a tree or two along the back wall. My backyard faces west, so it is brutally hot in the summer and could use some "evaporative cooling" and shade. A fire pit might also be a nice addition for the cooler months, but I don't want to get too carried away!

While my backyard projects seem pretty extensive, that's only the tip of the iceberg. The inside of my house requires even more work, from general clean-up (I never did finish unpacking from the move...3 years ago!) to flooring, paint, furniture, re-finishing kitchen cabinets, and a serious purging of the contents of my garage.

Ah, the joys of home ownership!

Forward

I have spent my entire life living FORWARD. I have virtually no memories of my childhood. I was so caught up with wanting to be Older, I paid little attention to the day-to-day events of life. I remember a few snapshots, here and there, but what I remember most, particularly as an adolescent, was itching to be OLDER and getting away from the helpless, awkward, uncertainty of childhood/adolescence and finally having control over my destiny. When I was in Junior High, I couldn't wait to be in High School. When I was in High School, I couldn't wait to be in College. When I was in College, I couldn't wait to be out in the Workforce. When I had babies, I couldn't wait for them to be OLDER. I am quite certain that the people I encountered during those phases of my life would describe me as being "aloof" and "superior" and "condescending" and otherwise "unlikeable."

Looking back I realize that this perspective benefitted me in many ways. For starters, I was so focused on the future, that it kept me from doing stupid things in my youth because I was always hyper-aware of potential consequences. I have no funny stories to tell of my youthful "hijinks" because there were none. Do I have regrets? Certainly. Did I make mistakes? Of course. But if I were to describe the stories behind those regrets and mistakes to someone else, that someone else would laugh at me and wonder what the hell was wrong with me to think that story was worth re-telling.

Consequently, I had a very boring life. My kids are teenagers now, and they hear their dad and his brothers tell stories about crazy stunts they pulled as kids. They ask me if I have any similar stories to tell, and, well, I've got nothing, and they say I'm "boring." And I respond with, "Yes, because I also was not STUPID." I am a total Buzzkill (but, also, a Buzzkill with a full scholarship to college, and a recession-proof, good-paying Government Job with Benefits, that I love.) I actually take pride in the fact that I have no stories to tell. Does this make me an uptight, humorless person? Absolutely not. I was surrounded by peers who were perfectly willing to engage in dangerous behaviors, make bad choices, and I was quite content to stand by and observe and allow them to serve as a "warning to others," while I stayed on the sidelines, safely ensconced with my virtues intact and my "To Do List" in hand. I can re-tell THEIR stories with great humor and wit, forever thankful that I am not the main character--only the narrator.

An additional benefit from being so "forward-thinking" is the fact that I could cope with "Drama" and potential hardships very sanely. My mind-set has always been: "This is temporary. A year from now, things will be better." This was a very good attitude to have when married and my husband spent most of our married life quitting jobs and spending weeks and months at a time unemployed. It was also a good attitude to have when going through divorce and dealing with the sluggish Family Court system. When I was prepping for a Job Interview several months ago, I was reviewing "Popular Interview Questions." One of them was "The position you are applying for is very challenging and involves short deadlines and high-profile projects. How would you handle the additional stress of the position?" TRUTH: I handle the stress by neglecting my children and working more hours to meet deadlines during the week, and drinking a lot of cheap wine and sleeping until noon on the weekends, but, of course, that would not be an appropriate response. The real response is that I handle Stress by adopting an approach from the Scarlett O'Hara Guide to Life: "I'll think about it tomorrow--after all, tomorrow is another day." I am just a cog in the wheel of the bureaucracy that IS Federal Government. I do not perform brain surgery. I edit memos and procedural manuals. If I don't meet a deadline, nobody DIES. So, yeah, whatever it was that you wanted? It can WAIT until tomorrow.

So, I am still "forward-thinking," but I recognize that I have finally reached that elusive point in my life where I have all of those things my Younger Me was chasing. I have a House in a good neighborhood that I love. I make good money--enough that there is actually more money at the end of the month than bills. I have complete and total control over the money I make. I wake up every day excited and happy to go to work. My kids feed themselves, tie their own shoes and wipe their own butts. They entertain me daily with engaging conversations at the dinner table.

And, suddenly, for the first time ever, I really don't want to keep thinking forward. It is finally time for me to grasp, enjoy, embrace, and remember EVERY moment I have right now because Life is PERFECT. If I look forward now, I have to worry about my health declining, the Federal Deficit, my kids leaving home and trying to find jobs. YUCK! But, right now? My bills are paid, there is money in my Savings Account, my kids are here most of the time and doing well in school, making friends, not being bullied and not being bullies, and I still love my job. I live in an obscure, podunk state with no floods, no earthquakes, no tornadoes, and no hurricanes. (Most of America, and certainly no Terrorists, even know we're a state.) I feel safe, secure, and reasonably-content. The only time I worry, is when I find myself looking forward because NOW the future involves things like my kids experimenting with drugs or driving cars, and me facing Health Issues like high blood pressure and heart disease and breast cancer (I'm in the "High Risk" category for all 3.)

So, I think it is now time for me to STOP thinking forward and, instead, time for me to Be Present.

Remembering "The Duke" and also, M...

My house is a mess. I admit it. I am a horrible Housekeeper. It falls very LOW on my list of priorities. Sure, I can manage the Basics--weekly vacuuming, scrubbing toilets, cleaning sinks and countertops, washing dishes, etc. It's the "other stuff" that is problematic.

Just a week ago, I was home alone (kids were at their dad's house for the weekend) and realized my ceiling fans and air vents were coated with dust in a very bad way. I also noticed that there were not one, not two, not five, but 14 burnt out light bulbs in my house. What is it about my house that all of the light bulbs in my light fixtures all burn out at the same time?

These particular chores required me to drag a ladder from my garage into my house. Because I am a "short person," I can't change out the light bulbs in my ceiling fans like a normal person by standing on a dining room chair. This particular chore requires me to bring in a ladder. And the added CHORE of dragging in a ladder was enough to make me procrastinate. (Yes, I am "that lazy.")

I rationalize my inability to tackle chores on the weekends by telling myself that because I work SO HARD during the week, weekends are my "down time," and, therefore, I should reward myself by squandering them with relaxing, indulgent activities like sleeping late, reading books, shopping, watching movies, and taking bubble baths.

So, to "motivate" me for tackling some chores, I tuned into a satellite TV station that was having a "John Wayne Weekend." I made a deal with myself that I could watch my beloved John Wayne Movies, but ONLY if I took advantage of each and every commercial break to change out lightbulbs or vacuum an air vent. This approach proved to be wildly successful.

When I was a little girl, I absolutely ADORED John Wayne. When we first got Cable TV (when I was in 5th grade) there was a channel that showed nothing but Westerns, and I became a Huge Fan! John Wayne was my first "Celebrity Crush." When he died, my mother very carefully broke the news to me after school one day, and I shut myself in my room and sobbed for hours, missing dinner, until I finally exhausted myself and fell asleep. When I got to see The Shootist, his last film, I sobbed through the whole thing, even though I saw it months after his death. Yeah, I know, what a little Drama Queen! I had posters and photos of John Wayne in my bedroom and in my HIGH SCHOOL locker (along with photos of Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable.) I was the only girl in the school with pictures of Old, Dead Men in her locker! Umm...yeah, I was a Weird Kid! Thank goodness I grew up in a Town FULL of Weird Kids!

Watching John Wayne movies for the first time in decades made me laugh. The fight scenes were so ridiculously fake, and the "Indians" were so "body-painted" that I couldn't help but picture a bunch of "Hollywood Types" in the 1960/70s sitting around a table saying, "Let's hire some Eye-talians and spray paint them to look like Injuns" (too ignorant to realize that "Injuns" and "Hispanics" really aren't that dark.)

I thought I might question why I was so enamored with John Wayne, but watching those movies only reinforced my love for the characters he portrayed. John Wayne could spot bullshit from a mile away. John Wayne was always willing to step up and take risks for the greater good. John Wayne had great respect for the Apaches/Commanches. (Don't believe me? Watch Hondo!) He ONLY killed in self-defense, or in the defense of others. He also didn't put up with smart-assed, arrogant Women. He liked them, was attracted to them, respected them even, but he did not tolerate Game Playing, and he could see right through silly facades and was quick to put them in their place, without violence or insult. His approach was, "if you aren't going to respect me, then I'm not going to respect you." He never lost his temper, raised his voice, or raised his hand. When they irritated him, he IGNORED them until they stopped behaving like primadonnas.

M reminded me a lot of John Wayne. I found some Tin Signs on the internet that looked like Sepia Prints of John Wayne Movie Stills, emblazoned with his most famous quotes, like, "Talk low, talk slow, and don't talk much," and "A man's got to do what a man's got to do," and "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway." I bought 2 sets--1 for my Living Room, and 1 for M, for his birthday last year. The last time I visited him at his house, I noticed that he had hung them on the wall to his entryway, but they were on the wall that faced his kitchen. You had to be INSIDE his house to see them.

M and I fought the most when I was being an annoying, haughty, pain-in-the-ass. M would always take the "John Wayne" approach and refuse to deal with me when I was being disrespectful, immature, and manipulative. M was not perfect, but he was consistent and "Old School" and very "John Wayne-like."

Oh, how I wish our paths had crossed at different times in our lives!

I miss him so very, very much.

I am not inclined to dwell in the past. I try to live my life always looking FORWARD. But, when it comes to M, who, sadly, is now part of my Past, I have so many regrets. I keep telling myself to shove them away. It's too late--there is nothing I can do to change anything--but they keep brimming up to the surface. I dream about him ALL THE TIME. I try to shove these thoughts away because I KNOW this is what happens when someone dies. The people they leave behind get to eulogize them forever, glossing over every negative memory and only remembering the good. We get to put them up on pedestals and make them into Heroes.

I KNOW that is what I am doing with M.

I'm converting M into my personal John Wayne/Ideal Man and, let's face it, there will never be ANYONE who can challenge that ideal. No man can compete with a Hero on a Pedestal. And perhaps that is for the best. M was the one person I listened to in my life that told me I was "special," and that I "deserved better." What he really meant to say was that HE thought I was "special" and HE was what I deserved, and I was too stupid to figure it out because I was too insecure and too wounded to connect the dots and believe that he actually meant what he said.

I blew my chance. I am far too flawed to believe there could be another.

Tales from the Home Front

The agency I work for graciously provides "Continuing Professional Education" for its employees each year. Half of our employees attend one week, the other half attend the second week. I ordinarily attend BOTH weeks because I am usually an instructor for at least one class, if not two. This year, however, I put my foot down and did not volunteer to instruct because the training conference was going to be in Philadelphia, and I really, really wanted to bring my kids with me. They were old enough to stay in our Hotel Room during the day while I was busy with classes, and we could stay through the weekend and do touristy things, and what better city to do touristy things than Philadelphia! So historic! So educational!

Well, I wound up instructing again, but for one week only. I was well aware from our Yellowstone trip, that the 3 of us can only stand about 7 days of "non-stop togetherness." We flew out early one Monday morning, and returned the following Monday. It was...interesting!

My kids were really great about meeting my co-workers. I gave them quite the Lecture in the airport about hand shaking and eye contact. I made them "practice" and chastised them for "shaking hands like a girl." Consequently, both of them have adopted steely-gazed, bone-crushing handshakes. Most Excellent!

I taught a class entitled, "Intermediate Excel" with a concentration on creating and customizing charts and graphs. I showed up to the classroom early on Tuesday, so I could load the "class exercises" onto the 25 Loaner Laptops my agency rented, so class participants could have the opportunity for "hands-on" practice--which is the ONLY way to teach a class involving computer software. Unfortunately, I realized that my agency is still using Microsoft Office 2003, and the Loaner Laptops all had Microsoft Office 2007, which is very, VERY different. All of the printed Training Materials were designed using screen shots of Excel 2003. I frantically tried to learn Excel 2007 in 30 minutes, to no avail. Consequently, the first class I taught, sucked. My co-instructor and I spent our lunch hour re-vamping our entire approach. Showing people how to do stuff on Excel 2007 was kind of pointless, since they would be going back to their offices and using Excel 2003. Quite a conundrum, but we worked our way through it, and actually got "rave reviews" from the Class Evaluations we looked at the end of the day.

After my work-day was over, I dragged my kids to not one, but TWO Group Dinners with my co-workers (both of them held in Sports Bars--gah! Obviously, I will never be in the running for any "Mother of the Year" awards!) I was very proud of their "meet and greet" skills when I introduced them to about two dozen co-workers. They were very patient and well-behaved (albeit bored) the entire time. Perhaps the stern whisper in their ears beforehand of "do NOT embarrass me or I will never let you have access to the XBox or the internet ever again" had something to do with it...

And then Friday came around, and my work obligations were over! It was our time to be Tourists! We walked and walked and WALKED! We visited Museum after Museum. It was HOT, and we were sweaty, and our feet hurt, and I was my usual incompetent self when it came to reading a map, so we got lost and walked more than we should have. Also, imagine the "shock value" for my sheltered tribe that has never left the suburbs except to go to Yellowstone. Downtown Philadelphia was quite a shock! As I walked with them to a CVS to buy some snacks one morning we passed not one, but two Homeless people, one of them with make-up smeared all over her face and obviously crazy, and the other beating the crap out of a pay phone, yelling obscenities. As I hurried them past, noticing the shocked looks on my kids' faces, I said, cheerily, "Welcome to the Big City!" and my son said, with great seriousness, "I don't like it here." His Facebook posts throughout the week were most amusing. He is a young man of few words, with great focus:

1) Philadelphia smells like cigarettes.
2) Gawd--there is nothing to watch on TV in this hotel!
3) Dear lawd--there is no place in this city to get Dr. Pepper!
4) YESSSSSSSSSSS! I found some Dr. Pepper in this city!
5) OMG! Again with the no Dr. Pepper!

By Sunday night we were all sick of each other. I suspected that if I even dared to mention visiting another museum/historic site Monday morning before heading to the airport to catch our late afternoon flight, they might have conspired to smother me with a pillow while I slept. So instead I told them they could "sleep late" and we would just relax and pack up and then head for the airport.

We never did manage to get tickets to actually go INSIDE Independence Hall, but we did "walk around it." We also never bothered with the Liberty Bell. Perhaps that means our journey was misspent, but I think not. We had a limited amount of time, and I didn't want to spend it standing in line or trying to force my petulant, reluctant children to get out of bed early in the morning. We spent a good amount of time in the Visitor's Center which had great displays full of information about both landmarks, and since my kids had already covered some Revolutionary War history in school, they were able to follow along and (hopefully) appreciate and understand that we were walking along the same land that was the Birthplace of Democracy. They are still too young to understand the magnitude of that, but they are astute enough to recognize that Philadelphia is VERY different from their Hometown. I didn't think that actually standing in the same room where the Declaration of Independence was signed was as important as reading about the events leading up to that Declaration and understanding what life in Colonial America was truly like. As we walked from Independence Hall to Betsy Ross's House to Christ Church, we talked about the "Founding Fathers" and WHY people came to America in the first place. We walked across sidewalks naming the signers of the Declaration and their occupations. Business Owners, Tradesmen, and Farmers. Ordinary, hard-working people who just wanted to make a living, support their families, and NOT have to turn over 50% (or more) of their income to someone who was already WEALTHY and never worked a day in his life because he was the Son of a King.

And that was when I shut up with the history lessons because it dawned on me that when my children enter the workforce, they will likely face a 50% Tax Rate because their wages will have to subsidize Health Care for All, Bad Mortgages, National Debt, and America's "obligation" to be Caretaker of the World when it comes to Natural Disasters and Dictatorships.

At least it means they will never leave me--they will never be able to afford to.

ME

I don't know why I avoided this Sunday Scribblings Prompt for so long. Ordinarily, it would be right up my alley. Honestly, why do I (or anyone else for that matter) Blog?

So we can talk about ourselves ad nauseum without boring the people in our real lives to tears.

I am always classified by the people who know me in Real Life as an "extrovert," so why was there such hesitation from me to address this prompt?

I think it's because I have two distinct "Selves."

There is my Work Self, and that is my Self that I want to be the most. At work, I am confident, outspoken, daring, decisive, productive. My co-workers constantly remark about my Energy and Knowledge. My co-workers have been known to describe me as a "Gerbil on a Treadmill" and "Uber-Perky" (which kind of annoys me because that makes me look like a Spaz, which I'm NOT, but I DO work with people who are, mostly in their 50s and 60s...I'm the Lone Gen X'er in a Sea of Baby Boomers!) They are amazed that every little thing that has been published in the last decade I can not only REMEMBER, but also pull up an old email or Microsoft Office file to prove it. I make them all Tired. They constantly come to me requesting advice or direction. My Boss also trusts me completely and relies upon my opinions and advice to make decisions. He runs EVERYTHING by me or through me. I have even "listened in" surreptitiously on conference calls I was not supposed to be on, just so I could feed him information via email, so he could respond to questions when he was put "on the spot."

And then there is my Other Self. The insecure, sad, scared, timid, socially-awkward Self. COMPLETE OPPOSITE of my Work Self.

I HATE this Self. People who know me--REALLY know me--like my parents and my sister and, yes, even my ex-husband--also HATE this Self because it doesn't make any sense. There is absolutely NO reason for me to be insecure, sad, scared, timid, or socially-awkward. They look at me, their jaws agape, wondering what the HELL is wrong with me. I have EVERYTHING. I'm smart. I'm respected. I'm successful. I'm funny. I'm not afraid to get up in front of 200 people and give a presentation. I can play piano, make quilts, prepare Brunch for 70, sew Halloween Costumes, Breastfeed while working full-time for 18 months, and feed my Babies nothing but homemade, preservative-free Baby Food. I make boat-loads of money. I can navigate airports, and understand Cab Drivers in strange cities. My children score off the charts on Standardized Tests with little to no intervention from me.

Despite all of these "Mad Skillz" I continue to immerse myself in hurtful self-dialogue. WHY do I do this? I have no idea. My "Work Self" clearly recognizes it as stupid and unproductive and ridiculous. Yet, there it is, and I have NO EXCUSE--I was never abused or violated or bullied in childhood. I have no "Sob Story." There is absolutely NO REASON for my madness; yet, that "madness" cripples me and keeps me up at night.

Birth

"What do you need to/ want to give birth to? What has been born through you? What new beginning are you responsible for?"

This is the Sunday Scribblings Prompt for the week, and I decided I needed to answer each question because I'm not creative enough to provide a spiffy, enlightening response.

I NEED to give birth to My Confident, Adult Self. I am my own worst enemy, wracked with feelings of self-doubt and childish insecurities. It causes me grief and sadness and prevents me from having healthy, meaningful relationships with people, especially MEN.

I have BORN two healthy, amazing children who reflect my Dominant genetic code and the accompanying strengths and weaknesses within that code. They may have their Father's Eyes and Hair Color, but everything else about them is linked to ME in so many ways. They LOOK like me, they ACT like me, and they BEHAVE like me. They are my "Mini-MEs." But, that is not such a good thing. I NEED to Mother them in a healthy, positive way, and I think I am doing an Okay Job in that department, but it could probably be improved upon.

I need to be RESPONSIBLE for a new beginning. I need to STOP immersing myself in my job, so I can spend more time and energy on my kids. I also need to take better care of myself because even if I think "nobody" gives a shit about me, that's not really true.

Mess

Ouch.

I will begin this prompt with an admission, followed by a list of excuses.

My house is messy. Not dirty--I vacuum, mop, dust, and scrub those surfaces that are most often used/noticed (floors, countertops, toilets, shelves). Trash is removed and emptied on a regular basis. General clutter; however, is my nemesis. Papers and junk mail routinely pile up on kitchen countertops and the dining room table. Books and magazines stack up on the coffee table. Clean laundry requiring ironing will hang on a rack in the laundry room for weeks at a time.

My house is never suitable for company. Fortunately, I work so much (and volunteer so much... and sleep so much...and read so much...and watch TV so much) that I rarely have the time or opportunity to invite "company" into my home.

Most of my friends--especially my Single Working Mom Friends--have equally catastrophic homes. Consequently, our favorite satellite TV shows are "Clean House" and "Hoarders" because they make us feel superior.

At least our houses don't look THAT bad!

While I was away on vacation, a friend of mine and her teenage daughters took care of our dogs and watered my plants. I came home to find my kitchen counters cleaned and tidied, the dishes in the dishwasher washed and put away. My friend is a Stay-at-Home Mom who keeps an immaculate, "showcase" home at all times. I think she looked at my dirty oven and cluttered countertops, and it made her "twitchy." She couldn't help herself--she HAD to clean them! I didn't know if I should be horrified and ashamed to learn that my house was so messy that she felt compelled to clean it, or if I should enthusiastically "re-hire" her for when I go to Philadelphia in August, so she can start on my garage.

I saw plenty of "showcase" homes when I was House-Hunting. I watch Home Improvement/Make-Over shows and "ooh" and "ahhh" as much as the next person, but ALL of those shows convert spaces into looking like Hotel Rooms. I don't WANT to live in a Hotel Room! I get particularly "bugged" when they put a whole bunch of store-bought "dust-catchers" on shelves to represent a "theme." HUH? I'm sorry, but the STUFF on my shelves should be items I personally-selected that actually MEAN something to ME and my kids and NOT something you snatched off a shelf at Cost Plus or bought online from HomeGoods!

When I walk into a person's HOME, I feel "uncomfortable" if it looks like a Hotel Room.

When you walk into MY home you see Dog Beds (so you know we are Dog-People NOT Cat-People.) You will also see bookcases in every room and books scattered about coffee tables, end tables and other raised surfaces. (So you know we are "Bookish" people.) You will also find my mother's quilted creations hanging on the walls, along with other "artwork" (framed prints and personal photos) reflecting people and places that actually mean something to me and my children.

You will see furniture that I "inherited" from my Grandmother. You might have to step over kids' backpacks and Video Game Systems and Controllers. But, you will find an impressive collection of cookbooks and an assortment of prints and signs tacked to the walls expressing our collectively sarcastic sense of humor. You will find a collage frame in the entryway filled with pictures of my mother. You will find stacks of papers on the kitchen counter and in my bedroom related to my JOB because I am fortunate enough to HAVE a job that allows me to work from home once or twice a week.

Yeah, so my House is MESSY, but so is LIFE. I have limited amounts of "down-time" as a Working Mom with a Demanding Career. I choose to spend that time engaging in "other" activities that do not always include "de-cluttering" my Living Space. Sometimes I sleep-in on Saturday mornings until Noon. Sometimes I get up at 7:00 am just so I can treat my kids to Homemade Cinnamon Rolls. Sometimes I chuck it all and Go Fishing.

I work because I HAVE TO. It never, ever occurred to me that there could be/would be any other kind of life. My mother, as brilliant as she was, had limited opportunities, and she HATED that. She LOVED the fact that my sister and I had CAREERS and while she was alive, she bent over backwards to support them.

So, if my House is "messy," my response is "Who Cares?" And, if so, "WHY?"

It's MY HOUSE. Also, I'm doing the Best I Can.

I am a Mother and an Employee. I also used to be a Wife. I couldn't do anything well when I tried to be everything all at once. So, I chose my battles.

Housework, obviously, did not make the "Short List."

Yellowstone Vacation

Back from vacation, and I currently have over 300 digital photos to sort and organize, so I can order prints! Yellowstone is amazing, awesome, incredible, beautiful, and fascinating!

We saw snow-capped mountains.

We saw geysers and molten, bubbling mud.

We saw craters filled with brilliant blue water, emitting clouds of steam that smelled like rotten eggs (we blamed the smell on my son, accusing him of farting too much in public places.)

We saw Lake Yellowstone, which, to desert dwellers such as ourselves, looked like the ocean, it was so big!

We saw waterfalls and canyons.

And, of course, we saw animals!

Elk!

Bison!

And (my favorite part of the whole trip) a Mama Grizzly Bear with her two little cubbies--a mere 5 yards from the side of the road!

We took these photos from INSIDE the car, keeping a respectful distance! When Mama Bear noticed the "Paparrazzi," she quickly retreated for the hills! So, we had to take a picture of her backside, and no, Mama Grizzly Bear, that outfit does NOT make your butt look big. You are perfect just the way you are! (And your babies are ADORABLE!)

We also saw a moose, and two bald eagles sitting in their nest near the West Entrance, but those pictures are on my daughter's camera, and I haven't uploaded them to my computer yet.

We got snowed on, missed Old Faithful (who chose NOT to perform on schedule, and we got bored--and cold and wet, since it was SNOWING--so we chose not to wait around anymore, and we dissed him.) We also trashed our rental car--seriously! In a mere Six Days my kids got it as dirty and full of trash as my 6-year-old Toyota! I spent entirely too much money on souvenirs--I kept thinking that this might be my only chance to visit Yellowstone, so I needed a T-shirt...and a hat...and a bumper sticker...and some magnets...and a water bottle...

We discovered that Idaho is full of potato farms (miles and M.I.L.E.S of potato farms), and that Jackson Hole, WY is EXACTLY like Santa Fe, only "whiter" and lacking cultural/historical sensitivity and integrity. I drove the Teton Pass not once, but FOUR times, with white knuckles the entire way (NOT a fan of 10% grades on narrow mountain roads with sheer cliffs on one side, no guardrail, and hairpin curves.) We invented new "games to play in the car," like a new version of "Slug-a-Bug" involving punching the person next to you every time you spotted an LDS church while driving through Southern Idaho and Northern Utah (ha ha--aren't we funny and full of religious intolerance!) We also amused ourselves during the long drives in and out and around the park by tuning in to comedy stations on Syrius Satellite Radio. I believe we can recite the stand-up routines of George Lopez, Bill Cosby, Jerry Seinfeld, Jeff Foxworthy, Larry the Cable Guy, and Bill Engvall by heart.

Yellowstone is full of people who are not Americans. I think we were the only Americans present last week, or at least we were the only ones speaking English without an accent! Yellowstone is also full of men sporting ridiculously large and expensive camera equipment. Every time I passed a middle-aged man on a trail sporting a zoom lens the size of a Civil War-era cannon, I thought to myself, "compensating for something?" Ha ha ha!

As I was "reflecting" on this vacation--my first "real" vacation with my kids in 10 years--I realized that this is also probably the first time since I was on maternity leave that I have spent 24 uninterrupted hours a day with my kids for more than 5 days in a row.

About two hours after we returned home, I drove them over to their father's house and dropped them off for the rest of the week because we were sick of each other.

Oh, just kidding--it wasn't because I wanted to, it's just that I had to go into the office in the morning, and they are on summer break and wanted to stay up late and sleep in. But it makes for a funny joke, right?

Wow! These things called "Vacations"? I think I like them! Must take more!

Vacations and Ungrateful Children

When I was a kid, the only "vacations" we ever took were obligatory trips to Arizona to visit the relatives. My sister and I spent most of our time feeling BORED, but we always looked forward to the trips because at least we got to get out of town, and our Mom always made the long car trips fun by packing the station wagon (aka "Family Truckster") full of snacks and games and puzzle books. Outside of the obligatory annual trip to visit the relatives, the only REAL Vacation we ever took was a trip to Disneyland when I was in the 4th grade. So, while my childhood was quite comfortable and idyllic and wonderful, it was also mostly devoid of fancy, expensive Vacations.

Fast forward a few decades. Now I'M a parent and, of course, I want my kids to have everything AND MORE than I had growing up.

I haven't taken my kids on a "proper" vacation in YEARS! In fact, the ONLY Vacation my kids have ever experienced was a trip to Disneyland when they were small that was largely financed by my Brother-in-Law. Neither one of my kids remembers it.

A few years ago, my daughter came home from school with one of those Time Magazine-sponsored "articles," and it was all about Yellowstone. She was totally enthralled by the idea of taking a trip there. Her timing couldn't have been worse. I was newly-divorced and right smack dab in the middle of a custody evaluation, struggling to pay both Alimony AND Child Support on top of Attorney Fees and rent, utilities, insurance, etc.

Despite having a good-paying job, I was BROKE. No vacations for us! I substituted Cub Scout Family Campouts and trips to visit my sister at my Grandparent's Cabin instead.

But, I never forgot that glossy, promotional, tree-hugging, environmentalist propaganda (ha ha) that my daughter brought home from school. A VACATION to Yellowstone became my GOAL!

It has taken me 4 YEARS to find myself in a place financially where I can make this trip happen. I am dedicating a good $2,500 to this trip, half of it funded by my income tax refund, and the rest of it funded by funneling $100 into a Savings Account every pay period for the last year or so. My Dad gave me the PBS National Parks DVD set for Christmas. I have spent HOURS online working out the details and finding the best possible accommodations. I have rented a car for the first time in my life. I have cashed in Marriott Rewards points to get a night of free lodging on our return trip home. I have purchased memory cards and rechargeable batteries for our digital cameras. I have checked weather reports and made lists.

I am so excited I can hardly stand it!

And my kids?

DON'T. CARE. AT. ALL.

Even my daughter pointed out tonight at the dinner table that she wanted to go to Yellowstone "in the 2nd grade."

Parenthood is a thankless job.

I would like to take an Alaskan Cruise someday. My kids don't want to go on a Cruise. I'm still siphoning money into my Savings Account every pay period. So, next year, I'm going on that Alaskan Cruise, and I am NOT taking my kids with me.

Loss

For the last 6 years (ever since my divorce), I have had this Guy Friend (who I shall refer to as "M"). He is a co-worker who I was never particularly friendly with until I got divorced. In fact, for the first 10 years I avoided him because I thought he was an asshole, and I found him to be very intimidating. But, 10 years later, I found myself contemplating divorce, and in need of an attorney, and he was the only person I knew that was divorced, so I decided to call him to see if he could recommend an attorney, and, well, that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship...

M turned out to be my "Go To" person in the divorce. He gave me advice, words of wisdom, strategies. He listened. He checked up on me. He was "My Rock." Of course, he was also a bit of a pain in the arse, mostly because his insistence on being BRUTALLY honest with me tended to piss me off, and I had this need to be all mouthy and bitchy and otherwise "empowered," which pissed HIM off, so our "friendship" was always interrupted with weeks/months of "not speaking to one another." But, eventually one of us would relent (usually him) and make a phone call, and then, all of a sudden, we were friends again.

So, now that my divorce war has resolved itself, lately our conversations have been about how M is struggling with issues involving his daughter and his Evil Ex-Wife. I am one of the few people besides his boss and his parents who know what has been going on. He loves his daughter fiercely, and it was absolutely breaking his heart to be distanced from her.

I was aware that he was taking medication for high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and then he developed a bleeding ulcer--so bad he was hospitalized for about a week. He took a month off from work to try and get his stress levels down, but work was the least of his stressors.

He died sometime yesterday morning. His neighbor found him in his front yard. They think he may have suffered a heart attack. He was 47 years old and leaves behind a 13-year-old son, 17-year-old daughter, and many brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, two devastated parents, dozens of friends and co-workers, and, well, me. I'm not sure where I rank in that list, but I was more than a co-worker and more than a friend. We were approaching something more significant than that, but we were taking it slow, because he needed to resolve the issues with his daughter and his ex-wife before he could move forward, and I was patiently trying to respect his "boundaries."

And now he's gone--and his daughter never got to reconcile with her father, and his witch of an ex-wife will get everything he had worked to save for his children (because his divorce decreee required him to keep HER as the beneficiary on all of his retirement and life insurance accounts while the kids were minors.)

And I feel cut off at the knees because he has been such a huge part of my life for the last 6 years. I can't believe he's gone. My heart is acheing right now--for him, for his kids, for his family, and, of course, for myself because I just lost someone who was really one-of-a-kind. I owe so much to him. I never would have gotten through the last 6 years without him. I honestly believed that a year from now, this "Tug-O-War" we have been waging for so long would have finally come full circle, and we would have called a truce. I would be taking care of him the way he deserved to be taken care of, and he would have accepted it because he would finally allow himself to deserve it.

He was my "John Wayne," and I never got the chance to show him that.

So, now I'm angry. I'm angry at his ex-wife for being such a manipulative bitch, and I'm angry at his daughter for not knowing how much she was hurting him and not being strong enough to stand up to her mother, and I'm angry at M for not taking better care of himself and not listening to his doctors and not allowing me close enough to help him. I'm angry at myself for not being more assertive and pro-active. And I'm angry at God for taking away someone who meant so much to so many people who still need him here.

Messages...

What a prompt!

I am FULL of messages. I can't help myself. I was raised by a headstrong, dynamic Woman who raised me to be just like her, despite the fact, that in that process, conflict ensued!

My mother was ahead of her time. She loved to play baseball, but in the '50s, Little League didn't allow Girls, so she cut her hair, strapped down her budding breasts with ACE bandages, so she could pose as a boy, and played anyway. She grew up in Phoenix, where pro-baseball teams went for spring training, and launched herself up and out of her seat to catch a foul ball hit by one of her "Heroes" (Willie Mays), breaking her collarbone in the process. We have the signed baseball and newspaper clipping to prove it. My Grandmother was not just embarrassed, but "horrified" by the photo, since Willie Mays was a "Negro." But my mother didn't care. Willie Mays was her Hero, and she didn't give a damn what her mother thought of that (or maybe she did, and that's exactly why she chose him to be one of her Heroes...)

My Mother was brilliant, vibrant, and outspoken during a time when that was not "acceptable" or "ladylike." My grandfather was the eldest of four boys who wound up being the father of three girls. My mother was the Son He Always Wanted, yet he could not look past her gender to see that. She spent not only her childhood and adolescence trying to prove herself to him, but also her entire adult life. All she ever wanted was his approval, and she never, EVER got it.

But, the effort she put into that thankless goal, made her into this amazing mother--not the kind of mother that most people get. Instead, she was this force for her two daughters--filled with Words of Wisdom and MESSAGES. When I was 7 years old, MY mother was reading the Once and Future King to my sister and me as a bedtime story. We were well-versed in Arthurian Legend, Greek and Roman Mythology, and plenty of other "Classic Literature." She was an avid reader (her "escape" from the mundane, repetitious, and isolating experience that Housewivery proved to be for her), and she launched a love of reading in my sister and me, introducing us to the genres that she knew would capture our individual interests and personalities.

As we got older, we recognized that "time around the dinner table," was a time for MESSAGES. That was the time when my mother "learned us."

Other people have "Momisms" that, while they can be "funny internet fodder" are actually, kind of stupid. Things like, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you OUT!" or "Don't make me come BACK there!"

NOT SO in my House. Idle threats involving physical violence were not her style. Instead, my Mother had REAL things to say, like: "Don't ever rely on a Man to support you," and "There is NO form of Birth Control that is 100% effective," and "You can't legislate morality." (I do the same with my kids today, and we all jokingly refer to this discipline technique as "Death By Lecture.")

Her MESSAGES involved application of logic and critical thinking, questioning authority, sticking up for yourself, personal accountability, accepting challenges, and striving for bigger and better goals.

My sister and I were her proudest achievements. But we didn't get where we are today without the sting and bite of her criticisms. She prodded us, pushed us, created us to be what she so very much wanted to be, but never really got the opportunity to be. She pushed us so hard, and sometimes it HURT. And it saddens me so much that she isn't here to see that I finally AM who she wanted me to be--a Woman at the pinnacle of her career, influencing policy and guiding decisions of Executives at the highest level of my Agency! And my sister, who is sacrificing HER career because she knows all too well, just how important it is for her son to have a mother who can "be there" at bedtime every night to read books and take him to the park on the weekends. SHE made US. We would not be the mothers/women that we are without her influence.

And, so, I find myself "channeling" her whenever I talk to my children. My Parenting Style is a little bit different, but I still funnel similar MESSAGES to them, and I can only hope that they will still "sink in" on some level, so they will become the kind of people their Grandmother would be proud of.

Movie Review

Against my better judgment, I allowed the kids to talk me into taking them to see Avatar in 3-D. I knew this was going to be a disaster because the movie is too popular right now, and I knew I would be annoyed with the logistics of getting tickets and seats (shows are selling out right and left, so we had to show up 2 hours early to get tickets, and then stand in line for an hour to get seats, and even then, we had to sit in the front, which I hate). I also knew I would HATE the movie because it combined the 3 movie genres I loathe: 1) Sci-Fi, 2) Fantasy, and 3) Action/Violence. Oh wait, make that 4 movie genres--add any movie involving James Cameron as #4!

Yes, the movie is stunning and visually appealing, and the graphics are technologically amazing--I will give you that. The 3-D stuff was pretty cool, and it didn't make me nauseous, although I had difficulty focusing sometimes, and honestly had to shut my eyes during some of the action scenes so I wouldn't get a migraine. But (and this is a BIG "BUT") the movie contained every formulaic plot-line and stereotype that has ever been done, and they were done so blatantly BADLY, they were vomit-inducing. Let me list them for you:

1) Insensitive, racially-superior, short-sighted, capitalist White Men/Americans (think Dances with Wolves, Far and Away, or any movie involving George Clooney.)
2) Out-numbered, Underdog Battle Scenes (think Braveheart, The Patriot, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, etc.)
3) Ridiculously-overdone and wasteful destruction by military machines/weaponry (think Terminator, Transformers, War of the Worlds, Independence Day.)
4) Annoyingly-Predictable Romance: Boy meets Girl under False Pretenses, Girl Hates Boy, Boy wins Girl over while falling for her, Girl discovers False Pretenses, Girl hates Boy again, Boy redeems himself and wins Girl back (think How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, She's All That, 10 Things I Hate About You, You've Got Mail, and about 1,000 other examples in the "Romantic Comedy/Drama" Genre.)
5) One-dimensional, Evil Bad Guy that takes forever to kill (see films mentioned above, plus about 1,000,000 other examples from the Horror and Suspense Genres.)

But the WORST thing about this movie was it's blatantly-obvious, preachy, condescending moral/political/environmental Agenda that was shoved down the throat of the audience with NO subtlety or artistry. I like dramatic movies. I like intelligent dialogue. I like subtle humor and symbolism. I like movies that make me think. So, I can respect a movie with a message, but I also want to be treated like an intelligent person with a brain and Free Will. I do not appreciate being bitch-slapped by someone else's "Agenda."

I also found the movie's portrayal of the U.S. Military offensive. I hate war movies and violent movies because they ALWAYS feature hundreds of deaths of "minor characters" and "extras," showing no regard for them as human beings. (This goes for "Good Guys" as well as "Bad Guys." EVERY PERSON in a movie is somebody's son or daughter and could be somebody's parent or sibling or friend--I HATE the way Hollywood so easily treats human life as "expendable.") While the movie tried to "separate" the audience from their loyalty and support of American Men and Women currently serving their Country by stating that the soldiers stationed at Pandora were just "mercenaries" going there for a paycheck, I still found it offensive and insensitive. The plot was rife with symbolism and metaphors and parallels equating Pandora's natural resources with Iraqi Oil. They even included a line for the maniacal Bad-Guy Military Commander, labeling the "Natives" as Terrorists and stating, "We'll fight terror with terror" (knowing full well that the "Natives" had no weapons that could penetrate their military machines and that "women and children" would be killed.) Plus, the movie gratuitously showed a Marine slaughtering his former co-workers dressed in the same Military Fatigues that our Men and Women serving in Iraq, Afghanistan, Korea, etc. are CURRENTLY WEARING! Am I the ONLY person in America who found that OFFENSIVE?!?!?

I left the movie theatre feeling completely pissed off and really annoyed that I paid full price for the tickets. I ranted all the way home to my kids, in an attempt to "de-program" them from their Brainwashing Experience, pointing out all of the STUPIDITY in the plot and dialogue. Hollywood honestly wants people to think that our military and political leaders sit around and make decisions without caring one iota about innocent lives and collateral damage. Hollywood is FULL of ignorance. Unfortunately, Hollywood is also full of financial wealth and the ability to use movie-making to push their lame and ignorant "World View."

I came home tonight all riled up and wanting to vent, but I have no forum/influence outside of the impressionable minds of my two children, besides this blog which is buried in cyberspace and un-influential. My kids respect my opinions and listen to what I have to say, and I think my dialogue with them afterwards made an impression. They both loved the movie, but it was our discussion AFTER the movie that made them THINK. Thankfully, they understand that movies are "make-believe" and so they seperate "real life" from movies. (They told me, after my Rant, "Geez, Mom--it's JUST a movie! Lighten up!") Still, it saddens me to get on the internet, hoping to find Like-Minded people posting reviews of this movie noting the same things I noted, and, sadly, can't find many.

I can only hope that "Real America" agrees with me, but they are too busy being fiscally-responsible and taking care of their kids and their communities and preparing "Care Packages" to soldiers overseas to have time to waste dithering about a STUPID movie on the internet.

I am deeply-saddened that during times of recession, Hollywood continues to thrive. I will never, EVER pay full-price for a movie again. I will wait and see it at the Dollar Theatre or for it to become available on NetFlix, but NEVER AGAIN will I give that VILE INDUSTRY more than a dollar of my wages! And the only reason I will give them THAT much is because Hollywood employs A LOT of people--set designers, camera crew, costume designers, make-up artists, etc. and brings Revenue to the locations they are filming in (including my home state), so, as a Capitalist, I won't cut them off completely, but I can certainly "limit" my "donations"!

Rant Over.

I think I need to go watch It's a Wonderful Life again so I can purge James Cameron's Cattle-Prod from my backside. (Fortunately for me, my head is not shoved up my ass, so my brain was not damaged by his attempt at turning me into an ignoramus.)