Thursday, November 26, 2009

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Turkey Lurkey

In a year where I feel like I have spent an endless amount of time complaining and wishing for what I don't have, I am so, so, so thankful for what I do have. As Sheryl Crow said, "Its not having what you want, its wanting what you've got." And I want what I've got and I love what I've got.

I am so thankful for my husband. I love my husband. I love that I know, with little uncertainty that he loves me. Does he always do the right thing? Say the right thing? No. But he loves me and he would go to the ends of the earth for me. Did you know Gordo is afraid of needles? Hates them, in fact. He went with me last weekend when I needed to get bloodwork done. I was nervous and he went with me, and while he didn't actually go in the room with me, he totally would have if I hadn't told him at the last minute that he didn't need to. Even though he's totally afraid of needles. Because he loves me. Gordo and I have been through so much together in the last year and a half. He has truly been my rock. Did you know that on one of our first dates, we were watching X-Men in the movie theatre and I look at him watching the movie and I thought to myself "I could look at this man for the rest of my life". Yup, I think I just might do that.

I am so thankful for my Rex. Nuf said, I love that stupid mutt.

While they drive me nuts, and half are nuts themselves, I am thankful for my family. And for Lee's. I am thankful that they are healthy, and that those who are ailing are finally able to get past whatever was holding them back and are on the right track. I am thankful for my mother and sister who are so much more than I ever gave them credit for. They have been more supportive to me in the past year than I ever could have imagined.

I am thankful for my own health. While things may not always go as planned, I know that I am healthy, and so is Gordo.

I am so grateful for music. I am grateful for singing at the top of my lungs in my car, and more than anything in the world, I am thankful for how that makes me feel. I am grateful for showtunes, even the bad ones. I am thankful for Sheryl Crow and Fiona Apple, Dave Matthews Band and Maroon 5, Beethoven and the Barber Violin Concerto. I am so thankful for these people who I will probably never meet, but who will forever hold the ability to make me smile, scream, laugh, cry.

I am thankful for my job. I am thankful that I have one, and I am thankful for the one I have, regardless of how much I hate it at times. The seven years I have spent at this job have, with out a doubt, helped to make me the person I am.

I have awesome friends. I am grateful for them, because that has not always been the case. I am grateful that someone would think about my feelings when something wonderful has happened to them, and would be so thoughtful in how to approach me with it. I am thankful that I could then call my other friend and just cry and talk and she could make me laugh. I am thankful for a good friend at work that I can trust. I am thankful to have girlfriends in my life that I love.

I'm thankful for Top Chef, Glee, Heroes and The Office.

I'm grateful that I decided to start playing clarinet again. I didn't realize how much I had missed it.

Oh, and I'm so, so grateful to still be able to eat sushi. And blue cheese. And drink a couple of beers.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Tick tick go away

I love dogs, but ones thing that scares the bejezus out of me is scary dogs. Dogs that snarl. Dogs that growl.
Rex is a dog that doesn't like to be fussed with. He likes his space. I am a person who needs space, so I am understanding of this. When Rex isn't feeling well or has something that hurts him he *really* doesn't like to be fussed with. Like, get your hands off me you stupid person.
As stated in a previous post, Rex has a fondness for walking through, peeing on, and lately, pooping in, big piles of leaves. This is nothing new from previous years. What is new though is the amount of ticks he has picked up this year. Maybe he is extra sweet and juicy this year. He doesn't like to be fussed with, and he will growl and snarl as the tick is being removed. Growl and snarl to the point where I have to leave the room and Gordo does this on his own. He sounds so awful. Not the dog I love and adore. He becomes *like an animal*. Finally we realized that if I stayed out of the room with my bad energy (thanks, Cesar Milan) Rex would be fine and Gordo could get the tick out.
This morning Gordo found a tick on Rex's foot. The bottom of his foot. Did I mention that Rex doesn't like to be fussed with? Oh, and he doesn't like when you touch his feet. Bad combination. After what felt like forever, and Gordo getting his hand scratched and cut up, we did it. We went to Petco and bought a muzzle. He's such a good dog. Truly he is. Problem solved. No, problem not solved. He squirmed and growled and tried his damnedest to get that muzzle off. Dee and Bee said to sit on him, hold him down with our weight. Hard to do when he's already pissed and won't sit down, let alone lay down. The tick doesn't seem to bother him when he walks, he licks it a bit, but it doesn't seem bothersome. It is so hard to see my dear dog who I love so much growl and snarl and be so angry. I'm sorry Cesar Milan, I am not the pack leader. I am not the alpha dog.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

You'll love this story


I strongly believe that the earlier people put up their Christmas decorations, the more ridiculous the decorations tend to be. For example~~ there's a cute little house up the street from us that has been on and off the market for over a year. Finally some people with New Jersey plates moved in a few weeks ago. Last weekend, Gordo and I noticed them putting poles in the ground in the front of their yard. Fence, we thought. The next morning, I left to go to work and there it was. Great. Big. Candy. Canes. And then I looked closer. Teeny. Tiny. Snowman. ON Candy Canes. And the tour de force~ Santa. A very lifelike scary Santa.

I was mesmerized by this monstrosity. So, I took Rex for a walk and brought along my camera. As I shot the Scary Santa photo, Mr. New Jersey came out to get his mail. I probably jumped three feet in the air. "We love your decorations!" I said through my embarrassment. (By 'we' he probably thought I meant Rex and I). "Very festive!" I said, digging myself deeper into my hole of shame. "Thank you very much" said Mr. New Jersey. "Not even halfway done." "Really?" I said, trying not to sound shocked. "Not even halfway" He said again. "Looking forward to it" As Rex and I walked away. I was, and am, embarrassed for myself for getting caught taking pictures of this man's gaudy lawn decorations, but equally embarrassed for his lawn and home that it has to endure this nonsense for the next several weeks. I mean, its not even Thanksgiving. *Let me be clear that this isn't a religion thing. I really do like tasteful Christmas decorations. I love ornaments and Christmas trees. I love me a good Christmas carol. In fact, I really love a good Christmas carol. Even a bad one, really. But Christmas decorations should be reserved for after Thanksgiving. And I'm not biased against bad decorations. Good ones should wait too. Good decorations just seem to understand that they need to wait.

By the way, these pictures would have been much better had I not been caught in the act.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Dear Rex

Dear Rex,
Your father and I love you very much, but we need to talk about a few things.
First, why is it, dear dog, that you are sound asleep at 6am during the week, but wide awake at 6am on the weekends? You wake up with your father at 5:45 to share oatmeal, and then you go back to sleep. During the week I *need* to leave the house by 7. You, my dear pup, stretch and yawn, and it seems to take all levels of effort to get you outside to pee and/or poop. You drag and look extra cute in your exhaustion. On the weekends though, dear dog who we love so much, you are beaming with life and energy at 6am. Barking, balls squeeking, paws pawing. Please explain, dear doggie, what the difference is between 6am Monday through Friday, and 6am on Saturday and Sunday.
Next, when your father and I are in bed and you are laying at the end of the bed, and we *accidently* kick you, forcing you off the bed, this is not a cue for you to jump back up, or bark, or paw at us. When we then close the door, this is not a cue for you scratch at the door, or cry outside of the door. While we know that you have never, and will never, know what sex is like, we on the other hand do, and therefore we pretend to kick you to get you off the bed and close the door on you. You'll get over it.
Why is it, my favorite dog in the world, that you can always *always* manage to get the ball stuck under the couch? Or the bed? Or anything it will go under rendering you unable to get at it?? Why can't you stick your paw under there and get it out, just the way I will with my arm? And when the ball gets stuck under said obstacle, why do you feel the need to bark at where the ball is? And bark and bark and bark. And bark. And then bark some more. Can we teach you to talk like a person? Things would be so much easier.
We love you very much, pup. When I say things like "I will end you" or "You smell", its all in love. Thanks for the talk. I feel much better now.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The World Series

I never would have thought I'd be married to a sports guy. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with sports guys, or sports people in general. But the thing is, there were no sports in our house growing up. I mean, I played basketball for a while (we never won a game) and my sister played softball for a bit, but no sports in the house really. My father wouldn't know baseball from basketball from golf. I don't think he has the patience for it. And because my dad wasn't into sports, my brother never got into it.
But now here I find myself, pretending to care about the World Series, when really I'm just pissed that "Glee" isn't on. Thankfully, Gordo isn't one of those people who's world stops just because of sports. I don't think I could handle someone who needs to be home for The Game. *I can't, The Game is on.* But never the less, he's a Yankee fan and therefore we sit here and watch. And much to my surprise, I do know almost all of the players' names, and not just the famous ones and I understand how it works (it really isn't that confusing). Maybe I actually like this baseball thing. Maybe I just like to look at Derek Jeter.
I also find myself loving football. In high school I was in marching band (of course) which meant football games every fall weekend. But I didn't watch the football. I knew "Flag on the play", but I had no idea what it meant (I still don't, really). Since meeting Gordo, the fall means football. Our tickets come in the mail in mid-August and we get so excited. Our group of friends all call each other and discuss seats and parking and everyone gets pumped. The first few games I went to, I sat, didn't know what was going on and didn't really want to know. And then something happened somewhere in there and I got interested. I got standing up in my seat clapping and yelling interested. The second year that I went to the games I got my blue and white fuzzy hat and this year I got a knitted Uconn hat. Gordo and I have our own tailgate tote this year with all the necessities, and I am learning the ropes of being a good tailgate planner and cook.
So I'm married to a sports guy. And it looks like we might be a sports couple.

And I hope the Yankees win.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

I'm exhausted


I'm exhausted.

Tired of being so sensitive about *everything*.
Tired of tearing up over nothing.
Tired of crying over everything.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of counting days.
Tired of looking into my dog's eyes and wishing they were a child's eyes.
Tired of feeling like I've let down my husband.
Tired of feeling like I've let down myself.
Tired of driving my husband crazy.
Tired of feeling guilty that I have a wonderful life, but that I still want more.
Tired of feeling that this one disappointment is constantly effecting every other part of my life.
Tired of my very well intentioned, very loving friends and family asking how things are going, has it happened yet.
Tired of being tired.

I'm exhausted.