Out There In The Forest

 

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Last year, just about this time, I surprised Clark with a puppy.   It was a spur of the moment decision on my part to go out and get him (against the wishes of my dear, sweet hubs.) I saw no reason not to adopt a four-legged, fury friend into the family.  My hubs could think of many reasons to just keep things they way they were.   In the end, I decided to just go against his reasoning and take the plunge. So, I went out and adopted Duncan, our adorable 12 month old Puggle.  And for that reason, I take full responsibility of my faithful companion.

Now nothing makes Duncan’s tail wag faster than knowing he is going for a car ride.  If the destination at the end of that ride is anywhere near a park or woods, he is in heaven.

One of the most appealing things about living in Palos Park is that you are centered amid the forest preserves of Cook County.  There are acres and acres of recreational land and open space where millions of visitors and residents alike can take advantage of hiking, biking, fishing, canoeing or simply relaxing and taking in the wonders of nature.  And, spending time with their dogs on walks or hikes.

My youngest son, Brian, has been trying to convince me for the past 6 months that the preserves are by far a better place to go with Duncan than just taking him on  our usual walks around the neighborhood.  I’ve been reluctant to heed his advice because frankly, I’m with the little pooch all day long and have come to learn about his deep streak of stubbornness.  In short, we have trust issues.  I’m not so sure he’d stick close to me or would come if he got too far away and I called him.

Now, this past week, it was unusually warm for this time of year.  I found myself standing at the sliding glass door looking out over what I had hoped was the end of the frigid, Chicago weather. It was gorgeous outside.  The sky was clear blue.  I looked down at my puppy who was sitting next to my feet, looking back and forth between his outdoor playground and up at me.  His tail would wag every time our eyes met.  It was as if he was speaking to me through his big brown eyes.  In the back of my mind I could hear my son’s voice  – “take him to the woods.”

And so, I did.

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I changed into my hiking boot and grabbed his leash and off we went.  He bounded into the backseat of the car as if he knew where we were going.  His tail was wagging furiously as he pranced from one window to the other, back and forth, all the way until we got to our destination.

When we pulled into one of Palos Park’s many beautiful forest preserves, I parked the car and grabbed his leash.  I held it in my hand rather than attaching it to his collar, as Brian had encouraged, opened the back door of the car and out Duncan bound.  He stayed close by my side, walking briskly through the parking lot and over the attached opened field, his nose to the ground the entire way – sniffing as if his life depended on it.

We took the path that wound along the tree line as far as we could see. It eventually disappeared into the woods – and so did we.   And here, this was the spot that DDuncan4uncan felt free.  He started to run.  He ran along the ravine, jumping over felled trees and their stumps and through the thick patches of roots and brush.  I was walking at a brick pace behind him.  He’d get just so far ahead of me, stop to look and make sure I was still there, and then wait for me.  As I would catch up, he’d begin this routine again. He’d race down hills and then back up again, huffing and puffing and panting.  Always keeping his eye on me to make sure I was there.

 

 

I was amazed!  I Loved it!  And, I knew he did too.  It was beautiful out and so peaceful in the woods.  There were leaves matted all along the forest flogooddunca5or and winding trickles of streams.  If you stopped and listened carefully, you could hear the sounds of forest life all around you.  I felt invigorated!  And, Alive!  And like, Pioneer Woman!  Yes!  I was keeping up and hiking deep into the forest and through muddy underbrush – (very unlike me!)  I quickly discovered that I loved this part of Palos and wandering freely all through this peaceful, beautiful setting. It was a glorious afternoon.

 

 

Soon it was time to turn around and head back.  So we did.  Back along the ravines and the hills.  Back over the felled trees and muddy earth.  Duncan led the way, I followed.

When we got back to the car, he hopped up into the front seat as if he felt he had somehow earned that place today.  I walked around to my side of the car, got in, opened up the windows of the stuffy car, turned on the ignition and slowly pulled out of the parking lot.  We were hot and dirty.  My shoes had mud on them.  He had dirt all over his fur.  And, I was sorry to see our time in the woods come to an end.  It had been such a great first experience together out there.

I looked over at Duncan.  He was standing sideways on the passenger seat, head sticking out the half-opened window.  His ears were flying back in the wind.  His big gummy lips were flapping in the breeze.  His tail was wagging.

I smiled to myself as we headed down the road towards home.  I thought back to the time one year ago almost to the day when I went against Clark’s wishes and brought home our new family member.  I knew deep in my heart that my decision was the best one.  And, Nope, not a single day had gone by since that decision where either of us have regretted adding him to our family tree.

 

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Hey, Norman Rockwell, That’s Not Thanksgiving!.

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Freedom from Want by Norman Rockwell

 

Right, so Im not so sure that Norman Rockwell’s famous print, Freedom from Want, is an accurate portrayal of what Thanksgiving truly is.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve romanticized the ability that the Holiday’s have to unite the family.  Especially Thanksgiving.  In my head, it’s a time when we should all gather ’round the table together, enjoy an old-fashioned specially prepared meal, and recognize all that we have to be grateful for.

As you  walk through the door of the of the home where you’ll be celebrating the big day, you immediately notice a blazing fire in the fireplace as you shake off the cold and bits of snow that stick to your wool jacket.  As your host helps you with your scarf, gloves and dish that you’ve brought to share, your senses are assaulted from the aroma of pumpkin pies, cinnamon pinwheels, or maybe even the pine tree scent of a live tree. (for those of you who jump the gun on Christmas!!)

You look around and spot a children’s table set up somewhere in a discreet corner where chaos is sure to break out.  The women are gathered in the kitchen, each with an assigned duty to help make the meal flow – All the while catching up on news from each other’s family’s.  The men, all gather in a room with a giant screen TV  watching some must-see football game. In good nature, they slap each other on the back and laugh loudly at something just out of your earshot.  They debate and argue about whose favored team is best and sure to go to a bowl game.

All of this activity leads up to some fantastic meal that you’ll all gather around, while celebrating the pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock.  This is Thanksgiving!!

Or, is it?  Is Thanksgiving really all about this festive scene that’s been planted in our heads with the help of the media and storybook tales and long-lived family traditions?

Let’s face it: as wonderful as the holiday may be (a day dedicated to football, gluttony and awkward family moments) maybe Thanksgiving is about something deeper.  Something deeper than this gluttonous tradition that we’ve all been raised to treasure.  A tradition with a very questionable beginning might I add.

Last September, something joyous happened in our family.  My husband and I were having Sunday breakfast with my son and daughter-in-law.  They told us about a shopping trip they went on in which they found a little something for us.  It was an early “Christmas gift” but they wanted us to open it together that morning.  Lauren handed me the bag and I  peaked inside. I saw a gift along with a homemade note.   I pulled the paper out and read it aloud.  On it was written – “Only the best parents get promoted to grandparents.”   *blink*   I had not even made it through the end of the note before I started squealing in happiness.  I turned to my hubs and he was tearing up.  I continued to squeal, ran to the kids and hugged them.  They were giggling.  I was squealing.  Clark was crying.  It was a beautiful scene! We were going to be Grandparents!!

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Fast forward thirteen weeks.  Fast forward past thirteen weeks of my beautiful daughter-in-law, Lauren, being cautious and keeping the pregnancy on the down low until just the right time to make the announcement. I couldn’t wait to share the news with my sisters and friends and relatives.  Lauren and my son Bruce were doing everything right.  They went to the Drs’ appointments together.  There were ultrasounds and multivitamins.  They were eating healthy.  There were checkups. Everything was moving along perfectly.

And then, the phone call.  This past week, Thanksgiving week, I woke early to a text… “Hey Mom, txt me when you get up.  Bruce left for work already so it doesn’t matter how early it is.”

As a mother’s intuition goes, I instantly got a knot in my stomach.  I immediately called Lauren. It was before 6am.  Something was off.  I could hear it in her voice as she answered.   And then her words hit me like a brick.  “Something’s not right.”  She had phoned her Dr and was told to take her time but to meet her at her office when she had a chance that morning.  They would check things out.

I threw on some clothes and raced through the Chicago rush hour traffic to her apartment. Ninety agonizing minutes.  And then we drove to the hospital together.  Bruce was waiting for her there.  My hub was there.  Clark and I watched as the kids walked into the exam room.  An hour later our worst fears were confirmed.  Lauren had lost the baby.  It was heart wrenching to watch their world fall apart.

Outside the downtown office, it was cold and windy that day.  Clark and I looked at this young couple who had just gotten the worse news of their lives delivered to them.  In the span of a few days they were catapulted from cloud nine to a state of agonizing devastation. It was more than any of us could bear.  Our hearts were broken.

The days to follow were solemn.  Everyone tried to hold each other up.  My boys, who would have been uncles for the first time, were heartbroken for Bruce and Lauren.  Devastated, Clark and I kept a close eye on the kids to make sure they were processing this tragic loss.  They came out to stay with us.  It was open-ended.  They wanted and needed to be with family.  And so, we gathered and just stayed together.  It was without a doubt the hardest thing that both Bruce and Lauren had ever gone through in their lives so far.  And, they were right where they needed to be for the time being.

The day before they were going to leave to go back to their own apartment, the news stations were warning people about an early snowstorm that would hit the city. We don’t usually get snow in November.  We rarely even have snow on Thanksgiving. But, we were being warned over and over again that we were about to get hammered.

I woke up very early that morning after that predicted snowfall.  I pulled the drapes back and l looked out my window.  The outside world was lit up from the glow of the moonlight.  The predicted snow had come.  The ground and streets were covered with a deep blanket of undisturbed white that stretched from one yard to the next..  There were no tracks on the streets yet and no footprints across any lawns.  It was beautiful. And, peaceful.

My eyes were drawn to our driveway which had four cars parked on it.  Those were my kids cars hidden under those mounds of snow.  Cars that last week would not have been parked on that driveway.  Cars that were there that morning because we, as a family, had gathered together to hold each other up while mourning the loss of something so precious to all of us.

I thought about the timing of it all.  It was Thanksgiving week.  I smiled to myself and got a feeling of warm love inside.

This…. This is what Thanksgiving truly was.  Family.  Love.  We feel each other’s pain.  We celebrate each others victories.  And I’m so truly thankful for the blessing of Family.

Wishing you and your loved ones a truly Happy Thanksgiving and a Joyous start to your Holiday Season.

 

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Where Were You On October 2, 1998?

It feels a bit like cheating.  But, some words are worth repeating.

I woke up this morning thinking about this exact post and knew it was worth re-posting.  For those of you out there whose hearts are tender – to the new readers to my blog since I last ran this piece, I dedicate this to you.


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Where were you on October 2, 1998?

You probably have no clue.  If you racked your brain trying to remember, you probably would not be able to recall.   But, if I asked you where you were on other significant dates in history, chances are you’d probably not only recall where you were, but what you were doing and who you were with.

Where were you September 11th, 2001?  Where were you when Kennedy got shot?  Or, when Pearl Harbor got bombed?  Some of you may recall where you were when Nixon resigned.  Or, when John Lennon got shot.  Or, when Elvis died.

These significant days in history act as markers on the timeline of our lives.  Because they were so catastrophic and life altering, we can remember exactly where we were and what we were doing in that specific moment in time.

We can also recall our specific whereabouts in our times of personal crisis and joy.  When a baby is born.  When a loved one dies.  When a best friend calls us up and tells us they are getting married.

October 2, 1998 – a significant day in my life.

You may not recall where you exactly were then, but I know exactly where I was.  That was the day my Dad lost his battle with Cancer.  I was with him.  My Mom and one of my two Brothers were there, too.  16 years ago today.  (That’s so hard to believe!!) I was sitting on the side of his bed holding his hand.  It was the first time I was with someone when they took their last breath.  It was the first time I held someones hand and felt them go completely still and feel their life end.  It was surreal.  And sad.  And at the moment, something I could not wrap my brain around.  Even tho I knew he was near the end of his life, nothing quite prepares you for that moment when your parent actually passes away.  Breathing in life one moment – and in the next instance, complete stillness.  Their soul moving towards Heaven.  It was a powerful moment in my life and a precise moment on my personal timeline where I will always remember where I was and what I was doing.

I’ve lost both of my parents now.  My Dad 16 years ago and my Mom more recently – just 20 months ago.  February 14th – Valentines Day 2014.  I did not have the privilege to be with her and tell her goodbye when her time to leave this earth arrived.  But I’m confident that she knew exactly how I felt and how much I loved and respected her.  I’m confident that she knew how much all of my siblings loved her.

While I’m still adjusting to life without my Mom, the old saying really is true – “Time Heals All Wounds.”  You start to come out of the fog gradually and learn to smile and laugh again.

My Dad was Irish.  He was hardworking and funny and sentimental.  He liked sports, Notre Dame and beer.  He passed his sense of humor and hard work ethic on to all of us.  Thanks Dad!!  When my brothers and sisters and I get together, all we have to do is say one word to each other or give each other one look that was his and we all start laughing.  And we laugh long and hard.  And we remember him with fondness and joy and with the sentimentality that he unknowingly passed on to all of us.  Time heals all wounds.

We remember and speak of our personal experiences and that helps to keep those collective memories of history and personal tragedy and triumph vivid and fresh.  And then, suddenly, 10 years have passed.  Or, 20.  Or, 50

I miss my Dad.  Especially today.  I miss my Mom, too.  I will never quite get used to them being gone – or not being able to pick up the phone to talk to them.  And, I’ll never get used to no longer being able to just get in the car to take a road trip to see them.  But I am grateful for two such loving, selfless parents who showered me with unconditional love.  I’m grateful for the memories of their laughter and smiles.  And kindness.

When was YOUR October 2, 1998??  We all have them.

The good new is, Time Heals all Wounds.

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Source: Where Were You On October 2, 1998?

Hello September!

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Labor Day Weekend!

Is there anything better than waking up on a Friday?!  Nothing makes us happier than knowing that the weekend is about to start. Add to that the fact that it’s a three-day holiday weekend and you experience the utter feeling of complete joy.

Three days with family.  Or, friends.  Or doing whatever your little heart desires.

Whether it be three full days of doing absolutely nothing or filling each minute up with bustling activity, I’m wishing you all a  Happy Labor Day Weekend!!


Me?  I’ll be busy with family

Adam Zyglis Cartoon


and, friends

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and, maybe a little food.

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And, our adorable 9 month old puppy, Duncan!

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( man, does he lovvveeee hanging out with us 24/7!! )

I’ll be sneaking some time in between all of that F.U.N. to make some new updates, a few changes and a tweak here and there to my blog, Being Margaret!  

Have a fabulous weekend!  Enjoy what may be the last few moments of summer.  And, stay tuned for a new look and new blog posts from me next week.


Time for change


Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

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Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting our local zoo.  The Brookfield Zoo.

I was first introduced to this fantastic place when I started dating my hubs.  It’s large and spread out and set in the middle of a wooded suburb southwest of Chicago.   Ahhh, I have such fond memories of this great place.  My hubs LOVES the zoo.  And, for that reason, I’ve learned to love it as well.

We became members years ago because it was always a fun spot to take the kids.  We took our boys there often when they were young.  Over the years, we just kept our membership active.  Even so, I only manage to get there once or twice every few years.  It had been a long, long time since my last visit.  Yesterday was the day I’d finally get back!  It was perfect timing.  School was back in session and the weather was beautiful.   I was with one of my sons and we’d practically have the place to ourselves!

But, we didn’t.  The place was packed.  The line to get in was long.  It was moving slow.  There was a little hut that everyone was waiting in line to get through.  It reminded me of a toll booth.  The cashier, who was cleverly dressed in park ranger attire, sat inside collecting entrance fees and handing out zoo maps.

As we sat in the long line waiting for our turn to gain entrance,  I glanced over at the parking lot.  I was shocked!  It looked filled to capacity.  Where did all of those cars and people come from?  Good grief, were there that many families with toddlers and preschoolers out for a play date today?   Didn’t anybody nap anymore?  Now wasn’t that just my luck.   It looked like everyone and their neighbor decided to visit the zoo the same day as we did.

I looked away from the crowded parking lot and back at the line we were sitting in.  Our car was moving again.  We were inching forward!  Hurray!  It was finally our turn in line to pull up to the tiny, brown cashier’s booth.  We paid and passed through the gate.  Then, we were stopped again.  Standing right in front of us a few feet through the gate stood a parking lot attendant.  We were being directed away from the normal parking lot.  Huh??  But the zoo was that way.  We were being sent to the overflow lot.  This was about a block away on a dirt field in the back of a high school.  There were all kinds of volunteers wearing bright orange sashes and waving flashlights with red plastic covers directing the cars.  We followed the line of cars through the ‘good’ parking lot and into no-man’s land.  It was as if we were at a major sporting event.  Their was a young man holding two flashlights at the end of the line.  He directed us with precision into our parking spot.  He waved his flashlights in stiff, official movements.  Like a ramp agent on the tarmac directing a 500 seat passenger plane at the airport.

Eventually we parked and headed back in the direction of the zoo.  It seemed miles away.  After making our way past the arched stone entrance, I noticed that not much had changed since years ago when I first visited the zoo.  The map showed that they still  housed bears and lions, elephants and giraffes.  And, all of the wild, exotic animals that you look forward to seeing.   Many of the exhibits were in different locations but for the most part, it was just as I had remembered it from long ago.

On our way to our first exhibitzootram, I spotted the tram.  It had been in service there for as long as I can remember.   It’s a slow-moving, multi row vehicle that travels all over the paved paths leading from one exhibit to the next.  The outside of it is painted like a an exotic animal.  On board, there’s a zoo guide dressed from head to toe in khaki.  He wears a hat similar to one you’d see on Harrison Ford portraying Indiana Jones.  It sits jauntily on his head.  As the safari vehicle crawls along, the guide speaks through a microphone which muffles his voice.  He tells you interesting facts about the animals as you pass by them.  You move at a snail’s pace.  Something I remembered all too well.  We rode on that tram a few times with the kids when they were young.  It was always nerve-wracking to my hubs and me.  My boys liked speed.  And, action.  Riding on that turtle paced vehicle with the muffled sounding guide was always like sitting on a time bomb.  I always imagined it was only been a matter of time before my boys would try to jump off.  Or, rush the zoo guide. Or, something.

The zoo was as packed as the parking lot.  We weaved our way through the crowds.  We headed towards the bears first.  They always thrilled the masses.  This day was no different.  It really doesn’t matter if they’re just lying around idle or if they’re jumping in their pools of water; they’re majestic to see.  Such amazing creatures.   We moved along from exhibit to exhibit.  We saw the lions and giraffes and zebras.  We walked through the Tropic World – a huge, open concept building which made you feel as tho you were hiking through the jungles of Africa and rain forests of Asia.  We saw dolphins and seals swimming and jumping and diving.  And, baby wolves.  And, tigers.  And, aardvarks and otters.

As we made our way from one exhibit to the other,  I looked around and realized that it was not only the zoo that had remained the same, but the people visiting the zoo, also.   I saw a lot of moms with strollers.  There were a few preschool groups.  And, young families with toddlers.  You could tell if the adults accompanying the children were their parents or grandparents by the looks on their faces.  Grandparents were delighted to be there.  Parents were a bit overwhelmed and frazzled.

Overall, the zoo was filled with the same kind of visitors as it always had been.  There were young mom’s trying to soothe crying babies.  There were young siblings who were fighting one moment and suddenly amazed at what they were looking at the next.  There were overly tired kids that looked sweaty and tired.  They were whining and pleading for candy and soda and souvenirs.   Young children scurried from animal to animal while frantic parents tried to keep count of everyone.   Nothing had changed.  Except, me.  I was no longer that young mom with three, energetic boys in tow.  It no longer took the team of both parents to make the zoo outing a success.  I was middle-aged now.  My boys were grown.   I no longer had to worry about temper tantrums or squabbling siblings.  It was a bittersweet moment looking around and seeing how time had stolen those early days from me.

I looked over at my son walking next to me and saw the little boy from 25 years ago that used to hold my hand and skip along.  He had grown up and was now taller than I was.  I thought back on my sweet memories fondly but knew without a doubt that I was glad to be exactly where I was in life.  I was glad not to be riding that tram.  Not for the same reasons as years ago,  but because walking the zoo felt good.  It was wonderful to be enjoying the same grounds I wandered years ago.  This time with my son who was now grown.  We enjoyed it on a different level and for different reasons.  We celebrated the wonder of the animals and the places from which they originated.  For several hours we walked the grounds of the zoo enjoying the great weather.  Each others company.  And, the animals.

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A thought for Monday…

 

Faith – Isn’t it comforting to know that somehow, someone is always in control of what lies ahead for us each day ~ that things work out exactly the way they are supposed to work out.  Faith does not always lead us where we want to be, but always where we are supposed to be.

Faith is having the courage to let God have the control.

 

 

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Margaret

Rainbow Bridge ~ Something Worth Sharing

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It seems that in the past few months I’ve read post after post from friends on Facebook who have lost a beloved pet.  Today another post was made from another friend.  In it, she mentioned a place called Rainbow Bridge.  I remember my sister mentioning this place to me long ago.  At the time I didn’t own a pet.  I had no dog or cat.  No fish or rabbits or birds.  Or, any other creature that people decide to adopt and take care of and make part of their family.

Today I do have a pet.  I have a puppy named Duncan.  I have found out how quickly these wonderful creatures steal your heart and become a true member of your family.

When I read my friend’s post this morning referring to Rainbow Bridge, I decided to Google it and find out what and where exactly this place was.  For those of you who have pets or have ever had a pet, I think you’ll find that my discovery is worth sharing……


Rainbow Bridge

 


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Today is Clark’s Birthday.  Hurray!!  He’s my fabulous Hubs!  Happy Birthday, Clark!!

It’s easy to remember his birthday because, well, I’ve known him for about 35 years.  I’m also pretty good at remembering birthdays.  Sending out cards is another story.  I tend to either send them out late or not at all.  I’ve had an ongoing deal with myself for longer than I can remember to work on that personal flaw.  Each year when the New Year rolls around I challenge myself to not only send every single person I know and love a birthday card but to also send it to them on time.  And, each year I break that vow.  Not on purpose, but because I tend to be a bit unorganized.  (A sign of creativity I’ve been told – *probably by my mother*)

When I woke up this morning, I put on my robe, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed towards our basement.  I walked down the stairs into the messy, cluttered, musty space under the first floor of our home.   I needed a picture of Clark.  I needed a picture ~ or two ~ of him to post on Facebook.  It’s been a longtime tradition of mine – along with everyone in the universe – to start our loved ones birthdays off on the right foot by publicly posting old, forgotten pictures of them and attaching some sort of sentimental blurb under it.  We plaster these Jpgs (pronounced Jaaayyy-pegs) out onto the World Wide Web and into cyberspace for the whole world to see. Well, I exaggerate.  But if you’ve Googled your name recently you’ll find I’m not too far off on my statement

At the bottom of my basement stairs, I walked back through a slim, cluttered hallway and towards what was once a working darkroom that Clark and I had built in a cut off, private section down there.  I passed up stacks of stored once treasured objects laying everywhere that had once held coveted spots in the rooms upstairs.   I got to the door of the old photo room, opened it and carefully stepped into what now looked like a cluttered room where most of our accumulated treasures from 30 years of marriage had landed. I looked around and thought to myself, good grief, we’ve become hoarders…

There were boxes and boxes of photos in that room which were saved in their original envelopes and stuffed into drawers.  Jammed drawers that you could barely open up because there were heavy stacks of boxes upon boxes filled with junk and memorabilia crammed all over the place.  The walls were also filled with cabinets that held a bonanza of old photo albums.  Eventually, I got down to work and started searching for a few pictures that were Facebook worthy.

Not too far into my task I became unfocused as I sifted through what seemed like a million unorganized photos.  It’s easy to get sidetracked when you’re looking at a photogenic history of your life.  The sentimentality of the task pulled at my heartstrings.  I started to examine the content of the piles of photos I was sifting through rather than finding photos of my hubs.  Photography sure had changed…..

  • The Selfie – Those popular self photo’s taken with smart phones and hand-held digital camera’s, which are usually flattering and an attempt to *appear casual*  had definitely not made it onto the scene yet.  It seems that back before the digital age and social media, people took more pictures of the world around them than they did of themselves. Clark, being the nature lover that he is, seemed to be fascinated with landscape photos.  I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at.  He also shot tons of photos of birds…..and animals at Zoos. But, no selfies.

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  • Photo Bombing – When I did come across the occasional photo of Clark from the olden days, I noticed that a few had some pioneer photo bombers in the background!  They were different though than the photo bombs of today where the pranksters purposely put themselves into the view of the photograph with a goofy smile or waving as to tell you that they’re back there and they GOTCHYA!!  These photo bombers were mostly elderly Aunts, Uncles or family members simply misplaced in the backdrop of the photo.  Often funnier than the bombers of today.

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  • Hairstyles – They will always give away what decade you are looking at.

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  • Labeling Photo’s – I was always told to label the back of my photos with names and dates because one day I’d forget that information.  I scoffed at that bit of advice knowing I’d never forget people or names or places.  So, I didn’t label anything.  And, for the life of me I could not place who half the people in the photo’s with me were.  We must have been close pals though because mostly we were hugging and laughing together.  Huh??

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After a few hours of walking down memory lane, I had finally found a handful of pictures that would work as a tribute to my Hubs.  They were awesome photos and during a time when we first met and started dating.  His hair was long and he sported a thick, full mustache.  He wore t-shirts with pictures of rock bands on them and cut off, frayed jean shorts.  He drove a convertible and had a wild streak in him that caught my eye right away.  These days he’s traded in that youthful attire and look for work slacks, ties and weekend golf shirts.

It was odd-looking back at those old photos.  It’s odd how you don’t realize how much you age and mature from year to year until you look back.  It hit’s you then and you think solemnly to yourself, wow, I’ve aged….  You wonder where the time went.  How did thirty years fly by so fast.  And, were the memories recorded in those old, treasured photo’s really as glorious as our minds would love to convince us they were?  Or, is it true what they say; that it’s fun to remember the way things used to be, but the way things used to be probably could never live up to how we recall them.  We tend to glorify the past with fabulous stories and timeless photo’s that make you think ‘all the world’s a sunny day…’


Puppy Love!! ~ Eleven New Things I’ve Learned About Puppies

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My routine has changed.  My once typical morning of coffee, working out and writing has recently morphed into a whirlwind of chaos and fly by the seat of your pants activities, chores and running around chasing a tail.  Literally, because I’ve got a new Puppy!!

Duncan, my lovable new sidekick, has permanently joined our family and there’s suddenly not a single shred of “routine or calm” in my day-to-day life.   And, I could not be happier or more in love with this adorable, blonde, big brown-eyed Puggle weighing in at eleven lbs and standing one foot tall.  Who doesn’t love a puppy?

I simply can’t.get.enough of him!  My cup runneth over!!  My heart is about to burst!!  Hooray!!!  I’m in puppy love!!!

Ohh, the big decision to adopt him was not something I arrived at lightly.  It’s something I’d been thinking about for a long time.  Something that my boys had been pleading for, well, for as long as I can remember.  Clark? – well, his mantra for the past few years since I really started getting serious about getting a dog has been….. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind? NO, Absolutely not…we are not getting a dog!”

So I did what any red-blooded American, empty nester female would do.  I went out all by myself, searched high and low and not only found Duncan, but brought him home.  “Ohh honey, I’m home!!…..Surpriseeee!! 

I knew that the moment my Hubs saw the little guy skittishly romping and skidding across the kitchen floor towards him, that it would be love at first sight.  He’d agree that I was right all along about adding this new little bundle of joy to our family.  Annnnnd, it didn’t take Clark long to lose his heart forever to this perfect example of Man’s Best Friend.  It didn’t take long for this tiny, mischievous, energetic pup and my hubs to become best buds.

Is it ironic that my decision to take the plunge and adopt this feisty, fireball of fur coincided with my boys arriving at young adulthood and living basically on their own and out of the house??  (*ehem*…I use the phrase ‘out of the house’ lightly)  Nah, my friends and family all assure me that it is just my way of reacting to my mid-life crisis.  But *I* say… there’s simply no time like the present!!

So, in the past month or so my routine has not only done a total 360, but my world has been opened up to life with a puppy.  I’ve been diligently working to train and groom this sweet little canine into a well-disciplined member of the family.  Some days are simple.  Others, a great challenge.

Here are a few bridges we’ve crossed and things I’ve learned since his arrival into his new home and his permanent place into our family and our hearts…

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What you learn when you live life with a puppy

thPuppies care about your health!!  They’ll go out of their way to get you up and outside with them.  Often!  The backdoor in now their personal scratching pad when they decide it’s time for you to get out and play with them.  If that does not get your attention, their high-pitched squeak/bark will get your attention.  Arrffff Arrrffff..

th They don’t judge.  They aren’t particular about what outfit you happen to hastily toss on when you notice they’ve squeezed through the backyard fence.  They also don’t make judgements about what your hair looks like or that you’re in your bathrobe while chasing them down the block when they decide to take off after a midnight potty break.

thThey love to play games…like Hide and Seek.  They pick the object and hide it somewhere you’d never think of looking for it.   And you get to go seek it.  FUN!

thYou’ll quickly get used to being mistaken for a human pin cushion.  They use your arms and legs for teething.  If you’re not stern enough, they’ll also use the legs of your funiture.  Thank Goodness for the distressed wood fad that’s been in fashion in recent years.  Let’s hope it’s here to stay for a while……

thPet insurance – their premiums may be higher than yours.  This so-called “safeguard” is an evil necessity because let’s face it, who wants to get stuck with a $2000 vet bill for Physical therapy, thyroid conditions or God forbid, therapy sessions when they’re feeling blue.   Right?

thPuppies help you hone your time management skills.  Want to run your usual day long errands?  Not so fast, mister…  You learn quickly to do 5 hours of activities and errands, in a zippy hour and twenty-two minutes.  These these short hourly increments of free time are what you’re now allotted ~ at least while your sweet pooch learns the fine art of potty training.

thThey’re like babies.  Suddenly you’re talking about poop and pee again, a lot.  They make you feel absurdly proud.  When you’re in public and see total strangers looking and smiling at your puppy, it’s hard not to smile and feel a sense of pride, which is somewhat ridiculous because you aren’t responsible for the existence of this creature, you paid too much money for it, in fact.

thPuppy Proofing is essential.  Puppies try to kill themselves everyday, all day, and in creative ways.  Like… by chewing through electrical chords and eating scissors.  Anything dropped on the floor is fair game if you can’t quickly lunge for it before they get to it.

thPuppies increase the need for vacuuming, sweeping, mopping and tidying, in general.  You’re house has never looked so clean!  You’ve never been more organized as when you have a puppy around.  Mainly out of necessity.  Get it done now or don’t get it done!

thThe universe revolves around puppies. Suddenly you become dog-centric against your will. Your puppy is the topic of every conversation, and when it isn’t you find ways to steer the conversation back to your puppy.

thPuppies disrupt sleep; Suddenly, we’re drawing straws on Saturday morning about who gets up with the puppy. Suddenly, you’re drawing straws each night about who takes puppy to the bathroom at midnight. I’ve caught myself feigning sleep in the wee hours, hoping my husband will jump at that task.

Ok, that being said – The trials and tribulations of training a young puppy will never measure up to the love you’ll have for your dog, or the love he brings you.  You’ll never have a better or more loyal friend than this amazing, wonderful creature.  They eagerly greet you, tail wagging and rump squirming, when you walk through the door at the end of a hard day.  They’re ALWAYS happy to see you.  Their affection towards you is the definition of unconditional love.  They are the only thing on earth than loves you more than they love themself.  He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog.  You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.

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“The world would be a nicer place if everyone had the ability to love as unconditionally as a dog.”

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