Goodbye Devon

On January 15, I finally had Devon put down.

I was taking to A about the dogs since I would be going away for the next weekend. I said, "maybe I'll just ask J if I could bring Blossom" then realized I said nothing of Devon; I must have subconsciously made the decision that he would not be here. It was time to do the right thing by my dog, who had lived with us, since he was three months old, for almost 14 years.

Toy Manchesters are very healthy dogs in all aspects, with the exception of their mouths. At this point, Devon had only half of his teeth left, despite the fact that I cleaned his teeth fairly regularly. I even had a set of dental tools to scrape off tarter, which would come of in large chunks.

Last July, J noticed a large red bump on his tongue as they waited in the Saab (convertible) as I ran into the store. As he would pant, you could see a marble-sized lump right in the middle of his tongue! We were on our way down to my parents' house, so I took him to their vet.

The vet suggested we put him under general anesthesia to take a biopsy. If it came back positive, have him simply not wake up. The problem with removing it was that most of his tongue would have to be removed and there is a large vein that runs underneath....

Anyway, none of that matters now. I put it off for 18 months. For the past couple of months, he would wimper if his head was touched. I think his gums were receeding very quickly so he was uncomfortable if not in pain.

I had asked someone go with me who was extremely supportive. I hate being so emotional and out of control in front of people, but I do not think I could have done it alone or with J. My vet was amazing; comforting, supportive and soothing. I know I was doing the right thing (crying now) but it doesn't make it any easier. I kept telling myself "I can still change my mind and not do this, but once that second needle is in, it is too late." I stayed strong, I think, and went through with it all.

To make things even more difficult, I did this in January when the ground was partially frozen. I had to wait to bury him out back because I had to call MissUtility to mark the utility lines. Truly, if it had not been freezing, literally, outside, I would have considered a different solution to having him in the car for six days. But, I did want him buried out back, near where he would lie in the sunshine, legs tucked underneath with his eyes closed.

I think his disappearance has affected Blossom: she howls when we leave, she is extremely happy (more than normal) when we return, she is even more submissive and needy. Like the grieving for me, it will take her time.

With him gone, it is the little funny little things that I notice. The first morning afterwards, I went to take the "dogs" out. Blossom ran out and I stood there a moment, with the door open, waiting for Devon. I almost even called him again; he will never come when called. He liked to lie next to me on my bed, shaking, which drove me nuts. He would be curled up on the dog bed and Jones (the cat) would lick his head; he would grumble, but take it.

I received a couple of suggestions, other than the obvious of just burying him:
Kathy: right after he is put down, straighten his legs. When rigor mortis sets in, you can take him to an Irish pub, stand him in the middle of the table and have a wake.
Mark: right after he is put down, fold his legs under him, as if he is lying down. Then, you can put him in a purse, with his head sticking out, and carry him around like Paris Hilton carries her dog.

I did neither, but appreciate the ideas; thanks guys.

He was a great dog. Yes, he farted, whined and shook like a dryer with sneakers inside. But, he would walk directly beside me without a leash and loved to ride in the convertible, hopping around me as we got in the car. He was a very sweet dog.

I miss you terribly, Dev.

Sweaters to avoid this season

...and, for that matter, forever!







I was looking online for new sweaters. Many of my old ones are way too big and sweater weather is certainly here.

Truly, if anyone were to give me one of the above for Christmas or my birthday, they would probably get slapped. Come on! These are reserved for grandmother's to get for 13-year-old awkward adolescent girls whose mother will make them actually wear them the next time Grandma comes to visit. So cruel!

These are more my style (I actually have the first three; Jackson actually called the second one a "sneed" from "The Lorax")

This is why it is best to avoid giving me clothes as gifts. Actually, I recommend gift certificates! ;)

The point of this post is: don't just buy random gifts for people for the sake of something to give. I know a couple of people who skim through clearance racks and find things that will "work" for those on their list--I'll never understand that thought process.

That said, I still have shopping to do! I have it all planned out.

Photos from A+B wedding

Here are some photos from A+B's wedding. Yes, I cheated and copied and trimmed them from the photographers' site. I plan to pay for prints anyway so, I am sure they won't mind my getting advance use of these.

There were a few of me dancing with J; now I know why action should never be photographed; you look SO ridiculous in stills! You won't get to see the dancing shots any larger than these.

In the second photo, D (5) and I are discussing how silly it is to throw flowers and elastic bands to people who think, if they catch them, they will get married. What silly wishes or empty hopes, right? As if that is all it takes. So, I made sure that I didn't catch the bouquet by holding her arms open to help her to catch the bouquet. (Subject irony: the cartoon on my widget as I post this!) She assured me she was single!

A bit later, we watched the groom remove the bride's garter; D looks a little concerned to me!

I should have just played "Duck, duck Horse"

Yes, the game is actually called "Duck duck goose" but, apparently, horses are faster and D seems to like horses more than geese.

At A&B's wedding, D (she's four) was getting a bit restless and frustrated that no one would play with her. People had started dancing (my son and I had already done a few spins around the dance floor LITERALLY, then with another partner or two), so I was trying to get her to dance too; she would have none of it. She tried to get me to play this game, but I thought sitting on the floor/ground in high heels and formal gowns might not be a great idea.

So, she and I were walking around outside with my son in tow. I was carrying her in front of me, trying to distract her and being silly as Jackson was in awe of the stars (he had had a couple/few drinks; read further for details). As we were walking along the asphalt pathway, me wearing four inch heels, suddenly the ground went from smooth, flat asphalt to a grate that has rounded top metal and four inch spaces!! I went down on one knee, quickly dropping D in front of me, then went down on the other leg just as quickly, then falling forward. Everything was silent for a moment as we were all trying to figure out what had just happened! As it turned out, J was silent because he was so enamoured with the stars, he didn't even see us fall! (Later, he said he just heard a small gasp and saw us on the ground.) D started to cry and I was in absolute agony with my knee on fire, so all I could do was gasp: "Jackson, GO GET HER FATHER!"

I sat her up, checking her head for a bump, which came a bit later. I felt just terrible! Here I was trying to entertain this child only to BREAK HER! As far as I know, at this point, she is mostly fine. Within an hour of the incident, she kept giving me calla lilies and hugging me. She promised she wasn't mad at me and told me she wished I would come to brunch the next day (I had to decline as J and I had plans). Her 11 year old sister was wonderful and brought me a ziplock bag full of ice, thank goodness! I cannot imagine how my knee would look/feel if I didn't have it.

I was supposed to go to my trainer tomorrow, but had to cancel as I can barely walk, let alone use an elliptical, treadmill or weights. I'll just lift hand weights in the (relative) safety of my bedroom.

Jackson's Life Lesson:

With all of the pain I was/am in, it helps to know that Jackson learned a valuable lesson that night: stick with liquor OR wine OR champagne, but mixing your alcohol is NOT a good idea. Oh, and on that note, I learned one too: when Jackson says "Mom, you need to stop the car", I really should stop the car right then! I finally pull off the road and he leans over and lets it all go! As I glance over, I shout: "Oh my GOD, the door isn't open! So he opens the door and finishes. But, not before he nailed his new suit pants, the tie, the shirt, the interior of the car door, and the carpet. I even had to stop one more time before we go to our hotel.

I admit that I did allow him to have a couple of short pour JD and Pepsis, and I know he had a bit of champagne during the toast, but I did NOT know that he drank two glasses of red wine that was on the table and about the same number of white AND three glasses of champagne that were on the table. Well, not full glasses of champagne, but about a ounce of it in each glass. I didn't give him a hard time about it, later, I just explained that I just wish he had asked; I would have been able to warn him that mixing your liquors was a BAD idea; he certainly knows now! At some point, between heaves, he asked "Why would anyone drink just to get drunk? This is terrible!" and "I am not going to drink again until I am 35." Today, he told me that he will never be able to touch Jack Daniels, Pepsi, champagne or wine again!

...until next time. :)

Dream Interpretation: Flying

As a kid, I used to dream that I was flying; I would fly low and steady. I viewed it as cautious where I could easily step down, if necessary, as opposed to a crash landing.

Then, I grew up and fly higher because I am more confident in my piloting skills.

Then, someone comes in who asks to co-pilot. He's wearing a pilot's cap, says the correct technical terms, speaks of coordinates, etc, acts like he knows how to fly. So, I let him sit in the other seat and handle some of the controls of my personal aircraft. We take off, flying higher and higher; it's smooth sailing! Suddenly, he feels a bit of turbulance and says: "I need to go back and take a nap; don't wake me, I'll come back when I am refreshed." and exits the cabin with a blanket and teddy bear. So, here I am flying this thing WAY off the ground all by myself, turbulance bouncing the plane around. I am trying to hang on to the controls, but am not strong enough. My co-pilot is in the back, snoring away, completely ignorant, so we crash.

Lesson: just because someone has papers that look like certification, says all the right words and your co-pilot seat is empty does not mean you should let him sit there. Be wary of who you allow in your cockpit: watch them fly another plane first; consider track records, number of hours they have actually been in the air and how many different planes they have flown. 20+ years in a Cessna doesn't mean he can handle your Blackbird. At the very least: do not go higher than you are comfortable just because someone else has a hand on the extra controls; who says they will turn it in the direction YOU want to go!

Interpretations:
http://www.dreammoods.com/cgibin/flyingdreams.pl?method=exact&header=dreamid&search=flyingintro
http://www.dreamsleep.net/commondreams/meaning-of-flying-dream.html

This hurts more than I thought it would!

Well, more than I remember it hurting when I started at the gym last time. I am talking about my legs and buns!!

I have been working out fairly regularly for the past 4-5 weeks and have been rewarded with a weight loss of 25 lbs and reduction of a pants size by one (and now, those are even loose on me).

So, yesterday, I signed up with a personal trainer just to show me what a WUSS I AM! He said I did a great job; better than many clients who have lower weight/fat content, etc. but I don't know if he is blowing smoke up my gluts. Anywhoo, I was fine this morning, getting a bit of a tingle by noonish, but now, each step up the stairs SCREAMS! I feel pretty good in that I did do everything he asked of me and even pushed some a bit. Push to muscle failure? Oh YES. Those babies were shakin' and a bit wobbly when I got up to walk each time.

My next appointment is tomorrow at noon. I think we do abs and back. Trainer said that I will continue to be sore like this for the next month and a half, if we continue at the rate I want. Then, when it doesn't hurt anymore, we have to change the routine so that it hurts again! Ahhhh, but then you know it is working.

I am actually at a lower weight now than I have been for 15 years. Better late than never, I guess.

Since I don't do arms/shoulders until about next Thursday, I am going to head up, watch psuedo-figure skating on "Blades of Glory" with J and lift 10 lb hand weights. Just using hand weights has really built up my shoulders, triceps and biceps. Then, I am going to blissfully konk out!

My super power reaffirmed and I hate plastic tube hangers!

Me and my great ideas!

I was talking to a co-worker about the idea of having a shoe/clothing exchange at work. I have lost a bunch of weight but have gorgeous clothes that I cannot use anymore. Plus, I love shoes and buy them online. Occassionally, they just don't fit and it would almost cost more to send them back. Sooooo, she mentions that they have an exchange, on Saturdays, at her church.

Despite the fact it is church, I go anyway, two Saturdays ago.

I took a few sundresses that were too big, like an Ann Taylor strappy dress size...ha! nope, not falling for it. (Aww, what the heck! It was a 14 and now 12s are starting to be a bit big on me, depending on the cut.) I also brought a couple of sweatshirts from J and other random items.

I couldn't reach co-worker via phone, but went anyway. I arrived to see a HUGE LINE of people! Apparently, it isn't exactly an exchange. People who are financially disadvantaged (is that politically correct?) get a large trash bag and can fill it up with as much as they can. Not exactly what I envisioned! I brought my donations to the front of the line to see if I had to WAIT to GIVE stuff. Answer: no.

But, I was asked if I could volunteer. Sure, why not? I figured that I'd be nice and help out for a couple of hours, despite the extensive to-do list waiting at home.

So, my job was to straighten clothes on the racks and remove hangers that had been left there.

(I'll bet you are wondering how the title fits into this subject, aren't you?) So, I am removing hangers, straightening items when I get whacked in the head by a heavy jacket. OK, my super power is activated! Again, I am invisible. I let it go. Then WHACK by another item. GEEZ!! I am standing RIGHT THERE! This guy is SO determined to get his bag full, he doesn't pay any attention to a volunteer who is trying to make it easier for everyone. WHACK! Aloud, I say "OK, that's three" WHACK! "Four! WOW!" then walk away. THIS is why I would rather help animals or do some type of community service for people I never see. I would rather do it anonymously and NOT get knocked around doing it.

Oh, and my Ann Taylor and Donna Morgan dresses? Before I even had a chance to put them up on a rack, a 5'-2" 200 lb appled-shaped Columbian woman excitedly snatched them up. First she went for the Ann Taylor, the Donna Morgan, then she just took ALL of them. Oh well, right? Chiffon is great for general weekend or grocery shopping attire. I must say it was really tough to watch them go like that. Next time, I drop them in a donation box and RUN AWAY.

And I don't know who is the genius who thought using plastic tube hangers for t-shirts and sweatshirts was a good idea. That stuff ends up all over the floor. Try picking up shirts, dodging enthusiastic indigents and trying to not step on small, errant children. "I am doing a good thing; I am doing a good thing" I chant as my new mantra for the next 115 minutes!

I finally had to stop sorting hangers when my ears were about to bleed from the piped in hymns. Is it too much to ask that they play some Nickelback, Queen or Pink Floyd? Sheesh. ;)