Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog

I just finished Marley and Me last night. I picked it up last weekend at Barnes & Noble as I was walking near the magazines. The adorable photo on the cover caught my eye....they had a display of the book out in the open. Being an avid animal and dog lover, I couldn't pass it up.

Needless to say, I devoured the book in two days. I loved it. To me it was so refreshing to see such commitment in another dog owner. I have always believed that when you adopt a pet it should be part of the family, and it is a lifelong commitment. You don't give up and get rid of them, just because of hard times or problems.

I applaud Mr. Grogan, and his family, for being the kind of people who love and care for their dog friends and for writing such a heartfelt tribute to his pal, Marley. Pets ask for so little and return so much.

I have had many dogs and I always get a kick out of the commercial on TV for a new ziplock dogfood bag for a certain chow...they use the expression "Dogs Rule". How perfect. There is nothing quite like having a dog, whether they have impeccable manners or not.

I laughed and I cried and I understood everything that Mr. Grogan had to say. I also live in Florida so I felt a special connection to the Grogans when they were speaking of the culture here and the thunderstorms--and how dogs hate them.

All in all, Mr. Grogan's writing is clear and interesting and down to earth. I couldn't put the book down. It is a joy.

I even went so far and to visit the website he has listed in the book. There was an email address to write to him, which I did, and I was absolutely amazed when Mr. Grogan wrote back to me three hours later to thank me for my nice comments.

Do yourself a favor and read the book...you'll close it in the end and your heart will feel like it is too large to fit inside your chest.

There's this guy...

So, there's this guy I know... I found him in my office on Friday which I came back to get my umbrella that I left on my desk, and he was there - on my computer, being all nosey in my stuff. During his trip to "Girl's Land", he found my writings. All two of them. Rude, huh? He found this one which hadn't been updated in a while and he found another one that hasn't been updated in an even longer while.

I think I might have shot myself in the foot.

For some crazy reason... maybe it was a mental lapse... maybe it was me trying to appear "easy going"... maybe he put a spell on me... for whatever the reason... I gave this boy my e-mail password. Why? Like I said, I don't know. Maybe I'm just too stupid. Maybe I trust him (too much?).

I'm not smart.

I can always change my password. This I know. This would be the logical next step. This would be the action most people would take. This would be smart.

This guy who shall remain nameless (G.a.l.e.) has threatened to take over my literature world. Move in. Take control. Revamp it to be HIS world in girls's clothing.
Now that I'm thinking out loud here... What else did he see? Was he looking when my daily online newsletter "Stupid.Women. Smart.Men." arrived in my inbox? Are my secrets exposed? Is my heart exposed? I feel the sudden need to check to see if my slip is showing.

The waiting game.

I'm going to sit this one out and wade out here in the shallow waters before I dive in and try to do any damage control. Who knows, maybe he'll behave himself. Maybe he'll just toss this memory aside and go on to bigger challenges. Maybe he'll just blow me off and find a more interesting piece to take over.

I feel, however, that empty threats are for cowards. Don't you think? Of course, this did provide me with an excellent reason to update the piece. For that, I thank him.

Green Kermit

Kermit's very birght and green

I like to see him on my t.v screen

I love Kermits song

I loved Kermit for so long

He's so cool and will never die out

Always has a smile never a pout KERMIT !!!

I'm High Points

These kids I know had a scavenger hunt today. Boys against girls. They had this crazy list of items to acquire. Funny thing is... I was on the list. I was to be acquired. Their instructed quest was to locate me somewhere in the city during my daily excursions and have their picture taken with me. Doing this got them 5000 points. Both teams successfully accomplished this. I wonder what all on their list they didn't get. They weren’t able to spend money so they had to rely on other resources. I wonder what obstacles they had and how they maneuvered around them.

This makes me think.

How awesome would it be to have an itemized list right in front of you of things that are possibly impossible, but yet being determined to check each item off.

I wish I had a life list that motivated me. Encouraged me. Challenged me. What would my strategy be? Would I accomplish the items on the list that give me the highest points? Or do I do all the smaller, easier ones in hopes that it totals up well. I wonder.

Knowing me, I'd do as many of the smaller tasks first. Give me a little confidence boost before I tackle the larger, scarier ones. It's those scary items that make me stop. They are the ones that make me doubt myself and my direction.

Good thing each team had fellow members to help them out. Good thing they had each other to rely on for some attaboys or attagirls.

Maybe I should get me a team to wonder through life with.

Motivation, Being Happy and Good People

It's Sunday and it's just past 4pm. I've hung around on the couch all day thinking about things that I need to do. Things that would probably make my life easier. One of the down sides of being single is that there's no accountablilty. There's no one to motivate me. I would think that having someone else in the house would be encouragement to keep the kitchen clean. Who knows. Would I change to make someone happy? Or would I change because they make me happy? Time will only tell.

In about an hour I'll need to start getting ready for a party. I was actually invited to two parties tonight. Shocker! One of them would be with a crap load of people that I don't know and the other one is with old friends celebrating a birthday. Hmmm, wonder which one I'll go to. I'm in the mood to be with old friends. To relive memories of days past. To remind myself of strong friendships. These are good people. These are the people who make me remember how to laugh.

Say "YES" to Drugs.

I was doing what every normal person does.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that made me use my super human strength. No saving people from a burning house. Nope. I wasn’t doing anything impressive. Although receiving a medal of valor would be nice, I would be more likely awarded a medal of stupidity.

I threw my back out.

Many of us have been here. We’ve all experienced this mind numbing pain. The kind of pain that makes you shout out various colorful obscenities. I think I even made up a few. It’s the kind of pain that will cause the average person to crawl to the street corner and beg for illegal pain killers. Any kind will do. Really. We'll pay high dollar.

I was getting ready to go have lunch with a friend.

And since that’s what I was doing, I’m blaming him. It’s all his fault. If I wasn’t leaving to meet him then this wouldn’t have happened. If he hadn’t selfishly asked me to lunch then I wouldn’t have been laid up and out of commission for the past 12 hours. Sounds good, right?

Ok, maybe it’s not his fault. Plus he’s the one who gave me the pain killers. Which I have enjoyed. As I type this, I have no feeling in my body and life is good. Of course it’s 4:30am, but somehow I’m okay with that. I think I would be okay with just about anything right now.

Yes, I still haven’t revealed how I gracefully threw my back out. That’s because I’m avoiding you. I’m trying to avoid the public humiliation that I know for a fact is headed my way. But since the pills I just took are starting to make me tad loopy, I best end this blog before I admit way more than how I hurt myself.

Ok, fine. I was putting on my shoe. There. Happy?

I was sitting down and putting on my left shoe. How uninteresting is that? One that I can tell people without being snickered at. Maybe one that might cause me to be featured in the local newspaper.

Ok, I’m starting to see double and my brain and fingers have lost their connection. Gotta go.

Taboo: 1

I'm about to embark on some sensitive territory here.

{I have written this blog sometime ago but just didn't get the chance of publishing}

There are certain topics that people don't discuss. For whatever reason. They are private issues that make people uncomfortable. The topics are taboo. Announcing your point of view sometimes can either ridicule you or make you a hero. It depends on the audience around you.
Why is it that we can’t talk about them? Is it because we carry so much shame? Was the shame ignited by our own hands or are we carrying around the shame of others?

Do we not talk about these issues because of our fear of stepping on toes? Because it’s politically incorrect? Can’t offend people? I personally feel that today’s society is too sensitive. I find it funny that everyone gets in an up-roar when something off-color is said, while the stuff we watch on TV makes those statements look like a nursery rhyme.

Sex, religion, abortion, homosexuality, politics
… fill in your own blank. There are many more to choose from.

There’s this 26 year old guy from Michigan who’s causing a stink in the court system about reproductive choices for men. He’s fighting for an equal level of protection under the “freedom of choice” law. He wants men to be given as much a choice as women if there’s an unexpected bun in the oven. He says that women have complete control… they can abort, keep the kid, or put it up for adoption while men are left having to put duct tape across their mouth and accept the choice. Apparently his ex-girlfriend ended up preggers and he wasn’t ready to fulfill any fatherly duties.

Ok, so here’s my view point:

I agree with him.

I’ve actually wondered about this for many years. I’ve often wondered about all those men who actually WANTED their kid, but then having to surrender to the baby’s momma’s choice for abortion. And then there’s the flip side… the women who choose to have their baby with men who have no desire to be fathers.

Now don’t get me wrong, if two people are married, I think you are both responsible. That's just the contract of marriage. I know of too many women who have gotten knocked up on purpose just to trap their boyfriend into a life long miserable commitment. I also know too many people who have gotten pregnant waaaay on accident and it always has been the woman who makes all the decisions.

I’m an “equal rights” kind of gal. I’m a “freedom of choice” kind of gal.

I have never had an abortion. I’ve never been faced with that type of gut wrenching choice. But to be honest, I personally couldn’t do it. I couldn’t abort my baby – embryo - fetus – whatever you want to call it. However, I’m not going to judge another woman’s choice to do so. I’ve had friends who have had abortions. Shoot, I drove someone to an abortion clinic myself many moons ago. We were both very young, she was scared, and it was the only option she felt she had.

But so much attention is on the woman. What about good ole dad? The child is part his, too. That kid may have his eyes and nose and DNA, but Daddy has no say so in whether this child lives or dies. And what if he doesn’t want to be a father? Doesn’t matter. He’s forever stuck with the label of dead-beat-dad when the truth is he was just trying to get laid. If the woman doesn’t want to be a mother, she has two options. He? None.

Ok, I’m going off on a tangent, I know. That’s what happens when I start writing without a plan.

Ok, fine. I never have a plan.

If I were to ever find myself in that situation, I would hope and pray that it would be with a man who will love me and our child. If he chooses to leave, I would be pissed and heartbroken. I guess the solution is to always play it "safe" – both guys and dolls.

I would love to go into the other taboo topics, but I feel that I’ve said enough in this little blog entry. Who knows, maybe I’ll tackle one of the others later.

Incorrect? WTF?

I consider myself a writer. Not really a good one. I don't do it for money. I don't do it for praise. I don't do it for judgment. I do it for myself and myself only. Have since I was about 13. It helps me figure stuff out... not to mention it's a great way to spend the time and feel like I'm doing something worthwhile.
With that said.

I came across a poetry website. I found it interesting. It's a large website with something like 20,000 members thus far. People come and go... posting their poems... getting feedback... leaving feedback on other writings. It seemed to be an excellent way to meet other poets (classically trained and not). Another creative outlet in such a serious world. I browsed around for a couple of hours before I tested the waters.

Beware of sharks.

I know I can be sensitive. Overly sometimes. I can be tender hearted just like you. I'm easily wounded at times. Nothing new. In this website, there is a place where the beginner poet can post their written word and expose their heart for some constructive, gentle and hopefully helpful criticism.

This was what I was looking forward to. I was NOT there in order to receive praise. I was NOT there in hopes that someone would say "You are the best poet since Poe!" I was NOT there to be secretly discovered and rushed into a book publishing contract which would sell millions and be in the Top 10 for a year straight. Got it?

I simply and humbly posted a poem in hopes to get some sort of feedback from these more established poets. People who I would assume would know how to help a gal out. The discussion board guidelines even said that beginners would receive "gentle" help. If someone feels they are more advanced, they are to post on the more advanced discussion board.

Got it? Gentle.

Apparently I need to work on my sensitivity. I poked a hole through my emotional wall and I popped out a poem. A poem - that I thought - was pretty good. I'm not one to ring my own bell. I'm not one to say that I'm The Top. I don't think I'm all that and a bag of chips, or donuts or chocolate or whatever your craving might be. When you are first presenting yourself, you tend to put out what you are most secure about. Right? If I have a date (this is a hypothetical comparison obviously), I'm not going to wear torn up sweat pants and not have showered. Get my point?

I do have to say that there were a couple of comments by various people who did like the poem. I hate to not give them air space. I like those people. They are the nice ones. I'm going to hang out with them more often. They like me. I adore people who like me J

However.

I've had one S.O.B. that has stirred up trouble for me since I first hit "enter". I've checked out his own poetry. He's good. I don't understand the conflict between the two of us. I find him rude... but he does it in a pleasant way. It's like imagining someone saying to you, "You are so stupid and ugly", but with the most pleasant of voices.

Son of a... Mother...

He basically is saying that I have no rhythm and that my rhymes are forced. Like I said earlier in this rambling... I don't mind constructive criticism. I really REALLY don't. It's just his rudeness and attitude that has totally pissed me off.

I accidentally misspelled his name and he got mad. He said that he was hoping I wasn't being insulting to him. Whatever. I freakin misspelled his freakin name. Sheesh. Good grief.

There are other people who have posted some suggestions to make the poem better... and to that I'm very grateful. I think this is wonderful. I'll think more on what they suggest and I'll take them into high consideration.
But that one guy just needs to take his poetry and go home.

Ok, I feel better.

Not sure if I'll post another poem on there. Maybe I will. Depends. I don't like fighting with people... face to face OR on the www. The one funny thing is that I can't be rude back to him because I'll get booted from the site. Sucks. He's been around for a while, so I guess he can do whatever. So basically, I defended myself and put him in his place with the same "pleasant voice" attitude that he gave me.

I really just wanted him to bite my ass.

Blank Page

Here I am sitting down trying to think of what to write
It came easy to Robert Frost - I tend not to be that bright
A poets words can be so beautiful -they just flow with ease
Here I am banging my head, practically praying on my knees
For the good Lord to send me words
Words with rhythm and rhyme
Words that cause your heart to skip a beat
Words that completely stop time I could write about love or laughter or dying of old age
But that would take up too much space - I only have one page
So I guess this will have to do - writing about what to write
It came easy to Robert Frost - he tended to be that bright

Sushi, Dating and Expectations

As far as Mondays go, this one was good. It was pretty uneventful, which is always welcomed. Stayed consitantly busy at work. I ate sushi for lunch and for dinner. I'm hooked on sushi. Kroger now has sushi masters preparing easy take home boxes. Good stuff. I went to Colorado a couple of weeks ago to visit my friend, Teresa. On the way to the airport for my flight back to NY, we stopped by a sushi bar in Colorado Springs. We ate our weight in raw fish. I would have never considered myself a sushi lover, but now I hold the title proudly.

A friend told me today that he broke up with his girlfriend. He's not necessarily upset about it, just dissapointed that it didn't work out. Dating sucks. When you begin to date someone that you really like, you have no idea if it's long term. I sure don't want to waste my time investing my energy into a relationship that's not going to work. Of course, you never know the future. I guess it's always good to take a chance, but it sure does hurt when it comes crashing down. This was their second go-around, so chances are probably slim that they'll get back together. I'm sure she was a lovely person, but I think we need to be sure of what we want and expect out of a person. She probably needed something that he couldn't provide. He needed something that she wasn't able to give. Just the way it goes. He's a great guy so I'm sure that the dating hat won't be hung for very long.

Billy

Billy's leaving today (don't know where he's going).
Holds his head in disgrace (he can't escape the truth).
He knows the price that he's paid.
He admits that it's too late to admit that he's afraid.

Tomorrow comes.
Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done.
The prodigal son is too late.A
ll doors closed but he's always open, To hear the time in his mind.
Oh Billy.

Billy's leaving today (don't know where he's going).
He's got lines on his face (they tell the story of his pain).
He accepts it's his fate.
He admits it took too long to admit that he was wrong.

Tomorrow comes.
Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done.
The prodigal son is too late.
All doors closed but hes always open, To hear the time in his mind,
Oh Billy.

Once he was a lover sleeping with another.
Now he's just known as a cheat.
And he wish he'd had a mirror; looked a little clearer.
Seen into the eyes of the weak.

Once he was a lover sleeping with another.
Now he's just known as a cheat.
And he wish he'd had a mirror; looked a little clearer.
Seen into the eyes of the weak.

Tomorrow comes.
Sorrow becomes his soul mate.
The damage is done.
The prodigal son is too late (too late).
All doors closed but hes always open, To relive time in his mind.
Oh Billy.

Song by James Blunt

Anytime I listen or hear this song I remember my dear old friend Billy...Miss you very much my friend. Loved you with all my heart and will love you forever.. Rest in peace.

Shoes, No Life and Soap Operas

I can't stay away. This blogging thing is pretty cool. Such a simple idea and it's taken over the world. Kinda like shoe laces. Who ever invented those was a very practical person with a great idea. I guess technically people have been blogging since the beginning of the Internet - there's just a name for it now.

I really should be cleaning my house. Wait. It's Tuesday and I'm concerned about having a clean house? I should be more concerned on why I'm not out painting the town PMS 194. Sorry, a little graphic designing humor. PMS 194 is a dark red for those in the dark. Graphic designing is my life. Even though it isn't my career path, a great hobby

That and writing. I actually have an article due on Monday for an online newsletter. I have no idea what I'm going to write about. I've been pondering all evening on various topics, but nothing has hit home. I'm sure something will come to me by Sunday @ 10pm. That's usually how it goes.

I've got three episodes of "All My Children" tivo'ed that I haven't watched yet. Maybe I'll go do that. I can always clean and write tomorrow. Let's just hope that I stick with this blogging thing.

Foreword

This is my second attempt to blog. I have another blog out there wandering around in blog space. I haven't updated it since July. Why is that? Not sure. I love to write. Love it. I consider it free therapy. I must just get too busy and forget about it. I find it much easier writing on this computer than taking out a spiral notebook. Finger cramps are not fun. For most of us we type faster than we write. Of course, if you're one of those people who type with two fingers, you probably ought to stick with lined paper.

We'll see how this goes. If you see me slacking, you might want to give me a nudge. Tell me to get up off that couch, quit watching my Tivo'ed programs and get blogging. I love reading other blogs, so maybe someone will come across mine and find something interesting.

You just never know....