Surviving the week celebration!

Well, we survived the week and, despite it being long, hard and difficult to handle…

…I’ll wait while the spiritual 7 year olds on the web giggle and smirk naughty smiles for my choice of phrase….

…there were some great resolutions to some stressful and upsetting situations. I gave a kick ass presentation, I finished a bunch of “sitting on my desk too long” projects, I worked through some personal stuff, my “ex-blogger” buddy and IRL friend Dave is home and on the mend (Yay!)  I even managed to eat relatively healthy this week…mostly.

To reward ourselves for not quitting, we decided to treat ourselves to an impromptu get away to Lenox Massachusettes to see the “HANNA-BARBERA: The Architects Of Saturday Morning” exhibit at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, then have lunch, do a little shopping, relax in our hotel and have dinner at a favorite local restaurant (Alta), then just have a night away to unwind and pamper ourselves a bit.

We left this morning and, despite the cold, its been a fun, carefree and relaxing day. A much welcome respite from the stress and strife of the last 7 days.

One of the hi-lites of my day was finding this guy: meet Marshall Lenox Hanna-Barbera, the latest addition to the stuffed Giraffe preserve in my home!

15974990_10155262407971029_164298826712975581_oWhat can I say? I refuse to grow up! When the lady at the counter said  “Someone’s going to be very happy to get this. I hope it’s going to a good home.” I just smiled from ear to ear and said “I can guarantee it!”

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It’s going to be a tough week

Work and medical issues promise to make this a challenging week. I’m taking a deep breath and heading into it with my eyes on the upcoming long weekend. 

See you on the other side.

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We watched all of the first season of the “Story of Us” this weekend. It is the life stories of a family, and deals with some real issues, many of which I can understand and relate to. Weight issues, feelings of inadequacy, fear of abandonment, relationship dynamics, family dysfunction; it is a fictional world with very non-fictional situations.  Many of the more poignant moments come at crossroads in the lives of the characters, when they have to make a choice about what they want to do, where they want to go, who they want to be, and how they want to relate to the people in their lives. My favorite point of the show is that it illustrates love in action: not just a bunch of people saying it to each other, but showing it through their actions, their choices, their struggles, even when it’s hard, or painful.  Because, in the end, love is not just a feeling, it’s a choice and an action. A choice to walk a path, build a life, a family, a home, a future with other people. To be there, through it all. It’s not reciting “for better or worse” at a ceremony in front of people on a perfectly planned day; it’s not just having fun and laughing; it’s not cocktails and expensive dinners; and it’s not expensive gifts and great sex; those things can be shared with someone you love, for sure, but real love, strong love, powerful love, is there when things are painful and confusing and scary and hard.  It’s there when you fall and need a hand picking yourself back up, or break and need help putting yourself back together. It’s there when you screw up, not to shame you, but to forgive you, recognizing your faults and wanting to be with you anyway. Its caring about others wants and needs as much as your own. Its having a permanent part of your brain wondering “Where are they? What are they doing? How are they feeling?” even when you can’t be there. It’s worrying more about working through problems than pointing fingers, and it’s believing that, above all else, they will be there for you, and knowing, with all your heart, you will be there for them.

That is love.

And that is the story of us.

At least, I’d like to believe it is.

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Sentiment interrupted 

There she was, resting serenely. 

It had been a busy morning, finishing up the remainder of putting the house back in order. We went for a comic book and grocery run in the bitter cold New York temps, then returned home to settle into a relaxing afternoon on the sofa together with the dogs, enjoying the solitude and calm of our newly returned-to-normal home, warm and cozy, safe from the blistering cold just outside our door.

After situating ourselves on either end of the couch, Harvey quickly curled up in a tiny ebony puddle between my legs, while Rita sauntered her way onto the blanket draped casually over the side of Jeffrey’s leg and thigh, settling into an awkward-appearing restful position, half nestled, half hanging, as she is wont to do. 

After a few moments of petting and tail wagging, she breathed a deep sigh and sank into his side. I stared at her, growing teary eyed as I remembered the first time I saw her, from across the room, surrounded by a cacophony of excited, yapping dogs, her little snout silently poking through the chain-link fence that separated the canine orphans  from the human parents-to-be. We made eye contact, and I made a bee-line for her. It was love at first sight. I continued to glide through the memory, recalling how I was handed her leash, quickly scooping her up, and holding her lovingly but clumsily, realizing she was all muscle, shaking furiously, scared out of her mind. She was nothing like I ever imagined getting, but everything I could ever want. I clutched her firmly and warmly, whispering reassurance into her ear that she was safe, and promising her she would be more loved and cared for than she could ever imagine. I promised her she would always know she was my special girl.

And then, as my lip started to tremble, and the muscles in my face tightened (as they do when I inadvertently attempt to stop the tears I know are inevitably going to flow from the emotion sweeping over me) that’s when it happened…


Rita puffed out a little dog-toot from her heiny…shattering the silence and sending me into a fit of laughter*, as only Rita Mae can do!

Princess without polish, precious without pretension.

That’s my girl!

*”Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.” – Truvy (Dolly Parton) Jones, Steel Magnolias

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Super Gay!


Despite waking up with a slight fever, nausea, stomach cramps and achiness all over, I decided to put on my big boy pants, suck it up, push through the yuch and get my decorations down and my house put back in order. As soon as Jeffrey left at 7:00am I started and I did not stop until 4:00pm today. Despite being exhausted, hurting all over and still feeling physically awful and sick, I feel emotionally and psychologically triumphant as I sit here,  proud of myself for my accomplishment (and a little bit amazed I got it done, feeling the way I do, if I may be honest.) Now I get to rest, relax and pamper myself for the rest of this weekend while I let me body work its way through this bug, or whatever it is.


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Cold Comfort


A 3-day weekend lies ahead of me, which is very useful because I need to take down all the X-mas decorations. Unfortunately, I’ve had a cold coming on all week and it seems to have finally arrived…I feel achy, congested and tired.  I am worried I won’t have the energy and stamina I need to get the house back in order. I’m hoping my usual “suck it up and get on with it” will kick in and give me the “oomph” I need to get through this project.

Here’s hoping.

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Off to a rough start

It hasn’t been a great kick off to the New Year, thus far. Some personal stresses, an immense amount of work stress, along with a developing cold and a few other health issues have joined forces to turn me into a nervous wreck and make me want to curl up in a fetal position and sob uncontrollably. Despite my best efforts to just push through it and “git ‘er done,” the building anxiety is wreaking havoc with my emotions, mood and rational thought. Regardless, I will get through this week and spend the weekend de-decorating the house. Hopefully, clearing away the christmas clutter and returning our house to normal will give me some sense of calm, control and accomplishment.

If not, I may just hide under the blankets with the dogs, a pile of comic books, and a flashlight and not surface again until summer.


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How prophetic

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For the record…

When you say “I’ll pray for blah blah blah”, what I hear is “I’m not going to do anything to help, because my time, money, and effort is too valuable and precious to share, but I’ll whisper wishes to genies to make myself feel better about doing nothing by pretending I’m doing something.”

And before you dispute my dismissal of prayer, you better be able to honestly admit you’ve never gone to work, a doctor, bank, mechanic, teacher, lawyer, police officer or anyone else with skill and ability to help you out, heal you, protect you, or provide a paycheck,  because the power of prayer provided all you have needed in life. 

Pray all you want, if you believe it matters, but don’t fool yourself into believing it helps anyone but yourself. 

It doesn’t. 

Never has.

Never will. 

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