Way Back When

Out of curiosity, I went back to see the first couple posts on this blog. There are actually a fair amount which are unpublished. This isn't because they contained super sensitive information I decided, after the fact, I didn't want floating around on the world wide web. No, I hid them because I was so appalled by the spelling and grammar, I couldn't fathom the idea of other people reading them. They literally hurt my eyes to even glimpse at.

Once upon a time, I vowed I would go through all these horrible posts and rewrite them, clean them up, put a little effort into making them the grade A calibre you're used to from my blog. (Insert laugh track here). As it turns out, I'm fairly lazy. Besides, who wants to go back and edit old blogs when there are new things to be written? Or old things that can be rewritten and made more relevant with a little thought and a bunch of structure?

Back in 2006 when I started this 'blogging' endeavour, I knew very little about writing, except that I wanted to do it. So, I tried. While I certainly deserve a B+ for effort, a lot of my posts were horrible. That being said, the very first post you can read is from 2006 and no amount of rewriting will make it any better. In fact, I dare say, it's perfect the way it is.

You be the judge: BREAKUPS!

Perfect, right? That might be my most favourite post I have ever penned. What about you? What's your favourite blog? Or post? Or article? Or line you have ever written?

The Struggle

Most people understand the struggle. They don't like it or want it, but it's a reality for them. The struggle is a day-to-day thing. It doesn't let up on weekends, and actually gets worse over holidays. Sometimes you start to think you are going to get past the struggle, but then your dog eats your running shoes, or you can't sell you home. Instead of getting better, the struggle gets worse. Remember that saying, 'you take one step forward and two steps back'?  This is how it feels with the struggle. Sometimes it isn't only a step back, either, sometimes you feel as though you are being catapulted backwards. And you could swear the kink in your neck is not actually from sleeping funny or getting older, but is in fact whiplash from the struggle.

Some days, the struggle is so defeating. You scrounge and scrap and save, hoping to get out of debt, working towards your goal, whatever it may be. Debt free, a functioning car, a home, or maybe just a new pair of running shoes. Still, at the end of the day, week, month, year, you are no closer to the goal. No closer to an end. In fact, it feels as if you've just lived those moments for nothing, because you are back where you started, or maybe not even where you started at all. Maybe you are six steps behind where you started. And sometimes you ask yourself what the freakin' point is.

The struggle makes you tired. It wears you out to keep at it all the time. This struggling along business, it isn't for the faint of heart or weak of will. This is exhausting, you know. Well, of course you know. You are familiar with the struggle. Heck, you might even be like me - the struggle might be like family to you, or your best friend forever. The struggle has been around so long in my life, I doubt whether I would be able to exist without it. I mean, the struggle has always been here. If it suddenly disappeared would a weight be lifted off me? Would I suddenly feel free and unburdened and prance through life? Or would I be lost? Would I silently sit and wait for the struggle to return?

The truth is, there are moments when you think you aren't going to make it through the struggle. You doubt whether you will keep going. Actually, there are times where you don't want to keep going. Some days you just want the struggle to end. But then, you take a deep breath, you put your head down, and your power through. You keep going. You keep trying. Why? Because you want to see the new Avengers movie next year. Because your family and friends need you. Because giving up isn't an option. And, mostly, because your struggle isn't as bad as it could be. Actually, in a lot of ways, your struggle isn't terrible. It sucks and can get you down, but it's livable. It's doable.

When the struggle gets really hard, you take a nap. You read a book. You take a bath. Or you bake delicious vegan blondies. Which are kind of like brownies, but without the cocoa. And you remember, you're actually one of the lucky ones who are strong enough to keep struggling.

Happy Friday The 13th!

It's the most wonderful time of the year. Yes, I am skipping through a field of flowers. Christmas has never been my favourite holiday. Now, Halloween. That's something a gal like me can get behind. And if Halloween is (a little less than) four months away, then a girl may find herself supporting Friday the 13th.

So, have a happy day.

Put It In The Basket

This isn't about Silence of the Lambs and creepy Buffalo Bill. It's about the beach, of course. When do I write about anything else. It's literally (I hope you read that word as Rob Lowe says it in Parks and Recreation) my most favourite place to go. Other than the forest.

Tonight the Sidekick and I went to the beach. We took the milk crate from the back of the truck with us, so we had something to carry our treasures in, like rocks and sticks. We carried the basket tandem style, swinging between us. The Sidekick only agreed to do so because of the cuteness factor. If you didn't know, he thinks we are a pretty awesome couple. I know this because he told me this very evening.

Anyhow, there we were, walking along the beach, searching for awesome things to put in our basket, when the Sidekick startles. I too was looking down, so I saw the critter that scared him, and it was clear he thought it was alive. Well, dead, actually. But once alive. And it was clearly a stuffed animal.

But then he gasps and with this curious smile says, "That's fucking adorable. Put it in the basket."

And into the basket the stuffed critter went.

If that isn't enough to put a smile on your face, I then said, "All we've found is an otter, and it isn't even real." 

To which he replied, "That isn't an otter. It's clearly a beaver!" 

But it doesn't have a beaver tail and it's holding a starfish! He relented because my argument was so sound. In conclusion, I think the Sidekick's wacky tobacky was even wackier than normal.  

Puke & Flowers

How do puke and flowers fit so nicely into one post? Like this:

At five o'clock this morning, I woke to the sound of Dixon retching. Because he is all gangly legs and pushy paws, he sleeps in his crate. Oh, don't be sad for him. He's literally right beside the bed and if he starts whining too much, I let him out. For the record, I am always the big spoon with him.

So, when I heard him gagging, I knew I had to move quick. We needed to get down the stairs and outside before puke make an appearance. In this moment, we worked as a finely tuned machine. Neither of us wanted him to vomit all over the place. As I ushered him down the stairs, he moved at a surprising pace considering he was making that nauseating noise dogs make when they are about to upchuck.

Just in case you are wondering, the Sidekick is the heaviest sleeper known to man. He sleeps through everything. I honestly fear one night he will sleep through the apocalypse. It's to the point that I worry about him. He doesn't even wake up when the dogs bark! How is that possible? This all ties in nicely with the story, because he didn't rouse at the sound of retching. Any late night emergencies, like four AM poops or early morning pukes, are all done under the guidance and tender care of mom (that's me!). You see, I am pretty much the lightest sleeper ever to grace this planet. Anything out of the ordinary jolts me upright.

Yes, we did make it outside. Sort of. The vomit came right as I opened the door. He got the front stoop. I suppose this is better than inside. Still, after a five o'clock wake up call to puke, it's hard to go back to sleep. Especially when your allergies are acting up. Yeah, breathing through my nose was impossible and my eyes itched so bad I considered removing them. Only for a minute.

When do the flowers come into play?

Right here.

Dixon picked me some flowers from the garden and made me a card to thank me for taking him outside to puke at five in the morning. What an awesome thing to come home to. It make me smile. If you look close you can see his dirty paw mark as a signature. Funny how the Sidekick and him have such similar writing. :)