Filed Under life
I don’t understand smokers. I just got home from a drive with a friend who smokes. We weren’t in the car for more than 5 minutes when he desperately reached for his “smokes” and lighter and lit up . And he thinks I cannot smell it, because he rolled his window down a quarter of an inch. And of course used the age old argument , that if only he rolls down his window it will suck out all of the smoke.. So is that why his windows are covered in the disgusting grime , that a smokers car always is? Do they realize how annoying it is not to be able to eat a meal with them, without them lighting up that disgusting thing? Or them leaving halfway through to go smoke, then they return, reeking of smoke? Or not be able to go to a movie at a theater, because they cannot sit through the whole thing without a smoke.. They don’t seem to get it.I don’t have to be within 30 feet of a smoker in order to smell their cigarette smoke. You smoke in your car, I can smell it, in your car. If you smoke outside the entrance to the a store, or restaurant, I can smell it. You go ‘outside for a smoke”I can smell it as soon as you come back in. I walk into your home, all I smell is smoke. Your smoke permeates my hair and my clothes. After I spend 10 minutes with you I stink. I have to shower and wash my clothes. You might not mind smelling like an ashtray but I do.
Filed Under life
I cant believe soon I will be my parents, and they will be grandparents. This really freaks me out and depresses me. It’s so odd to think that the little one inside me has a whole new world to explore, and by the time he reaches my age, I will be old. I will be in my 50’s . I know that is a couple of decades away, but on the other hand, it is still inevitable. I really try to live more day to day instead of looking THAT far in the future, but I find myself trying to stop those thoughts several times a day. Does anyone else do this, or is it just me? Am i the only one who thought 22 was old, and now looking back it seems so young. And i know this trend will only continue.
Why do people get old? Because we can’t (physically) remain as we were born. But why are we born? It’s all so strange. We’re born so we can get old and die? I know, I know, there’s that whole “we’re here to make a difference thing” Still… nothing. I don’t want to be another number in the system… and most important, not a large number. But I don’t want to live so fast that I die young.
But I suppose , youth and beauty is not what creates a sense of happiness or balance. When you visit a hospital where patients are on their death bed, when you walk on your two feet out that hospital door to the outside world, you probablty arent thinking, “poor me”. You’re thinking “Thank Goodness!” I have a sound mind and body…What would you rather have - tonnes of wrinkles and sagging, grey hair, balding, or a fatal disease where the last thing on your mind is “How do I look….?” but rather, “Will I live another day to see the sunshine,have my kids hug me or hear I love you , again from someone? We are only human, I guess so we are going to feel this way sometimes. I am trying to stay positive and not think about things like this so much. Just by being happy. My goal is to experience each and every day like it’s a gift. I’m going to stop living, “what if” and started living “why not?”
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As I’m sitting here in sleeping beside me is my dog, one of my best friends, dreaming of something perhaps chasing squirrels, a car ride, or swimming in the river. But she is laying faithfully by my side, as always It makes me think of something I read once, that I feel obligated to share. Its one of the best things I have ever read, and one that makes me tear up immediately, and urges me to go to her and give her a huge hug and one of her favorite treats. It honestly makes me feel so ashamed to be a human, and I realize just how much more, loyal, loving , innocent and pure animals truly are.
“When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad,” you’d shake your finger at me and ask “How could you?” - but then you’d relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.
My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs,” you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a “dog person” - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a “prisoner of love.”
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them, especially their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered “yes” and changed the subject. I had gone from being your dog to “just a dog,” and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
Now you have a new career opportunity in another city and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You’ve made the right decision for your “family,” but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said “I know you will find a good home for her.” They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with “papers.”
You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my collar as he screamed “No, Daddy! Please don’t let them take my dog!” And I worried for him and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.
After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked “How could you?”
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream…or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.
She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured “How could you?”
Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said “I’m so sorry.” She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my “How could you?” was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.”
Filed Under Uncategorized
Today I found myself looking back on pictures of my vacation to Barbados and I became really homesick for it. It’s odd how you can be homesick for a place that you only visited for 2 weeks or so, such a short time in a persons life, yet there are months of routine life that we cannot even recall. It’s strange how it can become such a part of you in such a short time, that you can remember the smells, sounds, the feeling of the sand under your feet and delicious ocean water surrounding you. Even something small like a sip of the same type of beverage I had there will bring me back to the happy memories of simply being there. Nothing significant happened while I was there. I didn’t fall in love or become engaged, I didn’t have a life changing epiphany, or write a book. But I spent 14 happy days in the ocean. I spend it under the sun and swimming with sea turtles. On boats and cabs, seeing new countryside. Reading on a balcony, listening to the ocean. Visiting a wildlife sanctuary with hundreds and hundreds of tortoises roaming free and many other fascinating species. I miss it, yet I will probably never go back. It its sort of sad but I know I will pick somewhere new next time, Life is too short to return to the same destination time and time again, just because you fell in love with it. There are so many new places to fall in love with and unfortunately our life span is too short to see them all.
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I have such respect for people who truly make an effort to help our animal friends. Not just now and then donating a spare quarter from their pockets, into the little tin cans found at most convenience stores. Or a company that throws a big check to WWF just to get some advertising and recognition. But I truly admire those who dedciate their life, or a large portion of it, to saving those who have no voice .
Founded in 1998 as a no-kill shelter, Misty Creek Dog Rescue is a volunteer-run shelter in Western Canada taking in and taking care of thousands of animals who are abandoned, abused or surrendered every year.
Misty Creek Dog Rescue takes in dogs from pounds, reserves, shelters, and other owners, providing them with medical care, vaccinations, and behavioral training and eventualy a forever home. The have a strict no-kill mandate, therefore some dogs remain in their care for years, until they are successfully placed with a family.
Working with foster home volunteers, they have saved over 1200 dogs.
Kudos to them.
Filed Under Uncategorized
Well here I am, 7ish months pregnant. I am having a little boy. A son. I am this far along and still feel slightly disconnected, like it’s not really real. Hopefully that will change. He has been kicking, wriggling and bouncing around in there for some time now, but it still feels and looks so alien to me. I wake up almost every morning with kicks, pokes and rolling in my stomach and all of a sudden remember I am pregnant and am again, newly amazed by this. It’s hard to believe in 2 months or so, my life will be completely changed, and there will be no going back. I am so excited to meet him, hold him, feed him, and watch him grow. But I am so scared too. I am scared to be a bad mom, to mess him up, to not give him the life he will need and deserves. I am scared I will run out of patience, have a short temper, and just not be a good mom to him. On the other side, the selfish side, I’m scared about my loss of freedom as well. And of having someone else depend on me 24/7 for everything. Am I really capable?
Most of the time I am just excited, and happy, looking at all the clothes, daydreaming about trips here or there with him, thinking about who he will grow to be, about what I can teach him, and watching him discover the world. But I feel ashamed, and guilty of the days I sit and cry, worry and obsess about the days of freedom I will never have back and the scary ones to come. But I know deep down this must be normal, and that I already would never trade him for all the freedom in the world. Well, that’s enough crazy ramblings of a mother to be for one day.
Filed Under Uncategorized
Commercial seal hunting is an off-season activity conducted over just a few days by thousands of fishermen from Canada’s east coast. The fishermen who participate in the commercial seal hunt earn a tiny fraction of their annual incomes from sealing. Words cannot describe the cruelty of the seal hunt that happens every year in Canada. Sealers club, shoot and skin helpless baby seals, every one in sight. Their beautiful icy home is transformed into an open air slaughterhouse and—despite protesters best efforts—they have not stopped it from going forward. I find myself apologizing to pups, knowing my words are meaningless in the face of the suffering they will endure.
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I was having a conversation with a friend the other day how emotional abuse is so overlooked. Its seems as though a person has to have bruises all over them for someone to admit that they are a victim of abuse. I think partly why people put up with all this emotional abuse, is because society isn’t aware of it and accuses them of being “babies” or “emotionally weak if they cant put up with it.
I found alot of interesting information at a website made for the abused… here are just some of the very interesting facts. And facts everyone should be aware of and deal with if you see this in your relationship.
Signs of Abuse/Abusive Relationships
- violent outbursts
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- feelings of worthlessness
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- fear for self or children
- threats of violence
- threats of destruction of property or injury/death to pets
- feelings of guilt or shame
- insults, put downs, name calling
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- broken promises to change
- control of all the money
You May Be Abused If Your Partner
- puts you down and makes you feel like a nobody.
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- makes you feel afraid for yourself or your children.
- destroys your belongings.
- makes you feel guilty or blames you for what is happening.
- doesn’t give you enough money to look after yourself or the children.
Characteristics of Abusers
- 80% were abused as children or saw their mothers abused.
- blame partners for their abusive behavior.
- place huge expectations on partners to feel good about themselves.
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- have limited or no social network; partner is closest person he knows.
- highly emotionally dependent on partner; subject to depression known only to family.
- tend to express all negative feelings as anger.
- have low self-esteem.
- get needs met by control, such as violence and threats.
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- can be very pleasant outside of the home and very unkind at home.
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- lack sympathy for partner’s physical and emotional pain.
- tend to minimize and deny the abuse.
Why would a woman stay?
One of the biggest misconceptions and tragedies is society’s willingness to blame the victim. We must place responsibility for the crimes on the offenders and stop blaming the victims. “Why doesn’t she just leave him?”
Well, there are lots of reasons why women stay. Here are just a few:
- she loves the partner, not the violence.
- she made a commitment she feels she can’t break.
- she has nowhere else to go.
- she has no money, or fears the poverty that may result for her if she leaves.
- she believes her partner can’t get along without her — he may have threatened suicide if she leaves.
- he takes her confidence away so she doesn’t think she can make it on her own.
- she believes her partner will change.
- she is afraid or ashamed.
- he makes her feel guilty and tells her the abuse is her fault.
- she believes she deserves the abuse.
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Some suggestions on what to do on this day if you are alone.. like me.
1. Avoid any place couples go. Do something for yourself, at home, like renting a good movie.. but not a lovey dovey movie.
2. Go to the store in the evening and watch freaked out men try to pick out a card, and watch people fight over the shriveled remains of flowers in a
last-ditch effort for sex. Hilarious.
3. Remember: just because a person is
with someone V-Day doesn’t necessarily mean that he or she is happy.. probably quite the opposite.
4.Spend it with other single friends.
5.Go to the gym,
6.Pamper yourself - be your own valentine.
Remember that valentines day is a commercial holiday.. it isn’t really about togetherness and love, its about selling , selling, selling…..