The Torn Pages

Archive for February, 2008

Wheels

I'VE BEEN CLEARED TO DRIVE!

Physical therapist says "We'll see how it goes" before he gives me clearance to go back to work. I asked him how we'd know… "If I get in a crash, I flunk?"…  He laughed.

I don't care. WATCH OUT PEOPLE. I'm going out tomorrow to do "errands"… I don't care if it is Saturday and I have to fight the crowds. I am just going to enjoy the going by myself. Just me and Skippy. (My car). She's missed me… she told me so. 

A Reasonable Explaination? (a rant)

Becky's post reminded me of something that has bugged me often but came to the surface once more with my sons' recent wedding. Maybe someone can give me a good reason and I can stop being pissed about it whenever it comes up.

My frustration? The food. Specifically, left over food. Case in point: At least 200 people responded they were coming. 200 meals had to be paid for. As with most catering companies, they will do a 'final count' the night of the wedding and if, by their count, you go over the number of meals paid for, you will be billed for the extra meals. That makes perfect sense. I'm not arguing that point. However, as in the case of my sons' wedding, the weather turned crappy and at least one-quarter to one-half of the guest didn't make it, why don't you get the left over food? There is no refund of money… you still have to pay for the original number of meals contracted, so technically in my mind it belongs to the people who paid for it… yet I've never had an experience with this where you were allowed to have the remaining food.

Just in case you were wondering – I'm pretty sure it isn't going to any shelter or charity, either.

Can anyone tell me what's up with this policy?

Cyberspace, Blogland and Friendship

We've all heard the good, bad and ugly about the internet. We all have personal tales of each as we've gone through this new world of cyberspace… well, maybe not so new now. I remember in high school when they started a computer club and the 'geeks' finally got a programming class added to the curriculum. I couldn't even tell you what language it was, now, if it was Pascal or what, but Basic hadn't been invented yet so I know it wasn't that. As much of a geek or a nerd as I was then, I hated math and being great at math was a requirement, so I never got into the whole computer scene then. To be honest, there were only about four kids out of my 350 person class, so it was pretty elite. Only one of the four was a girl and I just happened to know about the class because she was in my Physics class. That was the extent of my exposure to the internet growing up.

I remember when we got our first Commodore 64 (as an adult) and thought we were really something. The kids were still into their Nintendo and it was a slow move to the computer… but once I was exposed to it I was hooked. I remember the thrill when we moved to a Commodore 128… and then? Then? A PC. A "real" computer.

Over the years the technology has blown me away. I've lost count of the number of computers I've had, desktops and laptops. I work with them on a daily basis and would be lost without one to keep track of the book-keeping side of the farm. The work I do couldn't even be done fifteen years ago – no GPS, no programs tied into the GPS system by computers. Now we take for granted the music, photos, videos, all capabilities of these amazing machines. We keep in touch with old friends, family, loved ones and now… a whole new world of blog friends.

I've spoken before about how my eldest daughter and her husband got me hooked on the online multiple player game "World of Warcraft". I never was very good at the games in the old days of the Commodore, although I liked them. (Okay, I'll admit, I'm still not very good at it but I really do enjoy it…). One of the days I was merrily playing by myself (yes, OCS* exists even in cyberspace) when a short dwarf character asked me if I wanted some help. Seeing as I had gotten myself into a pickle (another technical term) I gratefully agreed and a friendship began. Who knew I was being helped by someone who had played the daylights out of this game and was great at it and allowed me to actually live through a whole sesson. (People who know me joke that I am the queen of the cemetaries of WoW and I tease that I am going to write a travel book about them.) We hooked up with my daughter and eventually got this guy to join into our guild and he became a great asset to the guild and a great friend to all of us who played together.

As more time went by I got to know him better through e-mails and finally by getting him into blogland. As pieces of his life came out he astounded me with his experiences and his generosity and his strong emotions. I've gotten to know his multiple talents, although he surprises me regularily with new ideas and thoughts he comes out with. I don't know if he even realizes his own potential. He sings, plays music and writes songs. He's been a chef and restauranteur by profession. He is the owner (or do they own him?) of two rather independent cats… oh, and he writes. He doesn't show a tenth of his talent on his blog. He has several pages ranging from music to poetry to WoW to cats to stories and on and on… be sure to check out all the pages.

Although he's been generous and sent me a cherry pie now two cherry pies for my birthday, I'm afraid all I've got to offer is this post… I would never send a chef a food item! *Gasp* I offer a friendly hug and a desire for everyone to go check out his site… and I've linked to his book of short stories in the horror genre. Very good stuff. He's got some other things mulling around in his head that I'm trying to get him to put out there for the rest of the world to share in other threads… and sincerely hope he listens to me.

Although I've met some really special people out here…and I hope to showcase each of you ala Hilly's blogger of the month… right now I just want to point to one very special person and say, Happy Birthday Michael! Go check his site out and give him a birthday wish. He deserves it.

If you want to check out his book, you can find it here: Eyes – A Collection of Thirteen Unstable Tales 

*OCS – Only Child Syndrome

Kapgar Kwiz

Shamelessly stolen from my blog- buddy Kapgar. 

1. Do you like blue cheese?
Ick. Ick. Ick. Does that answer the question?

2. Have you ever smoked heroin?
Nope. Remember… I'm the one who has no reaction to Oxycoton (among other things). I have a feeling it wouldn't do anything for me either.

3. Do you own a gun?
By marriage.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic?
Never been to Sonic.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor's appointments?
I don't think I do, but my blood pressure tends on the high side when I go, so I guess my body is telling me I am.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
I like 'em, but try not to think about what is in them too much.

7. Favorite Christmas song?
White Christmas. Bing, of course.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Milk. I don't drink coffee or tea. A little later in the morning I'll have a Pepsi One just to get some caffeine into the system.

9. Can you do push ups?
Excuse me while I just sit here in the corner and giggle.

10. What do you order at Starbucks?
Nothing. Have I mentioned I don't like coffee? Um…yeah.

11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
My wedding ring.

12. Favorite hobby?
Just one? I equally enjoy *deep breath* blogging, reading, rubber-stamping, crocheting, knitting, watching movies, playing WoW, listening to music, playing with my critters, spending time with my family and husband (I know they aren't really a hobby, but deserve equal time)

13. How do you eat your eggs?
Any number of ways… scrambled, fried, soft boiled, hard boiled, omelette, deviled, etc.

14. Do you have A.D.D.?
No.

15. What’s one trait you hate about yourself?
Hate is such a harsh word. I dislike my weight (is anyone really happy with their weight?)… and I think my eyes are small and look even smaller when I wear my glasses, which I have to do unless I want to bump into walls.

16. Your eye color?
Brown.

17. Name three thoughts at this exact moment?
Should I keep watching the Oscars or wait and watch the recording I'm making? Is the winter storm tomorrow going to keep me from therapy? Will people know I wrote this on Sunday even though I'm not posting it until Monday?

18. Name three things you bought yesterday?
Not one thing.

19. Three drinks you regularly drink?
Milk. Pepsi One. Water.

20. Current worry right now?
Will I ever get my pain-free body back?

21. Current hate right now?
Hate is such a strong word. I'm disliking my body and feel it is letting me down.

22. Favorite place to be?
Home.

23. How did you bring in the New Years?
Watching a "Lost" marathon with my daughter at home.

24. Where would you like to go?
I'm at home and I really don't have a desire to go anywhere. Except maybe the grocery store or the library. By myself. Driving myself. Those of you who have been following the whole saga know what I'm saying.

25. Name three people who will complete this?
Feel free to steal. I'm not tagging anyone.

26. Do you own slippers?
Yes.

27. What shirt are you wearing?
A baseball-type t-shirt that I really should change.

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
I prefer flannel. Oh, God. What does that make me sound like? Can you say… "old fogey"? Yikes.

29. Can you whistle?
Only the traditional purse-lipped whistle – and not very loud.

30. Favorite color?
Red

31. Would you be a pirate?
While being a 'wench' in WoW, it really isn't pirate-related. I think I'd make a poor pirate… remember, I like to stay home.

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?
I don't. Now, in the car that's another story…

33. Favorite girl’s name?
Amanda and Emily (yeah, yeah, my daughters')

34. Favorite boy’s name?
Matthew and Jonathan and Steven (my sons' and Hubs)

35. What’s in your pocket right now?
No pockets.

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
Hubs making funny sounds to confuse one of the dogs – we got the traditional "dog look" where she cocks her head and tries to figure out what the hell you're trying to do. Makes me laugh every time.

37. Most frequently dialed phone number?
Toss up between Hubs' cell phone or texting one of my kids

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had?
Oh, gee…. let me think…    Probably my recent herniated disk or the one I had twelve years ago.

39. Do you love where you live?
Actually, yes. Very much.

40. How many TVs do you have?
Do I really have to say? Oh, geez…9? Not all working and some at locations besides our house.

41. Who is your loudest friend?
Loudest? Um….I really can't say. I don't think my friends are loud. If we all get together, I'm probably one of the loudest.

42. How many dogs do you have?
Three that are mine, but four live with us.

43. What are you thrilled about right now?
That the steak my Hubs just cooked for dinner was perfectly prepared. It doesn't take much to thrill me.

44. Do you have a crush on someone?
Hubs, of course! Always and forever.

45. What is your favorite book?
I don't have a favorite. I love them all.

46. What is your favorite candy?
Good old Hershey Chocolate Bars. Or fudge. Home made fudge. Mmmmm…

47. Favorite Sports Team?
I don't do sports.

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
I haven't thought much about it.

49. What were you doing at 12 AM last night?
Sleeping.

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?
ouch

Golf Widow Steps In*

I'm guest-posting for Sue today.  Nothing wrong; she's still getting back into the swing of things, but I'm unemployed and Sue is helping me not feel worthless by giving me occupation.

I've been doing a lot of guest-posting lately, for that very reason.  I could mope around and feel sorry for myself, or I could get up on a weekday, put on the coffee, jump into the shower, get dressed, and come back to the computer and write. 

I'm actually selling my guest posts, for $2 apiece.  Most people are complaining that I'm lowballing myself, and I probably am, but I'd rather hear someone say, "This is worth much more than $2!" than "This isn't worth what you charged me – I want my money back!"

If you're interested in purchasing a guest post yourself, you may visit my site to see how. 

http://www.golfwidow.net/archives/012144.html

You also get a link back to your blog, so even if you decide my writing sucks, you can at least say, "Well, I helped someone in need, and I got a little bit of traffic to my own site."

So far, no one has asked for a refund. 

As regards the guest posts themselves, obviously it's easier for me to write about what I know; if I can find some common ground with the blog in question, so much the better. 

The hardest two groups for me to guest post with are knitting blogs and mommy blogs.  I can't even do simple crochet without messing up, and I have no children. 

I tend to approach both sets of writers the same way:  I appreciate and admire their end products, but I have no basis for comparison in my own life.

Recently, one mommy blog for whom I was guesting discussed instant gratification versus waiting for good things, in general, and iPods in particular.  The discussion stemmed

from an argument with her husband over whether to give their daughter her graduation present iPod right away (mommy's side) versus making her wait and "earn it" (daddy's side).

This is something with which I have quite a lot of experience.  I really wanted to write a piece about the entire subject: both instant gratification, and iPods, and the relationship of one to the other.

My problem was that I disagreed with the mommy in question, and I felt I had no right to do so, having never been a parent.  I wound up discarding this topic as a potential guest post for that mommy blog and wrote something completely different. 

But the subject rankled.  And Sue gave me free rein to write whatever I wanted, so mwah-ha-ha-ha-ha.

My whole life has been a series of waiting, and often, settling or compromising.  The iPod was no exception. 

I would have bought one right away, but I felt I couldn't justify it, since we had so many bills and other, more immediate needs that had to be covered by our existing budget, and an iPod was a luxury.

Eventually, I did get my iPod, and I do love it.  Also, I appreciate it a lot more because although I had to wait for it, it's the one I wanted … not a knockoff, a hand-me-down, or a rebuild, like many of the other items I've had to wait for or settle for in my lifetime. 

Here's where I really diverged from the mommy's argument. As we've established, I have no right to an opinion.  But I have been a kid before, so I do have a different point of view.

When I was a kid, occasionally I'd say, "I want thus-and-such" and someone would get it for me, then say, "By the way, this means you're not getting anything for your birthday," or the holidays, or Valentine's, or whatever. 

I always felt very ripped off.  It's not about "earning it" or whatever – it's just that I'd rather have waited.  Not having any gifts to open on graduation day would have sucked. 

Fortunately for me, my own parents bought me the gold necklace I wanted and didn't give it to me till dinner on graduation night. 

I still wear and treasure that necklace, and the pride in their eyes when they handed it to me is etched in my memory.  I hope that other mommy's daughter will feel the same way when she receives her iPod, whether she gets it early or waits till graduation day.

(I at least hope she has it for a while before she loses it or breaks it.  I can envision my mom now, saying to me, "Why should we get you another necklace?  You only graduated from high school once.")

* Golf Widow is someone I've admired for a long time. You'll find her over on my list under "Fame". I purchased her book long before I actually "spoke" to her in cyberspace and found her to be incredibly intelligent, funny, and a great writer. She has fallen on some hard times and although she won't accept more than $2 to guest post, you can go buy her book. She has links on her site. Go on… you know you want to. We can all use a little help sometimes. Thanks for posting, GW… good job!

Not Yet

I've been going to physical therapy three times a week for the past couple of weeks… and on into the future indefinately. From the beginning, I told my therapist that I had a couple of goals I wanted to meet. I wanted to be able to put on my own coat. Dressing can be frustrating and tiring and having to ask people (sometimes strangers) to help you put on your coat seems rather a simple task until you can't do it without contorting and making faces drawn from pain. It can be embarrassing to ask for help, too.

My other goal was to be able to drive. The neurologist left it up to the physical therapy people to determine when I was capable.

Wednesday my therapist got my hopes up. He had me sit down and handed me a flat piece of wood cut into a circle shape – the size of a steering wheel. He had me look to the right as far as I could. To the left as far as I could. Turn the "wheel" as far each way as possible. I thought I did okay… until he smiled and said, "Ummm… not yet."

What?

Not that I have lots of places to go or things to do. In all honesty, my biggest 'have to do' right now is just getting to therapy! Work this time of year is very slow (thank goodness) and I've been logging into work from home, occasionally doing an hour here or there, but nothing that I've needed to go in for. However, we live in the country and it isn't as though I can just walk to the store or to the library or to run any other errands I may have. I'm grounded. My mother-in-law has been taking me to therapy. She loves to get out of her house and goes to town most every day if for nothing else, to get a newspaper. So I seem to work into her schedule okay. I try to schedule my appointments around her. My daughter has been good about either picking up things at the grocery store for me or picking me up and taking me to get groceries and running miscellaneous other errands. Still, I hate not being able to just go out and jump in the car and go when I feel I need to. I'm having a greater appreciation for people who are elderly and can drive no longer or for one reason or another are shut-ins and unable to come and go freely.

At least i know I will be able to drive again… eventually… just, "not yet". 

I Could Swear I Lived in Iowa

Waking up this morning I had the impression I was living in the Arctic Circle… or Alaska. The actual temperature this morning as we were going to my physical therapy appointment was -13 degrees. That doesn't tell the whole story. The wind chill made it something like -40. This is stupid. Remember me? I'm the one who likes winter. I'm the one who enjoys the snowfall and the crisp white frost on the trees. I enjoy cuddling in the house next to the firepace and a herd (gaggle? nest?) of snoozing, purring, cats. I'm the winter gal.

Enough.

Even I'm ready for a bit of a thaw now, 'kay? 

I Think I’ll Stay Home, Thanks

I have a new appreciation for what people who have to fly for a living, like Dave, must endure. The past two days have convinced me that perhaps man was not intended to fly… at least, in this day and age. *

My son and his new wife were flying home from their honeymoon on Sunday. I think it is okay now to say they went to Jamaica and had a stop in Atlanta, Georgia, before flying into the nearest big city, Des Moines, Iowa (about an hours' drive from home as it is on the southernmost side of town and we live to the north). Before they ever left (when we took them to the airport at 3 a.m. – remember?) they were looking at their itinerary and realized they only had 17 minutes between their arriving flight into Atlanta and their departing flight to Des Moines. I reminded them this would be their first stop in the U.S.A. and they would need to go through customs, making a rather short amount of time between flights into an impossible one.Before they left, then, they rescheduled the flights home allowing themselves a two hour layover in Georgia, which seemed quite adequate at the time. Silly us…

Son called in the morning before they left and gave me the flight numbers and times again just to be certain we had it all straight.The day of 'fun' began. I started watching the Atlanta and Des Moines airport sights for updates on their flights. The weather had been awful the night before in our area with ice turning to snow and high winds causing ground blizzards with no travel advised until midnight. Their flight was to come in close to 9 p.m. Atlanta was having their own fun with thunderstorms, and little did we know (stupid websight) that the airport was actually shut down for four hours. Four hours in which I watched the kids' flight into Atlanta get pushed back later and later for arrival, and the departing flight got pushed back in pretty equal amounts… however, the Des Moines airport as well as the airline's site that they were traveling on still showed them coming in "on time". Hmmm…

Our son was going to call from Atlanta and touch base with us, but as the evening went on and their flight got pushed back later and later, it finally appeared to be coming in for a landing – and their two hour layover had now dwindled to only one. The area of the airport they were coming in at was the furthest from the terminal (of course) and I knew they had to go through customs. I didn't worry when I didn't hear from them, thinking they'd not had time to call us after all. (At one time the computer showed them leaving Atlanta at 8:53 and arriving in Des Moines at 8:52! Now that's travel!)

At last the Des Moines and airline site appeared to catch up to the situation and it looked as though instead of coming in at 8:52 they were going to come in around 11:40. It got tweaked a few minutes this way and that as the evening progressed, but basically stayed right around then. Hubs and I, knowing how crappy the weather and roads were, decided to give ourselves a little extra time getting there and left home after one last check of the computer to confirm the 11:40 arrival.

You know the old adage about "best laid plans…"? Well, the roads were crappy, but managable with care, and we got to the airport with about 20 minutes to spare. Walking up to the arrival board we were stunned to see the arrival time for their flight had gone from 11:40 to 1:52 a.m. in the span of a little over an hour it took us to get to the airport! We were shell-shocked. Damn! Here I had been watching this stupid thing all day just to avoid this scenerio!

On top of everything else, our "international" airport is a joke. Nothing was open. No gift shop, no snack shop, nothing. Oh, the annoying recordings that break out over the loudspeaker every 10 minutes to remind you not to leave your bag, blah blah blah… yeah, that was working… but nothing else. Wouldn't you know it? Me… the woman who goes NOWHERE without a book… yeah, bookless. Hubs managed to get a cup of coffee out of a vending machine, figuring he'd need something to wire him up and keep him awake into the wee hours. We sat and mumbled to each other different ideas on what was going on at the other end of their flight… how miserable the kids must be and at least they'd made it to the states!

Ten minutes of waiting and my cell phone rings. It's our son. They have finally made it through customs and are still in Atlanta, having missed the connecting flight. Damn again! They had been having a helluva time. Their flight left Jamaica on time, but they were stuck on the tarmac for awhile waiting to leave, then and only then, was when I heard that the Atlanta airport had been shut down for four hours… because my son's flight was circling the airport waiting for them to re-open! Can you imagine? They were in the air so long that they had to land in Augusta to re-fuel! He said when they finally took off again the pilot told them he and the co-pilot were 11 minutes from being cut-off from flying any longer as they'd gone over their time limits… that if they hadn't taken off before the 11 minutes were up, they probably would have been stuck in Augusta for who-knows-how-long!

So… The newlyweds got the fun experience of spending the night in the Atlanta airport (because of the storms, there were no rooms left in the area)… and were to fly stand-by this morning.

Finally, this morning, at about noon, we were able to see their smiling faces. They made the plane! So did their luggage… ! The first place they wanted to go? Mickey-D's. Yep. They're baaaack…

*The kids had some horror stories to tell of people they encountered on the plane, too! I'll save that for another time…

Valentine, A Love Story

At the risk of being sickening, I'm going to bring up some memorable moments from the wedding that touched me in ways that had very little to do with the bride and groom. My husband and I have been together almost 30 years. Over the years a few 'truths' have become evident. My husband doesn't like to fast dance. He will, if he's had a ginormous amount of alcohol to drink and all his inhibitions have flown out the window. Although he likes a drink now and then, he's had years of practice and it takes quite a bit to get him to the point where those inhibitions have gone. It doesn't take a whole lot, however, for him to become sappy. He doesn't go around telling everyone that he loves them, but he certainly loosens up and will be rather generous with his love toward his family. It's become a family joke, in a sweet way, in that his famous quote is "At least I'm not a mean drunk."

Another 'truth' about my husband is he hates to dress up. His "uniform" has changed over the years from jeans, t-shirt and flannel shirt to jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt (did I mention he doesn't like change, either?) If we go out in the evening, we go casual and his uniform works as well for that as it does for work. I live in jeans most of the time, too, so I can't say much. However, I must say when he grouches and grumps and fusses about having to put on those tuxes for the weddings, he does so reluctantly but oh, my! The results are stunning. His beard and hair have grown gray over the years, but as we all know that just makes men more distinguished and trust me, when he gets dolled up James Bond has nothin' on him!

This wedding was a bit different for me because my husband was the best man. He didn't sit with me at the wedding, he didn't sit with me at the reception. I was able to stand back and watch him from afar. It was a bit different for him, too, as he messed up once by going into the reception with me never thinking that he, as part of the wedding party, was not supposed to be appearing at the reception just yet! He started to mingle when the maid of honor came flying in and grabbed him, scolding all the way. We all laughed, knowing he was in trouble… and accepting that was nothing new for the day!

A bit later the wedding party made their official entrance. The song? "Another One Bites the Dust". Laughter exploded! First the bridesman came in – a good friend of the bride who, yes, is a man, and who stood up with her. Then my eldest son came in – he was standing up with his brother. Then came one of the bridesmaids and one of the groomsmen who happen to be a couple. They came across the dance floor in their entrance and he stopped in the middle of the floor and 'dipped' his lady. Then came my guy. Mister I Don't Dance. He came in with the maid of honor and when they hit the dance floor, they stopped and he spun her around! Oh, my! I was stunned. He actually looked like he knew what he was doing! The bride and groom came in twirling and hopping and the party got started.

Hubs had to give a speech, which he'd been worrying about for days. He made me proud and did a great job, only to be shown up minutes later by my elder son who also gave a speech and had everyone choked up. I was so proud of them both. Dinner, dancing, talking, the evening blurring into snapshots of memories. I was pretty much staying put and people were coming to talk to me as my husband mingled. He's one of those guys who can talk to anyone and I would look around occasionally to see where he was or who he was with. On one of those scans around the room I wasn't finding him… until I spotted him right in front of me, on the dance floor! I was shocked. It was a fast dance and I knew he hadn't had that much to drink! Come to find out the bridesmaids had been at him and had gotten him out there… and they were making him look like he knew what he was doing! (He swears it was all them, that he just followed and they led!) At any rate, I was stunned… but thrilled to see him out there and looking soooo good.

As the evening progressed, he would come by and sit with me for a few minutes and everytime he did he told me how beautiful I looked. You just know that did a lot for me! I had to keep reminding him he hadn't seen me with makeup or clothes on for weeks, so it wouldn't take much to make an improvement, but he claimed (as he always does) that it doesn't make any difference to him, that he thinks I'm beautiful all the time… but that I was exceptionally gorgeous that night. (Awwww…)

One of my most memorable moments of the whole event was mid-evening when the D.J. announced the next song was dedicated to the grooms' mom and dad. We went up to dance (a slow dance) not recognizing the song. My son likes most music, but tends to lean toward country the most and many songs of the evening were country. This song was no exception. I was trying to listen to the words, but couldn't really catch them until "Me Too" came out of the speakers. That was the song. Toby Keith's song, "Me Too". I had been sooo good all day and night, not crying…. until that. You see, for years and years my husband and I rarely say "I love you" to each other and never on the phone. But we never end a conversation without saying "me too". It has become a joke with our friends and family as we started out thinking we were being so sneaky… I could say it when I was at work or he was around people and they didn't know we were being mushy. Well, we got busted many years ago and now we get teased about it because it is so obvious what we are really saying. So when I heard that come out of the speakers and knew that my newly married son and  his bride had picked that for us, it just choked me up. I downloaded it on my iPod the next day and Hubs and I got choked up all over again listening to it… and have determined that is now "our song".

When the evening was over and things were packed up and we were home in bed, we were both still too wired from it all. We lay curled up together and rehashed the day – not having been together for most of it – and talked until we were talked out. Memories being made and preserved for all time.I realize this wedding was all about my son and his beautiful bride. It was a celebration of the "official" beginning of their life together. Still? For me it was a chance to be romantic and silly and sweet and to flashback to looking across a machine shed almost 30 years ago and locking eyes with a guy who I couldn't dream then would be my soul mate now. I wouldn't have had it any other way. Happy Valentine's Day, Honey… I'd do it all over again. 

Uno!… Uh, I Mean, Benny!

Even non-dog lovers probably didn't miss the announcement this morning that a beagle, Uno, had won Best in Show at the Westminster Dog Show. I've had a special place in my heart my whole life for beagles. When I was growing up, my first and only dog was a beagle. Toby. Since I was an only child, he became my 'brother', my partner in crime, my confident, my playmate. He took my tears and soaked them into his fur and kept all my secrets locked away. Every day he was my escape – allowing me to take him for a half-hour walk where I got to get out of the house and away from the craziness that was my homelife. He lived to a ripe old age of eighteen, but I was out of the house by then and my parents had him put to sleep and let me know afterwards… giving me  no chance to say goodbye.

About six years ago Emily and I went looking for a dog at the local animal shelters. My sweet shih-tzu, Dusty, had passed away and we had a hole to fill in our family. As we saw dog after dog, one caught my eye. He was just sitting in his pen, leaning against the fence, and looked up with those sorrowful brown eyes as we walked by. With great effort (it appeared) he reached up with one paw and lay it on the fence. My heart went out. We kept going, looking further, and ended up in a nearby town where we found a cat that we couldn't resist. (That turned out to be my huge black cat – but that's another story).

Although we got the cat, my mind couldn't get rid of the sight of that dog, just sitting patiently waiting for someone to come. I told Emily I had to go back and check him out. We went back and I don't think he'd moved one inch since we'd left! Once more, he put his paw up on the fence. Brown eyes pleading for escape. We took him out to one of the rooms they have to get to know the animals better, and he slowly walked around and veeery slowly put his paws up on my leg. Everything he did was in slow motion – we were tempted to name him Slo-Mo!

He became a member of the family and we named him Benny Beagle … aka… the Bowling Ball (Hubs' nickname). He was not a "normal" sized beagle as Toby had been, but rather a large lump that soon grew to a whopping 50 lbs. We found that the "slo-mo" movements were a ruse and that he could be extremely quick and clever if either a bunny or a sandwich were involved. Hubs even had me ask the vet if he was a mixed-breed of some sort, seeing as he was so large. She then told us that beagles come in varying sizes and we just happened to end up with one of the big ones.

He's a personality. Here in the new house he has a kennel in the garage that has doors to a fenced in kennel outside. He has an igloo dog house in the inside kennel as well as a fan in the summer and a heated pad in the winter (although our garage isn't heated, our vehicle thermometers generally register 50 degrees even in the most frigid days of winter). He plays on sympathy – when you go out to see him he pulls out all the stops, making this horrid wheezing sound. I thought it was asthma, but the vet says it is a "reverse sneeze"… and although he can't seem to stop himself from doing it the minute he sees you when he's in the kennel, the second you hook a leash on him to take him out for a walk, he'll stop. He can got through his whole walk without doing it until you bring him back to his kennel. Faker.

His other trick is to play the slo-mo card. He'll walk very slowly on his leash, practically making you drag him at times to catch up (trust me, walking him is no exercise). However, when he gets a whif of a bunny you'd better have a good grip on his leash or you'll be trailing him to the next county. When he wants to, that dog can move! Luckily, the last time he got loose out in the open was at the old house and he'd run into the evergreen grove – which just happened to have an old fence around it. Whew!

Anyway, I just had to take a moment to acknowledge the mighty beagle. Way to go, Uno! (I'll be giving Benny an extra snack today in honor of the win!)