I love dogs and have been not so nonchalantly been pestering Bobaloo about how I need one.  I have bothered him rather mercilessly.  For years.  Finally, over the summer we had a breakthrough and agreed we would start looking for a dog this fall.

On Saturday, Bobaloo and I stopped into the adoption center at Dumb Friends League.  We asked to meet Nik in kennel 3B.  When she was brought into the room she came right up to me with little hesitation and also sat on Bobaloo’s foot (which I thought was hilarious).    We both knew I was not leaving the building without her.  She was the pup for me.

Unfortunately, she has been neglected and not given enough to eat in her life before us.  She is getting more comfortable at home and is very sweet and very mellow.  I don’t think Nik knows how to play but she seems to enjoy our walks.  Every day she gets more confident and seems to be acting more and more like a dog. 

 

 

MOM is WOW upside down

About a month ago, someone told me mothers and daughters aren't supposed to see eye to eye. That's just the way it is.

I love my Mother. I love all of her strength and her quirks best. It's not easy to show how much I love her sometimes though. It's hard for me to find the words over the phone that she probably needs to or should hear. I love her. Always.

I love you Mom.

As a kid, I remember slamming my bedroom door out of whatever my current adolescent outrage was and thinking, she just doesn't understand me. She doesn't get me. Sometimes as an adult I still feel that way. I wonder now if she was thinking, I am trying my best to teach my daughter to understand and get how the world is. I want what's best for her.

I love my Mom. It's strange to look back on my life and have the very real realization that in a lot of ways she has always known my heart better than me. And only now, as a grown-up do I see that she has always and most likely still knows what's best. As mothers tend to. She always gave me the space to figure stuff out for my hardheaded self, because she knows that's my nature as only a mom would or could.

I love my Ma. Since I can remember I have loved reading, writing, and words. In junior high without hesitation, my Mom signed me up for an annual young author's conference that involved missing class and a bus trip to a college. For the first time, I met real life authors who made a living making their readers feel something. She knew I loved writing before I did.

In high school, I wanted to switch my foreign language elective from Spanish to French. I handed her the registration form, and she wasn't having it. She firmly told me Spanish would be helpful in my life. I was more than a little upset. At the end of the day and form, I ended up taking both languages for the rest of high school. She recognized my love of verb conjugations before I did.

Seeing eye to eye has at times been difficult. Difficult in that I always fought that she knows me in a way no one else ever will. Why that has been upsetting, I will never know. I'll blame it on her encouraging my independence. As children tend to.

Mom started a book club with her girlfriends. When we talk on the phone she tells me what she's been reading. Sometimes she reads books that I have, more often than not though, she tells me about a great read that I need to check out. Reading the same books as my Mother moves my heart beyond words. No words. Imagine that.

We've both had a year, that's for sure. A year of having a hard time finding words for one another.

We have the words of others though. Words and stories that move us. I find comfort in knowing this.

Since those young writer conferences Mom sent me to as a kid, I have always wanted to write a book. To be an author. To have my words make people feel something.

The book hasn't been written yet. I don't have the words and I don't know the story. Not yet.

However,

the dedication page has always been written.

So, here goes:

To the woman who knows and encourages me. The woman who has given me the courage to be strong and quirky and at the end of the day, know I'm okay.

Mom.

This isn't a published novel,

but this one goes out to you.

(Even though we disagree on the pronunciation of "poem"!)

I love you. Thank you.

Answering the Call

Sitting in my closet yesterday, I was looking through a picture album of friends and thinking about how near and far they are to me now, both physically and emotionally.  I am lucky and love-rich that many of my nearest and dearest for the last 10-20 years are people I can still call in the middle of the night if need be, no questions asked.

The way friendships start and end at different measure is strange.  I have had fast friends and have also cultivated closeness with folks over the distance of many years.  The latter have turned out to be some of my most valued and true friendships.  I have lost touch bit by bit with people with whom I was once inseparable.  Also, I have had the uneasy experience of quickly dropping out of or being dropped out of someone’s life.

A couple of weeks ago I had a friend come into town for a short visit.  She was a neighbor of Bobaloo’s when he and I were dating.  Bobaloo and I would often sit on the deck having beers and listening to tunes and she and her husband would come over after work.  Slowly but surely, after three years she became quite a close friend.  She was someone who became unwaveringly thoughtful, compassionate, and protective towards me.   I offered the same friendship to her.  I look back at those times on the deck and think of a happy, happy stretch of life.  Meeting her was providential circumstance.

We have seen each other a couple of times in the last seven years, the last being four years ago.  Marriage happened, babies were had, and moves, school, and everything in between began to take up the adulthood of our lives.  Eventually, even our infrequent phone calls came to an end.  Our friendship became a yearly Christmas card.

She came into town a couple of weeks ago for a conference and we made plans to get together and catch a few drinks downtown.  Even though some years had passed since I saw her last, I was more excited than nervous to see her.

So, after Bobaloo and I navigated our way to a parking spot in the city and entered the crowded bar I sent a text letting her know I was there.  After a few minutes a familiar embrace from behind my shoulders was followed by a familiar voice.  We found a place to sit.  Pictures were shown of children, school and work updates were exchanged, and some of the more somber happenings of our lives were shared.  Life had moved on, but not between me and her.  We picked up just where we had left off, chattering away.

We headed to a tavern later and smoked cigarettes on the patio.  I apologized for not being better in touch and told her I missed her.  She told me that even though we don’t speak on the regular that she knows she can always call me when things shake down and that I will always answer.  She thought it was an unspoken understanding between us two.

I am lucky to have the kind of pals who will answer my call.  And it’s nice to know now, that I am that friend to someone too.