Sunday, August 19, 2018

Bigots, Breakfast, and Being Overly-Black......

This morning started off like every other morning for me.

I woke up under-caffeinated with my body feeling like it needed about 2 more hours of sleep and my hair out of control.  You see, every morning for the last 40 years, 4 months and 18 days, I have awoken looking like Ronald McDonald and Kramer had a love child.  Now, in my formative years,  I hated this about myself, however as I have grown into an adult I have learned to accept and love my crazy locks in all their glory.  Even in the morning!

Usually, if I want to go somewhere quickly in the morning, I throw on a hat, because I am not and never will be, one of those girls who can quickly throw my hair up in a "messy bun" or pony tail.  (My hair doesn't roll like that....)  Currently though, my hair is in a God awful state of re-growth.  It's too short to pull back, but it looks hideous under a ball cap. 

So, this morning, I wrapped my head in a scarf, complimented myself on my cuteness, grabbed my wallet and my dog, and set off to fetch breakfast and a Sunday paper for my wife. 

Quickly, I ran into the gas station, grabbed the requested Sunday newspaper, got in line behind a guy who was paying for whatever he was paying for.  (Honestly, I can't say I was really paying attention to him, I was in a hurry to get to my next destination: McDonald's.  I needed my morning Coke!)  That guy finished up paying, spun around, looked me up and down and quickly blurted out the words:  "Well, you look overly-black this morning!" 

Now, I'm sure if this man knew me, knew I was under-caffeinated, and knew how hard I work to engage a mouth filter I don't possess, he would have kept his mouth shut, but he didn't.....

And this folks is how I nearly committed homicide before 10 am.....

Me, still shocked:  "I'm sorry?  Did you just say I looked overly-black?!  And what does being black look like exactly?"  (I really wanted to hear this explanation....)

Him:  "Yes.  With that thing on your head, you look black."

Me:  "My scarf?!  My scarf makes me look "overly-black"?!"

Him:  "Well, yeah.  Didn't you look in the mirror this morning?!"

Me, pointing to my head:  "Actually, I DID look in the mirror, and I thought I looked like your average human, although cuter, because in case you haven't noticed, this scarf is on point!"

Him:  "Well, you might want to look again."

And this is when I nearly lost my shit....

Me:  "Question for you, did you happen to see the bigot looking back at you in the mirror this morning?"

Him, cockily chuckling:  "Oh, so now I'm a bigot?  What does that look like exactly?!"

Me:  "Well, I wasn't sure what a bigot would look like until now, but after looking at you I realize a racist bigot looks exactly as I thought one would look.  Like an idiot!  Because only an idiot would spew the stupidity you're spewing while attempting to make a fashion statement by pulling his white tube socks all the way up to his knees when wearing sandals!

Enough said.

Thursday, August 2, 2018

A non-rational purchase....

Rarely do my purchases make any sense, and I am used to that.  In fact, I feel it's one of my most endearing qualities!  So, when I came home a month ago completely in love with this horse I met, it made ALL the sense in the world to me as to why I should own him.  Kay, being the more logical one of us, immediately said "No."  Perhaps Kay was right.  (Did I just say that on a public forum?!)  However, my heart just couldn't quit thinking about this guy. 

Several days ago, Kay an I were in the car talking about what she could get me for Christmas and I quickly replied:  "That horse." 
I was dismissed.

Then the conversation turned to what I wanted for our up coming anniversary and I quickly replied:  "That horse." 

 We discussed how the timing wasn't right currently, etc... and the next thing I know we were at the horse barn "looking" at him.  Before we left the barn, we felt pretty secure about adding this guy to our family. 

Now, if I'm thinking with my logical brain, this horse makes NO sense.  He is 5 years old, has only been gelded very recently, and has had absolutely no training.  My non-logical brain says, he's great minded, exactly what I would want if he was trained, and is giddy with excitement. 

Meet Henry, my favorite non-rational purchase.....

Sunday, July 22, 2018

On relinquishing control and having faith....

I used to have a little plastic rock with the word "Faith" on it.  I'm not sure where I picked up this little piece of plastic, likely it was an impulse buy in the gift shop where I work, and it really was a stupid purchase especially in the eyes of my family.

Who buys a plastic rock?!

I never denied the stupidity of the purchase as it randomly pupped up around the house: pulled out of the dryer, randomly stuffed in a junk drawer, or occasionally being found under the couch if the cats found it before I did.  The little purple rock took on a life of it's own around our house as it became a household joke and familial eye roll.  When I found it, I would scream for all the rest of the household to hear:  "I found my faith!"

If I sit back and reflect on life though, "faith" is like that.  For me it comes and goes, and sometimes it's hard to believe in and even easier to loose.

I admit I'm the queen of trying to manipulate the Universe into getting what I want or think I need.  Pairing this with the fact I'm a self proclaimed "fixer", sometimes I push against the Universe so hard that the Universe has no option but to push back.

However, if I look back I am constantly amazed how situations work themselves out.
How the end results are often better than I could have ever imagined if I just surrender control, stop trying to move a mountain and just have faith.

My dad and I had a relationship in that we both lived our lives, and would come together for dinner, or visit when time allowed or when one of us needed something from the other.  We would talk on the phone every week or so, and I always knew he loved me, but we were both just content living our different lives.  My sister and my father were much closer.  She saw him much more than I did, went places with him, took him to his doctor appointments, and selfishly I was okay with that.  I didn't want to stop living my life to deal with his life and his life choices.

Faced with my dad's illness, the fact my sister was moving out of state, and the realization I was going to be taking care of him pretty much alone, I was pissed.  But, as usual, God knew what he was doing.....

You see, my sister moved out of state because she got married, and it forced my dad and I to have to be together.  Without my sister to provide for him (And she always did a fabulous job!), he had to depend on me, and knowing I was his only option, I had to step up my game.  In the beginning, I was really inconvenienced with the fact  I had to use 144 hours of vacation time to drive him to doctor appointments at the Cleveland Clinic, or all the hours I had to sit while he was sick in the hospital with bouts of pneumonia. meningitis, and other ailments....  (The man was like a cat with 9 lives!)  Or the fact that due to his dementia, he insisted on eating out every night at his favorite restaurants, and I had to foot the bill for this plus keep him out of the nursing home until after 9 pm.

Many times, I would call my mom and cry/scream that this was not fair.  My mom's words of wisdom were always:  " Emmy, this isn't forever.  One day you will be happy you did all this.  And in the end you will know you did everything you had to do to make his life better.  You will see this benefited you just as much as it did him.  Just have faith...."

In the end that is exactly what happened.

If my sister hadn't moved, if I hadn't had to step up my game, I would have missed hundreds of hours of being with my dad, of talking to my dad about everything from his childhood ponies, life with his siblings, his funny antics and the mischief he had gotten into along the way.  He told me secrets I will forever keep, we scouted out the best place to eat chicken wings and completely dominated some rouge trucker at the claw machine game in a Denny's on I-71.  We went to a Christmas Eve church service together, and he spent the night with us, so I got to wake up on Christmas morning with him just like I did when I was a kid.  We binged watched Hallmark movies together and curled up with heavy quilts by the fireplace.  He went the horse barn with us, we made a lot of new friends together, and most importantly we laughed.  We loved.

I've learned a lot this year.
I've learned things seldom turn out the way I plan.
I've learned to accept what is happening in my life right now, and that it's okay to relinquish control.
I've learned to let go, to put the past behind me.
And, I've learned to just have faith that things will fall into place, just like they were meant too....

Thursday, July 19, 2018

On grief and bravery....

Life is hard.
It's unpredictable.
In fact the only thing predictable about life is it's unpredictability. 

I miss my father so much, that sometimes the depth of my sadness makes it hard for me to breathe.
And pick up a pen to write? 
Forget it.
It's as if my creativity died with my dad.  
I have things that want to come out. 
I have thoughts that I want to write about, but the words are stuck in some weird grief purgatory.
It's as if there is a disconnect between my mind and the outside world.

The loss I have experienced is in every corner of my life.  It's in the corner of the living room where we would sit on the couch and watch Hallmark movies.  Or where he excitedly opened his Christmas presents on Christmas day.  

It's in every phone call I still make, forgetting he will never answer my calls again.  

It's in my car where he and I logged a millenary of hours driving to and from our nightly dinners and The Cleveland Clinic.  Confession time:  His pajamas are still folded on the backseat and his half eaten package of Hall's cough drops are still in the dash compartment.  At this point I'm fairly sure I will eventually sell the car with his pajamas right where he left them, because I can't wrap my head around removing them from the backseat... 

The loss is in my wife's eyes as she says to me:  "I don't know what it's like to be married to you.  We have yet to have a normal life." 

The truth is death is painful and walking through the grief requires a colossal amount of bravery.  A bravery I'm not always sure I possess.  As the waves of life throw me about, from side to side, I know the only way through this grief is to allow myself to feel it.  I can't ward it off.  I can't rid myself of it.  I can only turn inward to reflect, honor my heart's request for quietness, and remember the only way to emerge into the light of a new day is to experience the previously dark night.  

Monday, March 19, 2018

Striking Out

Today was rough.  Dad was in a horrible mood when I arrived at the nursing home.  I brought him his traditional bananas, diet Pepsi and Reese cups, and he still was just not happy.  He laid in bed for most of my visit, not wanting to go for a walk or for me to push him in his wheelchair.  Perhaps the most uncharacteristic thing he did today though was strike out at Fenna and yell at her.  I quickly told him to stop being mean to the dog and explained to him that I would not bring her over to visit again if he was going to strike at her.  He told me he didn't care, exclaiming that he hated all animals.  This is so far from who he really is.  He LOVES animals and would not strike an animal if he had to when he is in his right mind!  

Fenna actually handled my father's outburst better than I did.  It was as if she knew that something was off with him today.  She quickly dodged him when he yelled at her, and she looked at him confused for half a minute, but came right back and laid down at the foot of the bed on the floor.  She was quiet and watched him, but was unaffected and willing to forgive him.  

I'm praying this is not a trend.  I didn't know the man I saw today.  
He was not my "dad". 

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Hiking And CSI Don't MIx....

NicuK and I decided to take advantage of the nice weather recently and took our pups for a hike in the woods across from our new house.  Now, I know, it's a bad idea to explore woods after watching CSI and Criminal Minds, and instantly from the moment I stepped into the woods, I was on high alert.  

When we entered the woods, Fenna immediately started "hunting" for something.  I assumed she was looking for "deer raisins".  I then noticed a huge rib cage, spine and a femur sticking up in the air.  Immediately I looked at NicuK and said:  "God, I hope that's an animal!"  Upon closer inspection, we determined it was a deer.  By the looks of the decomposing body we are guessing the big guy had been dead for several months and due to the broken tines on his rack, we are assuming he was hit by a car.  Fenna was in heaven!  NicuK was not so much in heaven.  She had been watching for this deer for a while after seeing his hoof prints in our front yard, so to see such a magnificent guy dead was kind of a disappointing.  

On the way out of the woods, NicuK stopped suddenly, put her hand over her heart and goes:  "Oh God, that scared me!"  I couldn't quite see what she was looking at when she said this, and then I saw her.  After finding the dead deer and still in my CSI/Criminal Minds state of mind, I nearly had a heart attack!  For a second I thought we were going to have to call 911, and then I realized, she was just a mannequin with a bad hair cut who obviously, by the marks on her forehead had experienced a run in with some type of sharp object.  

I'm hoping for a little less excitement and a little more bravery by the time Spring in Ohio really arrives....

Saturday, March 10, 2018

My Dog Can Fly!

We don't call him Toad Hopper for nothin'!
My dog can fly!  
What's your dog's super power?!

Well meaning people say to me all the time: "Oh, I want a Malinois!"  And generally they've met a well behaved Malinois whose owner who really "gets" this breed.  I always answer their questions, but generally I try to talk them out of this breed for the picture above....

I often tell folks: "They aren't a dog, they're a lifestyle.  The only thing a Malinois does poorly is nothing.  The go ALL day long, and then are ready to go again."

I love this picture of Kay and Toad playing fetch this afternoon.
It really shows the athleticism behind this breed....