Today Has been ONE of THOSE Days……
You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? One of those days when your whole being is just irritated, raw, and your throbbing nerves are just waiting to scream at anything and anyone who crosses your path, for no particular reason and any reason. And your feet hurt because you felt as though you just had to wear the business heels because you work in a ‘business’ environment, even though you just usually wear flats, because for some reason you just woke up and said well I believe I’ll wear the heels today, I’ll look all professional. How ignorant is that? Pretty damned ignorant. Especially when you have to walk a half mile from your parking space to your building because some jackass of a planner never foresaw the need for adequate parking areas more than 20 years ago. And to put a fun spin on it all, being in West Texas, sometimes the wind blows, bringing sand and dust and dirt along with it to get in your eyes and under your contacts causing it to feel like there are meteor craters in your eye sockets that are scratching your corneas beyond repair. AND THEN you have to listen to people griping and bitching all day with voices that sound like cats that have been thrown across the room at a blackboard and each of their curved, sharp little claws are s l o w l y s c r e a c h I n g down the length of the blackboard and into your spine and you just want to crawl into a magic hole and disappear down into nothingness, a blessed absence of sound devoid of all and everything. And you just have to endure. Get through the day. And as you’re walking back out to your car in the murderously cute little heels that look so professional on your aching, tired feet, cursing yourself on the negligence of not bringing your tennis shoes for the trek to the car, you spy the guy. The guy that you see walking to class every day. The guy that has shriveled legs and has to walk swinging his hips around to place his tiny feet in front of him step by agonizingly slow step. The guy that has to use two metal crutches attached to his arms and his waist every day of his life. The one that tries so desperately to communicate with anyone who will listen and who endlessly smiles as you pass him on the path into the building. That guy. Out walking to his car in the same blowing dust and sand through which I am walking. And he has a smile on his face and a cheerful hello for me.
Whoa. Now hang on a minute. Talk about a dizzying crash into the reality of life. I had to sit in my car a while and ponder all of this. What in the world do I have to feel so bad about? Not one damn thing. I had to remind myself of something today. Something that I normally do quite often, but haven’t done lately. And that is to stop a moment and give thanks. Thanks for having my healthy two legs. For my ability to speak and communicate and have my needs known. Thanks for my mind and my eyes and for the gift of sight and hearing and thinking. Thanks for waking up each day, safe and warm in my own bed. For friendship and family. Thanks for so many many things. The list could go on for pages.
I am thankful that I am. So think about it, next time you have One of THOSE Days.
What should you be thankful for?
That’s the kind of day _I_ had. And it’s turned out much better than expected.
Have a great day tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
Great ride!
This is a darn cool picture taken by Kelsana.
Santa Cruz, California is home to some very talented surfers and awesome waves.
For the record, I wish I still lived in Santa Cruz. I would be out on the beach taking pictures every day.
Thanks for sharing Kelsana!
Santa Cruz, California is home to some very talented surfers and awesome waves.
For the record, I wish I still lived in Santa Cruz. I would be out on the beach taking pictures every day.
Thanks for sharing Kelsana!
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Faces of Tanner
I bet this kid could be a model. He has great eyes and a beautiful smile.
What do you say America?
What do you say America?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Light Shining Through Stained Glass
"People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."
Elizabeth Kübler-Ross
Elizabeth Kübler-Ross
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Friday, September 16, 2005
I hear Sirens Sounding Tonight...
I Hear Sirens Sounding Tonight………
And it takes me back… back to another Homecoming night, four years ago. I was supposed to drive my son and his date to the Homecoming game. I didn’t feel well that night so I told my son that he could use my Jimmy to pick up his date and go to the game. He had to be very careful because, at just 16 years old, he had only just gotten his permit, and he was supposed to have an adult driver in the car with him when he drove. He was a good driver, just inexperienced. So I allowed him to go in the car alone. At about 10 pm my phone rang and it was my son. He’d had an accident and he was okay but the car was bad off and he had hit two other cars, could I please come quick. I remember he sounded so very scared. I hurried to the scene, only a few blocks away. And he was okay, every one was okay. Nine people involved and not a one was hurt. But my car was totaled.
I was so angry. He hadn’t been paying attention. Mom, he said, Jethro Tull came on the radio and I leaned over to turn it up and the other car was there, right in front of me and I had to hit it. And then I lost control and it jumped the curb and hit the other one. I am sooo sorry Mom. I was just going to meet my friends at the restaurant after the game.
You know, I was pretty mad at the time. I remember being so very angry. Giving my son some very angry looks and just being so short with him. I remember being thankful that no one was hurt. Thankful that every one walked away. People could have died that night. An old man had ran a stop light, that coupled with my son looking away at the radio, all those instances had added up to the accident. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault. Not really.
I shouldn’t have been so mad. I wish I could take it back. My anger. Because, now, as I look back, it was a pretty small thing. In the grand scheme of all that is, a very small thing. Because 6 months later, Tyler was dead. Not from a car accident. But from electricity. Electricity killed my son. And I regret the angry words I said to him the night of the car accident. It would have been better, had I just said, something like, son, I wish you had been paying better attention, although I see that it wasn’t your fault, I love you and I am so very very glad that you are okay. I cannot remember if I said that. I hope that I said those words to him.
And I worry as I hear these sirens, because tonight, tonight his younger brother is in his own car, at his own senior homecoming. And I pray that he will be paying attention. And even more, I pray that he will know, no matter what may transpire, that his mother loves him. Unconditionally and without any doubt, I pray he knows that I will always always love him. Just like I love his brother. I always have and I always will.
And it takes me back… back to another Homecoming night, four years ago. I was supposed to drive my son and his date to the Homecoming game. I didn’t feel well that night so I told my son that he could use my Jimmy to pick up his date and go to the game. He had to be very careful because, at just 16 years old, he had only just gotten his permit, and he was supposed to have an adult driver in the car with him when he drove. He was a good driver, just inexperienced. So I allowed him to go in the car alone. At about 10 pm my phone rang and it was my son. He’d had an accident and he was okay but the car was bad off and he had hit two other cars, could I please come quick. I remember he sounded so very scared. I hurried to the scene, only a few blocks away. And he was okay, every one was okay. Nine people involved and not a one was hurt. But my car was totaled.
I was so angry. He hadn’t been paying attention. Mom, he said, Jethro Tull came on the radio and I leaned over to turn it up and the other car was there, right in front of me and I had to hit it. And then I lost control and it jumped the curb and hit the other one. I am sooo sorry Mom. I was just going to meet my friends at the restaurant after the game.
You know, I was pretty mad at the time. I remember being so very angry. Giving my son some very angry looks and just being so short with him. I remember being thankful that no one was hurt. Thankful that every one walked away. People could have died that night. An old man had ran a stop light, that coupled with my son looking away at the radio, all those instances had added up to the accident. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault. Not really.
I shouldn’t have been so mad. I wish I could take it back. My anger. Because, now, as I look back, it was a pretty small thing. In the grand scheme of all that is, a very small thing. Because 6 months later, Tyler was dead. Not from a car accident. But from electricity. Electricity killed my son. And I regret the angry words I said to him the night of the car accident. It would have been better, had I just said, something like, son, I wish you had been paying better attention, although I see that it wasn’t your fault, I love you and I am so very very glad that you are okay. I cannot remember if I said that. I hope that I said those words to him.
And I worry as I hear these sirens, because tonight, tonight his younger brother is in his own car, at his own senior homecoming. And I pray that he will be paying attention. And even more, I pray that he will know, no matter what may transpire, that his mother loves him. Unconditionally and without any doubt, I pray he knows that I will always always love him. Just like I love his brother. I always have and I always will.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Ben, our silent friend
The story of Ben....
one day in 1993 I decided our family needed a dog. Our last dog (a peke) had gone missing and the boys wanted a dog. So I decided I would go to the shelter and find some kind of high energy dog that would play with two high energy boys. Something like an Australian Shepherd or a Blue Heeler. Maybe a Lab. The shelter was full of dogs up for adoption. Mostly purebred dogs that looked pretty good. The metal building reverberated with barks bouncing off the walls. It was hard to hear yourself think. I walked around long rows of fairly large, comfortable looking kennels. The dogs were excited to have a chance for a home. Their faces and their barks were the embodiment of "Take me home with you Please!!!" Heelers and Cockers, Labs and Shelties, Schnauzers and poodles, a Doberman and a couple of curly haired mixed breeds _all_ vied for my attention at beyond decibels. All were barking, except one. In the very last kennel of the very last row, sat a sad, sorry looking reddish gold dog. Completely silent. He was so thin you could count all his ribs. His coat was clean, but very short and in very poor condition. As I walked past his kennel to start around the rows again, he moved with me as he sat in the very middle of his space. Still vocally silent, his eyes never left mine for an instant. I walked around again, not really thinking too much about the silent dog. the other dogs kept it loud enough without his contribution. I stopped int to see the Doberman, one of the Shelties and the best looking Heeler. All seemed like pretty decent dogs. I wasn't sure about the Heeler, the attendant said she thought he had never been around kids. the Doberman hated cats, the Sheltie was deaf. Just didn't seem like any of the ones I was interested in fit the total bill. So I made another round. And saw the sorry looking dog again. Still sitting in the middle, still silent.
Hhmmm... so I asked the attendant what his story was...she told me he'd been rescued by someone's neighbor who noticed that the dog had a collar so tight around his neck he could barely breathe and was almost starved to death. The collar had cut into his skin and the vet said he had serious damage to his throat. the dog was a purebred Golden Retreiver, although he didn't look it, and he was about 18 months old. And he weighed maybe 30 pounds. Mercy! he'd been at the shelter for 2 weeks and no one had shown any interest in adopting him. Hhhmm...She said he would probably be put down in a few days since they had a 3 week adoption policy because so many dogs were at the shelter. Most people didn't want a dog that couldn't bark. HHHHMMMM...well of course I had to ask her to let me in to meet this silent dog. As I walked in, he made no move, just sat there, looking at me. I walked up to him, holding my hand out and speaking low and slow to him. He still never moved. I walked up beside him and knelt down. As soon as I stretched out my hand, he, in a classic Goldie move, lifted his front paw and laid it on my knee, turning his head to look me in the eye. A voice spoke in my mind and said, this is the Dog. So of course I had a few more questions for the attendant, filled out some paper work, and took him home. His name became Bender, because I had gone out on a limb for an emaciated dog that could not bark. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
Within six months, Ben was the beautiful, golden dog he should have always been. His hair was long and silky, his confidence high, his entire being full of joy at his doggy life. But still silent.
Ben became our best family friend ever. In all the time we knew Ben, there were only two times he ever growled at any one, both times being a warning well-deserved, as he was guarding his boys. Ben never cost our family a penny at the Vet, other than for regular check-ups and shots. He was the most gentle, tolerant, well-behaved, intelligent dog I have ever had the pleasure to know.
On Memorial Day, 2005, we made the decision to help Ben leave his aged, failing body behind, and allowed him to become our friend in memory and spirit. We laid him to rest here at home, as is only right.
Ben, our silent and faithful friend, I salute your loving spirit. I miss you dearly.
one day in 1993 I decided our family needed a dog. Our last dog (a peke) had gone missing and the boys wanted a dog. So I decided I would go to the shelter and find some kind of high energy dog that would play with two high energy boys. Something like an Australian Shepherd or a Blue Heeler. Maybe a Lab. The shelter was full of dogs up for adoption. Mostly purebred dogs that looked pretty good. The metal building reverberated with barks bouncing off the walls. It was hard to hear yourself think. I walked around long rows of fairly large, comfortable looking kennels. The dogs were excited to have a chance for a home. Their faces and their barks were the embodiment of "Take me home with you Please!!!" Heelers and Cockers, Labs and Shelties, Schnauzers and poodles, a Doberman and a couple of curly haired mixed breeds _all_ vied for my attention at beyond decibels. All were barking, except one. In the very last kennel of the very last row, sat a sad, sorry looking reddish gold dog. Completely silent. He was so thin you could count all his ribs. His coat was clean, but very short and in very poor condition. As I walked past his kennel to start around the rows again, he moved with me as he sat in the very middle of his space. Still vocally silent, his eyes never left mine for an instant. I walked around again, not really thinking too much about the silent dog. the other dogs kept it loud enough without his contribution. I stopped int to see the Doberman, one of the Shelties and the best looking Heeler. All seemed like pretty decent dogs. I wasn't sure about the Heeler, the attendant said she thought he had never been around kids. the Doberman hated cats, the Sheltie was deaf. Just didn't seem like any of the ones I was interested in fit the total bill. So I made another round. And saw the sorry looking dog again. Still sitting in the middle, still silent.
Hhmmm... so I asked the attendant what his story was...she told me he'd been rescued by someone's neighbor who noticed that the dog had a collar so tight around his neck he could barely breathe and was almost starved to death. The collar had cut into his skin and the vet said he had serious damage to his throat. the dog was a purebred Golden Retreiver, although he didn't look it, and he was about 18 months old. And he weighed maybe 30 pounds. Mercy! he'd been at the shelter for 2 weeks and no one had shown any interest in adopting him. Hhhmm...She said he would probably be put down in a few days since they had a 3 week adoption policy because so many dogs were at the shelter. Most people didn't want a dog that couldn't bark. HHHHMMMM...well of course I had to ask her to let me in to meet this silent dog. As I walked in, he made no move, just sat there, looking at me. I walked up to him, holding my hand out and speaking low and slow to him. He still never moved. I walked up beside him and knelt down. As soon as I stretched out my hand, he, in a classic Goldie move, lifted his front paw and laid it on my knee, turning his head to look me in the eye. A voice spoke in my mind and said, this is the Dog. So of course I had a few more questions for the attendant, filled out some paper work, and took him home. His name became Bender, because I had gone out on a limb for an emaciated dog that could not bark. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
Within six months, Ben was the beautiful, golden dog he should have always been. His hair was long and silky, his confidence high, his entire being full of joy at his doggy life. But still silent.
Ben became our best family friend ever. In all the time we knew Ben, there were only two times he ever growled at any one, both times being a warning well-deserved, as he was guarding his boys. Ben never cost our family a penny at the Vet, other than for regular check-ups and shots. He was the most gentle, tolerant, well-behaved, intelligent dog I have ever had the pleasure to know.
On Memorial Day, 2005, we made the decision to help Ben leave his aged, failing body behind, and allowed him to become our friend in memory and spirit. We laid him to rest here at home, as is only right.
Ben, our silent and faithful friend, I salute your loving spirit. I miss you dearly.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Our Neighbor is Driving Us Crazy......!!!
I feel for the man, I really do. But A number 1, I have never liked visitors and B: I would like to royally pound whoever it was that broke into his house on Friday evening and stole not only his last 85 bucks but his TV as well. Because of that, my door is being literally knocked on every hour by this neighbor, for various reasons, but mostly because he now has no TV to watch and he’s scared too. Get this. On Friday night after I returned home, he came over and begged me to come see how the bad thief broke into his home and stole his most prized possession not to mention his money. As I got ready to leave he asked if one of us would stay and sleep on his sofa so the robbers would not come back and get him. Now what do you say to that?? There’s not much besides, I’m sorry, man, we can’t. I mean I guess I could. Mercy.
I tell you this for sure - Any person that would steal from a mentally handicapped person is lower than worm dung in my books.
Every one in the area knows this guy is handicapped. He tries his best. He has a job at the local grocery store. He drives his own car. He would help anyone in trouble. The neighbor is a nice man, but as I said, I am kind of anti-social in lots of ways, and I do not want to feel responsible for him. My own family is hard enough to keep track of.
I guess I’m going to have to help get him a TV some place.
**sigh**
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Ms. Buddy
Our family has had the pleasure of Buddy's company since she was 6 weeks old, in July of 1985. She kind of grew up with my boys, and began bonding with my son Tyler when he was about 5 years old (Tyler was born in August 1985). Buddy moved into his sunny room and they became good friends. Every day after school, he would come home and treat her to peanuts or Cheez-it's, her favorite snacks. Tyler would get her to say things like "I love you", "Pretty Pretty Bird" "Buddy wants a cracker" and "Here Ratt, Kitty, Kitty" (cat and bird are also good friends. pictures another time). Buddy recognizes her family and calls many of us by name. "Mama, Mama come here!!" is one of her most frequent lines. "Boys! get up, gotta go" is another. She would wait for Tyler to get home from school and at least 10 minutes before he opened the front door she would start calling him, "Tyler! Tyler! Tyler! Come here....Buddy wants a cracker!" as loud as she could, which is pretty loud :) This went on for many years. One day, when they were 15 years old each, Tyler yelled out, "Mom! An EGG!!!" and was very excited. Buddy had laid an egg and we knew then she was a girl. (She's laid three eggs altogether). Buddy did not like Tyler's school friends- if they were girls!, but she was a big hit with all the neighborhood kids when he would take her walking in the park.
One day, July 14, 2002, Tyler left for a birthday party and he never came home. He and his brother, Tanner, were critically injured in an electrical accident. Tyler died 10 days later, just a few days before his 17th birthday. (Tanner recovered from his injuries and is doing better every day)Buddy knew that something bad had happened to Tyler. Friends would come by to feed our family's pets while we camped at the hospital. They would relate that Buddy would make sobbing noises, and she would cry out, Tyler!, Tyler! "Let's go boys!".
Afterwards, when our family was trying to cope and we'd all started back to work, Buddy became very despondent. She began pulling her feathers out. She stopped eating and lost a lot of weight. She just sat on her playpen and would not play. Every single day, when I came home from work, I would open the front door, and she would sadly and plaintively cry out for Tyler. My heart shriveled a little more each time this happened. I worried we would lose Buddy too, so I took her in to our avian vet. He gave us wonderful advice. Get a new cage, new toys and move her out of Tyler's room. Play with her every day and say the same words to her that he would use. It would take time, but she would pull out of it. So I took his advice and she began to improve a little more each day. It's been three years since we lost Tyler. Now she only occaisionally calls his name. But she still says, almost every day, Boys! get up! Let's go". This I can live with, and I'm glad she decided to get well, because we love our bird.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Tragedy and Devastation
Collage created by Amerpie on September 7, 2005.
A series of Newspapers depicting the devastating hurricane Katrina's effect on the Southern United States.
A series of Newspapers depicting the devastating hurricane Katrina's effect on the Southern United States.