A Dog Named Flaco

I spent several hours today inconvenienced by a little black Chihuahua that found its way to our garage today. He followed my daughter home from a bike ride, despite her politely asking him not to. My husband was out building things in the garage and the friendly little guy just came running in. No collar and absolutely no reservations. He licked, jumped, wagged, and ended up on my patio because we live near a busy street and were afraid to let him wander off, lest he wander into traffic. I called him Scar because he had a giant, nasty, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his back...long healed over and hardened to protect itself.

Everyone seemed to enjoy this surprise guest but me. I wasn't the happiest. What if he's dirty? Fleas? Worms? Can he get my dogs sick? But I put water out for him and gave him treats, and when my daughter told me that she thought his scar was ugly, I told her not to judge a book by its cover. What if it was our Gracie out there, lost and alone? Wouldn't she want someone to take look after her for us until we found her? She agreed, and the pendulum quickly swung in the opposite direction as she named him and asked me a thousand times if we could keep him.

We hung a "FOUND DOG" sign on the telephone pole by the end of our street, and waited hopefully for the owner to call us while our visitor ran absolutely wild in the patio/backyard. My 7 year old passed the time talking baby talk to Scar and calling him our new pup. Each time he said it, my anxiety increased exponentially. My own two dogs went out and played with him for a bit, but my fears over his potential diseases made me bring them back inside, and so we had the joy of their incessant barking for about 90 minutes. I don't know what they were saying, but I'm sure it was about this stranger in their turf, having all the fun!

We called a neighbor to see if it was his, and he said, "NO, but there's a grey bulldog sitting outside my door that won't move". Although interesting, we did not investigate the bulldog. Our hands were full. The kids and I took the dog on a walk to the neighborhood across the street, and ran into a nice lady who took pictures to post on the local Facebook page. We were going to go all the way to the end of the street, but we saw a little dog barking at us, and thought it might be a friend of Scar, so we turned around to find him. He was gone by the time we got to where he had been. We knocked on a couple of doors, and then headed home.

Meanwhile, in my mind is the nagging thought that we are supposed to be Traveling tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and this dog is beginning to feel like he isn't going anywhere. Normally, people come around quickly after a dog escapes and ask if we've seen him. We were going on 4 hours already! So, I put him in car and went to nearest vet! Scar thought it was a delightful adventure. He climbed from the way back over the seats until he was on my lap, with his head out the window. The vet was closed for lunch, must be nice, but they saw us at the door and let us in! How lovely. Scar stood on the counter waiting to be scanned, and when they did scan him, it turned out that he had a chip! I was overjoyed. This little adventure would end soon! I expected an address very near to my house, but it came back as an address in Miami Beach...boo. I asked for the phone number, and turned to leave the vet. As we were leaving the lady who had helped us called out, "Oh, and his name is Flaco!" Hmm...alright Flaco, I thought. Let's get you home!

When we got in the car, I texted the number, and almost instantly I got a response! Yes, the man had a lost his dog. Yes, he lived near Hoffner. What color was the dog I found, because actually, he had lost two!!! He sent me his address and my phone guided me to his house because after 16 years in this town I still don't know how to get anywhere new. To my surprise, he lived on the very street that I had walked down with the kids earlier that day. We drove past the place where the little brown dog had barked at us, past the lady's house that took pictures for Facebook, and to the very end where a man greeted us, took his pup, and thanked us. I told him I was glad the story had a happy ending, and asked him if the other dog he lost was brown because we had seen one on this same street earlier. He said, no, "It’s a gray bulldog!" He was beside himself when I told him I thought I knew where that one was too. He followed me to our neighborhood and my husband walked him down to the neighbor's house that he had spoken to on the phone earlier. Sure enough, three minutes later they came back up the street holding a gray French bulldog. They found him still sitting in the same spot where it had been four hours earlier. And just like that, our adventure was over!

I don't know why all of that happened today- no idea really! But I am very glad that two dogs were reunited with their owner. I'm smiling now thinking of the fun my kids had with the little, unexpected adventure that wagged its way into our Monday, and I am happy that a dog named Flaco came to visit...and then went home!

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My Thoughts Toward Paris

11/13/15

I have no connection to Paris. I am not saddened because of WHERE this tragedy of terror happened; I am sad BECAUSE it happened.

I am sad because I am a person- a mom, wife, daughter, sister, teacher...and so were they.

This life is fragile, and precious, and it is always fine...until suddenly its not.

When I pray, it is not for Paris, it is for her people. For them to be comforted, for them to find the strength to go on amid such tragedy. It is also for the rest of us who were not directly touched.

Nations full of us.

That we would do something.

Whether it is to open our home to someone in need, or to vote, or to donate money, or to go and help where help is needed. Just let's do something to make this world a better, safer place for our children.

This Much I Know

I don't know much. Let's get that out of the way right now. The older my kids get, the more I realize that I don't know.
My daughter, Taryn, asks the most questions. But, at age 9, I suppose she has to set the bar for Trevor, almost 7, to live up to. Either way, they are a constant stream of questions, and more than anything I have to tell them that I don't know.

I don't know where that police car is going.
I don't know why some people like brownies with nuts in them.
I don't know why Taryn feels scared when she gets stomach aches, but Trevor doesn't.
I don't know why we decided to paint out house green.
I don't know if we will live in this house forever, or if we will move.
I don't know where we will move to, if we move.
I'm always sorry, but I just don't know...

Today we went to church. Our church is all about love. In fact, it's on all the marketing. We love "all people, at all times, in all places." At church it's easy to love. After all, we're only there for an hour, and we're surrounded by people who've read our flyers. After church is when the challenge starts. After church.

Today, after church, we went to lunch with some friends. On the way in, we passed a young man, in his twenties, sitting outside of the restaurant. He was patting his exhausted dog, who was lying flat panting like ours does after we've taken her to the dog park. He didn't say anything to us when we walked in, but my husband asked him how he was doing, and he said he was ok. We got inside and Jayme said, "I want to buy him lunch." I was afraid we might offend him. He hadn't asked for money or food, and what if he had been out exercising with his dog and they were just taking a break. Jayme went anyway, and chatted with the guy. They had a brief conversation, and Jayme got the guy's lunch order. A few minutes later he returned to the man with lunch, and water for the dog, and the guy said, "If you're not in heaven when I get there, I'm going to have a chat with Jesus." Jayme told him that he would be, and invited the young man to join us at church next week. He said we could even keep an eye on his dog so he could attend. The guy was surprised. "Really?" he said. My husband said, "Yeah man, we just want people there who want to be loved. That's what church is all about." The guy was even more surprised to hear that, and said he would try to be there.

After church I answered all the questions that flowed from the mouths of my inquisitive offspring.
I don't know if the guy will come to church.
I don't know why he is having hard times.
I don't know how he gets enough food for his dog.
I don't know why he can't live inside of Publix.

Per usual, I don't know.

This much I do know. I was proud of my husband today.
I was proud of the example he set for our kids for how to treat people with kindness, respect, and love.
I don't know if we were taken advantage of, or not. I don't know if the man contributes positively to our society or not. I don't know if he abuses drugs or alcohol, or if he has a job.

I do know that it doesn't matter. It isn't about what the people we show love to do with it. It's about the condition of our hearts. My kids saw love in action today, and that can only be a good thing.

Adventure Awaits

Approach each day with excitement because adventure awaits!

Life is a series of adventures. Maybe not the kind you buy a ticket and stand in line for, or the kind you pack a bag and get to the airport early for, but even more amazingly, the kind that you can't plan for because you don't even know they are coming! The moments that you are about to venture into have not yet been written. The wisest man on Earth cannot predict what will happen in the next moment of your life. The smartest physicist, the most brilliant psychiatrist, the most accurate meteorologist (wait, is that last one an oxymoron?)- none of them know what is going to happen to you next. Will you bump into an old friend at the grocery store, and end up going out to dinner? While at dinner, will you have a discussion about the loving the beach, only to have the server over-hear and ask you if you want to take his free week at a beach house that he won in a raffle? Probably not, actually. But the point is that you never know, and therein lies the adventure.

Being an adventurer is not about having enough currency to create one, rather it is about having enough desire to find one. Your life is only as boring as you decide that it is. Be kind. As you let people in, your interactions with them will lead you down new and exciting paths. (No, that is not from a fortune cookie, but read it again because it really sounds like it is.) Take opportunities that are presented to you, and don't decide you won't try new things because you can think of 100 reasons why you may fail. Be present. Be in the moment. Stop being a control freak, and let life take you on a wild ride. You just might realize that you're on an adventure.

#adventureawaits

Considering Time Travel? Think Twice.

Yesterday I was texting a friend of mine, who happens to bear the brunt of my random and ridiculous thoughts, and this blog post is pretty much the result.

I disagree with everyone who wants to time travel. I'm not saying that you're definitely wrong, but when I asked the old Magic 8 ball if you are it said, "Signs point to yes". So. There's that.

Time travel has an undeniable appeal. A cool factor. A "Hey, look what I can do!" aspect to it, but if we really THINK ABOUT IT it's the worst idea ever. I am not even talking about the fact that you may travel to a time and place that you didn't expect to.

"I thought traveling back to the beginning of time would be cool, but I appeared at the foot of a hungry T Rex!!"


Nor am I even considering that your much anticipated voyage through time may be a one way trip!

"Oh no! 1492 was cool but I didn't want to stay here forever!"

No, I am simply talking about the fact that in order to time travel your very molecules need to be split apart and reassembled, in the correct sequence of atoms might I add, in another time and place. Basically, you must be temporarily erased AND then trust that whatever energy or force propelled you through the time worm hole could recreate you, exactly as you. I feel pretty strongly about the fact that temporarily erasing me is not a viable option. Not even if I can finally go to a time where The Jetsons aren't the biggest liars ever, and there are actually flying cars and robot maids.

Next time you are dreaming about stepping inside of a Delorean and watching your parents have their first kiss at an Enchantment Under the Sea Dance, maybe just think twice about it.

I can't say for sure that I'm right, but I can say "Outlook not so good."

Weeds or wishes?

It's all in how you look at the world, isn't it?

My elderly neighbor, Miss Emmy, is in her 80's and independent as they come. Her husband passed away long ago, and it is Miss Emmy who maintains the house. She has always push mowed, and taken care of her yard herself, and she has her massive Live Oak trees trimmed religiously. For the past couple of months she has been in assisted living. We have missed seeing her take her evening walks, and Taryn particularly has missed having her to chat with. A favorite past time for our little eight year old has always been to just go sit with Miss Emmy in her driveway as she enjoys the cooler evening air.

When Miss Emmy left, we were told she would just be gone for a couple of weeks while they got her medications adjusted, but a couple of weeks has turned into a couple of months, and her once well manicured lawn has become weedy and unkempt. I stopped today, walking past, to take a photo to send to my husband, suggesting we mow it in her absence. Her granddaughter hasn't been by recently, and Miss Emmy would hate to return home and see how the weeds are taking over. I got down at lawn level to take a picture of all of the weeds, and my 6 year old son stooped down right next to me and said, "That's going to be a great picture, Mommmy. You got all of the most beautiful dandelions in it!" Then his sister picked one to make a wish, that she was sure not to tell me or it wouldn't come true, and he cautioned her, "Don't take anymore, Taryn. We need to leave wishes for other people."

I smiled at those two cuties. I thought about running through our huge backyard as a kid in Maine, kicking the puffball dandelions so that the white fuzz would go flying, or making a wish and blowing on them with all my might.

I don't know when dandelions came to mean weeds instead of wishes for me, but I hope my kids to see them as conduits for wishes forever. That's a much better way to view the world.

"Even when we grow up, we can still whisper our wishes upon the wind..." Jill Hanna

Stupid Thick Mugs

I am not a fan of mugs. Other than a couple of times, I have not willingly had coffee from a mug in my adult life. Now, perhaps I respectfully have accepted a mugful of coffee to be polite, but when I make my own coffee I "Go Mugless or Go Home". I prefer to use my paper coffee cups with lids, so I might not spill. Plus, I am usually taking my coffee in the car with me to head to work, and they travel well.

I am not a mug-hater. I have a few mugs that I love, like my "Got Bon Jovi?" mug that was given to me as the best late Christmas present ever. That one just makes me smile. It is covered with images of one of my favorite crooners, Jon Bon Jovi, and reminds me of the time we held hands. Yes, I initiated it. Yes, it was in the middle of a concert surrounded by 10,000 fans, but trust me, we both appreciated the moment. I could tell by the way he stopped to, ever so gently, shake me off so that he could move on that it was special. I also love my set of Nordic gnome mugs. They make me laugh because I once had a classroom mascot who was a gnome, named Jack For No Reason, and they remind me of those happiest of times with him hiding around my classroom.

Aside from those, however, I have a cabinet full of mugs that just make me mad. There they sit, all heavy, and thick rimmed. Reminding me that I could not use them even if I wanted to because coffee would drool right out the sides of my mouth. I can't get a proper seal on those thick rimmed mugs, and I always feel drinking-impaired when I try to casually sip my coffee from such a mug. I usually end up having to use my tongue on the mug. And trust me, you should not have to use your tongue to make your mouth strong enough to sip. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. Or never. I've really said it never, until now, but I do believe it.

I have a smallish house. Space is at a premium, and those mugs are mocking me...taking up space I do not have to spare. Stupid thick mugs that I hate. I am pondering your demise. So, sleep well in my comfy cabinets while you can. Your end shall be, and it shall be sooner than later.

I apologize for the dark and threatening tone of today's blog. Once I handle those mugs, I predict that things will be all sunshine and rainbows. (Haha, handle the mugs. See what I did there?)

"I do not like coffee mugs, and I am a successful human being. Therefore, successful human beings do not like coffee mugs." -Jennifer Lynn Andreson Freitas