Thank you for all the kind words yesterday about my family’s loss of our dog Bingo yesterday.
Today has been a sad day as you can imagine. As I’ve said before, my dog was more of a shadow than anything. She followed me everywhere, especially in the morning as I got ready. Probably since she knew I would be leaving the house to go to work, she always wanted to stick close to me until I left.
As I walked out of bed and didn’t have to step over her, or when I showered when she normally laid on the mat waiting for me, I was sad knowing she would never be there again. I’m sure when I go home in a few hours, not being greeted by her at the front door will bring up that sadness as well. Her tail a wagging as she was so excited.
My goal this post is not to be sad, but to celebrate what many people have found in their lives. Our Pet’s are our family. Especially for those like myself that never had children. They become your children. Especially after 14 years together.
But a dog’s love is different. I love cats, but they are independent and can have an attitude at times. But that is part of their charm.
A dog however, they only want to love you and for you to love them back.
They just want to let you know that they will always be there for you…
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They teach us to just relax and let the wind blow in our fur I mean hair and enjoy the ride…
Thank you to those of you that shared your story of a lost pet and for those of you who shared that you recognize that your beloved “child” is nearing the end as well.
Fill your heart with happy memories. Sure they might make you sad, but even in death, our dogs continue to show us the love they had for us. All you have to do is revisit these memories.
Last week when I busy doing my little series about the days of the week ~ my birthday came and went.
(Please hold down the applause that I survived another year and how excited you are that I get to make you laugh for another one) 😀
Birthdays have always been weird in my family. My sisters (one more than the other) are big into birthdays. Celebrating the day of your life. I on the other hand, appreciate the birthday, but since I’ve worked almost every single birthday, most of the time it is just another day. This year included. (for the record, my brother falls somewhere in between)
When I was young, we didn’t have much money. My mom was very young when she had me (she had just turned16) and had four of us by the time she was 21. So as you can imagine, money was tight. But my mom always did what she could to make us feel special on our birthdays.
As I got closer to my 16th birthday, I secretly wished for what every 16 year old lays in bed praying about. Yep, getting a car for my birthday. Now, logically I knew this was impossible. We simply had no money. But that reality doesn’t sink into a 16 year old’s head. The dream stays alive. The hope burns internal.
When my 16th birthday arrived I laid in bed praying that some miracle happened overnight. That some how my mom found a way.
SIDE NOTE: What’s interesting is, we all get this feeling, long after our youth. How many times has your mind & heart dreamt of the possibility even though the little voice inside was trying to tell you not to expect it?(the 1/2 billion dollar lottery couple weeks ago being a great example)
Back to my story….
That morning after saying those last little prayers, I began my new year of life.
Like taking off a band-aid, I might as well just rip it off….
There was no car sitting in our drive way with a big red bow on it. 🙁
Nope. Not even a little hot wheels one for a good laugh.
Now, before I tell you what I did get, let me explain something many of you don’t know. I’m a tomboy. Always have been. If I wasn’t doing my homework I was outside playing over the line (baseball for 3-5), tennis or something with my brother and our friends. My brother always got the better toys in my mind. It drove my mom nuts that I refused to put on a dress. No freaking way was that going to happen. The word “Girly” and Tammy just weren’t used in the same sentence in my house.
With that said, what did I get? I got 3 things…a $50 check, a $50 bill & a green figuring with a girl in a dress (gasp) holding a cake with a 16 on top.
Now, when a tomboy wants a car for their 16th birthday, the last thing they are expecting is a girl in a green dress.
You can only imagine the amount of pouting I did that day. I wasn’t mad at my mom. I knew there was no way I was getting a car. But for a few weeks that dream was alive in my mind and it felt real.
As the days passed, my mom needed to borrow the $50 bill for food or bills or something, and I’m pretty sure I never cashed the check (knowing my mom could use the money more than I could). The little girl in green went on a shelf as a reminder that she wasn’t the car I really had wanted.
But what might shock and surprise you is… it has been 30 years since I received the Girl in Green. She has moved 16 times (ironic I know) & across four states with me. And she still sits on a shelf in my home office. Not a crack, a chip or anything. She no longer reminds me of the car I didn’t receive. Today she reminds me of how much my mother loves me and how much she loved me that day I turned 16. And I wouldn’t trade her for anything. (the figurine and my mom – LOL)
The Girl in Green
Besides, had I gotten the car, I’m not sure it would have fit on my shelf 30 years later.
We might not always get the presents we want, but we usually get the presents we are suppose to.
I was reading a fellow blogger speak of a recent family get together and a story that comes up each time and how different each person recalls the event in question. It got me thinking about how often this happens in my own family as I’m sure it does in yours.
I always say There are three truths to any story. This side, that side and the real one in the middle.
Each truth is as real to the person as if it happened yesterday. Even if the truth is lost back in 1970. Time has added bits and parts to help the story along. Gaps filled in that time has eroded. But when the story is told, it is someone’s truth and they are adamant that it occurred exactly that way.
Both my sisters have steal trap door memories. Mine is more like a saloon door swinging with the wind and tumble weeds.
When my family gets together in any way, shape, or form (in person, via phone, etc) a story from the past is bound to creep in. Don’t you remember when…. is a terrible phrase for me to hear. Terror and panic set in as I’m almost 100% certain I will not have the first clue as to what they will be saying. And when I don’t even have a glimmer in my eye, I know I’m in trouble. I’d like to say I’m only in trouble with my siblings but the reality is, this memory retention issue is way bigger than that. I pretty much suck in any recall other than what impacts me today.
Einstein once said he didn’t memorize anything he could look up. He needed his mind for the bigger issues. Maybe when I heard this years ago I adopted his philosophy and immediately emptied my recycling bin on my memories hard drive.
Sometimes I feel bad that I don’t recall. After all, some of those moments meant something to the other person otherwise why would they even have it floating around in their noggin? And it’s not that they didn’t mean anything to me. Sometimes when they are telling me about it, I do recall and remember some wonderful memories.
Think of it this way, many of my memories are just stored in a box in storage. I felt they were important enough to keep, I just didn’t think I needed to keep them in the house since I probably wouldn’t be needing them tomorrow. I can get to them if I need them.
So, next time you ask me if I recall something, don’t get mad that I don’t recall within the first 5 words. I’m sure they are in there somewhere. You just need to bring a flashlight, a shoehorn and a wee bit of patience. 😀
When I was younger I was a TV fanatic long before TiVo, remote controls, cable and 350 stations. I couldn’t wait for the new issue of TV Guide to come out. I would read it cover to cover. Looking for all my favorites so as not to miss any of them. For a brief while I even collected the TV Guides thinking they would be worth something.
This passion for TV lasted for a long, long time. I still love my shows today but I’m no longer as obsessed as I was then. Back then it was my form of escape. My mom would always wonder how I did my homework with the TV on, the radio on and still get good grades. I guess you could say I’ve always been a multi-tasker.
Through the course of the year, I’ll share some of my favorite TV memories (I’ve shared my love of Get Smart all ready).
In 1977 I was only 11 years old. And a new show came on called SOAP. SOAP told the story of the rich Tates & the working class Campbells. It was a knock off of day time soaps with a major comedic take on it all. It had murder, sex, crazy families, all the things good soaps have. And I loved it.
What I loved most though was this was my time with my mom.
I have 3 younger siblings and as you can imagine, her time was taken up by all of us. But Tuesday nights were mine. Each week for the 4 years that show was on TV, my mom and I would sit together and watch this awesome show. Some would say that maybe this show wasn’t the most appropriate but my mom knew I was mature enough to realize the comedy of the whole thing.
We were so bummed when the show was cancelled. We still watched TV but it was never the same. Nothing touched us as a pair like this show did. Who knows why, but we both laughed so much and just loved this show.
The show went off the air in 1981. It is 30 years later and to this day we still have a little joke we do from the show.
Billy Crystal’s character was the smart one and his TV brother’s character (played by Ted Wass) was a little on the slower side. On one show, Billy’s character is leaving and says to his brother…“CHAO” ….and his brother replies… “GRUB!”…
OMG, we laughed our butts off. To this day it makes me laugh so hard.
Every once in awhile one of us will say to the other “CHAO” and the other will reply “GRUB!”….
I miss those Tuesday nights, but I still have the memories… I Love Ya Ma….
I’ve been making Valentine’s Day cakes all day. And as usual, I’m covered with icing, whip topping and ice cream. I’m not sure why I can stay clean some days and a complete mess the next. One reason is, I’m always wiping my hands on my shirt. That doesn’t help. LOL.
I’d like to say this is a new development in my life, but the truth is, I have a knack for getting stuff all over my clothes. What seems like a lifetime ago, when I was Department Head of the Paint Department, I was always covered in paint. Paint, tint and dust. Typically a combination of all three. I’d never wipe my hands on my apron, but for some reason I preferred to wipe under my apron??? Yep, all down the sides of my pants. Finger prints of all colors.
I remember one day I was filling the tint machine and reached up to grab the tin of magenta. I reached up and started to pull it down, and then it all poured down my arm and back. Yep, someone had opened it and put it back up there. Only in my world would I have been the one that it spilled down. Boy was it cold.
Another day, the closers forgot to take the trash out. I’m talking to one of my team, and fling the bag over my back to take out. As we are talking, I felt that same cold sensation down my back leg. Only this time, it was yellow tint leaking out the bag. All you can do is laugh.
My final memory of this time period was the right of passage that each new member in a paint department goes through. The spilling of your first can of paint. My entire department basically was new and one by one they each dropped their can and a huge paint puddle pool was born. However, there were three of us who refused to go down. We went months without our initiation into the club.
Then one fateful day, lady luck turned on us. Two of us were mixing paint when we heard the third of our trio yell out and a big boom. We turn the corner only to see a puddle forming. We knew we were down to two as Charles soon joined the ranks of the spillers. As Greg and I mixed paint we gave him grief. Now this was in the days of the old mixers where you had little arms that flapped down to hold the can in and you yanked them out. Not 5 minutes after the spill, I hear another grumbling under the breath as I noticed that Greg now has knocked over one of the cans he was putting tint into. Then there was one.
Yep, I was the lone hold out. As two of my compadres cleaned up their paint messes, I was laughing my butt off. I took over the paint mixing for Greg as he cleaned up his new mess and when I lifted up one of his cans to put it in the paint mixer. I saw it in slow motion….. The lid was never hammered on and paint gushed out the can, all down the front of my shirt and apron.
In a matter of 10 – 15 minutes, the three of us went down. We were officially welcomed by the paint gods into their world.
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Years later, I’m still capable of wearing a mess on my clothes, but I am slowly turning over my crown to my my protege. I have a young woman that works for me that puts me to shame. I look like the Orbit Gum lady compared to her. She starts off all clean and by the end of the night she is wearing pretty much all 31 flavors. Someday I’ll have to share more about her messiness. Trust me, it’s worth a post all on it’s own.
As you probably have heard by now, Whitney Houston has passed. While we don’t know why, one can’t help but wonder if years of drug use has taken it’s toll…or claimed her life.
Whitney was only a little older than myself and I was a huge fan, especially during her early years of success. My friends and I would drive around thumping out her music. I had all her CDs (or tapes depending on the time). She easily had the best voice around. This is before the other powerhouse women came out. (Celine, Mariah, etc) The original was Whitney.
I got so much joy from driving down the road, blasting out her music, pretending to sing as well as she did. God only knows I wasn’t even close, but in the confines of my vehicle, I was.
It is a shame that many people will remember her for the last 15 years of her drug use and falling from the premier singer she was. For years, I have said it is such a waste of talent and I felt the sadness of missing her powerful voice.Praying she would make a comeback. But alas the damage was done to her vocal cords.
But as I sit here writing this, still not knowing what details that might come out, I promise one thing. I will remember Whitney for the awesome singer she was. I will turn my itouch on later and listen to her greatest hits and remember the smiles, the laughter, the fun I always had listening to her music. This will be how I choose to remember Whitney.
