I am probably the world's worst blogger. For many reasons.
Since February, life has been somewhat mellow for us. The boy turned 7, with another birthday party at the putt-putt/bumper cars place. Happy to say that the employee we dealt with was much nicer than the owner was last year. For his 8th, we are going to invite 3 friends to Cedar Point. No big party with 20 rowdy kids, an expensive cake, and stress. Just his best buddies and a fun filled day at the Point. Done.
I let Jewel Kade slip away from me over the spring and summer, but am trying to get back in the swing for fall and winter. It's super easy money, and since my unemployment ran out in February, every dollar helps. Dan has been so wonderful working tons of overtime helping make ends meet, and he really enjoys his job, so he doesn't ever seem to mind. He makes great money without the OT, so with it we are able to live the lives we are used to which is good, because I have very little self control. Or, I don't know, maybe it's not a good thing.
We mourned the 1 year anniversary of the loss of our little buddy, Beady. Dan and I both got tattoo's of his name. Sure miss him every day. We buried him in the back yard with a special "Zebra" rock we chose just for him, placed at the end of a row of bleeding hearts. The bleeding heart plants have been dead for several weeks except for the one closest to his grave. I'm not religious and I don't want to think that the plant is alive because his body is fertilizing it, but it is a sign. It means something. It makes me smile every time I look at his rock through the half bath window. I know he's there and his spirit is alive.
The boy is loving 2nd grade and his new teacher. He's in an advanced math class, chess club, Spanish club and he plays soccer. He hates writing and has terrible handwriting. Very frustrating to someone like me who used to get paid to address wedding invitations. Still loves to read and spends a lot of time in the car reading, brings books or magazines to restaurants, Dr. offices, and reads at home frequently. He's supposed to read 15 minutes a day each month to earn a pizza hut coupon from school, which has never been a problem.
I had a hysterectomy in August, best thing ever. Super happy to have a specialist who understood and empathized and did not hesitate to help. While the pre-surgical testing, bloodwork, procedures revealed the human papillomavirus and abnormal cells in my cervix, an undefined irregular ekg, which required extra testing and then a twisted cyst on my ovary during surgery, I am so thankful to have had the surgery. I was in such daily pain that my quality of life had drastically decreased, I was depressed, I gained weight, I lacked motivation...the list goes on. I feel whole again, almost "normal". Had forgotten what normal felt like. I like it.
I'm in my last semester at Owens and have been accepted at the University of Toledo. I really dislike all of my classes this semester which is making it difficult to stay motivated. Graduating and transferring to UT is exciting and scary at the same time since I think I have to get a job when I finish at Owens. Working full time and going to school part time + is going to be difficult, but I'm doing it anyway...unless I can figure out how to go to school full time and work part time. I've switched my major to Psychology, but may switch again to Sociology or Social Work.
I'm going to try to work on my blogging frequency and am working on a couple different angles so I don't have to get a full time job in a couple months. Hopeful Jewel Kade will kick back in for me as well as I love the company and the jewelry and doing home parties.
More to come, I promise. Ha.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
A powerful hug
Clearly, written back in December. See...I write posts and never post them. Ugh. Such a terrible blogger.
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Sure, I've watched the news coverage, but not much of it. I can't handle it. I'm one of those people who cries during Hallmark commercials. Actually, it used to be worse, but the meds I take for Fibromyalgia seem to help keep my overly sensitive emotions in check. For some reason.
20 children were violently and senselessly murdered. That will never be ok. And it is even less ok in the month of December. I'm not religious. I don't pretend to be. My child goes to a Roman Catholic school because it's free for us. And because the public schools in our area suck. Christmas to me is about family, celebration, good food, donations, holiday programs, and friends. And most importantly, it's about the pure joy on my son's face when he sees what Santa has delivered on Christmas eve. One of my favorite photos was Christmas day 2010, when my boy came down the steps wearing his cougar hat.
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Sure, I've watched the news coverage, but not much of it. I can't handle it. I'm one of those people who cries during Hallmark commercials. Actually, it used to be worse, but the meds I take for Fibromyalgia seem to help keep my overly sensitive emotions in check. For some reason.
20 children were violently and senselessly murdered. That will never be ok. And it is even less ok in the month of December. I'm not religious. I don't pretend to be. My child goes to a Roman Catholic school because it's free for us. And because the public schools in our area suck. Christmas to me is about family, celebration, good food, donations, holiday programs, and friends. And most importantly, it's about the pure joy on my son's face when he sees what Santa has delivered on Christmas eve. One of my favorite photos was Christmas day 2010, when my boy came down the steps wearing his cougar hat.
The pure joy on his face. It melts my heart. Every time I see it.
The parents of these babies who were so senselessly murdered will never see that pure joy on their child's face again. And it breaks my heart.
My boy is in first grade. These children were in first grade. 20 children, TWENTY. There are 18 children in my boys class. Can you imagine some idiot with a gun, not just a gun, a military style assault weapon with a high capacity magazine, walking into your child's first grade classroom and brutally slaughtering everyone inside? I cannot.
I grieve for the families. I grieve for the first responders. Oh.My.Gosh. what that scene must have looked like. I can't get that out of my mind. 20 children blown away with an assault weapon. Some most likely unidentifiable. It is so unimaginable to write, I can't imagine how it looked. How will those responders ever get those images out of their minds? How would anyone? They are trained to deal with difficult situations, but I can guarantee they were never trained to deal with a scenario like this.
I enjoy target shooting. I've shot rifles, pistols and revolvers. I have taken my CCW class. I fully intend to carry a concealed weapon someday. I have no idea if I would be able to protect other people in the event they would need protection.
My boy saw the news a few days after the tragedy. He said to me "mommy, did you hear about all of those kids who were shot in school?" I told him that I had heard about it and asked how he felt about it. He said it was bad and the shooter was a bad person. He also told me that his school has locked doors, security cameras and that you have to get buzzed in. We talked about the tragedy for only a few minutes when a picture of the shooter appeared on the tv screen. He read the caption and said "wow, that guy even looks crazy! Only a crazy person would do that, right mama?" I agreed. I do not to place all people with mental illness in a "crazy" or "bad" category, of course. I asked if he was scared and he said no.
I'm not sure he fully understands the magnitude of the tragedy. I'm not even sure I do.
It really wasn't until last week that this tragedy really hit me hard. I was laying in bed with my boy at bedtime (judge if you wish, I don't care) and he wrapped both arms around me and hugged me so tight and said "I love you so much mama", and I started to sob silently. He hugged tighter. I hugged back. We both dozed off to sleep locked in an enormous hug. I woke up a short time later and slipped out of his hug and bed, sobbing, and went into my own bed.
What would I do without this child? My heart breaks for every one of these families.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A scholar are I.
It's October, the horrific summer heat is just a bad memory, there's a chill in the air, the days are shorter, and I am happier.
I notice that my last post was about my upcoming automobile review. I will get back to that later.
Today I am going to write a bit more about school. I took 4 classes over the summer. It was a condensed 8 week semester, but the 4 classes were easy and I fared well. Comp II, Geology (Science elective), Fundamentals of Computers (required!), and General Psychology. I positively hated the Geology and Computer classes, and did the required work but was not happy about it. Comp II was different than I expected. I did like this teacher, but she had a very odd approach to teaching. She was very hands off and we got out of class early every time. Some days we would only be there for a half hour.
I fell head over heels in like for my Psychology teacher. He is not my type. Really *really* skinny, Scandinavian, dark blond hair, blue eyes, pretty boy. The more I got to know him, the more I learned about his past and that he was a "bad boy". That's more like it. Anyway, I positively loved his style of teaching and he was incredibly engaging. The eye candy was great, sure, but there was more than that. He was interesting. So interesting that I signed up for his Abnormal Psych class in the fall.
Which takes us to today. I am taking Math for idiots, Communications (speech), Intro to Literature, and Abnormal Psychology. I was taking Chinese I but had to drop it due to Dan being switched to 2nd shift. Really bummed me out as Chinese is only offered in the evening, but I had to sacrifice. I actally (gasp! choke!) *like* my Math class. I hated math in High School and nearly flunked each year. I never really *got* it. I thought this instructor was going to be a jerk based on his initial electronic communication, but turns out he is a weird quirky old man who is actually TEACHING me math. I find him interesting and I find his style interesting. I remember nearly nothing about HS Math classes. Well, actually, I remember exactly nothing, which is why I am in remedial math. Yeah, I know the basics: adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, and honestly those are the only tools I have ever used in my 25 working years, but now I am learning the rest. It is yet to be seen if these new math skills will ever be used, but whatever, here I am.
Communications class is, well, sort of fun, but sort of boring. I like the teacher alright - at first I had a hard time focusing on anything other than her facial stubble and side mouth goo, but she has grown on me. I like speaking in front of people - Jewel Kade helped me with that - and I like working with different groups of people, so it's fun. It's an easy - EASY - A. And who doesn't like that.
Intro to Literature is, uhm, weird. Our instructor is published author, she is a single cat lady and her gazes linger my direction more than I feel comfortable with. She reads stories to us. I often feel like I should sit criss-cross-applesauce on a carpet while she reads to us. And I would suggest it...if I didn't fear how I would get up off the floor. Anyway, we have to read one novel, about 2 dozen short stories and write 3 papers for this class. It's easy peasy, especially for someone who likes to read and write.
Abnormal Psych is fun, and engaging, and well, Mr Hottie is teaching it. I actually find the material interesting too. Learning about crazies. I feel like we are discussing my people.
I loved Chinese class. It was hard, but not as hard as I anticipated. The instructor is a sweet lady from Beijing who speeks choppy English. I had to chuckle each time she would talk about "vowels". The Chinese alphabet does not have the letter "v", so that's why many of them cannot pronounce it. She would say "bowels", and we would look at her puzzled. It wasn't until she wrote the word on the board that we understood what bowels were. It was great. I am really bummed.
I am registering for Spring semester now and discovered that Chinese is only offered in the evening. I am researching if I take it at another college that it will apply to my degree. I sure hope so.
Dan will be on 2nd shift, which is quite possibly the most ridiculous shift ever, until May 2013. I was hoping to be done with school by then, but it doesn't look like that will happen. I sure like being a student though. How much more challenging and rewarding is school than work? A hundred percent, if you ask me. I have worked for 25 years, worn many different hats, and it hasn't been since I managed the Marketing Department at ASB 13 years ago that I actually felt rewarded.
My unemployment compensation will run out around that same time. I am thinking of working part time for the school to make up the difference. Dan has made considerably more in 7 months at his new job than he made in 12 months at Roadway. So, I hope we will be ok with me working part time and finishing school. I plan to transfer to UT for my Bachelors and then we'll see. Maybe keep going...
I notice that my last post was about my upcoming automobile review. I will get back to that later.
Today I am going to write a bit more about school. I took 4 classes over the summer. It was a condensed 8 week semester, but the 4 classes were easy and I fared well. Comp II, Geology (Science elective), Fundamentals of Computers (required!), and General Psychology. I positively hated the Geology and Computer classes, and did the required work but was not happy about it. Comp II was different than I expected. I did like this teacher, but she had a very odd approach to teaching. She was very hands off and we got out of class early every time. Some days we would only be there for a half hour.
I fell head over heels in like for my Psychology teacher. He is not my type. Really *really* skinny, Scandinavian, dark blond hair, blue eyes, pretty boy. The more I got to know him, the more I learned about his past and that he was a "bad boy". That's more like it. Anyway, I positively loved his style of teaching and he was incredibly engaging. The eye candy was great, sure, but there was more than that. He was interesting. So interesting that I signed up for his Abnormal Psych class in the fall.
Which takes us to today. I am taking Math for idiots, Communications (speech), Intro to Literature, and Abnormal Psychology. I was taking Chinese I but had to drop it due to Dan being switched to 2nd shift. Really bummed me out as Chinese is only offered in the evening, but I had to sacrifice. I actally (gasp! choke!) *like* my Math class. I hated math in High School and nearly flunked each year. I never really *got* it. I thought this instructor was going to be a jerk based on his initial electronic communication, but turns out he is a weird quirky old man who is actually TEACHING me math. I find him interesting and I find his style interesting. I remember nearly nothing about HS Math classes. Well, actually, I remember exactly nothing, which is why I am in remedial math. Yeah, I know the basics: adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, and honestly those are the only tools I have ever used in my 25 working years, but now I am learning the rest. It is yet to be seen if these new math skills will ever be used, but whatever, here I am.
Communications class is, well, sort of fun, but sort of boring. I like the teacher alright - at first I had a hard time focusing on anything other than her facial stubble and side mouth goo, but she has grown on me. I like speaking in front of people - Jewel Kade helped me with that - and I like working with different groups of people, so it's fun. It's an easy - EASY - A. And who doesn't like that.
Intro to Literature is, uhm, weird. Our instructor is published author, she is a single cat lady and her gazes linger my direction more than I feel comfortable with. She reads stories to us. I often feel like I should sit criss-cross-applesauce on a carpet while she reads to us. And I would suggest it...if I didn't fear how I would get up off the floor. Anyway, we have to read one novel, about 2 dozen short stories and write 3 papers for this class. It's easy peasy, especially for someone who likes to read and write.
Abnormal Psych is fun, and engaging, and well, Mr Hottie is teaching it. I actually find the material interesting too. Learning about crazies. I feel like we are discussing my people.
I loved Chinese class. It was hard, but not as hard as I anticipated. The instructor is a sweet lady from Beijing who speeks choppy English. I had to chuckle each time she would talk about "vowels". The Chinese alphabet does not have the letter "v", so that's why many of them cannot pronounce it. She would say "bowels", and we would look at her puzzled. It wasn't until she wrote the word on the board that we understood what bowels were. It was great. I am really bummed.
I am registering for Spring semester now and discovered that Chinese is only offered in the evening. I am researching if I take it at another college that it will apply to my degree. I sure hope so.
Dan will be on 2nd shift, which is quite possibly the most ridiculous shift ever, until May 2013. I was hoping to be done with school by then, but it doesn't look like that will happen. I sure like being a student though. How much more challenging and rewarding is school than work? A hundred percent, if you ask me. I have worked for 25 years, worn many different hats, and it hasn't been since I managed the Marketing Department at ASB 13 years ago that I actually felt rewarded.
My unemployment compensation will run out around that same time. I am thinking of working part time for the school to make up the difference. Dan has made considerably more in 7 months at his new job than he made in 12 months at Roadway. So, I hope we will be ok with me working part time and finishing school. I plan to transfer to UT for my Bachelors and then we'll see. Maybe keep going...
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Missing a purr
Here I sit, suffering from insomnia once again. I have been going to bed by 9pm for so long that the past few weeks of insomnia seem really foreign to me. I guess I've only had a few bouts of insomnia in my life, and typically get 8-9 hours of sleep a night. I can't sleep.
We lost our cat 3 weeks ago. He is the first pet I have lost as an adult. We lost a couple pets growing up, but frankly, I don't remember how difficult it was or how long I mourned. I am having an absolutely horrendous time with our little buddy's passing. Beady. Real name: Morpheous.
He bit and scratched my mother and my father, my friend Robb, and my friend Kelly. He adored my friend Melissa. He never warmed up to Zane. He would let Zane carry him around, but would never come up to Zane on his own. He thought the dog was the stupidest thing ever (true). He made some of the weirdest noises. His meow was not one you would ever forget.
He was hungry. And I don't mean that he just ate a lot. I mean, he begged...like a dog. We were never truly able to train him to stay off the table. Sure, we'd shove him off as soon as he jumped up, but he still jumped up. Every.Single.Meal. And begged.
He liked to be held when it was his idea or when it wasn't for long. But, when he wanted to lay in my lap, I had better do everything in my power to make sure it was available. Because he loved it. And he would stay for hours. Having a lap cat...and then losing a lap cat...is really hard. My lap is empty.
It's been 22 days ad I think about him constantly. How he used to sit at the top of the banister and look out the front door windows waiting for his dad to get home. He would hear his truck turn on to the street, jump down and run across the living room to the mantle, jump on the mantle to look out the little side window and when daddy pulled in the driveway he was waiting at the door to greet him.
He always sat in the bathroom during our showers. And would purr and rub around our ankles when we got out. He would follow us (either of us, both of us, whoever) into the bedroom, jump on the bed and purr the loudest and most wonderful purr and we would pet him until he had enough. He always got first smell of the freshly showered mommy and daddy. Even after the dog came along and tried to get the smells...Beady was first. That was our tradition.
He was so happy during the after shower pettings that if he wasn't ready for you to stop, he would gently bite your hand if you stopped. As if to say "hey mom, I'm not satisfied yet". He and his brother were best friends. During the winter, and really only during the winter, they would sleep with us. Well, they would sleep ON me. I was usually trapped all night by 2 large cats curled up together between my legs. That's ok. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I could go on and on about his unique personality. I could also go into what it was like the last few weeks with him. I could also write about the last day, last hours, burying him, and the hours and days after, but I won't.
I am truly devastated about his death. I think about him constantly. I have feelings of guilt. I should have brought him to the vet sooner. I should have tried harder to force feed him. I should have taken him to the vet earlier in the day, the day he died. Maybe there would have been something, anything, they could do to save him. I have guilt. I don't know if this is normal. I miss him so much. It is very painful.
I told my husband that this has been harder than losing any of the relatives and friends I have lost. He understands. He is devastated too. Beady was, after all, his cat. He said that it's different because we saw Beady every day. And that makes perfect sense. Every day for nearly 13 years and then...gone. It leaves a huge void. It seems so empty in our house without our little buddy.
RIP Sweetie Petey Beady Pie. I love you and miss you so much.
We lost our cat 3 weeks ago. He is the first pet I have lost as an adult. We lost a couple pets growing up, but frankly, I don't remember how difficult it was or how long I mourned. I am having an absolutely horrendous time with our little buddy's passing. Beady. Real name: Morpheous.
He bit and scratched my mother and my father, my friend Robb, and my friend Kelly. He adored my friend Melissa. He never warmed up to Zane. He would let Zane carry him around, but would never come up to Zane on his own. He thought the dog was the stupidest thing ever (true). He made some of the weirdest noises. His meow was not one you would ever forget.
He was hungry. And I don't mean that he just ate a lot. I mean, he begged...like a dog. We were never truly able to train him to stay off the table. Sure, we'd shove him off as soon as he jumped up, but he still jumped up. Every.Single.Meal. And begged.
He liked to be held when it was his idea or when it wasn't for long. But, when he wanted to lay in my lap, I had better do everything in my power to make sure it was available. Because he loved it. And he would stay for hours. Having a lap cat...and then losing a lap cat...is really hard. My lap is empty.
It's been 22 days ad I think about him constantly. How he used to sit at the top of the banister and look out the front door windows waiting for his dad to get home. He would hear his truck turn on to the street, jump down and run across the living room to the mantle, jump on the mantle to look out the little side window and when daddy pulled in the driveway he was waiting at the door to greet him.
He always sat in the bathroom during our showers. And would purr and rub around our ankles when we got out. He would follow us (either of us, both of us, whoever) into the bedroom, jump on the bed and purr the loudest and most wonderful purr and we would pet him until he had enough. He always got first smell of the freshly showered mommy and daddy. Even after the dog came along and tried to get the smells...Beady was first. That was our tradition.
He was so happy during the after shower pettings that if he wasn't ready for you to stop, he would gently bite your hand if you stopped. As if to say "hey mom, I'm not satisfied yet". He and his brother were best friends. During the winter, and really only during the winter, they would sleep with us. Well, they would sleep ON me. I was usually trapped all night by 2 large cats curled up together between my legs. That's ok. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I could go on and on about his unique personality. I could also go into what it was like the last few weeks with him. I could also write about the last day, last hours, burying him, and the hours and days after, but I won't.
I am truly devastated about his death. I think about him constantly. I have feelings of guilt. I should have brought him to the vet sooner. I should have tried harder to force feed him. I should have taken him to the vet earlier in the day, the day he died. Maybe there would have been something, anything, they could do to save him. I have guilt. I don't know if this is normal. I miss him so much. It is very painful.
I told my husband that this has been harder than losing any of the relatives and friends I have lost. He understands. He is devastated too. Beady was, after all, his cat. He said that it's different because we saw Beady every day. And that makes perfect sense. Every day for nearly 13 years and then...gone. It leaves a huge void. It seems so empty in our house without our little buddy.
RIP Sweetie Petey Beady Pie. I love you and miss you so much.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Why yes, It's me!
I'm not quite sure why it has taken me so long to update. Perhaps it's because I have been busy cleaning the house, organizing closets, donating unused items, selling things on craigslist, er, catching up on tv and movies, screwing off online, and going to school.
I am taking 8 credit hours at Owens Community College. Since I registered a bit late, I was only able to get classes at the OCC campus in the building with The Source, downtown, since they started a week later than the other campuses. Let's talk about going to school downtown. It's interesting, to say the least. In my FYE class, I am the only Caucasian, well, technically there are 2 of us...but one is a, uhm, a "Cracker". That's what my husband calls white guys who try to "act black". I don't think this is the right term, but I really have no idea. He only showed up for class one time, so I guess that leaves me.
I am by no means racist. Everyone deserves to be treated equally. I do judge, but not based on skin color. I would be more likely to judge you based on what you are wearing. Hee! I never thought I was naive, but I must admit that my eyes have been opened to things I have never seen before. I could go into great detail here, but would end with a novel instead of a blog post. Let's just say there are some definite cultural differences between me and my classmates.
I am one of 2 Caucasians in my Comp. I class. The other lives in a trailer park and considers student loans an "Income". Cultural differences here also. I absolutely love this class. The instructor is fabulous. The class is fun and interesting. I love the writing assignments and I love the peer review. Regarding the peer review...uhm, the cultural differences are loud and clear here. Proper English is NOT being used in my classmates essays. They are writing in African-American Vernacular English. In my mind, it seems that the instructor should be correcting this, but while talking to some friends - teachers, spouses of teachers, I learned that the instructor is probably not allowed to correct the grammar, for fear of hurting feelings. Weird. So, these people are going to go through life speaking improper English and think that because they passed their college english class, that there is nothing wrong with the way they talk. Again, cultural difference here.
I'm taking Comp II over the summer, a condensed 8 week class, which means I will be writing one paper a week. Did I shoot myself in the foot? I guess we shall find out.
My PSY class is fun too. This class started full, but we now have 6 students who attend regularly. A little more ethnically balanced in this class. The instructor is really cool, a dorky guy in his 30s who grew up in Detroit proper. He dropped out of high school and became an auto mechanic. After a few years he decided that was not for him and got his GED. He attended a community college and studied his butt off and was accepted at U of M where he earned his BS and MS. I like his story almost as much as I like him.
I love school. I'm excited for the future. Things are so different for us right now. I never thought 2011 would end. It was so horrible. I am glad it is over, and I am so happy to be on a new chapter.
Onward and Upward.
I am taking 8 credit hours at Owens Community College. Since I registered a bit late, I was only able to get classes at the OCC campus in the building with The Source, downtown, since they started a week later than the other campuses. Let's talk about going to school downtown. It's interesting, to say the least. In my FYE class, I am the only Caucasian, well, technically there are 2 of us...but one is a, uhm, a "Cracker". That's what my husband calls white guys who try to "act black". I don't think this is the right term, but I really have no idea. He only showed up for class one time, so I guess that leaves me.
I am by no means racist. Everyone deserves to be treated equally. I do judge, but not based on skin color. I would be more likely to judge you based on what you are wearing. Hee! I never thought I was naive, but I must admit that my eyes have been opened to things I have never seen before. I could go into great detail here, but would end with a novel instead of a blog post. Let's just say there are some definite cultural differences between me and my classmates.
I am one of 2 Caucasians in my Comp. I class. The other lives in a trailer park and considers student loans an "Income". Cultural differences here also. I absolutely love this class. The instructor is fabulous. The class is fun and interesting. I love the writing assignments and I love the peer review. Regarding the peer review...uhm, the cultural differences are loud and clear here. Proper English is NOT being used in my classmates essays. They are writing in African-American Vernacular English. In my mind, it seems that the instructor should be correcting this, but while talking to some friends - teachers, spouses of teachers, I learned that the instructor is probably not allowed to correct the grammar, for fear of hurting feelings. Weird. So, these people are going to go through life speaking improper English and think that because they passed their college english class, that there is nothing wrong with the way they talk. Again, cultural difference here.
I'm taking Comp II over the summer, a condensed 8 week class, which means I will be writing one paper a week. Did I shoot myself in the foot? I guess we shall find out.
My PSY class is fun too. This class started full, but we now have 6 students who attend regularly. A little more ethnically balanced in this class. The instructor is really cool, a dorky guy in his 30s who grew up in Detroit proper. He dropped out of high school and became an auto mechanic. After a few years he decided that was not for him and got his GED. He attended a community college and studied his butt off and was accepted at U of M where he earned his BS and MS. I like his story almost as much as I like him.
I love school. I'm excited for the future. Things are so different for us right now. I never thought 2011 would end. It was so horrible. I am glad it is over, and I am so happy to be on a new chapter.
Onward and Upward.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Not a dog person
I've never been a dog person. I still wouldn't consider myself one. I mean, I really do not like other people's dogs...much like I do not like their children. There are a select few in each category that I tolerate like.
This dog, though, I love. He's hyper, crazy, flatulent, stinky, and sheddy. He likes to wrestle with my child, even when it's not wrestling time. He also likes to hump my child. He still jumps on all of us. He loves to chew things. Drives the cats ape shit. Barks at food on the counter. Barks at nothing. And completely loses his mind when someone comes to the door. But, my god, I love him.
Nearly every day over the past 3 weeks, I have brought Blue along to pick the boy up from school. Blue is SO excited to see his boy. He wiggles and jiggles and whines the whole time we are in the car line. Once he eyes his boy...he is nearly jumping out of his skin with excitement.
I never understood why people took their dogs places. And I still don't understand why I am doing it. He's supposed to be a watch dog. He is supposed to be home, preventing would-be-robbers from, er, robbing us (again!). And here I am, taking him for rides.
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