New Site

The new site is officially up!

You can find it here.

Summertime Photos

I think this blog will eventually (or maybe now) turn into mainly photos of stuff we do around here; an easy way to keep in touch (somewhat) with all the family in Canada. My new site will probably get the actual writing posts, but since I'm planning to make it much more public than this one, it won't get the random, more personal "life in general" updates... so I'll continue to keep this one up and running, but still unlisted, then just update with general family stuff so that there is at least some thread of bonding with all the people we love so much who live far away!

So here's more photos!


Jesse and Bean shortly after Jesse finished a 50k trail race. 50k...that's about 32 miles. And it was super hot and super muggy. Bean is still working on overcoming his fears of being out and about. At one point, a park maintenance man and a metal bucket spooked him so bad, he pulled me into some bushes (literally, I fell on smack on my butt in the middle of them), effectively breaking not just one, but both, of my flip flops, so that I was walking barefoot. Beyond that incident, he did pretty well. He kept his tail tucked almost the whole time, but at least he didn't keep trying to pull me into bushes and/or trees. He also seemed a bit more comfortable after Jesse crossed the finish line and he could sit next to him. (I am convinced Bean has a very serious man crush.)

My Grandpa turned 90 on July 4th. While watching him speak at his party, I couldn't get over how straight he stands, how easily he gets around, and how well spoken he is.

Seriously...this guy is a young whipper snapper even at 90!

Horton on National "Take Your Dog To Work Day". (My boss was out of town...hee hee...)

I forgot to post photos of the backyard after we got the flagstone down. Loving it....way, way less dust in the house, and no more dirt trails in the yard. Thankfully the dogs are quite happy to keep using this path. (We worried a bit that they would just create a new path after we put the rock down on their regular path.)

Anyway, that's all she wrote!

Catching Up On Life

My posts come fewer and farther between these days! I am actually working on a new website all together that has a slightly different bent, and that has been taking most of my cyber-world time. I'll be sure to link to the new site once it's up, and may end up shutting this blog down all together after the new site is up and running.

In the meantime, here is a recap of the last few weeks in the land of the Nikkels!

Lots of summer time grilling! I think I have a new appreciation for corn on the cob this year.

Chilling out back. This is Horton's spot.

Bean. Still crazy. I was reading something about labs the other day, and came across a site that explained how labs are the "eternal puppy". I'd say that is pretty accurate so far! (No pics of Monkey outside....she gets so hot, she prefers to hang out in the a/c and watch us all through the window.)

Labs are also supposed to love water. We thought Bean would have a grand ol' time at the lake, so we made a little trip last weekend. Unfortunately, the poor dog is still scared out of his wits when he is anywhere except our house and yard! I always forget how scared he was when we first got him, but as soon as we take him out, I remember "oohhhhh yeahhh....he is still really messed up from whatever those people did to him before we had him". Needless to say, the sound of the waves gently lapping into shore was definitely cause for concern, as Bean

jumped nervously with each current. We finally got him in the water and he eventually settled. It was actually kind of funny. He was so weirded out by the feel of the water. We'd step away from him and call him, and he would just stare at us wide eyed, not moving one muscle. It was like he didn't realize that he could move despite the water all around him. He'd take one step and you could almost see his little wheels turning, trying to figure out how in the world this was all working. He was tired pup by the end of that adventure, and it's doubtful we'll be making many more lake trips with Bean. Who knows all of his past really, but I hate to see a dog whose been so mistreated that it outweighs the natural instincts of their breed. He may just need more coaching on how to swim, as I know it's a learned skill even for dogs, but he was so nervous being in a new environment that I don't know if it's worth pushing him. Maybe after we master being comfortable in other normal places, like parks with lots of people, then we can work our way up to being okay at the lake with boats and water and waves.

P.S. Sorry for the totally suck lay out of this post, but I'm not taking the time to fix it!

I Wish I'd Stolen the Dog and Other Stories of Regret

When we first moved into this house, we had an elderly couple living next door. The older man used to sit outside under the tree in his front lawn. He was very friendly and seemed eager to chat when I'd step outside. He'd make the same joke about our dogs every time we talked, but I just chalked it up to regular forgetfulness. After all, he was probably in his mid 80's or older. I used to kind of admire the way he would still get outdoors and enjoy the fresh air. One day while driving home from the grocery store, I spotted him walking a few blocks away from our house. I semi-braked, wondering if I should stop and offer a ride. Somehow though, I became convinced he was just out for a stroll, and I admired him more....he's so determined to get fresh air and exercise, I thought. I wished for myself that I would become a stubborn old lady, determined to keep her independence and get around on her own.

It was only a few weeks later that this man moved out of his house and checked into a nursing home. And only a couple months after that, he died. As it turns out, he had a pretty serious case of Alzheimer's and his wife simply couldn't keep up with him anymore. Presumably, that day I saw him was one of many days where he started out on a walk and got lost.

Since that time, I have always regretted not stopping and offering a ride. I can't even figure out why I didn't. I just made an assumption about him and went on with my day. Silly really, as even if my assumption had been true, he could have simply turned down my offer and went about with his stroll.

Some of you may remember a blog post I wrote a couple summers ago about a turtle I saw in the road. He was half way across and I couldn't bear the thought that he would get hit by a car, so I pulled over, ran into the road, picked up the turtle, and carried him back to wooded area he had come from. It was such a happy experience, complete with a couple guys in a truck circling back to check on me in case I had car trouble, then telling me with big smiles how the world would be better if more people stopped for turtles.

Two days later on that same road, there lie a broken turtle shell and blood.

Since that time, I have always regretted moving the turtle. Why did I move him back where he came from? He was trying to cross the road for a reason, and at least I could have had enough thought to carry him to where he was already heading. Why didn't I consider his effort to get where he was going?

That's not the only animal I have "helped". You might also recall the post about the foreclosed house across the street. They left their dog behind, a little puggle. It was in the middle of winter and I would lay in bed at night thinking about the dog, wondering how cold he was. I went over every day and checked on him, giving him food and water, playing tug with him, and shoving blankets into his little dog house. A few times, I even carried him over to our house and let him run around the back yard and play with my dogs. I mulled and mulled over what to do. I contacted the owner (via his realtor) and he refused to give me the dog. I had arranged for the dog to be put up for adoption through the shelter I work with, but the stipulation was that I had to obtain him legally, or otherwise, I had to take any risk on myself for trespassing and theft. The story ended with animal control contacting the owner, who came by and picked up the pup. Who knows what his life is like now living with a guy who was willing to leave him chained outside in freezing temps with no food or water.

Since then, I have always regretted not stealing that dog.

When I am struggling with relationships and life issues, I often think about these three stories. I wanted to help. I had good intention. But my actions were neutral at best, harmful at worst. I didn't think outside myself. I let the wrong things dictate my actions.

Fear: What if I get in trouble for stealing?

Pride: How great is it that I'm the type of person who stops for turtles?

Autonomy: He's a-okay walking on his own, why should I bother him?

I imagine if I let these lead me in the little things, I probably let them lead me in the big things too. It's sobering for me to admit, but I can think of a lot of times in life when I made my decision out of fear or pride or ignorance or selfishness. How many times have I "helped" the people I love?

I don't really know where I'm going with this post. I'm just contemplating relationships I suppose. And wishing I could see outside myself for a little while.

I'm sorry, little puggle dog, and I'm sorry, wonderful brown turtle, and I'm sorry, skinny old man. I wish I had done better for you.

We're Back!

We are back from vacation, back to reality... it was a nice break while it lasted!

Mostly we hiked, kayaked, and snorkeled. We both actually ended up with sore muscles on vacation from all the action! I think it was mostly the hike back out of Waipio Valley...it's so stinking steep. I walked part of it backward because my sorry little leg muscles were burning so bad. However, it was totally worth it.

I wish I could bottle up a tiny bit of atmosphere and send it to you all...the smells, the sounds, the wind, the sun. As soon as we stepped off the plane, I remembered how delicious Kona smells. I don't know if it's plumeria or bougainvillea, but some flower there fills the place and makes the air intoxicating. I didn't really remember that from way back when, but they say smell is one of the most powerful senses for memory, and I guess they're right. I couldn't get enough of that scent. (Maybe that's how Monkey feels when she smells my deodorant and tries to rub herself in my armpit!? My underarms are quite like a tropical paradise, I suppose.)

Anyway, it was cool to see the U of N, where we met. It's pretty much the same. A bit of new landscape, a bit of new construction, but for the most part, identical. The rest of the city had changed quite a bit though. Most of the businesses that were there way back when have been replaced by new ones, and some areas right along the sea are still recovering from tsunami damage. That was kind of sad to see...beaches that were white sanded with debris all over them, parts of the sea wall knocked out with orange construction cones around it, and sidewalks covered up by sand. Regardless, it's still beautiful and wonderful and laid back and all around amazing. And so many doggies!! Everywhere there was a dog! That's my kind of city.

Jesse and I kept saying "Can you believe we lived here?!" I continue to be infinitely grateful for the travel experiences I got to have after high school. They were so formative for me... I wish every young person could have one year where they do nothing but travel. I think our world would be a bit of a kinder place.

Anyway, here's my vacation video! (Sorry the resolution isn't better. We are cheap and only pay for slow internet....I did not have the patience to wait for a larger file to load.)

One Decade Celebration Trip!

We leave for vacation soon, and apparently by saying that, I'm asking you to rob me. I read somewhere recently that you should never post online that you're going on vacation because it just makes you vulnerable to theft. However, I think I'm going to trust that most people who read my blog aren't interested in the 800 square feet of random, well used, really low value items hanging out in my house. But, if you are a thief reading this, let me spare you some time. Skip my place and head down a couple doors to the happy marijuana people...I bet you could find something of value in there, and it's probably green.

Anyway, back to vacation.

No wait, not vacation, first things first: Monkey's biopsy was all clear. She had a vascular tumor, and the main danger of it would have been that it would have kept growing and eventually squished up organs, wind pipes, and other necessary body parts. So it's good it's out and it's good it's not cancer. She gets her sutures out tomorrow and also hopefully receives the "all clear" to romp and play again.

Okay, now back to vacation.

This is going to come as a shock, I know, but we aren't going to Disney World, and I'm being serious.

We're going to Hawaii! It's been 10 years since we met there, started dating there.... it only seemed right to celebrate a decade of coupledom by remembering our roots. (Lucky aren't we, to have such tropical roots?)

We are planning very loosely, but I put these items on our "must-do" vacation list:

1. Snorkeling. Jesse owes me. This is the first thing he ever asked me to do after we met, but when it came time to go, he said it was "too cloudy" and we went to Borders bookstore instead. I remember since I thought we were going snorkeling, I didn't put on any makeup, and I had on old clothes over my swimsuit. When he changed plans last minute, I literally dug dirty clothes out of the laundry basket and threw on a hat since I also hadn't done my hair. It was so stinking hot that day, and humid with the cloud cover. We were walking to Borders, (which was at the top of a hill), and beads of sweat were rolling down my face. Needless to say, even though it was sort of our first (unofficial) date, I was definitely not looking my best. That's okay though... Jesse had burned his (recently shaved) head a couple days before, so he had flakes of skin peeling off his head all day from the sunburn. Quite the attractive couple between the two of us, eh!? Anyway, 10 years later - we better go snorkeling this time.

2. Kayaking at Captain Cook Monument. I never went to this place when I lived there, but I remember lots of friends telling me about it. I guess it's a popular dolphin hang out, so maybe we'll see some doing fun dolphin things.

3. Makalawena Beach. This was my favorite, favorite beach when I lived there. (Unfortunately, I didn't discover it until my final couple months there.) It's a short hike in, and pretty much no one is there. It's possibly the most beautiful place I've ever been in my entire life. Jesse has never seen it, so it's top priority to spend a day there.

4. Hiking Waipi'o Valley. This is a super steep hike - 25% grade, the road plummets 1,000 feet in 1 mile. Can't wait, though it's likely I'll wheeze my way out on the hike back out of the valley. =)

5. Some hang out time at the U of N. Actually, we're staying on the YWAM base (hello cheap accommodations!). It will be fun to see if things are how we remember, and we have a person or two to stop by and pay a short visit. Plus, a few years ago, we bought an engraved brick as part of a fundraiser they were doing, so we have to find our brick.

6. Papakolea Beach. This is another place that Jesse never got to see while he was there. I only went once or twice, but there's something about it worth seeing, even if just for the feeling it creates in you. I find it to be eerily beautiful... no one is really there. It's just this sudden drop where you can climb down to the small green sand beach that's protected by the cove. Part of the eerie is the noise of the wind blowing across South Point. It's a constant howl. Anyway, I think the place feels creepily deserted and powerful, yet also beautiful. We might make a stop at Punaluu Beach on our drive to South Point. The only thing I really remember about Punaluu is the giant sea turtles that hang out on the beach, and how unpleasantly course the black sand is.

As always, we are flying stand by. Flights are looking good right now, and I'm hopeful they stay that way. The nice thing about non-rev is the price. The bad thing about it (among many) is that you often get back-seat-middle and are separated from the people you're traveling with. As such, I spent part of the day reserving books at the library.

Seems weird we are leaving so soon. We usually do fall vacations, and it's pretty much always Disney. It's easy to get hyped up for that (in part because Disney is great at sending propaganda.) Comparatively, I've hardly even thought about this vacation until now.

Horton will be staying with Grandma and his buddy, Riley, while Monkey and Bean are off to be spoiled at Pete & Macs. I admit, I roll my eyes at my own self having them board there. It's expensive, they get all kinds of crazy things, like doggie daycare (aka group doggie playtime), one on one walks, an afternoon Kong treat, a king sized kennel....it's all so very spoiled, white, ridiculous.... I know that. But, I also know it's pretty much the only place where I don't worry about them or spend the evenings feeling sad with mental pictures of them laying cooped up crowded in small metal kennels bored out of their minds with racing anxiety and confusion about what is happening and why their owner abandoned them. They are always happy to go to Pete and Macs and I know they keep them so busy, they burn off any anxiety that they would have about not being at home. Plus, we get super cute doggie "report cards" when we get back that I always hang on the fridge. (Go on, judge me, I don't blame you.)

Anyway, that's pretty much it...next time you hear from me I'll hopefully be sun-tanned, beach-worn, and pineappled-out.

Monkey

(Warning: Don't scroll down too far if medical-type photos make you queasy.)

I took Monkey in for her annual vaccinations last week. I cried on the way home, shocked to find out she actually needed surgery for a small lump on her chest. I know it's been a few years since Abe died, but it still doesn't seem like that long ago, and all I could think was, I can't handle another sick dog this soon. Plus, during the appointment, the vet kept saying the word malignant. I must have looked dumbfounded, or maybe they remember that they have to break bad news to me gently, as the vet kept asking me very slowly and softly if I had any questions for her. (Back during Abe's ordeal, I busted out into full on sobs when we were looking at his x-rays and she was explaining them.)

I pretty much never cry in public. Even on the worst of days, I can contain it until I am home, but something about getting bad news about my dogs seems to make that rule fly out the window. In fact, now that I think about it, my vet has probably seen me cry more times than anyone else in my adult life except for Jesse. Weird. I guess since I don't have kids, I put all of my mother-smother into my dogs. And when I can't protect them from pain and hurt, all hell breaks loose in my tear-ducts. It is often in those moments that I think Holy cow, I could never handle being a mother. If I feel this deeply over my dogs, I would probably flood out the entire world with tears over my children.

Anyway, all that to say, this entire ordeal has probably been harder on me than it has been on Monkey. She had her surgery Thursday and everything went smoothly. We get the results of the biopsy early next week, but the vet said after getting in there and seeing everything, she feels pretty confident it is not malignant. So, at this point, my main worry is keeping Monkey pain free as she heals, and making sure that she doesn't jump around until her sutures are out.

Every time I'm tempted to dote on her, I hear the Cesar Milan Angel sitting on my right shoulder telling me that dogs live in the moment and she is over it, even if I am not. So, I'm trying to be stoic... (It's only half working.)

I had to love on her when she got home from surgery. Poor thing was still so out of it from the anesthesia; she was super snuggly and just kept flopping herself down on me. I couldn't resist it.

Her long brown belly locks got a shave down...pretty nasty sutures. I guess with dogs they must not be as concerned about straight lines and stuff like that when they stitch back up!? She also had an allergic reaction to some of the stuff that they prep the skin area with, so she got really red.
Anyway, in other Monkey news, I am pretty pumped that a short story I wrote about her is going to be published in the June issue of Modern Dog Magazine.

To The Ladies

For whatever reason, the last few months I have become acutely aware of "woman talk" - the things women say to and about themselves. I guess it's so normal and common that I've never really noticed before, but now that I'm paying attention, it's kind of shocking. Over the course of one day, I can easily hear a dozen comments that are just downright mean. It's stuff women are saying about themselves.

I have decided to declare a moratorium on this. Ladies aren't allowed to bash themselves in my presence. (And I'm doing my best not to bash myself in my presence either.) Of course, we never think of it as "bashing". We say that we are just "telling the truth" or "saying how we feel", but I think it's time to call bull shit on that. We are hating.

Let me recap a few comments I've heard over the last month or so during normal every day conversation. Only, instead of using the word "I", let me sub the word "you".

Your bottom is so much bigger than your top.

You're an amazon woman.

You have problem skin.

You really are pear shaped.

You would look better if you could take some fat from your butt and put it on your boobs.

You can't ever lose weight.

You should try to hide your stomach this season at the pool.

You could never pull off a bikini.

You need all the help you can get from a push up bra.

You would look better if you had hair more like that girl over there.

You should wish for longer, thinner legs.

If I ever said any of those sentences to another woman, I think I would rightly be labeled a mean girl. Those are really, really crummy things to say. So, why do we pretend like it's totally fine to be a mean girl as long as it's to ourself?

Ladies...let's please stop.

We may never be able to change advertising campaigns that airbrush and photoshop; we may never be able to control creepy men who talk to our chests instead of our faces; we may never be able to rid the world of 36-24-36 dreams; BUT we can show our bodies some respect by refusing to tolerate negative self-talk.

So, this is me asking you to pay attention to what you're saying about yourself. And if it's negative, challenge it. And let's help each other out here too...if you hear another woman hating on herself, call her out. Refuse to tolerate it. It does nothing good - not even a teeny, teeny, teeny, tiny ounce of good.

Backyard Stuff

I've been spoiled this week with fling-your-windows-wide-open-weather. The patio furniture has slipped out of the shed, the dogs are panting, and there's color in the world again. It's only right that we should grill out as many evenings as humanly possible.

Of course, grilling out happens in the backyard, and every time I go out there, I am reminded of the lovely mess of dirt trails my dogs have created. Last weekend, we ordered 2 tons of flagstone and it was delivered Monday. We didn't have a chance to dig into the project much during the weeknights, but when Saturday morning rolled around, Jesse was quick to bust out the wheelbarrow and start moving it from the driveway to the backyard.

As it turns out, rock is really heavy. Poor Jesse did the bulk of the lifting (and by "bulk", I may or may not mean all of the lifting). We still have more in our driveway to move, but it's coming along nicely. I'm hoping for some productive evenings this week and with any luck, this project will be wrapped up in a week or so.

Yard Work Season Has Arrived.

We have some serious yard work to tackle this spring. Today was the opener and it felt so nice to be outside working!

I'm pretty sure Bean felt the same way. He loves when we work outside. (It's super fun to eat seed packets, run away with whatever tool I was using in his mouth, eat new plants, and generally undo all that we have done.)

Cutting down/dividing our ornamental grasses. I love them, but when it's time to divide...oy.
Boy bonding...

Frustrating Me

One of the most frustrating parts of my personality is that I am a horrible speaker. I have a terrible time getting my thoughts to my mouth. In conversation, I stumble. I so wish I could get past this.

I've been thinking about why I am so terrible at speaking lately and came to three conclusions. And by the way, when I say I'm terrible at speaking, I mean day to day conversations with people. (Of course, I am equally, if not much, much worse at public speaking, but for this post, I simply mean daily conversation.)

So, here are my issues -

Part one, and probably the biggest factor for my suck speak, is my overly analytical brain. I only write when I'm alone. But, when I talk, it takes two. I spend the conversation analyzing the interaction as we are conversing. The way the person moves, the tone of their voice, the facial expressions, the words... I mean, some people I have studied so closely I literally have them etched into my brain down the very detail of the way the tip of their nose curves. (I think about how I would draw them. In art, you learn that the only thing that makes an artist good is her ability to look.) This works fine for me when listening, and often times in my favor. But, the problem is, I don't turn the analyzing off when I start speaking...so I am literally talking and not even consciously knowing what words are coming from my mouth, because my brain is thinking Why am I leaning on this door? I am making that facial expression that I told myself to stop making because I hate how I look when I make it. Her socks are purple with pink stripes. Hurry up with this story already, Natasha. Eventually, I lose my sentence all together because I haven't even been thinking about it since I've been too busy analyzing everything else. I constantly find myself saying out loud to people, "Now where was I going with this?" It is enough to drive a girl crazy! That is why I like to listen and that is why I interact with extroverts the most easily....they relieve the pressure from my insane analytical mind by talking so that I don't have to. All my best girlfriends have been extroverts.

Anyway, the second, but much lesser issue I think stems from the residual funk and hurt left over from being told my personality is flawed, my sense of humor is evil, and I am generally a person of suck. (Hello manipulative ministries!) It has made me quite gun shy. There is still some part of me that really wonders, Were they right?

And finally wrapping it up with the third which is really caring too damn much what people think. I know I have strong opinions. I know I really enjoy a good banter. I know I can be sarcastic. I know I can be cut throat when I feel like someone is bull-shitting. If I said what I was really thinking at that moment, it would be as blunt as a used butter knife. And that side of me can come across as ruthless and mean, even though to me, it's nothing personal. It's a disagreement, a banter, a way of testing another's mind and the limits of their critical thinking ability. I love getting to know people in that way because you hear their passions, you learn their hot buttons, and you expose your own. But, I fear that not everyone else sees it this way and to some, that part of me is probably just straight up bitch. And who wants to be a bitch?

I have been thinking a lot this week that I could learn from Jesse. He is like me, except bigger and bolder and better. He says what he thinks. He doesn't care if people get offended. He interacts and moves on. He doesn't spend Sunday night thinking about a conversation he had Friday afternoon.

I do.

Do you know what's funny? This post wasn't even supposed to be about this. I have a meeting on Monday at work where we will be discussing the topic of whether or not to have a one piece swimsuit rule for girls at our camps. I have a lot of strong opinions on this. As I was reading the e-mail about it at work, one of the guys stopped in and I said I was getting too fired up reading it all, then quickly explained my view point. Later the conversation came back around, and I found myself sitting there in that place of once again saying, "Now where was I going with this sentence?" It was so frustrating with this topic in particular because I do feel so strongly about it, but I just can't reach my tongue and speak. When I got home, I had all these thoughts about feminism and men and women and bodies and all of this floating around my head. I thought I should dump some out on my blog before Monday, hoping that maybe by then, I will have collected myself enough that I could actually speak with some level of grace.

How ironic that instead of just saying on here what I had intended to say, I ended up creating an entire post where I analyze myself.

Damn it.

Looking Forward

My daffodils have bloomed. That means it's definitely time to start the gardens.

I have snow peas, sugar snap peas, swiss chard, kale, spinach, cucumbers, basil, and cilantro in the que. Tomatoes and bell peppers will surely follow. We'll see how much space I have left after that.

I am just so happy this time is finally here.

I'm looking forward to canning this summer. Looking forward to rashes on my arms and itchy skin from being allergic to everything in my garden. Looking forward to scolding my dogs for jumping across the garden borders when they are playing. Looking forward to my nose running while I mow the lawn. Looking forward to my white socks turning green and brown around the ankles from yard work. Looking forward to seeing my pasty white skin in the sunshine and telling myself it wouldn't hurt to get a suntan for once, then rushing inside five minutes later to slather myself with sunscreen while simultaneously scolding my shallow side for putting beauty ahead of health. Looking forward to panting dogs. Looking forward to grilling in the back yard. Looking forward to laying outside and getting so hot that I actually feel like I did something. Looking forward to swimsuits and lakes and lifejackets. Looking forward to the intoxicating smell of honeysuckle vines. Looking forward to riding my bike. Looking forward to thunderstorms that shake the entire house. Looking forward to fireflies. Looking forward to vacation. Looking forward to blue skies and a white sun. Looking forward to that warm feeling of closing my eyes and putting my face to the sky.

Good things are coming.

Random Ramble of Suck (And P.S. I'm crazy.)

If 2011 wants to go down in the books as a great year, it really needs to start shaping up.

Sigh. Right now, I just need a place to vent and drop off a load of crap. I might not make any sense at all. (So why not publish it on my blog for all to see?)

I am just back from dropping off my brother's dog at his house. Long story, but basically my brother and sister-in-law are at the hospital right now as her Dad passes. They flew back in a rush a day or two ago after news that he had stopped breathing. It has been a really rough couple days for them complete with all the situations we'd never even wish upon our worst enemy...ventilators and brain damage and hard decisions.... I feel horrible for them and wish there was something more I could do. My mom has been on duty watching their daughter (my niece) and I know she too has had a really rough week, and I wish there was something more I could do to help her out, too.

I just feel like utter suck the last few days.

And this weekend is daylight savings. Please point me toward the dude who came up with that idea because I'd like to have a few words with him. So many people I really care about need rest now more than ever and we're just going to skip right over an hour tomorrow. I wish I could just scoop everyone up and shield them from the world for a few hours while they take a long, long nap. (And then I'd like to take one myself.)

And do you know what else? I had a prank go all wrong this week and possibly jacked some things up for a friend at work and I feel horrible. (As it turns out, other people paying the consequences of my actions is way worse than having to pay for them myself.)

And do you know what is weird? Nothing is wrong with my life. I have no big drama. I have no really sad news. I have no huge challenges right now. It is so ordinary and fine. It has been for a while. And something about that seems to be making me totally and completely insane. I feel like I'm living in a math problem. It's so black and white and clear and clean and predictable. I keep telling myself I should rejoice and be thankful for that, and to a large degree, I am. But then the punk ass part of my heart is all kinds of whiney.

I have been talking with my former boss a lot this past week and it brings up so many questions for me...questions about who I am, what I am capable of, what I believe I am capable of.

I guess in many ways I feel like I'm ho-humming my life away. It's very responsible and tidy. But at the end of my life, what do I really want to look back on?

I heard someone say or read this somewhere that "life is 90% relationships", and then I think, Yea, that's so true. Why don't I just breath in my awesome husband and enjoy my time with him? And for that matter, since he's so awesome, why don't we just have some children and extend the awesome? After all, I'm almost 30...and he's already carving out the years in his third decade of life. But, then my crazy mind goes crazy. Honest to goodness, this was my thought process today at Target, as I was walking in the parking lot behind a lady carrying a toddler:

Kids are nice. Maybe we should have a kid. Why would we have a kid though? The earth can't continue to support the human population at its current growth rate. But then why are we biologically designed to want to reproduce? Will the human population smother itself out? Maybe we should adopt a kid. I'd rather adopt an older kid. We should just wait. I'm only 29. It would be weird to adopt a 13 year old and only have 16 years between our ages. We'll just have a kid when we feel like the time is right and that's not now, so this doesn't matter. Deal with it later. But I can't wait forever to have a kid. I'm pushing 30. But say I had some dream career right now, would I even want a kid? I can't use a kid as an escape because I'm not happy with my current life situation. That is horrible. Too many women lose their identity when they have kids. I don't want that to happen to me. (Open door and walk into Target.) YESSS!! Swimsuit sale!!

Is that insanity or what? Seriously, how can I go from questioning the intricacies of how the human population will sustain itself to Um, do they have this bikini in blue??

Nerd meets shallow sorority girl, much?

But the thing is, that whole thought process wasn't even about kids. I have this way of fixating on some issue that is not at all the issue. Really, I am wrestling with what kind of person I am. How much do I really care about those around me? How much am willing to inconvenience myself to make someone else's life better? How much do I live in fear? How long will I live in comfort, not tapping into the very things that fill me with passion and life? How much am I willing to speak my mind? What do the seasons of life mean?

Sigh.

So, that's all.

Dear John Lawn,

Remember this lush, green grass in my backyard? You were so pretty...so soft under my feet. I loved you. I cared for you.

And now, all I can say is that...well, I don't think I can ever see you again.

See, about a year ago, I met someone. He makes me laugh a lot, we like to spend time together, and he's nearly as soft as you were.

And, to be honest, he's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want you around.

So, I guess this is goodbye forever. Please understand. We're just not right for each other anymore. I have new needs that you can't meet. I need someone stronger who can weather the challenges of life with me. Someone who doesn't get jealous and just curl up and die when I spend time with my new friend. I know you'll move on, and so will I. In fact, I'm already "out there" again. I've seen mulch, flagstone, pavers... and I'm pretty sure I'm going to ask one of them to live with me.

I know this is hard, but I will never forget you. (After all, you were my first.) I never had a luscious lawn until you. Thanks for the memories. XOXO.

The Best Laid Plans...

That's a photo of my little carry-on suitcase. At my house. Not in Seattle.

Thursday night as I was packing, I was thinking about all the great photos I would have to post of my two dear friends, Erin and Amy, hanging out in a cool city like Seattle. I went to the airport Friday morning, hoping to breeze on using Jesse's passes. I knew it wasn't going to be a good day when I heard them page asking for volunteers to give up their seat. My sweet husband spent a good chunk of time behind the ticket counter looking at every possible way I could get to Seattle. We tried different cities, even different partner airlines, but it was just not in the cards for me to travel. We eventually left the airport and I went to work, feeling bummed, but telling myself it was okay, because I would just get up super early and catch the first flight out Saturday morning. That plan also failed, and I have spent my weekend thus far in Missouri.

While I was out and about today, I kept thinking, I wonder what I would be doing right now if I was in Seattle! Sigh. Hopefully there will be another girls trip planned soon...one that I actually make it to!

On the bright side, spring is finally in the air! January and February are always the hardest months of the year for me (which was another reason I was so looking forward to seeing my girlfriends...but I digress). This year in particular, I have felt like the grumpiest, worst version of myself. I think it's a combination of things, but poor Jesse...I have been a serious bump on a log lately. Anyway, just when winter was feeling the most claustrophobic and hopeless, a random, sunny, 70 degree day popped in and reminded me that life as I know it is not over. A new season is coming, not just for the weather, but for my life. And winter has served its purpose, even if only to remind me to be grateful for those things which I get used to and take for granted.

So, even though it's been a lame, disappointing 2011 so far, I am anticipating good things on the horizon.

On a totally different note, last weekend, our youngest niece turned one. I stopped by the party en route to the dog shelter.

Jada wasn't really interested in hanging out with me. Clearly, there was something much more interesting off to the side.

Like this crazy big horsie thing someone got her....

Or maybe just a cookie...
Whatever the case, I hope you had a good birthday little missy J!

A Let Down

This week's life theme? Disappointment.

Started off with Jesse's birthday on Monday when he was feeling sick and running a fever. Poor guy spent his special day laying on the couch. I thought I could avoid the funky junk if I walked around the house with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and disinfected every surface before I came within 3 feet of touching it rested and ate my veggies. By Tuesday evening, Jesse was still laid out sick and I wasn't feeling stellar, but thought I had a decent chance of avoiding the funky junk.

Enter Thursday. Jesse still sounded like a horse when he coughed, but his fever was finally gone. Apparently, that fever wanted to have a hot affair with me. When the thermometer beeped 102.1, I threw in the towel and declared myself officially sick. We watched crappy daytime tv together and laughed at the pathetic sound in our little house. Hack cough huh snort ugh.

Also, I used to think it was silly, if not downright ridiculous, that people could crack a rib coughing. Holy crap, I am being punished for my judgement. I swear to you, two days ago I coughed so ferocious, I am still sore. It hurts to touch my rib cage, like a bruise, and it hurts to do anything remotely involving my upper abs. (On the bright side, I do kind of feel like a bad ass. I imagine this is how my stomach would feel if I had just completed some killer workout and had a 6 pack.)

Anyway, today is Saturday. We are both supposed to be at WyCo Lake Park right now. Jesse should be ankle deep in mud running his first 50k trail race, and I should be walking around the park with my dog of choice waiting for him to cross the finish line and celebrate his awesomeness while simultaneously delighting that Mother Nature is finally tossing out a few signs of hope for spring.

Apparently, supposed to doesn't mean much in life. What's up with that?

I think we'll be Red Box'ing it today.

Funky junk virus.... uh-screwwww-yooooou.

Happy Birthday Canuck!

We started our celebration a couple days ago since we knew the actual day would be spent for me with coworkers and he with classmates. Saturday, we grabbed a bite to eat at our favorite spot for falafels, saw a movie, and chilled out at home for a bit. The next day my mom took us to lunch and spoiled Jesse with a pair of trail shoes he's been wanting. (Let the record show, this man owns waaaayyy more pairs of shoes than I do.)

Today, I will enlist the onslaught of birthday traditions started a decade ago, beginning with streamers and candy in the morning, and riding straight on through to the funky looking homemade ice cream cake at night. (Thank God Oreos are vegan.)

I like to look back and think about all the different bathrooms I've decorated for his birthday. It strikes me as somewhat odd that the bathroom is the decorated room, but it all started when we were dating and he was living at Nikki's. I was working as a waitress and would fly up and stay for a few days every month, hanging out with him in the evenings and weekends during his days off from the camera shop. He used to go into work super early. I remember wanting to do something special to acknowledge his birthday first thing when he woke up, but lazily, I didn't want to have to set my alarm and wake up myself. (It's way easier for me to stay up late than to get up early.) So, I ended up decorating the bathroom the night before, knowing that the bathroom was the only room in the condo that I would be able to get into and stay quiet enough not to wake him, and knowing that he would for sure have to go into that room in the morning. For whatever reason, the bathroom stuck.

I have decorated "birthday bathrooms" in 3 different countries and 6 different cities. I wonder what other bathrooms our lives will let us see! =)

Happy birthday Canuck!

The Blizzard

Bryan Busby just told me that we are indeed having an official blizzard by definition of the word. I stayed inside most of the day, besides about 30 minutes when I took the dogs out to play for a while and tried to shovel a path along our front and back doors. All I can say is, I hope this is the last blast of winter.

He'll Always Be My Canadian.

Last week was....bizarre. In fact, this entire month has kind of been strange. I don't know if it's the transition from Christmas vacation back to work and school or the dreary days of snow or maybe the general feeling of malaise that my job carries during this season of tax preparation and insurance renewals, but something is just off, for lack of a better word.

Add to that the crowning glory of bizarre as I watched the world's most proud Canadian take an oath to my country, the United States of America, last Thursday. This was a decision years in the making that has brought tears, arguments, jokes, and laughter to both Jesse and I. During the application process, we decided to keep it just between the two of us. As Thursday approached, we reached the point where we realized it was probably appropriate to tell people before it happened rather than after.

Most people replied with "congratulations!" and I smiled politely at them and said thanks, not really wanting to get deeper into all the issues that go along with it.

For me, in some ways, I felt deeply sad that in order to become an "American", one is asked to "absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen." This is required, whether one has dual citizenship or not.

I guess I understand the reasoning somewhat, but it's still a hard pill to swallow. No matter where a person comes from, no matter how great or how war-torn or how equal or how unfair a country is, the places we are born and the places we live growing up are entrenched in our souls. We are shaped by our society whether or not we want to be. To "renounce" that, regardless of whether one was shaped for the better or for the worse, seems like denying a part of one's identity. I am sure this section of the oath will have different meaning to different people. For me, as an American, I feel some desire to put a disclaimer on it.

My ambivalent feeling wasn't helped along much when during the check in process, an older Iraqi woman turned in her papers, and the lady checking her in started questioning her about her marriage. The woman spoke little to no English, but through a translator explained that she was a widow. A few minutes of chatter about this, and then the check-in lady says something about her not signing that she is willing to bear arms. "Are you willing to bear arms?"..."You must sign that you are willing to bear arms."..."You have to bear arms." The woman clearly didn't understand and though I know it's a formality that must be addressed, it was in all ways, a ridiculous scene.

Anyway, everyone got checked in and then they took all the people to be sworn in up to the courtroom while the rest of us waited downstairs. I guess during this time, they were seating them in a certain order and explaining to them what would be asked of them during the ceremony. After a good half hour or so passed, they came back to fetch the rest of us and we all crammed into elevators to go up to the courtroom.

I realized once we were in, this was my first time at a court hearing. We did the "all rise" thing, the judge came in, someone presented the applicants, then motioned for the court to grant them citizenship as petitioned. The judge accepted and then launched into a speech. He started off with the typical hoo-rah that I expected. America is wonderful, a great country, all that stuff. Then, he paused and said something to the effect of "Now, I must take a minute to address the places from which you all came." (There were about 60 being sworn in, from places as diverse as Pakistan to England to Mexico to Bosnia.) When he said that, I think I braced my heart a bit for what was about to come next, unsure of his stance and what he was going to say.

What followed was not only a relief, but actually made me tear up a bit. In essence, he spoke of the importance of remembering one's history, of telling stories to your children of the places you grew up, of never forgetting your roots. I was overcome with thankfulness to hear him acknowledge the individuals' history and the sacrifices that people were making in order to take this oath. It was to me, the most beautiful part of the ceremony. I hope that, if Jesse and I ever do finally get around to having children, they will grow up having fond memories of both Canada and America.

I hope they will experience the beauty of the Canadian Rockies, know what a toque is, and grow an appreciation for a cold Molsen. I hope they play with sparklers on the 4th of July, sing the Star Spangled Banner, and learn their lesson if they don't run away from a lit firecracker fast enough. I hope they feel unsure of who to root for during the Olympics. I hope they never fall into believing the stereotype that Americans are self-absorbed and politically ignorant or that Canadians live in igloos and say "aboot". I hope they are proud of their father and the land he grew up in and I hope they feel a sense of ownership over it, too. And I hope they breathe in America, loving her for all her potential - even that which goes unmet. I hope, above all this, that they manage to rise above political boundaries and see people first and foremost as human beings just like themselves; people who are capable of feeling pain and love; people who choose to accept or reject.

Monkey Smells

Monkey has always had an affinity for smells, even more so than other dogs. She isn't content to simply smell the scent; she wants to make sure that she smells like it too. It's charming (except when you put on lotion and she immediately goes for the maximum amount of dog fur to human skin contact or when she catches a whiff of your deodorant and tries to bury herself into your armpit). Anyway, Monkey's latest perfume is called "Murphy's Oil Soap for Hardwood Floors".