This Christmas is completely different for us. Normally, our holidays are crammed full of family get togethers, parties, and traditions. On Christmas Eve and Christmas alone, we normally have five stops, not counting our private Christmas together.
But of course, this year we are in Wisconsin, and honestly we are pretty frustrated. We had asked for a week off before Christmas to see family- they didn't give it to us. We has for a week off after Christmas to see family- they didn't give it to us. To top it off, they scheduled Brandon to work both Christmas and Christmas eve.
So our Christmas was actually last week. No parties, no celebrations, no family or friends... just a quiet day at home.
We didn't realize how hard it was going to be to essentially skip our family Christmas until this week. Let me tell you... it's HARD. We missed decorating the tree, having Christmas in our house, waking my parents up at 6:00 am to have Christmas at their house (though I don't think they missed that part). We missed seeing the kids open their gifts, and we missed the big Christmas Eve prime rib dinner at my grandparents house. For the first time in my life, I missed Nonnie's breakfast- a tradition still carried out after her death, one of her final wishes. We missed lunch at my Grannie Annie's house, and Christmas dinner with Brandon's parents. At this very moment, my entire extended family is together celebrating... and for the first time ever, I'm not there.
I have to admit, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself until I saw a news report about our soldiers overseas. They are missing Christmas with their families too. They are in a strange country, fighting for us, risking their lives in a grueling and dangerous situation. Many of them have not seen family for months. Many of them are missing their second or third Christmas in a row. I imagine that many of them wonder if they will ever have Christmas at home again.
As hard as today is for me, I know it is infinitely harder for them. I'm sitting in a comfortable apartment with my puppy. I gave my husband a kiss this morning. I get to see him again in 12 hours.
So today, as you are celebrating with your family, remember our soldiers. Say a prayer for those who are fighting for us. Maybe take a moment to write a letter of thanks, or to go http://www.bakemeawish.com and donate a cake to be sent overseas to a soldier.
Merry Christmas, and may God bless.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
For those of you who live in the South...
You've put it off for hours, but the time has come for you to walk the dog. You check the temperature: 10 below zero, windchill of 30 below. Yikes.
You begin making preparations for this five minute walk in the snow. First, you dress appropriately: thick socks, jeans, a thermal shirt, a sweatshirt, heavy winter coat, ridiculously thick gloves, hat, scarf, snow boots, and any other random piece of apparel you feel will help keep you warm. You stick your cell phone in your pocket, for emergencies of course. You remember to grab your keys (after all, the last time you forgot them you were stuck outside of the building for twenty minutes, waiting for some angel of mercy to open the door). In a moment of clarity, you grab some beef jerky and trail mix, just in case you're forced to survive outdoors for an extended period of time. Finally, you bump the thermostat up to 75, to insure that it's nice and toasty inside if you make it back alive.
Next, you begin looking for an exit. Depending on how the wind blew, snow drifts could make three of the four doors impossible to open. It's like a crazy video game as you run from left to right, trying to find the right door. Door 1: frozen shut. Door 2: snowed shut. Door 3: iced shut. Door 4: the one you should have tried in the beginning, the door closest to your apartment, the only door that happens to work.
You push open the door and brace yourself for the bitter cold. This isn't so bad, you think bravely, as the cold air hits you. You're snug and warm in your winter clothes, and for a moment you congratulate yourself on being so well prepared. You cockily begin walking down the sidewalk, immediately slipping on the ice and falling flat on your backside.
A quick glance around to make sure no one saw your embarrassing fall, then you pick yourself right back up and begin your trek a bit more carefully. The first thing you notice are your ears-- they are burning. You readjust your hat only to find that now your nose is aching. A few steps further, and you realize that your legs are becoming quite chilled. The pain intensifies with every passing second.
Finally, you make it the twenty yards to the dog walk, only to be blinded by the bright sun glaring off the expanse of snow. You hurriedly attempt to shield your eyes, which causes you to land flat on your backside again. Groaning, you pick yourself up and realize for the first time that your pants are getting quite wet, and the cold moisture is sending a severe cold through your bones. It feels as if you are getting a tooth drilled, only instead of a tooth, it's every bone in your legs. Instead of one drill, it's a hundred tiny drills, gleefully eating away at your bones and causing you much pain.
Thankfully, you have a distraction from the pain in your legs-- the pain in your face. Your face feels as if you were punched in the nose, and shoved into a bowl of ice. It's difficult to breathe, and the pain leads you to believe that your nose is in fact frozen, and will at any moment break right off of your face.
Panic hits. Your worst fears are coming true. You are developing frostbite, and will surely die. You realize that you're no longer shivering-- it must be hypothermia. You begin to have visions of going insane, stripping off your warm clothes, rolling around in the snow, and of course, death. You grab your beef jerky, thankful for the nutrients that might help keep you alive a bit longer. Never mind the fact that your apartment is a mere ten steps away- ten steps in this cold might as well be ten miles.
You return your attention to the dog, to find that he has not gone potty, but rather has become stuck in a snow drift. He is frozen, shivering, and looking to you for help. You fall to your knees, your energy revived by the prospect of saving him. You pull off your gloves and begin digging-- oh why did he have to get stuck in a yellow snowdrift???
Finally you've rescued him. You pull him into your arms and face the blizzard, determined to make it back to the apartment and LIVE. You can't see a thing, so you stagger through the snow, grasping at branches, anything to keep you upright and on the right track.
When you feel you can't go a step further, your hand lands on the very door that will let you back into the warmth. You gasp a sigh of relief, struggle with your keys, and finally, FINALLY get the door open and stumble into paradise. The dog never finished his business, but no matter-- you would rather him poop on the floor than face the unbearable cold again.
You begin thawing out, the feeling returning to your face and legs. You suddenly realize that it's quite warm, too warm, suffocatingly warm. You run to the thermostat, turn off the miserable heat, and strip off the ridiculously warm winter layers you had covered yourself in only ten minutes before.
See, that wasn't so bad, you tell yourself. Good grief, it's so hot in here that I would GLADLY step back outside to get cool.
You begin making preparations for this five minute walk in the snow. First, you dress appropriately: thick socks, jeans, a thermal shirt, a sweatshirt, heavy winter coat, ridiculously thick gloves, hat, scarf, snow boots, and any other random piece of apparel you feel will help keep you warm. You stick your cell phone in your pocket, for emergencies of course. You remember to grab your keys (after all, the last time you forgot them you were stuck outside of the building for twenty minutes, waiting for some angel of mercy to open the door). In a moment of clarity, you grab some beef jerky and trail mix, just in case you're forced to survive outdoors for an extended period of time. Finally, you bump the thermostat up to 75, to insure that it's nice and toasty inside if you make it back alive.
Next, you begin looking for an exit. Depending on how the wind blew, snow drifts could make three of the four doors impossible to open. It's like a crazy video game as you run from left to right, trying to find the right door. Door 1: frozen shut. Door 2: snowed shut. Door 3: iced shut. Door 4: the one you should have tried in the beginning, the door closest to your apartment, the only door that happens to work.
You push open the door and brace yourself for the bitter cold. This isn't so bad, you think bravely, as the cold air hits you. You're snug and warm in your winter clothes, and for a moment you congratulate yourself on being so well prepared. You cockily begin walking down the sidewalk, immediately slipping on the ice and falling flat on your backside.
A quick glance around to make sure no one saw your embarrassing fall, then you pick yourself right back up and begin your trek a bit more carefully. The first thing you notice are your ears-- they are burning. You readjust your hat only to find that now your nose is aching. A few steps further, and you realize that your legs are becoming quite chilled. The pain intensifies with every passing second.
Finally, you make it the twenty yards to the dog walk, only to be blinded by the bright sun glaring off the expanse of snow. You hurriedly attempt to shield your eyes, which causes you to land flat on your backside again. Groaning, you pick yourself up and realize for the first time that your pants are getting quite wet, and the cold moisture is sending a severe cold through your bones. It feels as if you are getting a tooth drilled, only instead of a tooth, it's every bone in your legs. Instead of one drill, it's a hundred tiny drills, gleefully eating away at your bones and causing you much pain.
Thankfully, you have a distraction from the pain in your legs-- the pain in your face. Your face feels as if you were punched in the nose, and shoved into a bowl of ice. It's difficult to breathe, and the pain leads you to believe that your nose is in fact frozen, and will at any moment break right off of your face.
Panic hits. Your worst fears are coming true. You are developing frostbite, and will surely die. You realize that you're no longer shivering-- it must be hypothermia. You begin to have visions of going insane, stripping off your warm clothes, rolling around in the snow, and of course, death. You grab your beef jerky, thankful for the nutrients that might help keep you alive a bit longer. Never mind the fact that your apartment is a mere ten steps away- ten steps in this cold might as well be ten miles.
You return your attention to the dog, to find that he has not gone potty, but rather has become stuck in a snow drift. He is frozen, shivering, and looking to you for help. You fall to your knees, your energy revived by the prospect of saving him. You pull off your gloves and begin digging-- oh why did he have to get stuck in a yellow snowdrift???
Finally you've rescued him. You pull him into your arms and face the blizzard, determined to make it back to the apartment and LIVE. You can't see a thing, so you stagger through the snow, grasping at branches, anything to keep you upright and on the right track.
When you feel you can't go a step further, your hand lands on the very door that will let you back into the warmth. You gasp a sigh of relief, struggle with your keys, and finally, FINALLY get the door open and stumble into paradise. The dog never finished his business, but no matter-- you would rather him poop on the floor than face the unbearable cold again.
You begin thawing out, the feeling returning to your face and legs. You suddenly realize that it's quite warm, too warm, suffocatingly warm. You run to the thermostat, turn off the miserable heat, and strip off the ridiculously warm winter layers you had covered yourself in only ten minutes before.
See, that wasn't so bad, you tell yourself. Good grief, it's so hot in here that I would GLADLY step back outside to get cool.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Our prodigal son has returned
Let me just say... wow. Life certainly threw us a curveball last night.
Over the past two weeks, we've been learning to live without Ralph. The first few days were all tears and heartbreak. The next few were a little easier, though still sad. Finally, we reached the point where we were truly happy about the situation.
We kept in touch with his new owners, and were happy to hear that he was healthy and happy. He and their other dog were playing together nicely, and he loved having a companion. His fleas and ear mites had disappeared, as I knew they would (all he needed was to get out of this dog-filled apartment building).
We visited him once, and he did let us know that he was not happy about the fact that we left him there. He bit us both a few times, playfully, but pointedly. And he jumped in my arms and tried to cling to me when we left.
But we got past it, made our peace with the situation, and were starting to rejoice over our newfound freedom.
All of that changed at 10:00 pm last night when our phone rang. We glanced at the caller ID and saw it was THEM. My heart stopped. I thought Ralph had ran away, gotten hurt, or was sick. I threw the phone to Brandon and asked him to answer it, fearing the worst for my baby.
So what was the life altering tragedy? RALPH HAD POOPED IN THE FLOOR.
Over the course of the two weeks they had kept him, Ralph had a few accidents. Now, this is completely normal for a dog in such a major transition. We had already talked to them about the fact that he was in a new environment, might regress a little, and we warned them about changing his food/potty schedule. They wanted him to be on their other dog's schedule, which was probably asking too much. They also weren't used to actually walking a dog, as theirs just runs out into the backyard when she needs to go. Ralph has been an apartment dog- we walked him on a schedule.
But it was all just too much for them. After all, they "like to keep a clean house" and just weren't sure he would "ever learn." So without delay, they brought him over and left him with us.
I can't help but wonder what they are going to do when they have children.
Over the past two weeks, we've been learning to live without Ralph. The first few days were all tears and heartbreak. The next few were a little easier, though still sad. Finally, we reached the point where we were truly happy about the situation.
We kept in touch with his new owners, and were happy to hear that he was healthy and happy. He and their other dog were playing together nicely, and he loved having a companion. His fleas and ear mites had disappeared, as I knew they would (all he needed was to get out of this dog-filled apartment building).
We visited him once, and he did let us know that he was not happy about the fact that we left him there. He bit us both a few times, playfully, but pointedly. And he jumped in my arms and tried to cling to me when we left.
But we got past it, made our peace with the situation, and were starting to rejoice over our newfound freedom.
All of that changed at 10:00 pm last night when our phone rang. We glanced at the caller ID and saw it was THEM. My heart stopped. I thought Ralph had ran away, gotten hurt, or was sick. I threw the phone to Brandon and asked him to answer it, fearing the worst for my baby.
So what was the life altering tragedy? RALPH HAD POOPED IN THE FLOOR.
Over the course of the two weeks they had kept him, Ralph had a few accidents. Now, this is completely normal for a dog in such a major transition. We had already talked to them about the fact that he was in a new environment, might regress a little, and we warned them about changing his food/potty schedule. They wanted him to be on their other dog's schedule, which was probably asking too much. They also weren't used to actually walking a dog, as theirs just runs out into the backyard when she needs to go. Ralph has been an apartment dog- we walked him on a schedule.
But it was all just too much for them. After all, they "like to keep a clean house" and just weren't sure he would "ever learn." So without delay, they brought him over and left him with us.
I can't help but wonder what they are going to do when they have children.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow- NOT!
I must confess that I am ready for a break from the snow. This morning I measured several places outside our patio. The most shallow spots were 9 inches... the average spots were 11 inches... and the drifts swallowed my ruler. I am guessing that the drifts were close to two feet. I don't mind the snow on the ground, but I would love to have a day of sunshine!
In other news, the couple who has been keeping Ralph has decided to officially adopt him. We are pretty sad, but we know he got the best possible family and that it will be good for him and for us. This family is great, and Ralph will have another dog his size to run around with. He will have a family, a buddy, a house, and a yard.
AND we get to dog-sit for him over Christmas while they visit relatives!
In other news, the couple who has been keeping Ralph has decided to officially adopt him. We are pretty sad, but we know he got the best possible family and that it will be good for him and for us. This family is great, and Ralph will have another dog his size to run around with. He will have a family, a buddy, a house, and a yard.
AND we get to dog-sit for him over Christmas while they visit relatives!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
A new chapter
It's nearly 1 am and Brandon is sleeping soundly, but I just can't seem to doze off. Partially because of my incredibly rude neighbor who is blaring rap music and apparently doing some kind of intense workout right above our bedroom... and partially because it is our first night without Ralph.
As it stands, Ralph is doing a "trial period" with another family. They are great, and I believe they will give him a good home if he and their other dog do well together. They are just about everything we hoped for in a new family for him. But honestly, that doesn't make it any easier. The truth is that I miss him like crazy. He and I do everything together, because we're alone together so much while Brandon is at work. We take naps together, we walk together, we watch tv together... he even sleeps in bed with us, underneath the covers, just like a little kid. He's part of the family, and Brandon and I both are really unhappy about saying goodbye.
But in the interest of humor, which I personally need right now, let me tell you a little bit about some of the people who wanted him.
We got a LOT of calls and emails concerning him. After a week, I took his picture off of the rehoming sight because I just couldn't deal with any more people coming to see him.
Now I'll be honest, we've been EXTREMELY picky about who we give him to. We've met a lot of nice people who would make great pet owners but just didn't meet exactly what we were looking for.
But for every good candidates, we met at least two that we would never EVER consider. Here are a few of my personal favorites:
1. The 80 year old widow. In all fairness, she seemed quite nice. But let's be realistic- Ralph is still a puppy, and he probably has 10-15 years left... I don't think I have to spell out why this was a "no."
2. The college professor. This lady called me, asked me a million questions about Ralph (most of which were to gage how inconvenient he would be to her life) and set up an appointment to come see him. She didn't show up, and didn't think to give me the courtesy of a phone call to let me know she wasn't coming. Six days later she emailed me to set up another appointment. No apology, no excuse for not showing up, just an appointment request, AND a message about how he better be housetrained because they once had a pet who sometimes had accidents and "they just could NOT go through that again." Seriously, a pet accident is annoying, but it is NOT an unsurviveable tragedy. Needless to say, I didn't set up another appointment with her.
3. The highschool student with two children and no job.
4. The guy whose only questions were: "Does he bark?" "Does he shed?" "Is he a foot and a half long?" Seriously, what kind of question is that?? On top of that, he is pretty much never at home, but he assured me that he had a roommate who "probably wasn't going to move out" who "usually spent his lunch break at home, so he could check on the dog." Yeah, I don't think so.
5. The pushy couple. This couple called for an appointment. I told them that any day would be fine except for Tuesday. They agreed to that, then called me back and said that they really wanted to do it Tuesday because that was more convenient for them. I agreed to rearrange my schedule and let them come over. They showed up early, asked me a list of questions, then told me they would take the dog. I informed them that it didn't work that way, that I had questions for them and that I would never give the dog to someone without my husband meeting them and us visiting their home to make sure it was a safe environment. They blew up and insisted I come see their home right away. I reminded them that my husband was working late and that I didn't have a vehicle, and that I already had plans for that evening that I had postponed to fit them in. They again tried to insist that they would take the dog right then. I finally booted them out the door and called them the next day to tell them NO.
6. Finally, the strange email people- I am grouping six or seven people into this, who all sent very strange, short emails. For example, "sooooooo... Ralph doesn't get along with other dogs?" That is ALL the email said. No name, no information, no greeting, nothing. I replied that Ralph loves well-behaved dogs, but that we didn't want to put him in a home with any aggressive dogs. I never heard back from that person. I got several emails requesting photos (although there were 3 on the website). Again, no information, no questions, no names- just a request for pictures. Never heard back from any of them either. And of course, many emails asking the typical questions: "Does he bark? Does he shed? Does he poop?"
My new answer for those questions is "in case you couldn't figure it out from the picture, Ralph is a DOG. D-O-G. Look it up, and figure it out for yourself."
As it stands, Ralph is doing a "trial period" with another family. They are great, and I believe they will give him a good home if he and their other dog do well together. They are just about everything we hoped for in a new family for him. But honestly, that doesn't make it any easier. The truth is that I miss him like crazy. He and I do everything together, because we're alone together so much while Brandon is at work. We take naps together, we walk together, we watch tv together... he even sleeps in bed with us, underneath the covers, just like a little kid. He's part of the family, and Brandon and I both are really unhappy about saying goodbye.
But in the interest of humor, which I personally need right now, let me tell you a little bit about some of the people who wanted him.
We got a LOT of calls and emails concerning him. After a week, I took his picture off of the rehoming sight because I just couldn't deal with any more people coming to see him.
Now I'll be honest, we've been EXTREMELY picky about who we give him to. We've met a lot of nice people who would make great pet owners but just didn't meet exactly what we were looking for.
But for every good candidates, we met at least two that we would never EVER consider. Here are a few of my personal favorites:
1. The 80 year old widow. In all fairness, she seemed quite nice. But let's be realistic- Ralph is still a puppy, and he probably has 10-15 years left... I don't think I have to spell out why this was a "no."
2. The college professor. This lady called me, asked me a million questions about Ralph (most of which were to gage how inconvenient he would be to her life) and set up an appointment to come see him. She didn't show up, and didn't think to give me the courtesy of a phone call to let me know she wasn't coming. Six days later she emailed me to set up another appointment. No apology, no excuse for not showing up, just an appointment request, AND a message about how he better be housetrained because they once had a pet who sometimes had accidents and "they just could NOT go through that again." Seriously, a pet accident is annoying, but it is NOT an unsurviveable tragedy. Needless to say, I didn't set up another appointment with her.
3. The highschool student with two children and no job.
4. The guy whose only questions were: "Does he bark?" "Does he shed?" "Is he a foot and a half long?" Seriously, what kind of question is that?? On top of that, he is pretty much never at home, but he assured me that he had a roommate who "probably wasn't going to move out" who "usually spent his lunch break at home, so he could check on the dog." Yeah, I don't think so.
5. The pushy couple. This couple called for an appointment. I told them that any day would be fine except for Tuesday. They agreed to that, then called me back and said that they really wanted to do it Tuesday because that was more convenient for them. I agreed to rearrange my schedule and let them come over. They showed up early, asked me a list of questions, then told me they would take the dog. I informed them that it didn't work that way, that I had questions for them and that I would never give the dog to someone without my husband meeting them and us visiting their home to make sure it was a safe environment. They blew up and insisted I come see their home right away. I reminded them that my husband was working late and that I didn't have a vehicle, and that I already had plans for that evening that I had postponed to fit them in. They again tried to insist that they would take the dog right then. I finally booted them out the door and called them the next day to tell them NO.
6. Finally, the strange email people- I am grouping six or seven people into this, who all sent very strange, short emails. For example, "sooooooo... Ralph doesn't get along with other dogs?" That is ALL the email said. No name, no information, no greeting, nothing. I replied that Ralph loves well-behaved dogs, but that we didn't want to put him in a home with any aggressive dogs. I never heard back from that person. I got several emails requesting photos (although there were 3 on the website). Again, no information, no questions, no names- just a request for pictures. Never heard back from any of them either. And of course, many emails asking the typical questions: "Does he bark? Does he shed? Does he poop?"
My new answer for those questions is "in case you couldn't figure it out from the picture, Ralph is a DOG. D-O-G. Look it up, and figure it out for yourself."
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