Show and Tell - Pegge Hopper print

Way back in the day, when I was a swinging single living in the city, I painted my bedroom Caribbean blue and my living room dusty pink. Oh, yeah, "Miami Vice" colours. And I sponged the opposite walls. Good grief. I didn't have a lot of money but I did want some art on my walls.

There was an art store downtown that I passed a lot and I used to go in and browse. I wanted something that depicted who I wanted to be or wanted to feel. There was rarely any art that depicted black women, so I fell in love with some Pegge Hopper prints. Dark enough, I guess, they were Hawaiian women. Sometimes they had them already framed and sometimes they just had the posters. She looked so confident, so laid back. At ease with herself. Like she had just had the best sex in her life and was now just laying back in post coital bliss. Confident. I had spent all of my 20s trying to acquire this feeling of feminine power. If I did ever have it, I certainly didn't wield it. It was unconscious, untapped.

Now I knew that acquiring prints was not particularly expensive, but to me, it was, so I really did treasure each purchase. When I got together with my husband, he found them too feminine and the frames were too pastel for his taste. Unfortunately, we never could agree on what to hang on our walls, his tastes are more of the photographic and water and lighthouse sort. So she just sat on the floor forgotten. But when we moved, I dug her up, determined to put up my treasured art once again.

This has been modified somewhat - it had the name of the art gallery where it shown, Kapalua I think but when I had it reframed (the old one was dusty pink), I had it cut off and framed in a simple (read: affordable) copper frame. I still want to be here. I believe I've had my moments. So carefree. So laidback. Independent and strong. Savoring quiet moments when being me was good enough.

Dancing for IVF

Okay, a Pink Rose award to Christina, a woman I just saw on Master of Dance, a game show where you dance to different songs for a chance to win money. And not professional dancers, either. Just regular ole' folk, any age, any size. ( I was just channel surfing and it caught my eye; it's like Don't Forget the Lyrics but with dancing.) The host asked her what she would use the money for if she won. She announced to the ENTIRE WORLD that she had been trying to conceive for 4 years with her hubby (who was cheering her on in the audience) and she wanted the money for fertility treatments! The entire viewing world people! I don't know how many people watch the show, but it's got to be at least a million, right?

Personally, I thought her competitor was better, but I just wanted her to win so she could pay for her IVF treatments. Well, she won!!!! Dancing for IVF money, people. Americans, you gotta love their spirit!

Show and Tell - "Teddy"

Okay, this is a little embarrassing. This is my ole' pal Teddy. This is my very first teddy bear. He's a little worse for the wear, but I've done my best over the years to keep him together. My young hands had to do a little surgery every now and then to sew on a eye or repair a shoulder joint. His nose is quite worn. I've been told he's ugly and pathetic looking, but I never thought so. Just well loved. I don't really know his lineage, there are no tags or anything. He is stuffed with sawdust, believe it or not. I've been told that someone gave this to me when I was born in London, England a gazillion years ago.

In honour of my everlasting love for Teddy, I used to collect all things teddy bear; friends would give me Gund bears and teddy bear cards and such. I'm still a sucker for bears but I don't keep them on my bed anymore. (I did buy myself some Winnie the Pooh flannels which are my absolute favourite things to wear when I'm ailing.) I have to stop myself from buying anymore but my girlish self is still attracted to them. Frankly, I don't know if I could pass him down to a child of mine with all these new, talking, singing dolls and such, don't know if he would appeal to anyone but the child inside me.

45 is the new 35!

Thank you for your birthday wishes - I absolutely adore birthday wishes. My tremendous ego likes to get stuffed on the one day you're allowed special attention.

It's funny, I used to make a big brouhaha over my birthday, thanks to my early years when my mother would sing to me and make a big deal over my birthday. I guess it was a big deal for her as she had to do the birthing after all. For years, I would wake to the ringing phone of my mother's call singing me the happy birthday song. She doesn't spontaneously remember anymore, but I remind her now and I still get my song.

Now as I pass from one age bracket to another, (choke, choke!)I have to remind myself to be grateful that I even get to do that. I'm fortunate to even be older. Life is good. Thanks to my UFE procedure, my monthly period is so scant I get to use Tampax Lites. No more charting, no more thinking "what if", no more if I make that cute black girl my friend maybe she'll give me her eggs thoughts. Kidding.

I went to a women's chanting session yesterday and and the daimoku felt like horses galloping through my heart. As I watch my mother and my beloved dog, Sampson, get older and struggle, I realize that I need to be stronger. There are going to be lots of challenges ahead. Will I be ready to meet them? I've let so much slide away. I need to train harder. I got a list of bad habits a mile long, but today is not the day to list them. Today is my birthday, and when I look in the mirror and see the grey hairs, here, there and OMG, even there, I will also see someone who survived. She fell down, but she got up. She might have the old war injury that aches when it rains, but most of the time, she is getting stronger every day. She has a smile that still lights up a room.

And on that note - I'm gonna get this sore gluteus maximus (thanks spinning class) in gear and get out the door. I've got shit to do.

Jackass

PJ passed along an article that you should find interesting reading. I had to calm down a bit before I replied, but apparently they don't let you comment after 2 days. So I will post my response here. It' s like a belated birthday present to PJ and to all of you. And since it's my space, I'm not going to bother being polite like I was planning on doing. Cause it just feels good to say it like it is:

Dear Jackass:

I was encouraged to read your article where you indirectly accused my friend and fellow blogger of "whining" past her allotted time as a result of infertility. I was encouraged because you didn't get to pass on your "empathy" and "compassion" genes. I betcha she wishes she could be British so she could have that typical British stiff upper lip I've heard so much about. What a nerve she has to come out of her silent and therefore noble suffering to connect with millions of people who are undergoing the same issue. I guess you hadn't read any of the hundreds of infertility blogs in the UK. Or did it just piss you off that the venerable New York Times actually carried the story. Don't you just wish you had chronicled your adventures in infertility in the Guardian earlier? Just think of the hearts you could have touched, the connections you could have made with people who might have been encouraged to feel that they weren't alone! Nah.


Oh, that's right. You had the good sense to keep that part of your life private. Hidden. No need to burden the rest of society with your stupid little problem. "Those are the breaks" after all. I'd like to know a few things, though, cause you didn't really get into it in your article about "whining".

Was it at all difficult (or perhaps annoying or inconvenient would be more appropriate) for you and your wife throughout the years you were trying to conceive? Did you go through IVF? I hear the NHS will pay for treatments if you wait long enough in the queue. How fortunate not to have money in the way of bringing a longed for child into the world. How many expensive peesticks did you pee on only to see - nothing? No cross, no pink line. Month after month, for years. Did you try ICSI? No? But I bet it was fun handing those "samples" over to the nurse. How many times did you inject ever increasing quantities of hormones into your body? Kinda gets in the way of romance, doesn't it? But hey, I bet you know the business end of a hypodermic needle now! Not to mention, those pesky social invitations, baby showers and pregnancy announcements and constant enquiries about your ability to procreate? How about donor inseminations? Did you try that? I heard it's great fun going through the catalogues looking for quality specimens. What about just trying to relax? That always works. It's a good thing you could keep a lid over your emotions during all of that fuss and bother. Does your wife have a blog? Or did she write one for Mother's Day? That I would have loved to read because I'm sure it would have been full of hearwarming encouragement.


And why do you think its "nuts" to "mourn over something that never existed"? Western society has trained us to believe that we can have anything we want as long as we are willing to work hard at it, persevere, never give up, be positive and visualize your way to success. I wasn't whining or complaining about our tough breaks. I was too busy changing my diet, changing my attitude, partaking of both Eastern and Western medicine. You should do a little more research into the infertility blogs - quite a few of us came pretty darn close to having something that had a heartbeat before it got flushed, D&C 'd out, or delivered stillborn. Did you know that at 5 months you still have to DELIVER this something that never existed?!! Do you actually think there is a PAIN OLYMPICS, where we compare who is more justified to their suffering? Apparently, you do. Hey, the deady baby momma gets the gold! Mrs. Never Got Knocked Up didn't even place.


So many of us, like the blogger you were so kind not to name, just have the dream of the child they never had to get over. It's a bitter pill to swallow that life just doesn't work out as you planned it not matter how many "right" things you do. But we'll get it down. With wine, cause we can drink now. Man, when I think of all the money I saved on diapers! Hey, I could use the money to "just adopt". Is that what you did? I mean, you just wanted a child to love, right, it doesn't really need to be your own, right? Right? How much does it cost there? In Canada it's about $20 - $50K. That's cheap in British pounds. And the home study where you get finger printed and have every area of your life questioned is fun and enlightening! You know, if you go for an older child with special needs, it's cheaper! Do you have a patent on that "stuff it down and get over it" attitude? You could sell it and adopt tomorrow! Go for it, that way you're guaranteed a gift on Father's Day.

Signed,

Enlightened One.

Show and Tell - In the Palm of the Buddha

This is a frangipani flower in the palm of wooden Buddha in Thailand. I saw this picture last year when I was waiting at the ferry terminal in Sechelt. It reminded me of the flowers I saw in Bali. aAnd yes you can see them quite a lot in Hawaii, Malaysia and Australia. They were in my wedding bouquet as well. I thought it would be perfect for a nursery. And yes, I bought it for my adopted child because that was the same weekend I started my blog. I had stopped waiting for BFPs and just relax miracle pregnancies. I just wanted something to look forward to and be excited about. This was before the home study, the subsequent fallout, all my "processing", blah di blah.

A frangipani symbol means "Shelter". It's meaning is that "I will protect you from anything evil." That's a good sentiment. don't you think?

IRL at Last!

I had the absolute pleasure of having coffee with a fellow IF blogger! I'd been reading her posts for some time and I often thought about her. We corresponded privately for a bit and eventually she mustered up the courage to reach out to me, so we met for coffee. I had stopped to pick up a flower for her, it's been so gloomy here lately and I thought it might cheer her up and as I rushed towards the door of Starbucks, I noticed a woman out of the corner of my eye coming in behind me. I turned to really get a look at her and she smiled and recognized me. We hugged and smiled goofily at each other. You know what it's like, it's like I know all these personal details about the other person, but I really don't know them. Well, when we sat down we just chatted up a storm and told each other our stories again, in our own voices. It was great that the yellow gerbera daisy I gave her turned out to be her favourite flower. We often finished each other sentences and voiced each other's thoughts. It was incredible. I wanted to just listen to her and yet I couldn't help but tell my own thoughts, so hungry I was for someone that truly heard me. Time flew and before we knew it, the place was closing and so we went around the corner to get something to eat. Again we yakked and yakked and the hour got late. We hugged again as we said goodbye and hopefully we'll be able to go for a walk together real soon.


She's pretty shy, so I can't tell you who she is, but it was my honour to meet with her. There's nothing like just making a connection with someone. We are so different in so many ways, but underneath the skin, we have the same yearnings, the same desires for a good life, a happy life. Infertility has changed who we were, challenged our beliefs about what we thought life would hold for us. She's in mourning of who she used to be. I get that. She's grown weary of BFNs and unsupportive friends and the unrelenting grief. She wants out of her box. She yearns to open up and reach out. I'm so happy we met. I can't stop smiling.

Gassy dog

My dog woke us again last night - hubby took him out, but he just peed and then upon return, waited for a snack. And the he came up on the bed, put his head on hubby again and so out they went again. Did I mention this was at 2:30am? My turn at bat came next at 3am. Once again, he didn't do anything but sniff around. I was pretty sure he had gas and he was stomach was giving him some grief. Apparently, DH gave him an extra scoop of dog food earlier that night. He's been eating a variety of foods this week, so we just need to be careful getting him back to his regular overpriced dog food.

I ended up laying down beside him on the living room rug until he fell asleep. By this morning, the stinking haze in my bedroom confirmed my suspicion of brimstone percolating in his ass, and when we reached the park, and unloaded his burden, he was as right as rain again. Sorry, I hope the tourists forgive me.

My favourite subject - ME!

I totally missed Show and Tell this weekend, so concerned with my dog's bowel habits. So I'll get on it early so I can post on time. Yet, I've been tagged by Loribeth, this is my very first meme. What the hell is a meme?


1. What were you doing 10 years ago?


I was in Toronto staying at an out of town friend's apartment, trying to jump start my acting career. It was stinkin' stomach heavin' humid hot. I spent a lot of time in Starbucks trying to stay cool. My agent at the time was pissed at me for leaving her and so she wanted to hold me to our old contract for 30 days. Basically that meant my new agent couldn't really double submit me for things as there would be a conflict. So I was just hanging out, doing temp jobs and waiting for something to change. DH, then my boyfriend, was secretly livid at my "no plan" plan and I was confused as what the big deal was. I was perfectly happy, buoyed by my newfound Buddhist practise, and determined to overcome my obstacles. I flew back home, after one of THOSE conversations with him over the phone, and had to deal with his anger, feelings of abandonment and zippo dollars in my bank account. I chanted a lot, received my Gohonzon, overcame his negativity, and ended up landing a well paying extra gig up north, an actor friendly job within 2 weeks, and by the end of the summer, I was booking huge jobs and I was debt free 3 months later. As emotionally troublesome as it was, it was one of the happiest times in my life.





2. What 5 things are on your to-do list for today?

Mmm, the busy life of an actor. What to do, what to do? Walk dog, finish taxes and try to figure out why I can't get Excel to work on my laptop, and why it won't print as it is on google document even though I did it on Mozilla. Or maybe I'll just connect my laptop to the printer.... Go to spin class, take mum out for a coffee. When the weather is nice, we sit at a nearby Starbucks and watch people go by. Finish adoption profile (doing great on that by the way after some terrific advice) and that's about it.

3. List some snacks you enjoy.

I LOVE POPCORN! and Werther's chewy caramels (get your own bag), M&M's with peanuts, Mike and Ike's, red licorice, particularly Twizzelators, Lovehearts, black currant pastilles....okay basically all candy, chocolate bars and cake.... now you know why I joined Weight Watchers.





4. What would you do with a billion dollars?





Donate money to SGI, animal rescues, lots of child centred, geriatric and infertility charities build a recreational centre for troubled youth, provide for all my friends and family.


A big ass shopping spree that would include residences in a few well chosen places in the world, shoes, shoes, my own private hairdresser, a cherry red Charlie's Angels Mercedes convertible and I would clone my dog, Sampson when his time with us is up.


5. List the places you have lived

Toronto, New York and Vancouver.

6. List the jobs you have had.

Bingo girl, ass't stage manager, human resources clerk, KFC cashier, sales clerk, waitress (which one of you bastards took my order?), bajillion temp jobs that included pulling staples of out mistapled papers, the girl in the booth in the mall that suggested Christmas gifts to stressed out shoppers, legal secretary, typist for legal secretaries, medical office assistant, ass't to 2 admin. assistants at Kelly Girl Services (yes I was a Kelly Girl for many years until they changed their sexist name to just Kelly Services which I guess made me a Kelly Person), receptionist at various places (hated doing that, disconnected people all the time and I couldn't pee when I wanted to), admin. ass't for various marketing, accounting and financial offices, posed nude for art school, acted as a sick psychiatric patient for nursing students, notetaker for consumer research groups, extra, acting coach, actor and director. Honestly, I've had a lot of jobs.

Want to know which ones I loved and hated the most? Most hated - KFC cashier - racist pricks who thought I shorted them a nickel and by the way, there were way more white people who wanted their fried chicken, no - demanded their fried chicken even though we CLOSED the door at 10pm. The sales clerk job was pretty bad not because of thepeople I worked with, but the people, once again - racist people traumatizing poor, young, innocent me. Oh, yeah and the typist to legal secretaries. Great pay, horrible environment. The supervisor was this strange woman, let's call her a martinet. She was like a petty dictator, a nasty matron at a workhouse orphanage. She took great pleasure in telling people how to dress, whether their hairstyle was appropriate, she called us "her girls", and told us there was no reason for us to even want to leave the floor to go down to the mall level as the company provided coffee for us. I would hide in the bathroom just so I could have a break. The temps weren't allowed to talk to each other, no personal phone calls and yes, she would walk the floor to check up on us. One time, I had to call around for a cheap dentist, my poor impacted wisdom tooth throbbing away, I could barely talk, and she wanted to know why I was on the phone. One poor woman, who was stuck in the office with her doing some assignment had to ask her for permission to make a non-work related comment. I tried my best to get along with her, but I finally broke down one day and told her off in no uncertain terms. She was lucky I couldn't get a gun at WalMart. I swore I would never go back there to that dungeon, but apparently that mega huge legal firm was so desperate for my considerable skills, they asked for me back. I told them that I would only go back if I got more money and never had to work on her floor anymore. Imagine, me, a lowly temp! I got more money, and I didn't have to deal with her anymore. I'd see her pasty face in the halls on occasion and I would gloat.

Best job - actor! and director! Of the temp jobs - I'd say ass't to a vice president of a real estate firm. He made his own coffee and typed his own memos. Worked with all men, which I'm sad to say is better than working for women or female admin. assistant who think you are there to steal their jobs.

Okay, enough about me!

I'm supposed to tag somebody, so I say Barely Sane from Infertility Licks, Liana from Welcome to the Dollhouse and Pam from BloodSigns .

You're it!

My adored beast is back in action!

Thank you all so much for your good wishes. Sampson is indeed much better. As a matter of fact, one of his prescriptions ran out on Saturday and consequently, I feel, he started to perk up. By Sunday, we went on our usual walk in the park and though he was tired on our way home, he was acting like his usual self. By Monday, he was rolling on the grass with his ball and barking at me. He's back! I got the blood results when I went to pay the bill. Yes, my vet actually lets you leave without paying the bill. And he called me on Sunday to check on him. He's a big of a wingnut, but he's a great vet. (If you bring your dog in worried about something and it's nothing, he usually doesn't charge you for the visit.) Apparently, he had a minor raised liver enzyme level which the vet says is nothing. He has a has a lowered thyroid level, which would explain his sluggishness and slow heartbeat and that's about it. He doesn't even have to be medicated. Yay! Very happy! We just have to watch his weight and make sure he gets exercise.

Man, I sweated that one a bit. I was laying down with my beast chanting in his ear and while at the culture centre for a leaders workshop, I prayed strongly for his complete recovery. I owe him for making me chant so much. I can't believe how worried I was; imagine what I'll be like if my kid gets a fever in the middle of the night. I better start reading this child care books. The more I know the less helpless I feel. No wonder doctors act so calm in the face of adversity. It made me realize how much I had transferred my maternal feelings towards him. Great, I'm a crazy dog lady. Oh, man, I feel sorry for my future kid. I'll be all over them like my mum was when we were sick. She'd hear you cough in the middle of the night (no closed doors allowed in my house) and she'd run in and slather your chest in Vick's vapo rub. Ack! She never used a thermometer to determine a temperature, just the flat of her hand.

Now, of course, Sampson doesn't want to eat his plain ole (expensive!) dry dog food without rice and chicken. Spoiled rotten. :)

What should have been my 100th post

I'm reading Eckhard Tolle's "A New Earth". I'm only about 50 pages in or so, and I can see why you need a highlighter and post it notes. It's pretty deep. Not hard to understand but deep. It's basically Buddhist philosophy without the metaphors.

He talks about the ego equating having with Being. The more I have, the more I am. How we view ourselves by what others see. How we view ourselves by what we have and how much we have. He poses the question of how we let go of our attachment to things. He says it impossible because when we no longer seek to find yourself through things, the attachment drops away. This thought is completely in synch with my practice. I'm cool, yay.

Being an "artiste" can be fun and rewarding, but it does have its drawbacks. I can be a really great actress and still get absolutely no reward for it. I am constantly underemployed. Some of us work all the time and make bajillion dollars a years and some of us make squat or diddley squat. There are tons of horrible but good looking actors out there making more money to put more plastic in their bodies. You know who they are. Oddly, we continue to pursue it. It's like a curse really. I've had really great years and really crappy years. Before I started practising, I definitely was doing okay, I was younger, hotter and not bitter. I didn't work a lot, but when I did, I felt like a million bucks. When I didn't book a part, I felt like a failure. I felt worthless, invalidated, etc. I would do extra work because I was in the union so it paid well, but the whole world of being an extra is basically set up to be demeaning and soul sucking especially for someone who is spent most of her education training to be an actor and sacrificed lots of perfectly good jobs to do so. To an actor, it's the equivalent of working a McJob. It pays the bills, but lordy, we'd rather not do it.

What's it like? Basically, you hang out on set for hours and hours with no idea of when you get to go home and watch the person who did get the role get the attention and money you want. They get to to be in the spotlight and you try not to get yelled at for being in the spot you didn't know you weren't supposed to be in. They get someone bringing them water, you hold your pee until they release you from your designated spot in the freezing cold under the rain towers (a big sprinkler). You get to watch a well known, highly paid actor screw up take after take because they don't know their lines while you stand under hot lights sweating in winter gear praying you'll pass out so you get to go home. They get hot snacks brought to them, you are lucky if there is any generic peanut butter and cheese whiz left by the time you get back to your mud-filled, dark, drafty tent.

I was 32, single, living alone in a new city: intelligent, cute, outgoing and fun, blissfully unaware of my inherent worth. I had a lot of fun. I had a lot of energy but did not know where to direct it. I produced a spoken word event, but missed the energy and drive of my hometown of Toronto. I had no inner peace, I was basically drunk every chance I got - and I was lucky to not end up in the clutches of some fucking idiot or worse. I did hang out with gay guys, which protected me from a lot. I was looking for Mr.Right but found Mr. Potential Date Rapist, Mr. What's His Name, Mr. Probably Gay, Mr. Would Rather Date a Blonde Chic, Mr. Hot but Way too Young for Me and let's not forget Mr. Ex-Boyfriend who Still Had No Clue. Inside, I still yearned to feel connected to something that would really make a difference in my life.

To make a long story short, when I learned about Buddhism, I began to understand that a source of my suffering (I had a few) was that I attached my sense of worth to what I did. If I booked a gig, I was a somebody, if I didn't book, I was nothing. If I worked as an extra, I was less than nothing. Hence, in the quiet moments, I could hear a giant flushing sound. When I started chanting, I heard nam myo ho renge kyo instead. I finally felt like I could do something for my state of mind instead of waiting to be rescued by some one or some thing. Happy "coincidences" started happening. I felt lighter, happier and determined to not give up on myself. I continued with extra work for a time, but it was easier. I said no a lot more. I didn't put up with crap. I didn't believe I was worthless or believed the "wouldn't work in this town again" line when I demanded the right to be treated respectfully.

One of the greatest challenges we face in the IF community is that we attach our self worth to being a mother. If we get to be a mother, we're in that club, that spotlight, that ultimate expression of womanhood. If we don't, we're nothing. We're worthless. We're ghosts, there but not there. Extras just waiting to come in from the cold. While we wait, it's like purgatory. Is it my turn yet? Even after disappointments for years, your turn can come, any day, any day now. It is indeed possible. There's plenty of proof to see. Time runs out on some of us, though. Choices are made in the name of good sense or sanity. I have asked myself a million times, who am I now? What the fuck did I do in my previous life to deserve this?! For a while, I felt like nothing, and I could hear that giant flushing sound again. And so I turn to daimoku again to transform and fill that aching silence. I am repairing my heart so that I can open up to love. I can expand my capacities once again to become the person I need to be to encompass this pain and live with strength and compassion for the child that awaits and the people I already have in my life. I want to fill up so I can give.

What do you do to repair your heart?

update

Further update: took Samps back to vet. Over the course of the day, he was still lethargic and weak and I thought better take him again before the weekend comes. The vet took a blood sample, so I should have results by tomorrow. He doesn't think its the medication, but he shouldn't be so mopey and his heartbeat is now slow. He thought it might be pancreatitis. I also had to take my mum to the hairdresser, so both seniors were attended to today. Well, at least I'll know by tomorrow. Sigh.

Update on my big boy

My DH came home early from work yesterday, he just couldn't concentrate either. He lay on the floor petting and hugging him and our big boy just sucked it up. Earlier in the day I was laying with him, chanting to him and stroking him. I decided he needed to go back to the vet.

His temperature is normal now and his heartbeat is strong. The doc recommends we just keep on eye on him, he just might need more time to recover. He's still a bit pokey, but as I was browning his extra lean hamburger last night, he came sniffing to see what I was cooking, which is an improvement. And after he came back from outside he waited expectantly by the pantry door for a treat to be handed out.

It's funny, we acted like parents fretting over a sick child. We reported to each other each little thing that he did, how much he peed, his energy level, whether he was resting comfortably. When all you've had is this creature to raise, their well being becomes as important as any other member of the family. And now that's he's 10 years old and slowing down, you're aware that large dogs don't live as long as small ones, you start thinking of their demise and where you're going to sprinkle their ashes. I've imagined a child's arms around his big head, his big tongue licking a sticky face; his large body between us and harm as we went for a stroll in the park; all of us in one of those stupid Christmas card pictures we get every year from our friends.

I remember once when a dog came up from behind me and started bumping me with his muzzle, for whatever reason, and Sampson came running up and PUSHED the dog away from me. He did not attack, or snarl, he just pushed him away. And another time, we were walking in some suburban woods, and a lone dog came strolling towards us. He, once again, just pushed the dog into the tall grass away from me. The dog meant no harm, I'm sure, was just out for a stroll by himself, (people with houses just tend to let the dogs out on their own, apartment dwellers have to walk them). During my many post transfer bed rests, he would snuggle up on the bed with me, his head on my stomach. When I could barely walk because of swollen ovaries, he would wait for me to catch up.

He's asleep at the foot of the bed, he's going to be just fine. Thank you for all your good wishes and suggestions.

Sick doggy

It's my 100th post and I guess I should be writing something really special, but my dog is sick and I can't. I'm a little worried about him. He was with hubby last week and got into one of his dog buddy's bones and the diarrhea started. We went away for the weekend for family stuff, and he wasn't that bad, but on Tuesday night, it got worse. I had been giving him rice and it seemed to help. I knew something was up the minute I heard his claws on the floor, I woke up straight away, woke up hubby and then SPLAT. The smell was OUTRAGEOUS! I took him out, while hubby cleaned up. I came back upstairs to find kleenex stuck in his nose. It was actually very funny. We opened up the windows, Febreezed the bedroom and bathroom, scrubbed the carpet, threw the bathroom rugs in the washer, yes, it was THAT BAD! Went to sleep finally once we put nice smelling stress release spray on the pillows.

We went to the vet yesterday and the doc put him on antiobiotics right away. The poor thing. He was so lethargic, so mopey, so not himself. He still eat treats, so he can't be that bad, right? I shouldn't have waited so long, I'm usually so fussy about his health. I am now cooking his meals, rice and chicken, which he is eating with gusto, but I was sure he'd be right as rain this morning. Speaking of which, it's raining here and I would like some sunshine now, please. Get better, Samps, please.

Oh, yeah, that.....baby thing.

Had a tense evening yesterday. I got a call from our adoption agency to prompt me to get our homestudy package completed. Again. They need a further info section - you know with more pictures and details about our lives. Apparently, we were shortlisted a couple of times, but with no further info pending, well.... they had to photocopy our homestudy report themselves. Of course, I apologized, I had been so busy with my show and I just let it slide. I felt so guilty. So guilty, and it's not real easy to make me feel guilty. Only my mum gets away with that. Like, oh, yeah, I should be more interested in this. I should have done this months ago, it's not like I have a job or anything. But I was a little more concerned about my losing weight and saving my marriage.

And then hubby told me he was going to go watch hockey at a pub. I gritted my teeth and muttered, but said nothing. Of course, I ended up calling him and told him that I was upset that he had gone anyway. I immediately had a craving for sweets, some sort of cake. I was freaking out and I needed comfort food. I settled for a lemon curd tart and a slice of pizza with salad. Oh, yeah, and a glass of wine. Oh, yeah and M&M's with peanuts. Sigh. I guess it's no wonder I gained so much weight over the past 4 years. I actually did start something though. Find out we don't have too many pictures with both of us in it. We have a lot of pictures of our dog.

I know why I have been putting this off. I've been enjoying putting my life back on track (I just shot one day on a new series called Caprica), enjoying doing creative work and I'm scared of actually having to deal with a potential adoption "situation". We just got our marriage back on track, and we're not having much stress right now. I don't want my life upset right now. I want a child but I don't want the emotional rollercoaster that seems to go along with the adoption process. I am reading these adoption blogs and I notice the real happy part doesn't come until the adoption papers are signed. Before that, all joy seems to be tempered with uncertainty and shell shock of actually getting a child.

I'm supposed to be providing further scintillating details about our lives without so much as a decent appraisal of the potential birthmother. Just sudden vague phone calls with due dates. It's the not being able to control the process thing that hits my alarm buttons. My dog is not feeling well (vet visit planned tomorrow), my mum is getting frailer and there's nothing I can really do about any of these things, either. Things I can't control, happening in rapid sequence, do not bring out the best in me. I stood in the kitchen and chanted my anxiety attack away that my inner Diva was threatening.

Okay, here comes some stuff for the Golden Box. Eating my face off will not help. Just chant, just breathe, all will unfold as it should. Do the work, be in the moment, all will unfold as it should.

"The Buddha wrote that one should become the master of one’s mind rather than let one’s mind master oneself. "

Gotta put that up on my bathroom mirror.

Show and Tell - The Golden Box

I missed the NaCoLeavMo because I was quite busy directing my show, etc, so I will do the Show and Tell thing. Of course, I will still comment as much as I can. (We closed last night. The show was great, the actors were terrific, well received, blah, blah, blah. ) This is my Golden Box. Not really remarkable. When we got married, I received a lovely present from a girl who was the girlfriend of a Buddhist buddy who was the emcee at our wedding. She is a pastry chef, and ensconced within was an ice cream scooper and a container of heavenly, homemade, chocolate fudge sauce. The sauce is long gone, but the box remains. I thought I would put a gift it in sometime and pass it along, but for some reason, I never did. I thought I could keep cards or keepsakes in it, but that never happened either. Instead, I put my grief in it. My disappointments, my humiliations, my despair. Just the worst stuff. The stuff I couldn't handle at the moment.

During my grief counselling, I was asked to put certain overwhelming emotions away until I could face them. She asked me if I had a place where I could put them. I had this empty golden box in my closet. So I put them there. I took it down, dusted it off and took a picture of it and then put it back. I like knowing that it's there. The fact that I put my nightmares in there meant that I didn't have to carry them with me. It could wait until I had some calm, some perspective. There's no real substance to them, it's just scary, hyperventilating emotions that serve no purpose other than to convince me that I'm weak, or stupid or incapable of being good enough.

I think everyone should have a box like this.