For The Love of PJ

The first Doberman I had experience with was actually more my mothers dog, though he did really like me. I was second fiddle. A guy whom my father worked with needed to rehome his sons dog. His son had wanted the dog, had gone through the tedium of wrapping & posting the dogs ears. The ears stood perfectly! It sounds like it's much easier than it actually is!

Then, his son lost interest in the dog through no fault of the dog. He stopped paying attention to him, even forgetting to feed him. He had left the dog chained to a tree in the back yard.

This is so neglectfully cruel to treat any dog this way.

For a Doberman?

It's worse than physical abuse or death.

Most Dobermans are very intelligent, keenly aware of their surroundings. Most are very tuned in to the moods, health, any other circumstance of their pack as well as certain people in their pack.

The guy was doing something so kind & compassionate for his sons sake, also for this magnificent dog.

The boy had named the dog Hitler. A beautiful male Doberman with rust & red coat coloring. When my father brought the dog to our home, my mother accepted the dog, renamed him as Hickory.

Hickory really was such a great dog. He deserved an owner or family who loved him, cared for him, appreciated him.

Hickory found that in our family. He was loved, played with, fed well, appreciated. 

That was the start of my love for this magnificent breed.

Have had 3 other Dobermans since then, all were great dogs.

PJ is the first AKC Doberman I have owned. He is now 17 mos.

I brought PJ home when he was 10 weeks in age. So little. Just 11 lbs. I drove to Wichita, Kansas to get him with the excitement building. I had a small bed for him to cuddle in, on the front passenger's seat beside me. Though he did eventually fall asleep in the bed, he spent most of the trip on my lap. So small, he fit perfectly, the steering wheel & seat were in their original position.

The breeders have such a great reputation. A husband & wife team. As the husband opened the front door, Serena, PJs mother, ran out to the front yard. She was play panting, did a couple of victory laps around the driveway before she obediently went back inside.

The wife was holding PJ on her lap when I walked in. She was stroking his back, lightly skritching behind his ears & head. He was so relaxed, snoring lightly. The breeders keep their dogs in a family home environment. In the living room of their home. Sectioned off by a large pen. It was nice to meet his 11 littermates, his mother and his father. All of them were just beautiful, the puppies were very sweet.

No, I wouldn't have taken all of them, though I could afford it. 

Dobermans are a lot of dog!

They are high energy, keenly aware of what happens around them. They need a lot of attention, training, exercise, mental stimulation, a job if you have one for them - even better!

(PJ likes to take ripped cardboard, put it in the recycling for me.)

Taking 2 weeks off of work, froze my gym membership for 3 months. Giving PJ 1 week to adjust to his new home before we began training together. First, potty training which he picked up within 24 hours. 2 days after that we began basic commands.

Sit

Stay

Up

Down

In (for him to get in the car, his crate or enter a building).

Go Slow

(This is helpful so that when he became bigger, he wouldn't drag me downstairs or when entering & exiting the car. He goes where I go)

Also taught him to sit, wait for me to walk through a door before him. Dobies are a dominant breed. If they are taught right, they will wait. Otherwise, they would knock a person over to try to go first.

Then, we did the fun stuff. Party tricks!

I point my finger at him, say, "Bang", he falls over. Playing dead.

Instead of "shake" I taught him a Texas version. 

"How doo"

For the other paw 

"Other How Do"

Working from home, online, he barked loudly at me when he wanted or needed something. After I taught him to bark loudly when I say

"speak" or murmur softly when I tell him to whisper.

On his own, he saw the irritation on my face when he barked at me. After he learned to speak & whisper, he no longer barked at me, he murmured softly when he wanted or needed something. He figured it out, did it on his own.

He also learned which piece of furniture he could hide things under. One day I was cleaning, organizing, clearing clutter. The kitchen tools I was sure I had bought were missing along with 3 wooden spoons. He had gone into the drawer, taken the spoons, 8 of the kitchen tools, hid them under the furniture, to play with later.

As something that my prior Doberman, Sammy, had done, PJ figured out that there were tasty snacks in the fridge & how to open the door. Too smart for my own good.

Just as I had to do with Sammy, I had to chain & padlock the fridge. From the DNA testing, Sammys parents were most likely brother & sister. Sammy was still a great dog whom I loved, missed so much I dreamed about him long after he was gone.

If PJ is any indication as to the difference between backyard breeder Dobies vs AKC, PJ is very different in so many beautiful ways.

He is more healthy, more intelligent, quicker to train, more solid in his bone & muscle structure, has more attractive tooth structure.

He is more obedient, more playful, figures things out faster.

1 week.

That was all it took for me to attach to, love this dog. Although he cried in his crate, keeping me awake, it was like having a newborn baby. Finally, I began sleeping next to his crate with a pillow & blanket on a futon. He still cried, he just cried less, allowing me to get more sleep. 

I knew what I was in for.

It was my fourth time around the tree.

Having taken 2 weeks off of work & froze my gym membership for 3 months.

Giving time to house train PJ & for us to adjust to each other.

It was so worth it. As it also allowed time to enjoy the exuberance of PJs puppyhood. The cuteness, the antics as his personality began to emerge. That stage is short.

Unique aspects of PJ:

He loves the words "kittykat" and "pixie". His ears perk up & he does the most adorable head tilt, then he smiles. Pixie is his friend whom he plays with regularly at the dog park. He knows her name & which car she rides in. When he sees that car pull up, his tail resembles a helo propeller.

Like many Dobermans he loves his food. Not all foods. There are some that he doesn't like. I make my own Pho at home; after one sniff he heads as far away as he can. When I take him to the outdoor Farmers Market, he gets excited when he sees watermelons. I buy one every Saturday. I cut it into bite sized chunks, keep it in the fridge. PJ LOVES watermelon. He also loves mangoes, guava, oranges, celery. He dislikes cucumber, spinach, water cress. Hasn't made up his mind whether he likes blueberries, strawberries, raspberries or peaches.

PJ has ticklish spots. Once I found them, I had to somewhat restrain myself. He makes a "play panting" sound that is so cute! It's a sound a dog makes similar to when a human is laughing.

Best to keep from overdoing it.

Teaching PJ an inside voice & an outside voice was essential. A few places in town allow me to bring him in. PJs loud Dobie bark is enough to frighten people. Whispering makes sure he will remain welcomed at the places in town we like to go.

My Texas bank is just inside the grocery entrance to the Walmart in my town. When I only need to go to the bank, I take PJ in with me. I'm very aware that Dobermans have a reputation for being vicious, for attacking. PJ is very well trained; he will only attack if I tell him to or if a person is coming at mee to do harm to me.

Every time I have taken him in, so many people remark at how beautiful he is, how well behaved he is, how they would never know he was there because he's so quiet. 

He IS both beautiful or handsome and quiet, he is also a solid 100 lbs, watching everything & everyone around him.

PJ sleeps outside my closed bedroom door. Recently, when he wakes in the morning, he started getting his food dish & banging on my bedroom door. As if to say, "Hey! I'm awake & hungry."

Finally, I can trust PJ to be loose in the house, uncrated both night and day. I put a bed where his crate used to be, inside of the front door, which is the main entrance to the house.  Every night when I go to bed, he drags his bed over to just outside my bedroom door. Guarding me all night. I sleep with the door closed. Some people allow their pets to sleep in their bed with them. 

Not me.

I have an ultra-sensitive nose. Dobies are notorious for having farts that would make ya pass out! Also, they are known as bed hogs.

Have never let animals of any sort sleep in my bed with me. Not a cat or a dog or a USMC type. Nope Nope Nope.

PJ continues to amaze me. The expressions in his eyes tells me he is constantly thinking. 

I am such a lucky girl to be his emotional support human.

Still There

Sometimes there are no words to express how a person feels. Not me, I rarely experience a loss for words to express myself.

Although it's been a year since my first loves sister told me he had passed on, it still feels like he is alive. I feel him in my heart, still.

The ache for him is still there. The memories, the total recall of photos of him.

Last year at around this time, I found 45 blue jay feathers. This year I have not found even one. People have explained it away in several ways. Such as it being a fluke that several blue jays were molting at the same time. That the birds molted late because of the weather. That could very well be the reason. I try to not read into it. Just enjoyed the wonder, the beauty of those beautiful perfectly colored feathers.

Then, there was the influx of coins I began finding. An explanation of that is that maybe I was looking downward more often out of my confusion & grief. Having always found coins, then finding many more than usual, makes me think, hmmm. On a few evening walks with PJ, I began finding $2. - $5. in coins. A small amount of money that looked like a lot in quarters, dimes, nickels & pennies.

When I was so broke I couldn't even afford to pay attention (a joke)I found a $100. in the parking lot at Walmart very late one night. It was just lying on the ground, partially covered by snow. Also, when I was at the laundromat that not many people go to, I was getting out of my car, I nearly tripped on 2 rolls of quarters. There were no people there, so no one to ask if they had dropped it.

It's difficult to put into words, I will do my best. Steve was misinterpreted as a bit harsh at times when a subject came up that he was very passionate about. His passion was far from being harsh, he had strong feelings that ran deep in his analytical mind.

With me, there was a softness in nearly everything he said & did. I feel that softness whenever I recall anything about him, including his "you gotta be sh*tting me" look. 

On one of my trips to Michigan when my daughter, Heather was 18 months of age, Steve & I were in a grocery store. He was fascinated by her. He watched her intently. Then, he told me that if he and I had married then had children, he wondered what they would have looked like. Would they have blue eyes? Green eyes? Maybe even brown eyes? Would they be "blondies? Would they have my mother's curly red hair? It was something that stayed with me. It made me wonder the same thing.

I KNOW!

People who knew Steve would say that Steve always said that he would never marry, didn't want to have children. In the love letters he wrote that I still have, he wrote about that very thing. Making plans to get married, start our own family, have 2 children

SO THERE!

As I write this blog entry, the tears have been flowing. 

The ache is palpable. The pain is as real as the clouds in the sky, less fleeting by far.

People have asked me how I maintained the same feelings for Steve, though I was married to someone else for so long.

The answer is that the ex-huzz did so many heartless things to me as well as setting me up several times for others to humiliate me. 

1. On our (the ex huzz & me) drive from California to Nebraska we made a stopover in Utah to pick up my sister, Julie. After having lunch at The Old Spaghetti Factory, we were on our way back to my sisters apartment. Julie pointed out a mother duck & her ducklings as they were crossing the road in front of us. The road had almost no traffic. He swerved to purposely mow down a mother duck & her little ducklings while driving our minivan. He did it out of spite because he didn't like something I said to him. It horrified me & my sister. It was very fortuitous that our 2 little girls were seated far back enough that they didn't see that their daddy ran over the mother duck & her ducklings on purpose, without flinching. 

2. The ex huzz lured me into what he termed as a "family meeting". It was actually a long barrage of his sister & brothers verbally assaulting me for over an hour. I was not allowed to speak & the ex huzz even blocked the door so I couldn't leave. He subjected me to such humiliation on four separate occasions.

3. Instead of being an adult, he stooped to freezing me out for several days to as long as 2 weeks at a time. He never apologized or even told me why. He did this on a regular basis. It contributed to killing my love & respect for him.

4. The ex huzz constantly lied to me, spent money behind my back. When our second precious daughter was just 6 months of age, he realized that his verbal abuse had toughened me so that it was harder for him to upset me. He found a way to upset me. He started telling me, 

"You're all used up after 2 babies"

He constantly said that to me for the rest of the time we were married. He delighted in upsetting me to the point of sobs & tears.

5. Ex huzz told me that when he was on a TDA to Germany, he had only gone to a hotel with a woman, only sat on the bed & talked. Yeah, right. I knew he had cheated on me. Especially when the woman called me at 3 am one morning to tell me about it. Then, she sent gifts to our home after he came back 5 months early from Germany.  

This is just the top 5 that killed my love & respect for him.

Steve was never so consistently brutal in his treatment of me.

So, yep, I'm alone again, back in the pain pit. Self inflicted? Maybe. My heart wants to remember Steve. I want to remember his isms, his brashness, his softness with me. All of this that causes pain also because I love him so much.

The one person I could speak of him with, his sister, I feel that I made her feel uncomfortable with things I felt safe sharing with her.

Maybe I over-shared, for that I feel remorse. Never wanted her to feel sad or scared or that I was mentally ill.

She is such a precious person whom I would never want to hurt in any way. Because I didn't want to hurt her, I stopped calling or texting her. It's a way to show my love for her. If I can't help someone, I, at least, will refrain from hurting them. It's important.

More important than the pain I feel at no longer being able to speak of Steve, with her. I still think of her, sometimes. She has contact information for me. If she called me on the phone, it would be nice.

If not, I respect her feelings.

Having always had dreams about Steve, it feels good to have them with none of the guilt trip the ex huzz laid on me about it. He would often speak of ex girlfriends, even a prom date. If I mentioned anything like that, he became angry, jealous, would freeze me out for several days, sometimes as long as 2 weeks. Sometimes he would freeze me out until he became so horny he couldn't stand it. Then, when I didn't rejoice & fall happily into bed with him, he sometimes resumed the freeze out. I believe that it's why the divorce was easier on me, emotionally, he had already taught me, by his childish freeze outs, how to live without him.

He had a very hard time, emotionally & mentally, figuring out how to live without me. 

He phoned me, several times, crying, not knowing what to do with the 2 teenagers he had spoiled & taught that I was of no value, that I was unworthy of respect from them, after all, I was "just" their mother.

 Now, when I have had one of the many dreams about Steve, I can cogitate on it throughout the day.

Keep your mind out of the gutter, lol.

The dreams are about Steve & I, married, with children, sharing our lives with each other. Without the Clark, jerk, influencing him. I know I could have helped him escape his nicotine addiction if it was his wish to do so. In my dreams he has kicked the "paper sucking". He's in a career he loves. Even in my actual dreams, there is a bit of conflict that he and I work out, together. 

We are happy. 

It's perfectly imperfect.

So, to conclude, although I'm sobbing, the front of my T Shirt is wet with my tears. It's a happy ache, I choose this. Steve was the first person outside of family members who made me feel loved. He said it & backed it up with actions.

My parents didn't love me; they made that clear.

Especially my mother who constantly told me she didn't love me. She reiterated that if she wasn't bound by law to feed me, clothe & shelter me, she wouldn't be doing it. Geez. Thanks, mom.

I had exactly one conversation with my father that didn't result in a violent beating with his thick leather belt. He even cut me out of his will after he passed on. That's real love. 

Thanks, dad. 

Yeah, it's sarcasm.

The first time Steve kissed me & told me he loved me was one of the high points in my life. 

I will choose to remember him, choose to keep the love I have for him, in my heart. For me, that's what love is, even when it hurts.

Learning, Still Learning

Learning to let go of that which brings such pain

Promising my heart only love will remain

Would you pick up a large still flaming ember

That scarred with such pain to remember

So let your heart be safe in lasting peace

Knowing what to keep and what to release

Allow the joy to get inside an entry only seal

Being kind to yourself while you keep it real

Let truth be your ever leading sweet guide

Being the real deal so open so bonafide

As your truth builds you up so it shall shield

Your spirit shining brightly all it can wield

Stand up straight knowing you have done your best

This is your home where you can build your nest

Home is where you can build your own little happy nest

Coming in From There

People who have yet to experience creativity or creativity on a high level might still understand this. When the creative vibe enters a person's heart or mind or spirit or all three or any combo, that's when it starts. For me, personally, it's warmth.

Starting small, little stirrings.

It pesters me, begging to be heard. If I try to ignore it, it might soften yet it's still there. 

The feeling of need to acknowledge, listen, act on, record then expound on. Lest something precious goes away because it was ignored, I have to always stop whatever I'm doing. 

If I'm asleep, it wakes me up. 

If I'm driving my car, I pull over to the side of the road. 

Sometimes it comes to me when I'm talking on the phone, the need to capture the creative idea will strike.

Why?

Absent of any valid answer, maybe the idea is floating around, searching for a receptive person to welcome it. Michael Jackson was a super receptive one to these creative ideas. He said it so well when he told people how his music came to him. He did write a lot of his music; he also used creativity to transform the music of others. One of his most iconic songs, Man in the Mirror, was written by Siedah Garrett. Michael transformed it into the one that is well known.

Throughout life, creativity forms have been a constant in my heart & mind. It started with writing poetry as soon as I could write at the age of 3 years. My maternal grandfather bought a notebook for me to write my poetry in. It was part of how he discovered the abuse I was suffering from in my parents' home. It explained some things he had wondered about. When he read my poetry, it revealed a lot to him.

Along with the suspected abuse, he saw into my creative thinking. The ideas about life, drawing, interpretations of things I did as well as my take on what people had said to me.

People were amazed that I had taught myself to tie my own shoelaces before I was even 3 years of age. My thinking went way beyond tying shoelaces. My grandfather encouraged me when no one else did. Cue in the song by Keali'i Reichel. It yeets me in time.

I am still here because you were there. 

You were there when no one was.

You Were There

As time went on, I would play in the tall grasses behind my parents' home, set on 7 acres? Maybe 10? Unsure about it. It was vast, to me. Pulling the tall grasses & little flowers, I wove them into crowns for my head, clothing & decorations for my dolls. Wove them into small purses, bracelets. The only one who admired then encouraged me was - yep - grandfather. 

He passed when I was 17, I still miss him with every breath I take.

Such a great man, at family gatherings he is still spoken of with admiration, longing, deep love & respect.

As time went on, my creativity was expressed in poetry and sketching.

When I was AD USAF, based at Edwards AFB, CA, I met a woman who introduced me to cross stitch. The only needlework I had seen before that was crochet, knitting, chunky crewel, macrame'. My Aunt Elaine was avid in needlepoint. One of her works of art is even featured in a museum.

I did try to do needlepoint at her encouragement. The materials felt clunky & scratchy in my hands.

It was a slight no - no for officers & enlisted people to fraternize. The woman who introduced me to cross stitch was the wife of a USAF Colonel. She was a bit of a rebel; told me we had to be somewhat discreet. Beelzebubs work for an officer's wife & an enlisted woman to learn to do needlework together! Oh no!

That was just the beginning.

To say that cross stitch was mesmerizing to me would be like saying the statue of liberty was just a statue. Along with creations in the ceramic shop at Edwards AFB, my creative outlet was also cross stitch. There were 3 women who worked in the ceramics shop on Edwards AFB. They were so nasty & mean to me as well as a few others. There was no smoking allowed in the shop. It didn't stop them from chain smoking while disallowing others to smoke. Also, I started dating a guy who didn't understand why I loved doing ceramics. He decided to give it a try. I was working on one very detailed piece one day. He was supposed to be at work. He unexpectedly got the day off, appeared at my barracks room door to visit. He kept walking over to see my progress. Repeatedly, I asked him to stay away from it. 

DON'T TOUCH!

Of course he didn't respect my warning.

The piece was in the greenware stage, very fragile. He teased me by reaching out with his index finger to just touch it.

It crumbled into a heap in front of me. Several weeks of work, gone.

He was shocked, I was LIVID! 

Ordered him to leave, he complied.

Unfortunately, I eventually married him, should have known better.

His sabotages of me, were a constant throughout our long marriage.

After too many sabotages, cheating, several forms of damaging abuse, I left him then financed the divorce. 

Some of the best money I have ever spent.

Turning away from doing ceramics to focus on something less fragile, I began doing more needlework. Deeper into techniques, more challenging designs. Poetry, needlework & French hand sewing became the constants. Like so many people who develop a love for needlework, I gave a lot of it away as gifts. As I look back, it wasn't as high in quality as the needlework I do in present day. It seemed to be, it just wasn't as I realize, now.

Learning to stitch on fine linen elevated the finished items in quality. Also, learning different finishing techniques improved the functionality of it. With so many free patterns available in so many places, if I had known about them, I would have bought far fewer patterns. 

Coulda Woulda Shoulda

This is a design by Emie Bishop of Cross n Patch designs. It's just one in a series of a dozen or more annual ornaments. They start with the year 1992. This is the annual 2000 ornament from the "Christmas in my Heart" series. Have stitched the ornaments up to the year 2010.

Steady, steady, wins the race. 

This is a design by Nora Corbett of Mirabilia Designs. Its title is "Deepest Love". Stitched on 32 Belfast Aqua Dreams fabric. Gifted to my eldest for her 18th birthday.

This is the annual Free Christmas angel for the year 2000. The designer is Marilyn Leavitt Imblum of TIAG designs. I converted the colors to red & green with a little red shoe. Stitched on 32 Belfast Cream.

Same design, same designer. In the original colors. Stitched on 32 Raw linen. Gifted to a beloved friend. Framed in a 99 cent frame from Walmart, spray painted in eggshell enamel paint.

This is a random design found on the internet, unsure who the designer is. Stitched on 32 Belfast in Antique White.

In present day, it's rare that I give my finished needlework items as gifts. Most people, even people who know how much time it takes, don't appreciate it very much.

There are exactly 3 people in my life, now, whom I might gift my needlework to.

If you, dear reader, have read my prior blog entries, you may have seen that I still write. I also still write poetry. Maybe it will inspire you to delve into your own creativity in whatever form works for you. 

 

The Times Are Changing

It seems to be a shame that us humans have just one life, finite in nature. The lessons we learn too late or sometimes not at all. As cliche as this may seem, people are still mostly complex. An amalgamation of gender, wonder, unique physiologies, life experiences, hormonal episodes. So much more.

Body

Spirit

Life Roles

Do overs? What are those? Rare, at best.

Right now, there's a feeling in the air. A positive zephyr of times changing. Hopefully the changes are good. I will believe they are. Still, taking my time, weighing the probability of outcomes.

The excitement started last Friday when I submitted a photo & application to renew my passport. It made my upcoming trip to Denmark feel more real.

Oh, I have lived in Europe. Speaking the languages of the different countries, helped. Speaking to the people who lived in the regions in their national language opened opportunities for me.

The first time I experienced gelato was at the start of my first trip to Paris, France. A vendor with a gelato stand was surprised when I spoke in the beautiful French language to him. He gave me two scoops for the price of one. Walking around under the Tour d'Eiffel savoring cranberry gelato. That was just the start. Soaking up the culture of Paris was mesmerizing.

Germany was equally wondrous, just, in different ways. The grounds then the tour of The Heidelberg Castle was a new world. The feeling of centuries of history was all around me.

The culture of Belgium seemed to be similar to France, slight elements of Germany. The language of Belgium is French, a different dialect of French. It's akin to the language spoken in Australia is English, a different sort of English. Similar to the way most people in the USA speak, just, different enough that it would take a bit of getting used to. The German people say that people in or from the USA speak Amerikanische. To them, English is spoken with an English or GB accent.

Though I traveled to other countries within Europe, I believe I had a rich or even more rich experience because I was fluent in the languages as I traveled. A gift for speaking multiple languages is a gift I was born with; I had to apply myself to learn them. The knowledge just came to me easier than I believe it does to most people.

As I prep for the upcoming trip, there is a bit of a hiccup.

Separation anxiety is rough. 

I will board my puppy, PJ. It will be odd to be without him. He & I are together nearly 24/7. There will, no doubt, be separation anxiety for me. Maybe he will miss me, too?

The place where he will be boarded is nice. There is ample room for him to move around, interact, play.

I hope he misses me far less than I miss him.

Because I love him, his happiness is so important to me.

When I return, I'm considering a personal or possibly professional trip to NYC. Maybe a combo of both. To see the Statue of Liberty, stroll through the Guggenheim Museum. Maybe even take a Sex and The City tour. See the places where one of my favorite series was shot. Maybe even take a walk across The Brooklyn Bridge. 

So touristy!

I know. 

Although going in depth into areas where I visit all over the world, the truth remains that I'm still a bit of a tourist.

The natural world is filled with aspects that affect the human experience, whether we believe it or not. Aspects such as weather, barometric pressure, the movement of the planets. The tidal ebb & flow at the influence of the moon. The time of the year in which a person is born. All of these have an effect on the human condition.

Having a Doberman is life changing for me. Admittedly, I gained weight during fauxvid shut down. Body weight that feels twice as heavy as it actually is. 

UGH.

Since adopting PJ at 10 weeks of age, half of what I gained is gone.

Yay.

Go, mmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeee!

Dobermans don't like or want lots of activity, they NEED it to be happy, healthy, stimulated. 2 hours minimum per day can keep your shoes, sofa, any wood furniture, safer. 

PJ gets a lot of exercise, so do I!

Go chicken fat, go.

Something else that I noticed is changing is verbiage online as well as offline. Holding off on these words to preserve my blog, here are their subs.

Unalived

He/She/They unalived themselves.

Actor which is the male version of the profession has become the dominant term for the profession for male and female.

Gender is becoming less facile to determine in people.

The term noob or noobie has become offensive.

Narcissist has become a catch all term.

Social Media is becoming less vicious.

Scammers in real life as well as online are being exposed while people are becoming more savvy.

Romance Scammers aka Love Rats are having less success.

Scammers are losing their edge, trying different avenues of deception. They will eventually die out, it's already in the works.

Scammers are merely criminal scumbags with keyboards.

Thieves who do cyber dumpster diving.

The last discrimination, ageism, is slowly getting the blowback needed to change mindsets against others whether older or younger.

For Age

On the homefront I have decided to not watch any movies or spinoff series written by Taylor Sheridan. The guy seems to hate women so much that they get brutalized & pregnant & the guys get lives full of adventures of their choosing. Quite bleak for female characters.

This last series, 1923, was the worst. If it were a theme park ride it would be a quad triple corkscrew roller coaster.

Geez Louise!

The ending of season 2 was an ultimate tearjerker for me. I have enough to cry about in real life, can do without another reason.

On a positive note, my puppy, PJ, can mostly be trusted to be alone in the house, no longer sleeping in his crate. He's had a few whoopsies that resulted in the near death of 2 of my favorite needlework patterns. As much as I hate having him sleep in his crate, drawing the line seemed warranted. Do the crime, do the time.

Realizing he IS still a puppy, still learning, also because I love him so much. A lot of his behavior or misbehaving is dependent on me. 

Maybe I'm still a bit of a puppy, too.

Knowing that if I feed him ANYTHING after 4 pm will result in waking up to a smelly mess is crucial. I want to share watermelon with him, he loves it so much. When I realized how much he likes watermelon, I started buying only seedless ones. The seeds could cause a fatal blockage in his "innerds". The farmers markets in my area are really good. PJ gets so excited when he sees a watermelon.

I love sharing watermelon with him. 

Just have to remember to share before 4 pm.

Here Today Gone Tomorrow

Like magnolias and lilacs in Texas

They don't stay around very long

Their essence is easily recalled

When you hear a certain song

These are such rare ones to find

Or maybe they were looking for you

Drawn into their life like a beacon

For a week a month or a year or two

Such an impression is rarely made

So deeply it touches you to make it last

Like molten lava poured into your soul

An ache when they dissolve into the past

Forward we go to embrace what is yet to be

Striving to build our own happy lives

Keep going to keep going each day

Doing good in the world of deep dives

Never kick yourself for who you once were

Revel in whom you are and what lies in store

Gift the same to others to be free from the past

Knowing they also don't live there anymore

Today I'm missing so many someone's so much

Bringing up tears from my heart and my eyes

Steady steady girl you know you've got this

Whether you think not or you realize

There's still more to do in my little life

Still shooting for the stars and the moon

Like lilacs in Texas in the spring

Like Michael Jackson gone too soon

Happy Birthday

Happy angel birthday if you truly have passed

The memories made with your loved ones will

Be the kind that will forever last

A spot in lives in hearts that only you can fill

All day today I thought of you in a loving way

Thought I smelled your scent wafting on the breeze

Such long such wide so cruelly stolen from the day

While it's your essence that your loved one needs

Deeds of cruelty deeds of mercy to try to be kind

I know you weren't perfect though to me you are

It's how I preserve the times we had in a heart so blind

How you made me feel sitting next to you in your car

Left hand on the steering wheel the other holding my hand

So many smiles with music with laughing about that

Which only the two of us could secretly understand

Two hearts in synch filling one seat where we sat

You told me that I had changed torment into a heavenly life

Made you feel what you thought you could never feel

Even asked me so sweetly if I would become your wife

A moment that felt so genuinely heart stopping surreal

Now I will wish a Happy Birthday to you wherever you are

Gazing up at our star with a glowing beautiful moon

Believing you are up there still there as my shining star

Saying goodbye holds heartbreak so I say I'll see you soon

Thank you for helping me when I needed your help the most

 

A Few Months

It's been some time since the news was told to me. Although I have cried, regretted, kicked myself, part of me still doesn't believe.

I love him, still.

That is the part that lives for certain.

When something catches my attention, I still pause. A slight gasp. Often, I have to find a place to hide, hating to cry in public. The tears happen, unable to stop them. I cry for Steve. For what we could have had. For what we should have had. 

A few months, or years or however long. It's still there.

Tonight, I play his music, I gaze at his photos, I talk to him out loud, I tell my puppy about him. Letting the tears for him course down my face for him. For the loss I feel. For the torment he felt. 

For him.

For me.

For us.

For what might have been.

It's an indulgence, I admit, giving in to the passion, the sorrow, the loss, the love. The everything that was him. 

He may feel or have felt the same. Does it really matter? To my broken heart, it does.

It matters when I hear a song

That he used to sing along

It matters when tears wet my face

Missing someone I can't replace

It matters when I envision his grimace

Memories that time cannot erase

It matters when he is in my dreams

How very real it always seems

It matters when I awaken from sleep

Having relived a connection so deep

It matters when I think of the pain

Of his loved ones who still remain

It matters oh yes it matters in my heart & mind

You will be remembered my love though I am left behind