something's in the air tonight...

(nostalgia strikes again)

it smelled like fall tonight. like real, live, here-to-stay, september fall. not the end of august, just-a-colorado-teaser fall. jola and i went for a run down the parkway in the dusk; as we crossed monaco, i caught the scent of charcoal grills, something burning, lawn mower fuel and wet grass floating through the air. the fading light illuminated the trees and their leaves, and quietness of the evening settling in took over me as we ran. 

this morning on the radio, i was listening to a dj tell me that the enemy knows what to do to paralyze me into doing nothing: he will use sights, sounds, smells, anything he can, to evoke a response in me that floods me with memories and leaves me motionless, useless, unmotivated for God. this evening, as i was so easily transported into heavy, beautiful nostalgia through the aromas on the breeze, i thought about this idea. i can't argue with it: i know that complacency is the number one tool of the enemy- not doing anything can be so much worse than any kind of doing. and, i was witnessing, as i ran, first hand how amazingly powerful those familiar sights and sounds can be. and that's the idea that the dj was talking about: the enemy uses our own memories and emotions against us, and transports us into analysis paralysis, and then we're stuck. doing nothing. 

but, if that is true, that the enemy can know these things so close to us and use them against us, then it must be true that God can do the same thing. God is so much bigger and mightier than the enemy. of course He could use the same tactic! in fact, i would argue that the enemy stole this tactic: one of the most powerful, God-given gifts that make us human is our ability to feel, emote, remember. God gave us this gift, so it makes sense that He would be able to use it for good, to enable us to remember and lose ourselves in those comforting, beautiful memories. 

tonight, i smelled charcoal grills and remembered my childhood; my dad in particular. i smelled lawn mower gas as i ran comfortably through the setting sunlight on the parkway, just me and jo. the smell and the run, combined with the cool fall breeze and the warmth created by running, the swish of my shorts and the sound of my steps...  i was suddenly transported back to my "single" days over the past five years or so, when it was just jo and i, not many others, and we would do long night runs all the time- training for races or just a simple friday night getaway.

altogether, the smells and the leaves of the trees in the parkway, the darkening sky and brightening lights, brought a more general level of feel-good nostalgia: fall. fall is my favorite season of all time... the leaves, the smells, the crisp air and warmth of a well-lit house at dusk, the pumpkins and yellow school buses and crunchy leaves... all these thoughts and feelings come back with a simple run like tonight. 

all of these feel-good feelings i can't really explain with words, but i feel comfortable, familiar, and at home resting in them. i wanted our run tonight to last forever- and now i want to find the words to bring these feelings back to life whenever they are missing, and i need the warm feeling of familiar, of home, of comfort.

i guess i'll just have to grab jo and go for a run. 

power of prayer

(when in doubt, pray)

the last few weeks have been emotionally crazy, as i alluded to earlier. it was a lot of hard, hard decisions, mostly around whether or not to put my lil' myla moo to sleep for biting a child. it was one of the hardest decision i think i've ever had to make, and i spent almost one whole week wrapping my head around it. he helped me a lot, and talking with others helped too. part of the decision was based on what was best for my lil' hyper-dominant, tasmanian devil of a dog. the other part, sadly, was based on a lot of legal things: essentially, what made me "look" the best, and most responsible as a dog owner. we have heard from the family of the kid she bit, and while they are relatively nice and seemingly easy-going, there is still the unknown factor of what they are going to do, if anything, legally. the other part is that he got the ticket for the bite, meaning he has a court date in august, and could faces up to $1k in fines and/or one year in jail. !!!! obviously, that's the maximum penalty for horrible incidents like vicious pit bulls attacking children on command, and this was so not that, but... it is important for us to be aware of what can happen. and what (legally) looks like the most responsible thing to do.

so, about a week before the actual day of her release from quarantine, my little head finally got ok with the decision to put her down. i then spent that week really laying the foundation and plan of really how to do it (surprisingly {thank goodness}, it's extra hard to actually euthanize a healthy, young, albeit bitey, dog). i can't count the hours i spent on the phone with animal control fighting about vaccinations, licenses and euthanizing, and absurd things they were asking me to do (essentially, i was going to vaccinate, license and euthanize her in the same afternoon, because it was that much cheaper. they refused to accept proof of euthanasia instead of proof of current vaccination/license). nor can i count the hours i spent crying, imagining my poor girl prancing into the vet, unassumingly walking right into her last moments of life, with me holding the leash, leading the way.

needless to say, it was two very tough, hard to understand weeks here in my life.

and, did i mention i was dying of a sinus infection? cause i was.

the bittersweet day of her release from quarantine/final vet visit arrived, and i picked my lil' girl up, all smiles and wiggles, excited to see me and ecstatic i didn't forget her. finishing the paperwork, i went through stupid, stupid exercises of absurdity, yet again, with the animal control people (and i quote: "i'm sorry. we don't vaccinate on tuesdays"). aftewards, unkonwing myla jumped in the car, happy and carefree to be released from her doggy jail cell. she and i took our last car ride home, then took our last walk with jola, cuddled for the last time on the couch, and we waited for miss l and mama to show up for the final vet visit.

meanwhile, he had to go to korea on business, so i was without him when i really, really needed him. great thing is, he's amazing, and he sent me a dozen roses and a touching card to let me know he was there with me, in spirit. the harpers also stopped by to wish us well and good thoughts, and brought a bouquet of fresh cut, home grown flowers, and even m & j stopped by with a sweet card and thoughtful gift to wish us well and say goodbye. as the sun sank low through the late afternoon, miss l, mom and i sat in the darkening living room and spoke of surfacey, small talk things that kept our minds away from the upcoming event.

eventually, it was time. i couldn't take it anymore... so away we went: miss l, mama, myla and i in the jeep. we drove the few short miles to the vet, and just as i had imagined, myla bounded through the glass doors, standing eagerly at the front desk. the girl sitting there asked, 'what can i help you with?' and it was the hardest question i've had to answer.... 'i'm here to euthanize her', i said guiltly. 

a few minutes later, the four of us sat in the 'comfort room' in the back of the building, awaiting a vet. we all took turns petting lil' myla, and while she had no idea what was going on, she somehow knew to make the rounds of us, and got a little bit of love from each of us.

weirdly, as we were walking in, i jokingly told mom and miss l that, knowing the way things had gone so far, i felt like they were not going to let me do it, and that we'd actually not have to go through with the whole thing. little did i know...

a few minutes later the vet entered, and gratefully, it was the young vet from a few months ago, when myla got hit by the cars/bus. we chatted a bit, i explained the whole situation, and {insert sounding angels and kazoos here} she told me there was another option, and she didn't feel comfortable putting miss myla to sleep.

praise.
praise.
praise.

i did have some concerns about the other option and what we could/should do legally and ethically, and she gave us time to talk, while she went to fetch her mentor, the famed dr. fitzgerald of animal planet and beyond. dr. fitzgerald entered a few minutes later, and essentially agreed with the young vet, after assessing myla with his eyes (yes, he just looked her up and down a few times and told me, essentially, her whole life story. he's amazing). he looked like a muppet and had a low voice and dry sense of humor (in the 'comfort room', of all places) so i was a bit weary. but, after he left and mom and miss l swooned a little (really just told me he was famous) and we chatted a bit more, i was comfortable with the decision.

myla lives.

it was funny, we left pretty quickly after that, and both mom and miss l shared that they too felt like this was not the answer, and they had been praying that God would provide a way out. i reiterated the feeling i had that it wasn't really going to happen, even after we had arrived at the vet and went to the back room...i think even miss myla knew... look at this smile, straight from the 'comfort room':

i texted a few (lots, really) of my concerned friends, and most texted back that they had been praying this would happen, and what a miracle! later my women's small group (who had been praying/meeting togetherthat very night while we were at the vet) told me it felt like a abraham/isaac moment when they got the text about myla living. i have heard since then, from almost everyone, that her spared life was an answer to their prayer.

which means, if i count right, i had maybe like... twenty or so people praying, all the same day, all for the same thing.

and everyone's prayer was answered.

ah.
maze.
ing.

the fact is: the option they provided (a behavioral department at the longmont humane society) was not one i had necessarily explored, but not one i would have known about otherwise. up until tuesday, The Day, i had exhausted every possibility i knew, and had asked everyone i knew (including lawyers and other such informed, important people) what to do. and all signs pointed at euthanizing. every, single, one.

the amazing thing to me in the story, really, is not that myla lives (of COURSE that's the best part, duh) but the most amazing part is that i am confident, i know... this option would not have come to light if there had not been so much darn prayer about it. no matter what, i am sure that things would have worked out for the best, even if miss myla had met her ending at alameda east. but the raddest thing is that because of God's grace, my little myla lives and gets a second chance!

so now, the emotional roller coaster is slowing to a stop and the dust is settling. the day after the fateful vet visit, i took mymy up to the longmont humane society and said goodbye to her for good. it was sad and hard to walk out the doors with just her leash and her collar, but it was less sad than walking out with the guilt of her death on my mind.

and, the silver lining is that she has already been 'rehabbed' and is now up for adoption! anyone looking for a 'unique girl with a happy, wiggly personality' should go visit the longmont humane society. if you adopt her, i promise to be a great aunt... and split the adoption fee ;)

(picture) tribute to myla

(...the last day of myla moo, told in pictures)



we leave the denver municipal animal shelter
the last view we will have (hopefully) of the dreadful place that even this cool silver dog statue can't make me like...

loyal myla spends her last day checking out the twlight zone neighboorhood.
always good at protecting her turf, even to the very end.

saying goodbye to miss l, in the comfort room of alameda east.

saying goodbye to her gramma. even in the comfort room she is a blur of motion!

we make the drive to longmont, just the two of us for the last time.

myla kisses will be missed, foever. they are irreplaceable!
(sorry, boyfriend).

we play the 24KT gold plated humdinger kazoo to celebrate myla's new beginnings.
in case you're wondering, we've decided myla's life is constantly soundtracked with kazoos, so a gold one to commemorate her is only appropriate. thanks, sis.

goodbye my sweet girl, you will be missed.

on the heels of...

(assuring my friend i am wholesome, i get this crazy calendar day)

so many questions....

1) who dresses their dog as a baby?

2) what dog calmly sits in a chair, with these accessories, posing for an embarrassing picture/

3) who thought of this? are they on medication?

4) why did this make me laugh so hard?

5) fill in the blank...

hyperbole is an understatement

(...i think someone is stalking my dogs)

there's this really great blog called hyperbole and a half. he introduced it to me, and i can't get enough of it, for two reasons: for one, it's the most hilarious thing i've ever read and seen... her illustrations are simplistically genius. for two, i feel like her dogs are the long lost twins of my dogs, and it's hilarious and somewhat creepy that there are more than one myla and jola in this world. let me show you the spitting images....

exhibit a: allie's dog, named simply, "the simple dog":

my "simple dog", myla:

exhibit b: the "simple dog" and the "helper dog", according to allie:

my "helper" and "simple" dogs:

exhibit c: the happy and tinkling "simple dog":

my happy and tinkling simple dog (look closely):

exhibit d: "simple dog" gets comfortable:

my simple dog finds her safe, comfy spots:

exhibit e: "simple dog" likes to move:

my simple dog doesn't still still. even in a sandwich.

and, as an ode to the illustrator/author of dear hyperbole, i created a cake pop in her honor:

allie's rendition of herself:

my (cakey) rendition of allie:

thank you, dear allie, for your writing and your pictures. you make my life happy :)

lassie, come home!

(...late night dog chases)

the other night was a good night: a warm, slow sun-setting evening, the smell of freshly cut grass, homemade dinner, a movie on a comfy couch... it was a good end to a long, spring weekend and i felt at home and nostalgic. however, when i got in my car to drive home, i was hit with a sudden burst of emotion i couldn't identify (shhh, don't tell people that therapists can't pinpoint their own feelings), and i felt off as i drove home.

about three blocks from my house, i was stopped at a light and saw a car across the intersection slow down and stop. to the right of the car was a large, hairy collie dog that looked like lassie's modern day twin sister. i saw that as the car slowed to a stop, the dog looked at the car, tilted her head, then bolted off at full speed in the opposite direction. the car started again, but couldn't follow lil' lassie because of the one way streets.

being a girl that has had to chase my own (black) dog in the dark many, many, many times, i sympathized with the car, and started following the sprinting pup to see if i could help. i followed and followed, weaving in and out of streets and alleys, going wrong ways on empty one ways (chasing a runaway dog at 11 o'clock on a sunday in a neighborhood is a great excuse to break the law). i followed the furry speedball for at least five full minutes until i lost her... every time i came close, she bolted in the opposite direction, until she made too tricky a move for me to follow her and she was gone.

sadly, i headed around and gave up my search for the lost lassie. i really, really wanted to bring her home to her owners, and i really, really wanted to tell her to stop running. i know, in fact, that a few times i shouted to her out the window: "dog! hi! just stop! i'm going to help you! i won't hurt you!". needless to say, lassie doesn't speak kaci.

the vision of lil' lassie's behind, running from me at full speed, has haunted my mind the past few days. not only do i hope she got home, but i weirdly identify with the pup, and realize that she was acting out the feeling i was having that night in the car: fear. i want to run away. that weird burst of emotion i felt when i got in my car to drive home was fear, and my knee-jerk reaction was to run. sprint actually, lassie-style, down a one-way street, trying to dodge whomever may be tailing me.

the reality is, i can't really run from what is scaring me. and i don't think, in my heart, that i want to run away; in my heart of hearts, i want to grasp on and hold tightly to the very thing that evokes the fight or flight feelings. but i fear (yes, fear of fear, how crazy is that?) that if i hold on tightly, it will only create the mess that i so desperately fear.

so, i went home. where it's safe, comforting, familiar. i crawled into bed, as a friend wisely advised me that late night insecurities are normal, but unresolvable. i offered up prayers of both hope and anxiety. and then i fell asleep. and during the day, in the light,  my fears aren't as scary. i'm not as tempted to run away as i was that night. and i think, with His help, i can continue to move forward, without either fight or flight.

i spy...

(...with my little eye...)

the dogs have been acting pretty feisty lately. although we went for a nice, long walk sunday morning, there was no question i had to take them out this evening, no matter how dark or what time it was. so, at nine thirty, my permanently chilled-to-the-bone body threw on some sweats, a winter hat, and leashed up the girls. i pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, and off we went, into the dark, windy, night.

(secretly inside i thought i gained a lot of dog mom points here. i probably didn't, though, in real life, since they hadn't been walked since the morning before, about 36 hours previous.) 

off into the night we went; and because i live in a somewhat funny (aka twilight zone) neighborhood, i made sure that we headed in the direction of the new, schmancy houses a few blocks down. i always love walking through this suburban neighborhood- not only do i feel safe, but i get transported back to a comfortable, nostaligic place ... usually there are children playing in the streets, (or at least their driveways), pretty, white synthetic fences and rows of perfectly blooming tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils. it's a nice, yuppy neighborhood, and it's only three blocks away.

i have always loved walking at night, especially, because lighted windows at night are so easy to see into. creepy as that sounds, i mean it more in a curious way more than anything else. i love thinking about the families that are encased within each house, how their lives revolve around whatever it is they are doing at that moment: maybe they are eating dinner, or watching tv. maybe kids are doing homework, dad's watching the game, and mom's fixing dinner, or cleaning dinner dishes up. maybe no one is visible in the windows at all, but their rows of picture frames are out, or you can see into their playrooms (oddly there are a lot of front rooms functioning as playrooms in this neighborhood). you can see decorative touches and finishes. i am always inspired to clean up my shabby-chic place into a modern, clean-lined, monochromatic home when i'm on my walks.

tonight, as the dogs stopped at a corner house to sniff, i looked up at the window of the house, and caught eye of a pine tree bough through the blinds. i peered a touch harder, and saw the outline of a full-blown chirstmas tree, outlined in black against the lit window.

i counted the months backwards. generously, christmas was three months ago (let's round down, folks, and give them some grace). even rounding down, that is way... way... way... to long to have a dead tree without decorations sitting in your front room. i mean, at least to me... (i didn't put a tree up at all, so look who's talking).

a christmas tree, in april, in the schmancy neighborhood, hidden behind closed blinds.

we continued walking, and i didn't think much of it, but this: that was a surprise. i didn't expect to see evidence of disorganization or busy-ness in these houses. i always see the opposite. and then i realized that, obviously, these people are just like me. duh.

i think this is a lot like how we all are functioning in our lives: we put out the best lawn furniture, best colored flower displays, best paint job, best wreaths on our outside. we doll ourselves up and look not just presentable, but appealing, to others. we open our blinds, and sometimes turn on the lights. sometimes our insides show through, even more so in the 'nights' of our lives, with light shining against the dark. whether we like it or not, eventually, our insides come out- they are visible. we can try to hide them with pretty, real-wood blinds, beautiful window treatments and even shutters. but eventually, those all open up to let the light in, and then, well... even the pokiest, oldest, driest lil' branches of disorganization and neglect, and even dysfunction, can be seen. others just have to stop to take notice of what is shining through the night.

that makes me wonder, too... i wonder what shines through my night blinds? at my house, they can see art on the walls, shabby furniture and vases of flowers. possibly the flat screen tv if they look the right angle; if they're out, they'll most definitely see the two fierce guard dogs. not much else in there- it's (as they say), an open book. pretty much what they'd see if they looked in my life, too, i suppose. not much hiding in here- just me, my God, and my every day adventures and stories. of course, i am used to those, so to me, they look like art, and to a dog-walking stranger, maybe they look like poky, dried out christmas tree branches.


as i continue my night walks through the schmancy neighborhood, and when i feel jealous of their beautiful spring blooms and wrap around porches, i will find solace that there are three month old christmas trees hidden somewhere behind everyone's doors.

mondays... could be fun-day?

(...just another manic monday. i wish it were sunday)

this picture summed up my attitude particularly well today. it was also extra hilarious to me since i just celebrated six years sober, and the idea of calling the liquor store never enters my (real) mind. except on mondays.

could have been worse.

so my lil' myla brinks  got hit by a car last night.

correction: she chased a bus, then got under the moving bus and then two moving cars, and was hit by all three. luckily, she wasn't run over, just hit. it was the most traumatic thing i've ever seen. i couldn't tell you what specifically happened- meaning the order in which she got hit or what it looked like. partly because i literally covered my eyes, and partly because i think i've blocked it out of my brain, and partly because it happened so fast.

not to worry you- myla brinks, the super dog made of rubber- she's fine. seriously, she has a small (smaller than a dime) abrasion on her head, a little red in the white of her left eye (which is better today than last night) and some soreness. possibly bruised lungs, but that didn't even show up on the xray. other than that, my lil' girl has nothing wrong with her: nothing broken, no internal bleeding, no brain damage or head trauma.

we were going for a quick walk, before i was going to make dinner for friends. it was frigid cold (4 degrees, i had just checked) and we had just crossed the street to the open space where i let them offleash. 9 times out of 10, they run directly up the hill on the right, and head directly into rabbit-and-new-smells-land.... last night was the 1 time out of 10 that there was a bus coming behind me on the left, and when i let myla offleash and the bus zoomed past us, instead of running right, lil myla ran left, chasing the huge 30,000 pound RTD bus, getting underneath it's wheels. then all i know is that she was on one side of it, then the other. i remember seeing a red car slam on it's brakes, and thinking, 'i can't believe they didn't stop after they hit a dog!' so they must have hit her. i remember not hearing her while she was under the bus, and then hearing her yelp while she was under the white car, which also kept going. the car behind the white car, with bright headlights, stopped while myla, in pain and shock, ran around in circles through the street and sidewalk, not stopping for one second for me to get her. poor jola was running around too, somehow avoiding all cars.

eventually (probably only like 30 seconds after the white car hit her), the three of us ended up on the other side of the street, and myla stopped long enough for me to pick her up, and leash up jola. myla wouldn't make eye contact with me, and her ears were laying straight back on her head, which is very unusual for her (it makes her look like a bat, which is very unbecoming). she was obviously freaked out, and somehow i think jola knew that too, because they were both extremely cooperative.

it was still 4 degrees, which is seriously cold.

i picked myla up, not seeing any blood or brokenness, and hugged her to my chest. jola walked with me on the left side, and we started our 15 minute journey home. i had no idea what to think, and surprisingly, was void of any emotion. i had seen jola get hit before, and had seen myla run through traffic, both of which gave me that shot of adrenaline through my legs that left me shaking for minutes. this time i felt calm, possibly in shock, and kept repeating to myla that things were going to be just fine, just fine.

my biceps were sore by the time we got home, and the reality of it all was starting to set in a little. myla was not responding to my voice at all, and seemed to not be hearing anything that was going on around her. she was unusually calm in my arms, a 25 pound dead weight shivering against my body. her fur was matted and wet in random places, and she smelled like oily, old tires and leaking fluids.

during the walk home, i had tried to call the dog friends i knew, to see what 24 hour vet they would recommend. three calls, three voicemails. i left no messages, and waited until we got home to call a local vet (we are inbetween vets right now, of course). the vet on the phone recommended the close, fancy 24hr vet ER i had been trying to avoid (alameda east, which is on some animal planet reality show),and told me that her lack of response in noises could be a sign of a concussion and brain damage. it was then that the tears hit my eyes, but i didn't let them fall.

mys and i got in the car, drove the short ten minutes to the ER, and we were admitted immediately. i felt like the worst person in the world trying to explain to them how she got hit ("well, vet, i took her off her leash. like every irresponsible dog mom would"). they took her in the back, then took me through a sea of rooms and sat me down, alone and out of the way. 'you have to stay in this room, alone. we need you to be in a room, for privacy. so the vet can talk to you in private'.

pan.
ic.

various thoughts that ran through my head at this point: 'what? you've not even seen her. is she dying? how do you know she's dying? is she bleeding internally and how can you fix that? alone? why do i have to be alond and not in a waiting room? you don't know what's even wrong with her! i am the worst dog mom ever. ever. the worst! oh my gosh. i don't have any money. this is going to cost me a million dollars. what do i do? alone? is she dying??'

thanks to you, alameda east, you calmed my fears in about five minutes. the vet came in and talked to me, told me the results of her exam and that she had nothing major to worry about at this point. she was going to do a few tests (blood pressure, chest xrays, ultrasound and bloodwork for glucose levels) but she was stable. and lucky.

the rest of the night went fast... i went home to shower and get the smell of oily tires off of me and my coat. i went back after i got dressed, and waited. i ran my phone out of battery by texting my friends and family. then myla walking came out, good as new. or as good as you can be, being a 25 pound dog that just played monkey in the middle of traffic on a snowy road. she was panting and drooling, and loopy (all a result of her pain meds) but she was ok.

today i am full, FULL, of praise. yesterday was a day of blessings: i woke up late and when i called my boss to tell her, she laughed and said no big deal. and she meant it. my accountant called and told me that not only did i not have to pay taxes this year, i was actually getting a substantial refund- which i think, by no coincidence, is enough to pay my accountant and the vet bill and break even. myla had an unfortuante accident, but she was ab.so.lute.ly fine, and will be back to normal (crazy) in a week or so. and i am blessed.

it could have been better, sure: i could have woken up on time, i could have kept my tax refund and had money to sod the backyard, and i could have not let her offleash. but it could have been worse- ooooooh so much worse. but it wasn't, cause i am blessed. beyond belief.

you know it's cold when...

(a 45 minute dog walk in the dumping snow feels warm)

(cause really, it did)

silly rabbit....

(...laptops are for humans)

you know you're a dog mom when...

(when leg prints are so cute, and prove a theory)

theory: dogs sit on their butts.
fact: dogs don't sit on their butts when they sit. in fact, they sit on their hind legs.
i know this from
a) watching my dogs sit at street corners during endless walks and trainings, and  seeing their lil' butts hovering ever so slightly above the sidewalk... and
b) from this prints in the snow. you can see myla's lil' body prints: the lower set has two front paw prints on the left, and two hing leg prints on the right- she would have been facing the left side of this picture. the top print is her two front paws at the very top, followed by her hing leg prints- she would have been facing the top edge of this picture. notice NO butt prints on either print.

i seriously thought this was so cute.

alarm clock

(...almost every morning)

life theory #431

(warning: this post may be explicit and offensive. or just gross.)

one of my life's theories is that every conversation, if you let it go long enough, will somehow, eventually, relate back to poop. i know this due to lots, and lots, of research (aka quietly observing). try it, you'll see. just let conversations run their natural course... they either peter out, or turn to poop (literally or figuratively). this is an especially true phenomenon with people that have kids, babies in particular. and those of us with dogs.

speaking of dogs, and poop... (which go hand in hand in my world...) i have a funny story to share with you (since it's been a while)

a few weeks ago, it was christmas eve. and the weather here in denver, well, it was nice. so nice, in fact, that i planned a "meeting" (really a date, but he called it a first meeting) with this guy i'd been emailing with online (we'd been matched on eharmony on a free weekend). he lives southernly far, far away, and was driving to a northernly far, far away place in colorado, and he was going through denver. we decided it would be a good chance to meet, and the fact that it was christmas eve, on a nice weathery day, well, that was just icing on the cake.

so we decided to meet at wash park, a good dog-walking, public place, teaming with activity even on a holiday eve. we found each other easily, and walked and talked for about twenty minutes or so, when one of my pups had to 'go'. nothing more romantic than using your own hand to pick up your pet's poop in an inside-out walmart grocery bag and then carrying it around, right? this is stuff first dates are made of.

so we continued walking, and i had the poop bag in my left hand the whole time. of course, it moved around a lot when the dogs pulled or lunged at other dogs and such. how do i know that? well, about half way through our walk, eharm date turns to me and says, 'what's all over your jeans?' and i look down and see, on my left side, a series of marks that look like dirt, from about mid-thigh all the way up to mid waist. on my jeans, on my white vest and my purple scarf. i think, 'hm. well it can't be poop, the poop's in the bag.' i look at the bag. doesn't look like much, just a bag. full of poop.

i look a little closer. ahHA- the culprit! a small hole on the side of the bag, which apparently the poop seeped out of, and onto my said jeans, vest and scarf. every time i moved my arm across my body, the bag left a little skid mark of poop across my jeans, vest and scarf.

awesome.

needless to say, it was an awkward end to the date, especially when he went in for a hug and i staggered backwards, saying 'ohhhh, i don't think that's a good idea.' 'oh yeah, the poop!' he remembered. i got in my car and sped home to change, because i had to meet L at lunch with her sister. of course, i had to text her to inform her that i would be a few minutes late, since i had to do some (unplanned) freshening up for our lunch date.

(that's all the poop in this story, but it does get better...)

so i arrive to our lunch date, only a few minutes late (secretly i was proud of myself for this!) i was wearing a whole new outfit, leggings and a sweater dress, something that was lunch and christmas-eve-church-service appropriate, since i had to run from lunch to family festivities.

i greeted L, and her sister, and we waited a few minutes outside, then went to sit down inside. we all three took our seats at the booth, and chatted and looked over the menus. as my diet coke came, i put my gum in a straw wrapper and placed it on the corner of the table. i then went to move my left leg and shift my weight, and found that i felt caught on the seat. i wondered if there was a nail or something caught on my leggings, so i stood up and turned around to inspect my rear end.

gum. icy blue, chewy, sticky, minty fresh gum.

stuck to the booth seat, stuck to my leggings, stuck to my sweater. as i stood up, it stretched longer and longer but didn't break. i had to grab a napkin and pull both ends, from the booth and my leggings, and pull it apart.

the waitress came up about this time, looking absolutely mortified. 'is that GUM?'
'yep'.
'was that there when you sat down?'
'well, mine is on the table, in a wrapper, and i didn't come with gum on my butt, so...'
the busser came over and offered to help, which was a little awkward since the gum was on my butt.
'i'm so sorry! this must be my fault, i must not have cleaned the bench!'
'it's ok, i've already been covered in poop earlier today!'

in reality, it wasn't as sarcastic as it sounded, it was in fact downright hilarious! who gets covered in poop AND gum on the same day, in two different outfits? i do.

and, the staff at the restaurant were so very kind: the waitress, busser, two managers, bartender and other waitress all came up to apologize profusely and offered us shots, drinks, deals, even a date (the waitress said the busser would take me out to dinner to make up for the gum he apparently didn't clean up. i told her i'd say yes, he just had to ask me himself.)

(he never did).

moral of the story: if you ever want out of a date, bring a bag of poop. if you ever want a free shot or drink at restaurant, sit in gum. and if you're me, start planning an extra ten minutes between every activity just in case you have to go home and change your outfit. for the third time.

it was a glorious holiday :)

one of the lil' pooper's rear ends, sticking out from under my bed. she's lucky she's so cute....

j and m

(...my girls get a new place in the house)

lately, i'm seriously obsessed with initials. i want to buy k's, and j's and m's and a's for all over the house. there's a large, blank white space above all the hooks in the mudroom, and it's screaming for something to be spelled out- i really wanted to spell 'jola' and 'myla' out over the hooks, maybe even 'kaci' and 'aly', buuuut, couldn't find a realistic way to do that without crowding it or looking like the brady bunch exploded in the mud room.plus, that's a lot of letters to buy, even with four short names! however, i'm still always on the lookout for something creative to fill my need for initials around the house, especially when i'm at the craft store. 

yesterday i was at hobby lobby (a little crafty slice of heaven on earth), and found the perfect solution... these letter hooks (on clearance!!) to hang up jo and my's leashes. i figured although i have a row of hooks in the mudroom, i could hang these puppies up (puppies, get it? for the dogs?ahh...) in the laundry room and keep the dog stuff separate from our coats. this would also free up another hook for more people scarves, aprons or coats to hang in the mud room. i also found that above the hooks was a perfect lil' spot for a dog-friendly plaque my friend gave me for christmas. it was the perfect solution! i satisfied my need for letters, while uncrowding the mudroom and freeing up another hook. plus, i love how black the letters look against the stripes, and i l.o.v.e. that my dogs get their own special place for their stuff in the house. 

myla moo

(...the best crazy there is)

i have this dog. her name is myla. she's almost two, and weighs less than 30 pounds. people ask what kind of dog she is, and i say 'boston terrier/blue heeler/crack addict mix'. she runs really fast and jumps really high and pees a little bit when she's excited. she is pretty mouthy and loves, loves, loves to cuddle and get attention. she likes to lick a lot, but not slobbery dog licks-little, barely-there licks to say hi. sometimes i catch her licking her reflection in the mirror, i think just to say hi cause no one else will.

myla loves to snuggle, equally as much as she likes to be crazy. she will curl up into the tiniest, cutest lil' fur ball and place her lil' head on you leg/foot/butt/arm/chest/whateverisclosest and then does a little sigh. she closes her eyes half way and enjoys life, close and comfortable and warm. she lays next to me every single night- she wiggles her way inbetween jola's heavy lab body and mine, so she can feel both of us on either side of her. safe.

myla reminds me of who i want to be, especially in my relationship with the Lord. myla never gives up on me, or jola. she is constantly wanting to play, explore, get close, and be right there in the mix with me. she trusts me, implicitly. she listens to me and my slighest whispers or loudest yells. she hears intonation in my voice, and knows when she has done something that wasn't smart.

myla knows the sound of the magic bullet or my jingling keys mean i'm leaving and she's not, so she runs into her little kennel house, and waits inside for me to close her door. when she's outside waiting to be let in, i open the door and she bolts in, not even looking at me- runs straight into another room like she is on a mission. this shows me that she is familiar with me, our dwelling space, and trusts me, intrinsically.

myla is crazy energy but myla is crazy love. that girl loves on me more than i've ever been loved on in my life- whether it's her laying close to me, trusting me, listening and responding to my voice or rules, or just plain licking my ears clean. that girl is mine, and i know it.

i believe this is how God wants us to be with Him. Listening to His slight whisperings, His intonations. Cuddling up with Him every chance we get, adjusting ourselves just to be near Him, to lean on Him, to feel Him against us, just being there. Being certain in what we do, knowing that He is the Ultimate, and will take care of us. Coming to Him to say hi, just to say hi, nothing more. Christ wants our crazy energy, our crazy love. He wants me to love on Him and with Him, trusting Him to lead me.

my goal is to be more like myla.

*not like kaci the cat lady.