Pixels2Picture

Car Accident

This past Monday, I was on my way home, driving in rush hour traffic, when I rear-ended the car in front of me. This occurred at an intersection where they just put in a new traffic light and another lane. It’s disorienting, as we’re used to moving, but yielding to oncoming traffic. Now the traffic light prohibits right hand turns against a red light. In this particular case, the driver of the car that I hit was confused, thinking the light was red, when it actually was green. Luckily, I had reduced my speed on the turn and my car breaking system is pretty robust! So while I did hit her bumper, I did so with minimal force and impact. Just a few scratches that can be buffed out on my car, and her bumper, although it had many scratches, they didn’t look to be the result of the event that had just occurred (I’ll spare you the details of why this was notable). As far as I was concerned there wasn’t any major damage for either of us, and, most importantly, neither of us was hurt (although I was more worried about her, than myself). I asked if she wanted to call the police, or she preferred we each take care of our own damages, etc. That’s when she said “But my car has more damage than yours.” I looked down again at her bumper and I commented, “not all these scratches are from today’s accident, and there are no dents in your bumper. But it’s your call.”

“Oh know”, she said, “These are all from today.” Sigh … I could see it coming.
Ca-ching! I must admit that I was peeved by her exaggeration of the circumstances.

She did not understand that she had been sitting at a green light and had denied this until two witnesses appeared and told her (as did I) that she was sitting at a green light. The witnesses provided me their name and number and offered to help. I am grateful for these two women who stopped and offered their support. Most people would have kept on driving. But I do live in a delightful little town.

Regardless of fault, I felt really bad. And I have all week. Guilt sucks!

Two days after my road warrior mishap, I’m sitting in a meeting at work and my friend Courtney arrives late, seemingly shaken, and a bit “out of sorts.” She apologizes for being late. “I’ve been in an accident. Some idiot rear-ended me!” I sink in my chair, wishing I could slither all the way under the conference room table, into a hole in the middle of the earth! Guilt sucks! Naturally, I console her, and I am concerned for her, and I am choked up knowing that I did the very same thing to someone else 2 days ago. Admittedly, in her case, the driver really was an idiot for being in a car pool lane, illegally, and as the police officer tried to pull the driver over to the side of the road, he hit Courtney’s car. Courtney, as always, is sweet and supportive, and accepts my confession of being a “rear-end offender” with a hug and return consolation (thank you Courtney).

It is now 4 days later … I still feel bad. Why, why, why? The answer slowly makes its way to the surface.

About 6 years ago, I was driving to work, taking the scenic route, on a beautiful day and on a beautiful 2-lane road that winds through the mountains. The beauty ended the minute I ended up being a victim of road rage, by a male driver who didn’t want me passing him up. He decided he’d rather push me into the side of the hill, but to do so, he had to also push me into the other lane, head on with another car coming in my direction. I slid back as best I could, but I lost control of my car, which ricocheted off a boulder, spinning my car further until the velocity pushed me up the side of a hill, facing in the opposite direction. The windshield was smashed, both airbags deployed and the only thing that saved my car from rolling over was the boulder that latched itself to my front wheel. Did I mention I was driving a convertible with the top down? Rolling a car upside down, I’m pretty sure, would have been messy. As the car was spinning out of control and I watched the trees swirl around me, I thought to myself, “there is nothing that I can do now. This is out of my hands. I have no control over what will happen next.” What didn’t happen, and what I was eternally grateful for: I did not hit the oncoming car, a mother driving her daughter to school, and although my car was a goner, I walked away without a scratch (was pretty damned sore though). The woman whom I didn’t hit called the police, allowed me to call my husband using her cell phone, and acted as my witness. Because life’s circumstances often happen in split second timing, neither of us got the license place of the offending driver. Of course he never stopped, never even slowed down (but you know who you are buddy, having driven your black, Toyota Tercel on Bear Creek Road that April morning!).

I have often wondered where he was headed that day and upon arriving there, did he continue his day as usual: A cup of coffee and, perhaps, a “good morning” said to a colleague? Did he wonder if I was OK, or if I even survived? Just how, I pondered, does someone carry on a normal day after they have intentionally run someone off a road, never having looked back?

That event changed me. Changed me in ways that I had obviously forgotten until this past Monday evening at 6:00 pm. Sometimes we get fired up, get mad, or feel bad, or lousy. Everyone does, and that’s just how it goes. But when these feelings persist, like mine did, and I was feeling bad all week and I just couldn’t shake it off, it was helpful for me to take a step back and figure out why I couldn’t seem to let it go. While this recent incident didn’t traumatize me, it did help me identify a previous hurt that I had forgotten, but that was, nevertheless, still there lurking in the background. And when I think about it, sometimes when we are forced to bring something back to the surface a time or two, it helps us heal. Helps us understand, and that in of itself can ease a burden that we unknowingly carry. And I did the right thing: I stopped, and I made sure the driver was OK, I traded phone numbers, and I felt sorry. But now, I can move on and get over it already! Cuz after all, guilt sucks!

Barking Dogs!

Why do people think that it’s OK for their dogs to bark for hours on end, day or night, at nothing but the wind? I’ve had many dogs over the years and I have trained each one so that they bark at intruders, or something that is out of the norm, instead of barking for the sheer hell of it.

About 8 years ago a neighbor of ours had a dog that would bark from 5 pm to midnight, every single night. I could tell when the guy got home because the dog would quiet suddenly. I left him a nice note, letting him know that the dog was barking, and could he please help us out by quieting the dog. The note was nice. But then 2 weeks went by and the barking continued, and my subsequent note was a little less neighborly (but I still used “please” and “thank you”). Admittedly, the last note I sent over was rather hostile, citing the dates and times of the barking. I had also tried calling the doofus on the phone. His response: “Dogs are supposed to bark.” I explained that yes, dogs do bark, but “trained” dogs bark only when something is out of sorts. They aren’t meant to bark for 6 hours straight at the sound of wind blowing or out of liking the sound of their own bark! His next argument was that we live in the country, which made it OK for his dog to bark. I explained that was precisely why I moved to the country, to avoid the neighborhood noise, including barking dogs. At the end of our conversation I explained to him that I was prepared to take this all the way with Animal Control and I asked him if he was aware that after the 3rd call he could be fined and if the barking still persisted, he could lose the dog. The dimwit still didn’t quite grasp the concept. Eventually, after a several months of working with Animal Control (and I had admittedly became quite grumpy from the lack of sleep) the guy decided to give his dog to a friend who owned 20 acres of land. The dog could run free and bark all day and all night to its heart’s content. I felt bad (for all of 30 seconds) and then decided that it was his preference to give up the dog rather than train it. Not my problem.

I have family in Oregon (the irritation to dog barking is obviously hereditary) who had such a bad problem with a barking dog that they took the owners to court where the judge ordered them to train the dog and charged them $500.00. Months went by and nothing had changed, so they went to court again. Another $500.00 fine to the owners of the dog. The judge told them next time they’d have to have the dog “debarked” (severing the vocal chords to eliminate the barking). Three months later that’s exactly what happened. Adding insult to injury the owner of the dog went out and bought another dog. A puppy, I think. While it did bark here and there, and there were a few phone calls back and forth, the problem never escalated to what it had been with the first dog. All in all, for my family to get a little quiet it was a long and painful process. They had to keep a journal of the dates and times of the barking, prove that it was this man’s dog that was barking (on video tape), they also had to have witnesses sign a petition, not to mention all the phone calls to Animal Control who is always understaffed. Going to court wasn’t exactly on their top 10 list of things to do either. What’s really sad is that animals pay for human stupidity.

As for my story, it’s one down, and one to go! There is one more barking dog that drives us crazy. The owner (RB) lives down at the end of the road. We asked one of our neighbors if he knew who owns the dog that barks every night from 6 to 11 pm, and he merely grunted, not really giving up any information. Obviously he was playing the “I’m an idiot card,” because he lives right next door to the offender, which was why I had decided to ask him in the first place. Mind you the man I asked has a newborn baby, and I would think between the baby and barking dog he wasn’t getting much sleep. I would have hoped that he would have welcomed some help. After additional investigation (including trekking down a dark dirt road by myself with nothing but a flashlight), it appears to be common knowledge among the mountain people at the end of the road that RB’s dog barks EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I don’t have the full history, such as whether anyone has ever talked to RB about his dog, or made him aware of the fact that the barking is worse when he’s gone for the evening (he’s a single guy, so he’s gone most evenings).

My dilemma: Do I send a nice note over explaining the obvious, or do I call Animal Control and let them deal with it? I hate to call Animal Control and cause trouble, and I would much prefer to be a nice neighbor, but then again, I went through so much with one numb-nut already, I hate to go through all of this again. While there are some general guidelines about dealing with these scenarios, they are usually time-consuming.

How is it that someone is completely oblivious to the fact that they own a dog that barks constantly? He must hear the barking when he drives up his dirt road, right? And wouldn’t at least one of the many neighbors who live close by (closer than even myself) have said something since this has been going on for years, as I understand it? Can people really sleep through all that barking? Am I the only person in which constant, repetitive dog barking sends me reeling? Please don’t suggest hypnosis, or something similar because it doesn’t work. The noise drives me crazy. Not all noises, just barking dogs. I’ve laid awake many nights thinking of revenge: Taping the barking dog and then calling the owner at 4:00 am and playing it into the phone, or on his answering machine. Maybe a cheap boom box with the volume turned on high, blasting his dogs barking on his doorstep at 2:00 am? I found websites dedicated to revenge for owners of non-stop barking dogs. Most of them, I wouldn’t consider (I love animals, and I’m not about to hurt one even if it does keep me up all night --- now maybe tossing a “laced” piece of beef to the owner might be more like it). Just kidding! Really (no hate mail please)!

I don’t know why it is that most people who live in the country have big dogs and big dogs that love to bark (why don’t they investigate dogs that are prone to incessant barking before they buy them?). Come on people, if you’re going to have a dog, be responsible! Love your dog; play with your dog, but most importantly TRAIN YOUR DOG! And for those of you with big, barking dogs who live in the country, please remember that there is a reason that most of us choose to move out of the city (paying penance every day with our long commute times into the city for work) and the reason we’re willing to pay the price isn’t just for the trees and fresh air. We like to come home to peace and (drum roll please) QUIET!

When your dog(s) start paying taxes as I do, then maybe we can talk about your dog’s rights, including the right to bark for hours on end, day and night. Until then, shut them up. PLEASE!

Note: Photo of barking dog is copyright protected and owned by: http://derspieler.wordpress.com

Backache

Yep. I’ve been flat on mine all week. Flat on my back, that is. Last weekend, while lifting that sweet, little “object of my affection" that I couldn't stand to leave at home as we were about to embark on a Sunday drive, I threw my back out. It didn’t feel so bad at first. I carried on throughout the day feeling only a minor twinge. I really hadn’t thought too much about it. I’ve pulled a muscle before in my lower back (my back is weaker from an old horseback encounter that I shall not embellish now). By the late afternoon, however, the pain grew steadily worse. My plan of attack: Over the counter pain medicine, an ice pack, rest and some stretching. I even had a massage scheduled. No problem, or so I thought. The massage made things worse since it had been a fresh injury. Massage certainly does help tire, sore muscles, but it also increases the blood flow and for a new injury it just inflamed the area worse. Bad move on my part (no pun intended).

Monday, I had to roll out of bed --- literally! Moving was an entirely different matter. Going to work was out of the question, but again, no worries, as I could work from my home office. I called my boss and assured her I should be “as good as new” by Tuesday.

Tuesday arrived. Getting out of bed was even more difficult than Monday. What gives, I thought? I did all the right things. My husband took one look at me and said, “you can’t move, can you?” That isn’t really a question now is it? I thought to myself in agitation, careful not to bite the hand that I might need to drive me to the doctor’s office. Finally, I said, “Does this look like a body that can get out of bed on it’s own?” Bill hoisted me up. Literally, hoisted me up. There is no delicate or poetic way to describe the encounter. “I’m taking you to the hospital he said.” And, who was I to argue (just this once anyway). Getting dressed so we could get to the hospital was quite entertaining (in retrospect, of course). And going to the bathroom was a completely new experience!

We arrived around 10:00 am. I brought a book (makes no sense, I know, but it’s what I always do. I always travel with a book). I loaned my husband my iPhone for his amusement because sitting in a hospital waiting room certainly wouldn’t render him any amusement whatsoever. While I was unable to hold a book and hunch over at the same time, I was able to watch the clock. Tick … tick … tick… We really hadn’t been there all that long before being called into an examination room. However, I was still certain that the clock time was wrong and it must be at least midnight. And why, pray tell me, is that perfectly dressed woman with every hair in place, perfectly applied makeup and perky little smile being called in before me?” I snapped at my husband. As a wise man, he looked down at me, brushed the hair from my forehead, kissed my forehead and said not one single word. Smart man because he knew it was really a no win situation for him.

The Physician’s assistant was very sweet, and wanted to know about my dog, the one I had lifted; the one that had put me into this glorious state. I promised the full, unabridged version as soon as he could give me a little something for this pain. Which he promptly did. 20 minutes later, (I was still watching the clock) I began to feel the effects of the pills and was perfectly delighted to tell him all about Webster. Apparently, the PA likes dog people.

Soon we were on our way to the pharmacy to ensure that I would not run out of the pills that took me to that happy place.

Once home, I slept. And I slept gooooodddd! Ahhhhh …. Was I snoring,I thought, or was I dreaming that I was snoring? I had been sleeping so well that I couldn’t tell the difference. My husband kindly confirmed that, indeed, I had been snoring. Gott’a love a pill that can knock an insomniac into sleeping like a baby AND make her snore.

I called my boss, explained my state-of-being. Bless her heart, she told me to rest up and to not worry about checking in at the office. “Just get better,” she said. It was one of those rare times that I was in no state to argue.

I spent the next 2 days flat on my back. Groggily watching videos, icing my back, sleeping, watching more videos (sleeping through most of them), sleeping, and sleeping some more …. I think you pretty much get the picture.

So there you have it, my exciting week, the week that flew by. I can honestly tell you that next time I’m so inclined to want a few days off from work that I’ll try a completely different approach; a vacation request.

Of course, throughout my recuperation, my faithful compantion, Webster, has not left my side. Which is sort of how this whole thing began.

"A" for Apple

Girls just wanna have fun!

Apple, Inc. (formerly Apple Computer) makes some of the coolest hardware and software available. The products are sexy (for a lack of a better term) and the software is fun and easy to use. Apple has something for everyone. For people who are newer to computing (like my parents) they were able to pick up a Mac and begin using it right away: email, iPhoto, web surfing and booking vacations on line. My mom even found people from her high school that she had not seen in 50 years! Tools available on iLife and iWork make getting started easy. For the pro’s there’s a different suite of tools, everything from music to video and photography. I pretty much have one of almost everything (some women shop for shoes, I shope for Apple gear)!

I must confess that I have not always been a Mac user. I converted from a PC about 6 years ago when I had tried to upload video off my camcorder to my PC and it didn’t work. After 3 long weeks of trying (and swearing like a sailor on shore leave, so says my husband), I couldn’t get the program to upload the video content. After an exasperating afternoon, my husband asked if he could borrow my camera. Not more than 5 minutes went by when he called me into his home office showing me that my camera was plugged into his Mac, already uploading my video clips thanks to a FUN and fantastic application called iMovie. My husband laughed at me when I said, “I want one of those.” But the laugh was on him when 2 hours later we were standing in line, purchasing my very first Mac. An hour after coming home and plugging it in, I had my very first movie! No special software, special cards to install, or painstaking configurations and contortions to go through. Everything that I needed came preloaded on my Mac. I plugged the camera in, clips uploaded, I added transitions and music and whoalla! Since that time, I have never looked back. I use a variety of Mac applications and hardware, and all my photography, video and web site content, projects, etc., are all made on a Mac. I’ll never use a PC running Microsoft “anything.” Why? Because, I need my stuff to work. Immediately. I don’t have time to buy cards, install them, tinker all day to get an application just right before it can be used. I want to plug the damned thing in and have it work. I want to spend time making things, taking photos, editing content, doing presentations, blogging, chatting, etc., I don't want to fuss with applications, or have to spend a day retrieving data after some “blue screen of death” (you PC folks know what I’m talking about here, don’t’cha?). And I won’t even go into the Mac versus PC security issues (I’ll save that for another blog post). But I will say that this is yet another reason why I’ve chosen a Mac.

So the bottom line is if you’re looking to spend time having fun and doing what you like to do, buy a Mac. For parents who love taking pictures and video of the kids, buy a Mac. You can upload your content to a .Mac web site and stay connected to family members and friends effortlessly. Check out the new iLife and iWork suite. It’s pretty damned SWEET!

Puppy Love, Part 2

Patiently, he waits in the entryway only a few feet away from the front door. Anytime after 6:00 pm, he waits. There is no luring him away from the spot in which he waits; food, toys, a car ride …? Nothing deters him. He just waits.

Every so often, I’ll be out of town and I won’t come home. His waiting has been in vain. He sulks. He then moves his waiting to the top of the stairs, which provides a perfect perch in which to view the front door, but he sulks all the while. Sometimes he takes a break from intensely watching the front door, perhaps to drag his favorite persons photo bag to the top of the stairs and then over to the bedroom door. He waits there instead.

When the sound of the car is finally heard and there is the click of the door lock, he wiggles. His entire body wiggles and shakes, tail wildly wagging. There is nothing more important to him at this moment. If only everyone were as happy to see me!

From the first moment of our meeting it has been mutual love and adoration! When I picked him up from the airport and took him out of his kennel cage, I slipped him down the front of my shirt & held him (he was that little). I’m not sure why I did this (someone told me that it helps with the bonding process and I didn’t want to take any chances). He looked up at me, wiggled and licked me for a full 20 minutes.

My husband picked his name. As we found him on the web … Webster it would be, although we also call him by his nickname Pupa-licious (again, my husband’s creativity).

Webster is my shadow. He is never more than a few feet away from me at any given point in time. He sleeps with us every night on a stool at the foot end of the bed. The minute I say to him, “Are you ready for bed?” he will dash down the hallway to the bedroom, jump on the bed, or on his stool and look back, waiting for me to catch up. He knows goodnight hugs and kisses are only moments away. His morning ritual is to patiently wait until we rise, watching for the first sign of life; the opening of an eye, or the movement of limbs under covers. That is his signal to rush up, greeting us with the kisses that he has stored up all night long.

While he doesn’t perform tricks the way that many dogs do, he does understand phrases and what they mean. “Wann’a go for a ride?” means he’ll respond with a head-to-toe shaking and dancing, running down the stairs to sit at the door that leads to the garage. “How about a cookie,” you say, and he runs into the kitchen, patiently waiting by the cabinet that houses his cookies and treats. “Where’s your toy? Go get me your toy” sends him either to his toy box, or to run around the house for the toy of his choice, which he’ll bring back to you in hopes that you’ll play.

Doors and zippers are a specialty. He’s gotten into my purse, my camera bag, my duffle bag and my suitcase. Nothing is sacred. He doesn’t chew, or destroy anything, but he will drench the object of his desire with dog dribble (he’s particularly fond of clothing … but only mine). Did I mention that he’s now working on how to open doors?

Scolding Webster usually results in his pouting. If he knows you’re upset with him, he mopes. He’ll drop wherever he is, placing his head on his paws, just pouting and watching, waiting for me to “get over it.” Which usually isn’t a very long time, for one look at his face, and I melt like a stick of butter in the microwave. When I am sad, or shed tears, he will crawl into my lap and kiss away.

Webster is a charismatic dog, and quite the charmer. He turns heads, and stops people in their tracks wherever we go. It can often take quite a while to make our way down a single block, or to even make our way to a dinner table in a dog friendly restaurant. My husband & I have a running joke between us that Webster would be quite the “chick magnet” if my husband were single. But then again, men stop and “ooh and ahh” over him just as often as do pretty women.

The dog groomer we take Webster to is particularly fond of him, giving him pretty much free-reign of her shop. He wanders around, visits with the other dogs and greets incoming patrons. Should he have to skip a regularly scheduled appointment, the shopkeepers from other stores will ask when Webster will be coming in for a bath (the women from the hair salon next door, especially enjoy coming over to say hello, no doubt cashing in on a kiss or two). On more than one occasion we’ve been told that someone came in & asked if “Webster’s owners would be interested in selling him?” Of course, the answer is, and always will be, “No way!” How could I possibly part with a dog who has captured my heart, has helped me heal, cheers me up when I’m sad, makes long drives & vacations fun, and, most importantly, loves me no matter what?

We should all be so lucky to receive the unbridled love and loyalty of a dog. If people were capable of loving so fully and so unselfishly, like dogs and other animals, then I'm convinced that the world would surely be a better place.

Puppy Love, Part 1

It had been only 5 months since our Dog, Sophia, had died of a rare salivary cancer, and only 8 months since Katie, our other dog had been diagnosed with a brain tumor, forcing us to end her life. I was missing both dogs, and feeling like I had a huge hole in my heart that I was unable to plug.

It was a Sunday in February, and I was working in my photo studio, Animal Planet blasting in the background. A dog show was being broadcast. I missed my dogs. Before I knew it, I was surfing websites, looking at puppies. I’m only looking, I told myself. I thought it would be good to research dog breeds, for when we were ready for another dog. A Cocker Spaniel was out of the question. My husband was so distraught over loosing Sophia that I doubted we’d ever be able to own another Cocker Spaniel again. I began perusing the pictures of Lhasa Apsos in honor of Katie. Page after page … young puppies, older puppies, adult dogs. I knew that when the time came, we would need to get a puppy. After loosing 2 dogs in 3 months, we wouldn’t be able to go through this again anytime soon. Sophia was almost 15 years old when she died. We knew it was only a matter of days, and, bless her heart, she waited until 3 days after my birthday before she died. Unbeknownst to me, my husband had a “talk” with her the night before my birthday. “Please, Sophia, don’t say goodbye tomorrow. It’s mommy’s birthday. It will break her heart. Please hang on one more day Sophia.” And so she did. It was one of the best birthday presents that I have ever received and one that I never will forget. Sophia and I spent the entire day together, cuddling & napping and talking old times. I bathed her and I brushed her and I took what were to be her final pictures.

We weren’t certain of Katie’s age, because we found her on the side of the road, late on a Saturday night. She had a tag. The man that owned her didn’t want her, which was a good thing, because I didn’t really want to give her back. So when I asked him on the phone if he owned a little brown and white dog, and he asked me if I wanted a little brown and white dog, I was quite happy to say, “yes!” We guessed she was 9 or 10. Her previous owner didn’t know her age, because he had found her at an animal shelter. It was obvious by her condition that she had seen the worst of times. We had her for 6 years. Through all her ailments, health problems, and vet bills, our love never wavered.

And because our losses occurred in only 3 months time, only a puppy would do.

And then, I saw him! Jupiter was his name. There were 4 pictures posted. I printed them out and saved one on my computer screen.

I thought about the puppy on Monday & Tuesday. By Wednesday, I cold no longer stand it anymore. I showed two of my work friends the picture of the puppy. They squealed, “You better call on that puppy now before he’s gone. You’ll be sick if someone else buys him before you do.” Of course, they were right. So I called the Texas number and was greeted by a woman with a friendly, southern accent. I held my breath after I asked, “Is Jupiter still available?” “Yes. Yes, he is” she replied. “I want him,” I blurted out. Long story short, he was now on order. Once she received the money, she’d make flight arrangements for him to be shipped from Austin, Texas to San Jose, California.

How on earth was I to break this news to my husband? I had purchased a puppy without his knowledge, without first talking it over with him. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but he was still grieving, and I had no idea about how he would react. I felt excited. I felt selfish. I felt comforted that I’d have a puppy to pour love into, the love that I could no longer share with Katie and Sophia … but at that moment, I also felt queasy.

My husband took the news well. He understood my need for a dog. I understood his need for time to heal. We had agreed (HE had agreed) that what I had done was OK. My husband said he had a “feeling” when he saw me surfing the web landing on puppy sites. When he saw that I had actually printed out a picture of a puppy and it was laying on my desk, he was certain their was mischief looming on the horizon. When I saw him take that picture and pin it to his bulletin board, I knew there was healing on the horizon.

To Be Continued ...

In Loving Memory of Sophia and Katie

Bottle Cap Wisdom

For a while now, I've been drinking organic, green tea with lunch, or during the afternoon energy lull. But what I get is more than a little caffeine. I get a daily dose wisdom!

Each bottle cap on the brand of tea that I drink has a message inscribed on the cap. I don't know how many caps of wisdom there are, or whether I've collected them all, but I know that I like to keep them. I'm not even sure of why this is the case. I do admit to being a bit of a pack rat, but I think it's more than that. Sometimes, I just like the reminders that there is wisdom when I am in the midst of chaos. There are those weeks. You know the kind that I am talking about, where you barely have time to think, much less sit and enjoy a leisurely lunch?

I doubt that I am alone in my enjoyment of encouraging and wise words. I think that many of us enjoy these little bite-sized quotations of inspiration. Why else would they print them? And many of us head out to the card or drugstre in search of that special Hallmark card that has just the right quote for the right moment or occasion? Should you think this is foolish and want to look at the other side of the coin, consider this: Think about how annoying you can become, as you offer up your little quotes to others. For example, one day I came home from work to find my husband slightly grumpy and worked up over something (that I can't even remember now). I turned to him and said, "For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness." I got a deliberate stare (that look that says, you MUST be kidding) and then came a sneer. However, I was quite pleased and delighted in having just the right quote at the tip of my tongue. I was amused.

Lately, I've taken to a little ritual when my week is super busy and I need a moment to breathe (or I myself, feel irritable). I reach into the box where I have my bottle caps stored, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, reach in and pluck one. I figure the right message will come at just the right time. And if not, heck, I've had an amusing 30 seconds!

Here's the inspirational message I was delivered today: A person is not old until regrets take the place of dreams. ~ John Barrymore”

Hmmm. Now there's some wisdom to live by. And rather appropriate for me, because I just had a discussion with someone about taking my photography website to the next level and if I don't do this I'll regret not having done so later.

Here are a couple of my favorite bottle cap messages that have come up recently:

We cannot hold a torch to light anothers path without brightening our own. ~Ben Sweetland

And the one that I try to live by: The person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused. ~Shirley MacLaine

Needless to say, I'm usually VERY amused.

So drink up, and do nor forget to check those bottle caps before you toss them. You never know what insights you might be provided, or at the very least, a good chuckle and the opportunity to annoy your spouse or friends.

About Me

Here are 10 things about me that you might find interesting, unique, or maybe just eccentric.

1) I don’t like talking on the telephone (admittedly, I make more exceptions since I’ve gotten an iPhone), but I do love to chat online! I’m quite the multi-tasker. I can have multiple windows open and still take care of business. There was a time when I used to love to talk to my friends on the phone for hours. But that was long ago, and before I worked in technical support where the majority of my cases were from customers waiting on the phone. After spending much of my day on the telephone troubleshooting network outages, the last thing I wanted to do was come home and put a receiver to my head. These days, my phone conversations are short and sweet: "How’s things, when and where do you want to meet up, and I love you to mom!"

2) I am an insomniac. I have been for many years. Sometimes, I can’t fall into sleep, and other times, I get to sleep only to wake at 2:00 am. Lately, I’ve been drinking warm, organic vegetable broth before bedtime and I’ve been sleeping quite soundly. My doctor says that the organic broth is full of minerals and electrolytes, which are important for cell to maintain voltages across other cell membranes. Whatever! As long as it works!

3) I’m addicted to amusement park rides and extreme sports. I love heights and speed, free-falls and anything else that gets my blood pumping. Sometimes, during the summer when it’s warm and I want to be with the birds and up in the trees, I’ll climb on the roof and daydream. Odd, I know. It drives my husband crazy, but it feels really nice. It’s rare that I don’t want to try something new.

4) Movies, or articles, about animals, or injured animals, always make me cry. Old Yeller, Lassie, movies about dolphins, penguins, horses, or anything else animal, can make me emotional. I have a soft spot, love & appreciation for animals. In spite of our human flaws they love us anyway, unconditionally. I could never life without a pet. I love my feathered and furry family.

5) I am passionate about photography, and have since I was a kid. I first became enamored with taking pictures when my family had a Polaroid camera. I begged my parents to buy me a camera so I could take photography in my freshman year of high school. While we could only afford a used, Mamiya-Sekor 35mm camera that my dad bought from a hoc shop, I learned photography the right way & without fancy gadgets. I spent many years specializing in black and white photography, doing my own darkroom and development work. Eventually, I migrated to digital, and I now shoot with Nikon cameras. I take pictures of everything I find interesting and I’m rarely seen without my camera.

6) I found both my husband and my dog on the Internet, and I’m a big-time online shopper. My husband and I met on AOL on a poetry bulletin board almost 12 years ago when online communication was just getting popular. He posted a poem and I commented on it. Back and forth we went, and luckily we lived only 20 minutes apart! During some online web surfing, I saw one of the cutest puppies I’ve ever seen. I was sure that a puppy so cute would be snatched up by the time I called about him. But as fate would have it, he was meant to be my dog. Definitely love at first sight!

7) I put ketchup on my tacos. This grosses my family out (sorry dad, I know you’re cringing about now). But hey, so what! I love the way it tastes, and that’s all that’s important (I won’t confess what I do with spaghetti).

8) I always wanted to work for Apple, Inc (Computer)! I love Apple products, which are sexy and fun to use, not to mention much more reliable than any PC!

9) I’m a bookworm! I love books so much that I can’t stand it if I am in the middle of one book and I don’t have another one queued up and ready to go. I have never been able to walk into a bookstore & leave empty handed, and the “one click” purchase option on Amazon is far too convenient. I can easily read a 500-page book in one weekend, and I love curling up on a rainy weekend with a good book, a roaring fire & my dog. I also love antique books and have seveeral first editions, a couple of my favorites being from Len Howard, titled, Living with Birds and Birds as Individuals (which includes letters from the author). I recently found a list of the top 100 literary works and I’m thinking about working my way through the list!

10) I love water! I love to be near water, soak in water, float in water, watch water! I find being around water is the ultimate in relaxation. I can go only a very short time without having to head to the beach, a lake, or a stream. While I love living among the redwoods, I hope to someday live where I can overlook a large pond, lake or some body of water. My idea of a perfect vacation is usually where the water is.

Massage

I love getting a massage. It’s both a pleasure and a treat, and a gift that I give myself fairly regularly. I’m sure there are those of you out there who consider this an impractical luxury, or even a selfish gesture. But when you consider the benefits of touch and massage, think again …

I work in a high-stress environment. I always have. And I carry my tension in my neck, shoulders and my gut. And spending many hours a day online and in front of a computer just adds to the sore muscles and tension (no matter how fun my Mac is to work on). It’s taken me a long time to listen to my body, to pay attention if you will, to when it sends me signals that my balance is no longer balanced.

There have been many articles of fact, showing that the power of touch is healing & a necessity.

A strengthened immune system and mood elevation are only two of the many benefits of touching. Taking this another step farther, the power of massage has additional benefits, including strengthening the immune system by stimulating lymph flow, which is the body’s natural defense system. It helps with circulation, joint flexibility and tissue regeneration. But aside from all that, it just feels wonderful. Most massages are done in a very quiet environment and most are embellished with some sort of soft music, candles, or other mood lighting and aromatherapy – the scent of your choice (mine usually being lavender or lemon verbena). This all contributes to the total relaxation response.

Finding a massage therapist is easy, but finding a good one, isn’t. I’ve had many trial and errors, and just because a spa is popular or expensive doesn't guarantee you a good massage. Often, I’ve found the contrary and gone to a fancy spa only to leave disappointed. When I find a good massage therapist, I keep going back. When I travel, the first thing I do is book a massage. So the places that I frequent, I’m well connected and am always guaranteed a good massage. Gina’s the best I’ve found in Mendocino (and the only one who has ever put me to sleep on the massage table, which is a big deal given that I’m an insomniac); Renata and Elyse are my choices in Pescadaro, Julie in Capitola and Quchyal in Grants Pass, Oregon (who I’ve gone to for 15 years).

Today is Sunday, and I treated myself to a massage. I haven’t had one in a several months, and I have to say that I miss the relaxation I feel after a great massage. While there are times that I’ll book one after work, just to tone and sooth sore, tired muscles or to ease the effects of an overly stressful week, there are other times that I actually make a ritual of it. I’ll book one in the morning. I’ll soak in the tub, or go somewhere that has a steam shower or sauna. I take myself out to lunch and I always arrive early for my appointment, fully armed with a great book. I drink my herbal tea, read, relax and then enjoy my 60-90 minutes of bliss. For some extra special pampering when I’m on vacation, I’ll usually schedule both a massage and a facial. The combination is lethal and I’m a new woman afterward.

The next time you’re stressed, tired and feel like you need a pick-me-up, consider a massage. For those of you who tend to stress yourselves out by having to find the perfect gift for someone special, think of a massage. And while you’re at it, book one more for yourself. Relax.

Bunk Beds

Anything can happen when my friend Vicky calls! Sometimes, she has an interesting tidbit to share, and other times she has “an idea.” It’s the “idea” part that’s always the clincher. Interestingly enough, the for words that come out of my mouth that scare my husband the most (besides, “I know the way”) are, “I have an idea.” So I can sort of relate when Vicky calls me and says, “Hey … I’ve got a crazy idea.”

Thursday afternoon came such a call; a hair-brained idea, or something like that. “There’s a cabin I want to stay in near Manressa State the beach. I know it’s last minute, but let’s go stay in this cabin tomorrow night. You, me and the boys.” Vicky is always very enthusiastic, which makes it really difficult to say no. Her exuberance & love of fun, truly is infectious. And it’s one of the many things I love about her. She needed an “immediate” answer, because there was only one cabin left, and only for Friday night.

“It will be so much fun.,” she said. “The cabins are really cute. There’s a double bed and bunk beds. Michael and I will sleep in the double and you and Zachary can sleep in the bunk beds.” Now all this was said very quickly, in a very high-spirited tone. I laughed, uncontrollably! “I’ve never gotten to sleep in bunk beds before,” I said. “And I’ve always wanted to since I was a kid!” And so, I laughed on. My fate was sealed.

Friday, I worked from home, since the campground is only 20 minutes from my house. At lunch, I took 5 minutes to throw my essentials into a duffle bag. Friday around 4:00 pm, I was off. I would meet them there. Vicky called during their hour-long drive to tell me “ the boys are excited”!

Twins, Michael & Zachary, my God Sons, are a happy pair. They inherited their mother’s zest for life. We all pull up to the parking area, and, like clockwork, Vicky jumps out to get the key, I run over to watch the boys, who are bouncing up and down in their seats, “Kat, Kat, Kat … are you sleeping with us tonight? Why did you come? Are you gonn’a spend the night? Where’s your car?” and on goes the questioning. I tell them I do plan to spend the night and sleep with them in the cabin, “Yeah” is their heartfelt and joyous response, as they jump up and down to the point that they can no longer remain in their seats.

We arrive at the cabin and Vicky tells Zachary that he and I will share the bunk beds.

His face slightly squishes and he cocks his head; he looks confused. “You like bunk beds?” He sounds as astonished as an almost-six year old can possibly be. But he accepts my answer with the thrill of an amusement park ride, and announces to all within ear shot that he and Kat will be bunking together. I’m not sure if the moment was more glorious for Zacahry or me. I was feeling pretty darned adored, as I watched the proud and happy look on his face.

There was dinner at the pizza place and finding the owl in the tree, playing airplane with the folding chairs, the making up of our beds, snack time and the final call for jammies. Ah yes, there were also the stories of vampires … how easy the vampires can find little boys who make too much noise at night. In no time, as Vicky and I caught up our friendship, the cabin became quiet; no more whispers and giggling.

I have to confess that I’m a pretty serious camper. My idea of camping involves either a tent, or a bare-bones cabin, with or without electricity and running water. And with the lack of electricity comes the lack of people; I tend to be reclusive. Even when I do bring an iPod or a laptop for amusement, or photo downloads, these are usually my only means of companionship. And here I was, in the midst of a KOA campground, peak summer season, kids, pets and people everywhere. No privacy here folks! The campsites are very close together, so you better love thy neighbor. I had to admit that in spite of it looking a bit like a large commune, the folks at KOA do a nice job of entertaining kids and keeping nice, clean campsites. They have modern conveniences, including Internet access, a general store, stocked with the things you’d typically forget to pack, AND a coffee bar. Everyone we met was friendly. Our camping neighbors to the left, a family of four, with two dogs, were quite neighborly, without being pushy. Nice people.

Saturday morning, I awoke to snickering & stifled laughter. Zachary was hanging over the bed, peering down at me, Michael looking on with a big grin. It was only minutes before both boys were up and about, looking out the window, the screen door flying open and Vicky and I praying the neighbors were already up and about.

We dragged the boys on an exciting excursion called, “Let’s go visit the coffee bar.” They were suspicious about how much fun this would actually be, so much so, that we threw in the promise of hot chocolate for good measure. Breakfast was simple: muffins & yogurt, which were wolfed down quickly just in case the playground, might somehow, be swallowed up whole and disappear before Michael & Zachary could get there. Kids move very fast, even more so when they know there is a “jumpie” on site. The jumpie (for which I do not know the official name) is a big, brightly colored balloon looking dome that 10 or so kids can jump on. There were special, three-wheeled bikes to ride (with flags on the back; an important accessory when one bike has it and the other does not), peddling backwards, and rolling down the hills, seeing who could go faster and remember to use the hand brakes. We took walks to other play areas and before you know it, the time had come to pack up our camp. Of course, smart moms know that the best time to partially pack up camp is while the kids are indisposed on jumpies, having too much fun to notice that mom has snuck away. Packing up our remaining belongings was a breeze, instead of a tearful affair.

It was when Vicky recited our itenary for the day that I was in for a surprise. Zachary wasn’t interested in lunch and playing at the beach. Zachary announced that he preferred to go to lunch and then go home and “hang out with Kat.” And his nonchalance and expectation of his desires caught both Vicky and I off guard. I had never heard him use the term, “hang out,” which sounded cute enough in it’s own right, but then being the one he wanted to hang out with was truly special!

We had lunch at the beach, sitting on stools, overlooking the lagoon, sharing sips of each others soft drinks & sharing french fries. There were coloring the menus (don’t forget to stay in the lines) and watching the birds (what kind is that one?). Oh yes, there was also using the mini crayon box as a horn, or at least it sounds that way when you blow through the box (grandma taught them that)!

Our fun didn’t end with lunch, because there was plenty of walking and exploring to do; a jaunt over the bridge to see the “pretty colors” houses that salt and pepper the Capitola beach and tourist area. Our excursion concluded with a trip to the ice cream parlor and flavors of banana, chocolate and blueberry cheesecake.

I was sad to see the day end.

Fun, oftentimes, comes from unexpected sources and unplanned outings; a “crazy idea” phone call that came during an otherwise, uneventful Thursday afternoon. I can’t remember a more memorable camping trip, or a happier time of “hanging out.” I truly felt content. Simple pleasures become magical in the company of two blonde haired little boys, who yell my name at the top of their lungs, sharing their infectious, heartwarming laughter, who love freely and openly as only children can do.