It’s Roxie’s eleventh birthday today and we’re celebrating! Err, I’m celebrating. (Jim doesn’t celebrate dog birthdays.) Where does the time go??? Roxie has accomplished so much in her eleven years (seventy-seven dog years, whew!). In addition to electrocuting herself as a puppy, actually eating a kid’s homework once, getting skunked, eating entire loaves of bread, bags of chocolate*, and part of a container of baking cocoa and living to tell about it, she has also run away for an afternoon (twice), ripped up paper money that totaled approximately $73 for all incidents, rolled in rabbit poo multiple times every summer, destroyed many stuffed animals, scared an infinite number of people…
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Back In Time, If Only For a Moment
I was loading up the conveyor belt with my purchases at Target earlier today when I noticed that there seemed to be a hold up with the customer ahead of me. Once I could find no more space on the belt, which hadn’t moved in a couple of minutes, I looked up to see what was going on and my heart melted. A little boy of no more than five years old was standing next to his young father, struggling to open his own adorable wallet and pull some paper bills out. I looked at the cashier in time to see her bagging a mid-sized Star Wars LEGO kit and…
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Hugs
I think about hugs a lot. That seems like a ridiculous statement, especially for a post-opener. My blog, my rules. Hugs, real, live, in-person ones, can be so healing. They can fill you up a little bit (or a lot) if you’re feeling empty. They can reassure you, warm you up, and make you feel more loved in that moment than in all the other non-hugging moments of that entire day. Hugs are magical, especially the ones that linger just a couple of seconds longer than you expect. Virtual comments on Facebook or texts that say “Hugs!”? Well, the jury is still out on those but I choose to believe…
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This Week: 1 Melisa: 1/2
This week has Kicked. My. Butt. I’m not talking about your average, run-of-the-mill, short-term butt-kicking. I’m talking about nearly a week’s worth of stress-induced, anxiety-laden, sleep-deprived, frustrating, often tearful minutes that crawled by as if they were hours instead of sixty-second increments. To say out loud that it’s “been a tough week” seems ridiculous to me because it’s such a massive understatement. The cause: too many moving parts in my life, many of which are currently out of my control. At my lowest point earlier in the week, I sobbed heavily into Jim’s arms, stating rather dramatically that I just don’t know why I can’t be a “normal person who…
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To Grandma’s House I Go
I’ve been thinking about my grandmother a lot lately, especially as I toss around ideas for the essay I will write for this year’s Listen To Your Mother show in Chicago. Memories of her come and go, and sometimes she hangs around in my brain for an extended period of time. I don’t mind at all; in fact, I rather enjoy it. My Grandma was a huge presence in my young life. We visited her house all the time, and she spoiled her grandkids like crazy. She was one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m often in awe of the fact that she…