In Light of a Near Tragedy...

     I don't have kids and I'm not sure that I ever will. I do, however, have dogs and I believe with all my heart that dogs cause nearly as many gray hairs as do children. It's amazing how attached we become to them, despite random episodes of crapping on the floor, two am potty visits, fits of vomiting for no good reason, and mild to extreme destructive behaviours. They really are not that far from children, if you ask me. So, my beloved Ringo the Neurotic just scared the holy bejeebus out of me by "visiting" the neighbors without my knowledge. While he was socializing with the people four houses down, I was simultaneously yelling that Ringo was missing, throwing off panamas and pulling on less 'questionable' clothing, running up and down the stairs and playing every possible bad dog-runs-off scenario in my head. A whole three minutes later Ringo was found safe and sound in the neighbor's back yard and my heart rate has returned to less than that of a hummingbird's. In honor of his safe return and no apparent need to take him to the vet, I would like to share this semi-related, unpublished post from a while back:

     I'm sure everyone has a veterinarian horror story or two (I know I do), but in my attempt to focus on the positive in my life, I would like to spend a few minutes to talk about the elusive, great vet. It seems that I never get to bring my dogs in to the vet's office for our regular check-ups. The exams get lumped into what ever emergency has befallen one of my seemingly self-destructive pups. To be fair, none all of our emergency visits have been the dogs' fault, but I never hear my friends or coworkers say, "can you believe that Fluffy nearly severed her ear on barbed wire?" or "did I ever tell you about the time that Roscoe fell into a near coma because of his silly tryptophan allergy?" I know every pet owner has had a close-call story, but this is more about the rare, fantastic veterinarian and less about the reason for the visit. This is, namely, because the reason for the visit was pretty lame.
     
    Ringo decided that he did not want to eat for a few days and me, being the overprotective dog-mom that I am, decided that two days of low apatite warranted a vet visit. There are people out there who drag their kids to the emergency room at the slightest sign of a cough or cold , so I feel justified in my visit. I am admittedly *slightly* protective of Ringo. But I digress. It is a rare person who can not only calm down the nervous, quivering, emotional creature in front of them but who can also manage to comfort the dog too. I generally don't like doctor's offices, or doctors of any ilk, but my veterinarian rocks. She is downright fantastic and were it not for the requisite baby talk that is used by all animal health professionals, I would love to have her as my own 'girly' doctor. 


     My OB-GYN does not rub my ears and tell me how darling I am. Nor does she tell me that I am still beautiful despite having gained a little weight since our last meeting. If she did, I would probably dread my yearly visit a little less. (Gyno's everywhere take note. I am giving you gold!) But back to the vet; I was fortunate to find a incredible animal doctor is both a fantastic health care professional and genuine people person. That is so rare in both the people and animal health care fields. I can't say that he had the best day (unless a blood test and thermometer stuck in your nether regions is your idea of a good time. I'm not here to judge), but the doc seems to think that he will be fine. I trust her.

Let's Get This Party Started

     Project Hindsight has been on my mind for a while and I'm really excited to finally get going. Not excited in the "oh look, a 20% coupon from Bed, Bath and Beyond" way, but rather the kind of excited that harkens back to being a kid the night before the first day of school. My backpack is packed, clothes are set out and I'm worried about whether or not people are going to like me and whether I will be smart and witty enough to hack it. Will I make friends? Will the other kids be mean to me? Will I discover a subject that I love?
   
     This blog is about sharing with others so we can all dip into the collective experience pool and take the things that will help us on our journey. Sometimes we need a sympathetic ear or a hard kick in the ass, but more often than not, I need humor. A good laugh truly is fantastic medicine. Since it's just me here now and no one has subscribed as of yet, I'd like to kick things off with a true story with a very important moral that serves me to this day.

   The year was 1986 and it was the first day of first grade. It was September in the Mojave Desert but for some reason I insisted on wearing a sweatshirt to school. I was a very unreasonable child and nothing my mother said could convince me otherwise, even though she tried over and over to tell me that I would be way too hot. It was powder blue with little flowers or animals or something all over it and I just had to make my debut in this shirt. Sometime around lunch I was sitting at my desk (we ate lunch in our classroom for some bizarre reason) and I began to get unbearably hot. Without thinking, I pulled my sweatshirt over my head. It was in the moment when my face was stuck somewhere in the depths of my shirt and my arms were over my head, trapped in their respective sleeves, that I realized that I did not have anything on under that stupid sweatshirt. Unfortunately, I realized this about an eighth of a second before the rest of the class did and my arms were hopelessly trapped and there was no hope for a quick recovery. I wrangled myself back into my shirt and stared, humiliated, at my desk for the rest of the day. The rest of the afternoon was a blur and when my mom asked me how my day was, I mumbled that it was fine and omitted the fact that I spent at least ten never-ending seconds topless amongst my peers. I'm not certain how I disposed of it, but I never saw that shirt again.

Moral of the story: Listening to the advice of someone wiser than you will help ensure that no one ever says, "hey, there's that girl who took her clothes off in class" as you walk by.