At work and sick...just didn't want to miss a day.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
I have no problem with this.
A lot of people evidently do. This is some sort of subversive, anti-Christian plot to take Christmas away from us.
It's just a cup, folks. It's red. Take your magic marker and put whatever the heck you want on it.
Friday, November 6, 2015
I drove down to Amarillo today to get my military ID card renewed. I'm also going to go to a photography exhibit with my daughter while I'm here. And I remembered how many things make me smile. Molly dragging my $40 blanket around because she's decided it's her bed made me smile today - it went from my bedroom to the living room to the sunroom where hopefully it will stay for the rest of the day. The sight of two Osprey hovering above Bell Helicopter made me smile and feel protected. Sitting in a warm car and watching the wind blow made me smile. I think I'm getting better.
Thursday, November 5, 2015
They might not live near you. They might not be your age. They might not have anything at all in common with you except one teeny, tiny thing. They became your friends. We wrote our stories and other people read them and commented on them - not just one or two word comments but entire sentences. Sometimes even paragraphs or, if the thought was a private one, an email might be sent.
I have not blogged for a long time. I have been seduced by the ease of Facebook. Thankfully, so have most of my blogging buddies and we have managed to keep in touch through Facebook.
I received private messages on Facebook today from not just one, but two of my blogging buddies just to check on me because I didn't sound like me.
I love you both.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
I adopted Molly 4 months ago. For the 4 months prior to that, she was at a shelter. Prior to that, she had been abandoned, with her sister, when the people who owned them moved. Her collar had to be surgically removed at that time.
I keep waiting for Molly to become mine. Molly is not mine. She does not greet me when I get home. She does not hang out in the same room that I am in, ever. She does not consistently come when called and, if she does, lingers just out of reach. She does not come to me when I cry.
She does not do these things for anyone else, either.
She bolts for the bedroom if a door slams anywhere in the neighborhood. She will not go through a doorway if the shadows have changed from the first time she went through it. She lives in constant fear. She is with me at night only because, in her mind, my bedroom is her room. It is where she hides.
I have never seen a less happy dog.
I am not suggesting killing her. I am merely putting forth the theory that if the no-kill shelter does nothing other than keep the animals alive, it might be doing them a disservice.
As for me and Molly - we will keep on keepin' on.