I Had A Moment

This month's Vogue "It Girl" is model Britt Maren. 

She's 20 years old and her thighs are as big around as my forearm....

Still, as I looked at the pictures of her while I got my toes done, her cute cute cute hair made me want to chop all mine off again and bleach it out.

Then I remembered this.   And my better angels prevailed.

That night, I danced around my bedroom to Tom Petty and wildly slung my long, strawberry blond hair around. 

I was so glad it isn't short anymore....

This Charming Pestilence

We were attacked by another frog last night.  And when I say "we", I mean "me".  Frick and Frack were conveniently indisposed....

This one had the audacity to come onto our patio.  And then he acted like he was the one who was all afraid!  I was out there all alone!  With no shoes on!

Seriously.  It's like House of the Seven Plagues over here.

*full body shiver*
Image:  Frog Statue with Shadows by Zoe Danielle Art.

Grief

I cried on Monday night.

We're talking wracked with sobs.  It kind of hit me out of nowhere and I cried and got all swollen and snotty and couldn't stop so I just sat and sobbed for a while.

It was one of those times that my husband/boyfriend (if I had one) would have thought that the world had ended.

And then I didn't sleep and woke up and spent the day as if sand had been poured in my eyes.

Here is why I cried:

Yesterday was the 15th anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing, which absolutely and completely broke my heart.  Broke.  It.

I can't believe that an American did that.  I couldn't believe it then and I still cannot comprehend it.  In my mind, it's worse than 9/11.

I watched a clip on CNN about the 6 children who survived and they are all teenagers and young adults now.  The father of Chris Nguyen (who was 5 at the time) said that after he heard about the bombing and as he was driving to the site he stopped at a convenience store and bought large plastic bags because he thought he was driving there to pick up his son's body.  He just BROKE my heart.  I know that I keep saying that but I don't know any other way to describe it.  He was so quiet, so dignified, an immigrant who came her to be free, who loves this country and he just broke my heart.  Thankfully Chris is fine and in college now and has such purpose.  There are so many parents who weren't so blessed that day. 

The whole thing was such a waste.  An attack on innocent people carried out by a young man who was so full of hatred and he took so much from so many people.  Timothy McVeigh's execution was (in my opinion) just, but it was all such a waste. 

And then I cried because I read about Dixie Carter's funeral.  Apparently, she had a horrible stroke and was paralyzed and unable to speak.  She had control of her left hand and part of her arm and at her funeral, her daughter said that at night, in the dark, in the hospital, when she thought they were sleeping. that her mother would lie awake and exercise the one part of her body that she could move.

And I cried because she was so full of life and she wanted to live and she never gave up.  For so long, I wanted to die and now I want to live - so much.  I hope that I will always fight like that.

Ms. Carter was such a lady.  Her daughter said she was "so substantial".  What a wonderful thing to say.  So I cried for her Monday night.  I hope she rests in peace. 

So that's my sob story for Wednesday.  And sometimes you just need to cry.
Image:  Paris Cafe in the Rain by Rebecca Plotnick.

Fears for Finn (And Lola)

Monday night I dreamed that I boarded Finn and while he was there, somebody came in the middle of the night and shot him in the head and killed him.  When they told me, they took me to the place where he had been sleeping and his little blanket was there, smeared with blood and blood was splattered on the wall.

I woke up with my heart racing, hot and terrified.  I listened for a minute and I could hear the soft little rumbles of them both snoring (they both snore) and so I calmed myself down and tried to go back to sleep.  It didn't really work and I had unsettled dreams for the rest of the night.

I tried to give extra love and kisses to Finn all day on Tuesday and he kept giving me the same look that they give me when I watch Dogtown (because seeing other dogs mistreated makes me want to love on my own).  Being kissed and loved on and picked up is not necessarily a good thing if you are a Bean and they give me the "Oh, God, she's been watching Dogtown again" looks. 

I'd like to say that my bad dreams were brought on by alcohol or spicy foods or watching horror movies or the nightly news or the Discovery Channel before bed, but I did none of those things.  The truth is that I am (often unreasonably) terrified that something bad will happen to Finn and/or Lola.  I constantly worry that everything they eat off the ground will somehow be toxic, that they will develop some untreatable disease, that they will be dognapped from the backyard or that somebody, somehow, someway will get to them and hurt them.   I pay extra money to my security company for fire monitoring, not because I am the least bit worried about the loss of all of my possessions, but because if the house does catch fire, I want the rescue squad to come get my Beans.  I once rushed them both off to the emergency vet on Sunday afternoon because I had it in my head that they may have eaten rat poison while visiting another house (don't ask, it's a LONG story.)  I knew in my head that it couldn't be, but the unreasonable crazy worry wouldn't stop.  They were fine and the blood tests only cost me $500. 

I know, it's not quite normal.  I've actually discussed this propensity toward irrational fear with trained professionals.

Partly, I think it's because I was the first baby of fearful and overprotective parents.  The world is a scary place to them and until I was around 33, I always walked around with a sort of nebulous fear that "something" would happen.  Some nameless, faceless, unknown danger has always been lurking around the perimeter of my life, just waiting to jump out and snatch me as soon as I let my guard down.  When my "babies" came, my fear extended to them. 

Once, when I had just gotten out of law school, the law firm I worked for hired a new receptionist who was a part-time Psychic.  She took one look at me, touched my hand and said "You know, you are safe in this world."  I wrote that on a sticky note and at one time or another it has been hanging around my house.  Even today, when my anxiety starts going over to the bad place, I chant it over and over in my head.  My father once, while visiting me, noticed my sticky note and asked me just what it was that I was so afraid of.  When I told him it would be easier to tell him what I wasn't afraid of, he looked a little stricken and then quickly changed the subject.  My father thinks that unpleasant things will go away if he just ignores them long enough or with enough discipline.  In his defense, his entire side of the family practices the same avoidance, so I'm not so sure it's his fault.

But, you know, then I went to therapy and became "Zen Tonya" as we refer to me now, and I have to say that much of my fears have subsided.  Even with respect to Finn and Lola they are much less ridiculous than they used to be.  But they still pop up, from time to time.  And when they pop up, I always come back to this idea that something is going to happen that will snatch away my happiness, starting with Finn and Lola. 

Finn woke up on Tuesday morning, just like he always does, happy and having slept through the night.  He was walked, made potty, had his usual healthy Eukanuba for breakfast and then lazed around until I loaded him and his stinky little sister into the car and hauled them both off to the dog spa to be buffed and puffed.

He doesn't share my fears.  He thinks the world is grand and it has really never occurred to him to be afraid of anything except errant plastic shopping bags which get stuck in the trees and move strangely, or the average thunderstorm.  When these things come up in his life, he comes running to me or hides in the upstairs bathroom.   All is well with him, as it should be, as I have carefully insured that it will be, because he has never wanted for or done without anything or been mistreated in his life.  There has never been a time of crisis with him that I haven't swooped in and fixed.  He is a loved little guy (as is Lola Bean).  It makes me happy to take care of them.

But sometimes my worries sneak in and Finn and Lola have to endure a little extra smoochies. They also enjoyed the organic peanut butter dog snacks and the two new squeaky toys that I brought home for them from Petco on Tuesday night.  They'll put up with my occasional freakouts anyday as long as they get peanut butter dog treats at the end of it. 

Or we can only hope. 

Manic Monday

Hi!

I hope everyone had a great weekend.

Me - not all that great, but it got better by Sunday morning.  I will spare you the sordid details but it is sufficient to say that I had a little bit of a breakdown on Saturday and my darling friend was lovely enough to come and sit with me while I had my crying, ridiculous, anxiety driven fit.  There are still days that I'd love to take the easy way out and just pop a nerve pill - which is West Virginia colloquial for "xanax". 

I don't really know what caused it and I really don't think it matters.  I think that sometimes, even the best of us just have to have a day.

And I had one on Saturday.  But I took a lot of deep breaths and practiced sitting with the uncomfortable. 

Anyway - I think this is gonna be a good week.  No court.  No conference calls.  No visiting relatives.  No (fingers crossed) swine flu.  The bills are paid, the Beans are well and I have an appointment to get my hair cut on Tuesday.

Ah, the hair.  I haven't mentioned it in a while because I'm just trying to ignore it as much as possible while it grows out.  It's in the worst part right now.  The part where it looks a little bit like a mushroom/mullet.  It's killing me.

My mother said to me over Christmas - 'I love your hair.  I want mine to look like that - like Suze Orman'.

I threw up a little bit in my mouth.   

Yeah, that did not help me feel better about it.

So Jeremy over at Varji and Varji is going to shape it up a bit and cut some of my little mullet tail off while the rest of it catches up.  I keep telling myself that I'm almost through the worst of it, but it's not much comfort at this point but I do think that by the summer it'll at least be to the point of a short bob.  

And that's where we are on this Monday, dear readers - happy that the breakdown is (mostly) over and with a goal for the summer - enough hair for a short bob....

Image:  Coffee Break by Leslie Thomson

J. Crew is Not for Sissies

I went clothes shopping on Saturday.

I had a bit of a breakdown in the J. Crew dressing room.

I felt fat, I felt ugly, I felt old.

I sat there, by myself, in the dressing room, on the bench and stared at my image in the mirror, under the florescent lights and had a little 3 minute pity party. I cursed the lines around my eyes and rued the day I cut my hair.

Then I got up and said "Fuck it. Now is no time to quit."

And I whipped out the American Express card that I didn't have when my face was wrinkeless and bought some clothes. Despite my advancing middle age, I'm still a size 2.

Among other things, I bought these jeans.

I feel a little bit like a stuffed sausage in them, but considering my very poor and very hormonal state of mind on Saturday, I still didn't think they looked half bad. In fact, I thought "If I loose 5 pounds, they'll look pretty good."
I'm going to wear them with flats, with boots and with heels.
And speaking of boots, after J. Crew, I cruised on down to Nine West and bought these:They are a little more clunky than I would normally do, but I saw several well dressed women in the mall wearing similar ones and I thought I could get away with them. They are also very comfortable and they were on sale.

Entropy

There are days, and yesterday was one of those days, when all I can think of are all of the failures and disappointments in my past. I have failed. I have lost. I have let myself and others down. I have lied. I have hidden. I have not always been the person that I wanted to be. And on some days I look at it and I can't forgive myself and don't think that I should be forgiven.

Some days I am a kinder person. But not yesterday.

Intellectually, I know that my life today is the result of my hard work and my successes. And I absolutely know that failure and disappointment teach you lessons that cannot be learned by studying books. I know that it's not so much the falling down as it is how you get up and what you do next.

But on some days, the bad stuff is so much easier to believe. And yesterday was one of those days.

Bad Days

I spoke to my brother on the phone yesterday. He said he was having a bad day.

I haven't had a bad day in about three years. I remember the last bad day that I had. I spent it in hell at the DMV and when I finally came out to leave, my battery was dead and my car wouldn't start. I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried to figure out what to do. I wanted to cry and I didn't want to deal with my life.

However, since I wanted to go home, I couldn't afford to abandon my car and I didn't enjoy the DMV parking lot enough to live there, I figured I had to deal with it. That day, I made the decision to face my life, head on, from there on out. Everyday since then, I have.

I'm not saying I'll never have another bad day. I know that I will. It's just that I have a different definition of "bad" now. I realized I let annoyances get the best of me. Now, no matter how many challenges have presented themselves to me or how tired I am at night, I can't bring myself to have the thought of "This was a bad day". I've chosen to focus on the good and the opportunities that challenges present.

It's amazing to me that such an enormous change came about from a mental adjustment in the DMV parking lot.

I Loathe The Bus

Let me be clear.

I know I'm spoiled.

We are staying at the Doubletree Inn on the "uncool" side of the island.

We did this for two reasons: Quiet and Free WiFi.

All in all, I think we made a good decision because we really didn't want to do too much "hanging out" in downtown Key West. We go into town at night to eat. During the day we are content to lay around the very nice pool.

The hotel provides free shuttle service into town and this has been my constant source of irritation.

The pickup/drop off times are inconvenient to me, I find their refusal to cater to my whims unreasonable and I really don't like to ride in confined spaces with people that I don't know. Don't these people know I'm on vacation? Didn't they get the memo?

It's my blog, I'll bitch about people if I want to.

The drivers are nice, but seem to be a little self important, talking to each other on their walkie talkies as if they are conducting military operations.

I, for one, wish they spent a little more time driving and a little less time talking about what they are going to do and where they are going to go once they put the bus in gear.