Category Archives: Gratitude

Alone for Thanksgiving

tv dinner

You know, moms lose their sons – but tend to keep their daughters.

I was informed last week that my offspring would be eating turkey at his girlfriends house.

I knew this day was coming – but didn’t know it would hit when he was 19!

I had prepared myself for the “We’re spending Christmas at my wife’s parents house” sentence – but that was supposed to be YEARS from now – and I’d be tending to my 15 cats by then and unable to dwell too much on his absence!

What happened???

We usually go together to my moms for a feast.  But this year, after hearing I would be sans child – I decided to stay home with Butters.

My mom understood.  Mostly because she’s a huge animal lover and advocate and knows how I hate that every holiday we end up bailing on Butters to partake in festivities without her.

I’m also not a huge fan of Thanksgiving.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m a HUGE fan of being thankful.  And if it was just a special day set aside for doing just that, I’d be all in.  But there’s that tricky Pilgrim/Indian factor.

true thanksgiving

The whole myth of the harmony of that first feast turns my stomach to the point of not wanting to fill it with brussel sprouts or stuffing.

Then the completely food selfish glutton in me manages to get over that and pig out.

darth thanksgiving

I bought myself a turkey – plan to make a full meal and enjoy having the relaxing time at home.  I’m going to love smelling the meal cooking while lazily flicking through channels to find the perfect corny holiday movie to settle on.

I might even fish out the Christmas decorations – or at the very least, the Christmas candy bowl.

It’s my first 4 day weekend in I don’t even know how long!

Butters and I will enjoy every moment.

None of those moments will include being anywhere near a shop on Black Friday by the way.

I’ve managed to restrain myself and not bring up the way the Wampanoag were treated … so I’ll keep it light and skip the holiday commercialism speech too.

I DO wish everyone reading this, Peace, Gratitude and Love in their lives. May your day fill more than your stomach – may your heart be filled with precious new memories.

And hey, if you’re parents of young children, let them be loud, let them climb down from the table, let them stick their fingers into the pumpkin pie – don’t sweat the small stuff!  Because one day – they will have other plans.

niclittle

 

Interview with a meth addict. Looking for good and finding it.

Those Junkies! Crackheads! Methheads! Losers! Addicts!

Waste of space. Waste of life. Human trash.

If you’ve never wanted to feel like anything but yourself, you are blessed.

If you’ve never felt the pain and grip of addiction, you are blessed.

We seem to sweep under the rug of convenience the ‘prescription pill addicts’ – the ‘dirty martini addicts’, the ‘work out addicts’. The ‘I partied with a little coke” confessors.  As long as there is someone doing something worse than us, we’re ‘ok’.  Even the news is geared to shock and awe us into ‘phew, my life is not THAT bad’.

It’s funny – but there’s even a stigma within the addiction community – there’s those who snort, those who smoke and those who shoot up. Much like doing a crime and doing the time in prison, if you’ve sinned you’ve sinned right? Nope. They have their no-no’s. If your conviction involves harming a woman or child – watch out. No matter if you murdered someones son. We judge, judge, judge.

When it does come to addiction, did you ever stop to wonder who ‘Those People’ were before they turned to drugs the first time? Afterall, ‘they’ are daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, moms, dads. Who are ‘Them”?

They were once clean and innocent, had hopes and dreams. Healthy and excited about life.

What happened?

What takes a person from sobriety to addiction?

I shall break the 4th wall here and tell you that I could answer if you ever asked – there is more to the name of my blog than meets the eye and I have hundreds of stories I could tell.

I have to tell you that this is the hardest piece I’ve ever written – being an ‘interviewer’ and while caring very deeply for her subject.

But today I am telling you someone elses story.

We were chatting on the phone the other night and he asked “Did I ever read you what I wrote in my journal?”
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No. No he hadn’t. (largely due to the fact that he only recently found his journals once again) So he proceeded to share. And once he did – I insisted on an interview, (after already inviting him to share his story on my blog.)

Open your heart and mind and join me as I introduce you to one of my friends, in the most candid interview I’ve ever been privileged to share.

Behind the scenes info:

I had to stop several times due to the authenticity (that you know I love) being too overwhelming for me.

I always want to wrap the ones I love in cotton wool and put them in a matchbox for safekeeping. I don’t ever want those I love to hurt.

You wonder why I consider the parents when I speak of my neighbors? Because I look at everyone with Clockwork Orange eyes – large and engaged and unable to look away. And with a past of understanding. That’s why.

I give to you my friend Jim. He gives himself to you too – and if you want to reach out – contact me and I will put you in touch with him.

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A journey back. ))))))))))) please join me while we travel with James Beck former upstanding father, citizen, brother, son, friend turned wrong by the need for speed. 100% methane nitro supercharged 50,000 Watts of power pushing overload! This is the fucker that I will beat. I’m looking you right in the eye this time and I will put you down like I have before without blinking an eye! This time I’m going to make Mr. meth hurt. Kick that cocksucker in the mouth then make him eat the curb for dessert. He will feel my potential grow till no light will shine on that worthless good for nothing user of life and love. Like Pac-Man eating dots he sucks the life and hopes, dreams into the abyss. Battle is on. I will also turn this whole experience into a positive. Hey friends, brothers, sisters, mother, you!, I’m putting “God first” ,working hard on making amends on the things I have executed out with the help of Mr. meth, Lucifer, and of course the big S man, Satan! God has my heart now. Satan will no longer feel my mind, heart, soul with his evil. Giving it to Him. I love you Lord and pray for your help. Use me please Please!

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Me: Tell me about the first time you wanted to feel ‘different’ – get out of your reality.

Jim: I think that goes back to as far as I can remember. I am the youngest of six kids 10 years behind my closest brother. Early in my life I had a sister who OD’d when she was 18 years old and I was 5 1/2.

My family really didn’t know how to handle it. She didn’t die but she lost her mind and became schizophrenic.

(Editors note: Not sure if ‘became’ schizophrenic is accurate – I do believe you’re born with the genetic disposition – and a certain age brings it out (see rapture) – but from a young family members memories – this must have happened in tandem)

From those early days on I felt different and uncomfortable. I suffered a lot of mental physical and sexual abuse from her. I never felt normal and I always felt like I was different from others. I had a few close friends and that was it. My outlet for all that was sports. Then in my early teens I discovered something that could really change my reality. Drugs and alcohol

Me: What came first? Drugs or alcohol?

Jim: Drinking came first. Like I said I was with a group of tight friends – five of us. They’d all smoke pot and drink and I resisted for a while.

Then I took my first drink. It was out of a bottle of Smirnov vodka, 1 gallon size. It was before a Friday night football game and I remember it well. Within a week or two of that first drink I was drinking alcoholically . My drink of choice was Schlitz malt liquor bull out of a beer bong with a quarter pint of Southern comfort. This went on for almost a year. My friends smoking pot and doing other drugs and just drinking for myself. The fear of being like my sister kept me from doing the drugs

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Me: That first drink – how did it make you feel?

Jim: It was euphoric and I loved it. I remember going to the football game and sitting in the stands with the crowd of kids that I have set with many times and felt totally alone and uncomfortable. That night was different. I talked to a few girls and was very much more social. I found the answer

Me: Did you tell anyone what your sister was doing to you? How long did that carry on?

Jim: No I never told anybody.

She abused one of my friends with me a couple of times. He’s the only one whoever knew until I worked The steps outlined in the book Alcoholics Anonymous. She abused me physically until the age of 13. The mental abuse was horrific. I can remember her coming to my junior high school in a bikini and walking through the girls PE class asking “Do you any of you know Jimmy Beck”

One of the worst days of my life. The sexual abuse ended when I was eight years old and I could run away and kind of knew what she was doing. Before that I was naïve and vulnerable. The last day of the physical abuse took place in my kitchen. I was 13 years old and was getting ready to play baseball game with my spike cleats on. She came at me like she had done many times before but this time I fought back and fought back hard. I remember sinking my metal cleats into her flesh. That was a great day for me.

Not such a good day for her.

Me: Oh Beck … You found the strength to do that, why did you not tell anyone?

Jim: Probably because of the reason why many victims of sexual abuse do it. Embarrassment and fear.

Me: Very true. Ok. So you found alcohol and were wary of drugs – what was your first drug and how did you feel crossing that line you’d mentally drawn?

Jim: The first drug I did was marijuana. It was outside my school with my good friend Rick and two girls. I hadn’t planned on doing it but I kind of liked the one girl who was doing it so I did it. Peer pressure driven by lust I guess. LOL. I remember after doing it I went into ceramics class. I felt like my head was the size of a basketball and couldn’t stop laughing. I loved it. I smoked pot every day after that for the next 30 years. I loved it

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Me: You know when people say ‘Pot is a gateway drug’ and other people laugh at that? I’ve always believed that’s true. Not because you want to shove a needle in your arm after you smoke pot, but because you’ve gone from being a non-drug user to a drug user. It’s easier to take it to the next level. Do you agree or disagree?

Jim: I sort of agree. I think alcohol is the gateway drug honestly. At least two harder drugs for me. The one thing being involved with marijuana does do, it puts you in places where other drugs are being used and distributed. If you stay in the barbershop long enough you’re going to get a freaking haircut you know

Me: I tend to think that when you’re not thinking straight, and your inhibitions are down, you’re more willing to do something stupid. But yeah – I know. So, Jim went from pot to ….?

Jim: I think the next drug I did was cocaine probably when I was 15. Again I loved it! From the age of 15 to 19 I used cocaine probably on a weekly basis. Not during the week very often. At that same time I started using LSD mushrooms speed and anything else I could get my hands on. I’m a garbage can

Me: Were you still at home at 19? There’s a Hawaii story somewhere here. From 15 to 19, who was putting a roof over your head?

Jim: I lived with my dad until I graduated high school when I was 17. Then I moved to Phoenix Arizona and went to diesel mechanic school. Lots of pot smoking and partying in there. I did graduate with almost straight A’s. When I move back to California I am immediately got a job doing my profession and live with my mother at that time. Free rent meant more money for cocaine on the weekends you know. It was all about The party. At that time I acquired a fake ID when I was 19. Then the club scene started happening

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And yes there is a Hawaii story. Actually a couple. My junior and senior years I went to Hawaii for the summer. I was 16 and 17 years old. Took a lot of cocaine and a backpack with my one buddy. We spent most of the time up in the cow fields collecting mushrooms and tripping. I don’t know how my parents let me do that at such a young age. Absolute insanity for sure. I’m lucky to be alive. One night I ate probably three or 4 ounces of fresh mushrooms which took away my vision. I remember praying to God please help me Lord I will never do this again if you give me out of this. The next day I did it again. One of many pleas to my God in times of desperation that I took my word back on

beck mushroom

Me: We’re skipping something I think people ought to know – and I know you have a loving relationship with her now – but at home, during your most difficult times, your mom wasn’t exactly (or literally) there for you

Jim: Do you want me to elaborate on that?

Me: Yeah, we’re on record

Jim: My parents were real good people. My father was a fireman who worked two days on two days off. He was as good of a dad you could find. He coached me and baseball and was a father figure to many of my friends. My mother was a schoolteacher at the local elementary school. She spent 80% of the nights out gambling and staying away from the house. I think the situation with my sister was too much for her as well as being addicted to gambling. I remember many times pleading with her ‘please don’t leave me alone’ with Loretta my sister. Only to have her say I’ll be back shortly and never coming home. It was kind of a split life.

When dad was home everything was great. When dad was at work my life was hell. A living horrible hell.

When my mom divorced my dad when I was 13 they took me into a room and said that I would be living with my mother. I refused and didn’t speak to her for a year and a half. After that and throughout my life I used my mother for a place to live and for a source of money. That was all.

As I was saying I acquired a fake ID at the age of 19. I would work throughout the week earning a good income and spend it all at the bars. Red onion, Bobby Mcgees, black Angus, the hop, following the dollar drinks circuit. At this time I also was introduced to meth. This was my favorite drug I ever tried. I could work on it without the mental craziness that cocaine gave me. Everything was better with meth.

When I was 21 I had an opportunity to try out for a local college and get a football scholarship. I had been out of high school for three years and have been working as a diesel mechanic for those three years.
I tried out and got a partial scholarship my first year so I enrolled and started my college education. This is the first time in my life I had been exposed to any type of real God. The University I went to was a Christian University and part of the criteria was taking Bible classes and attending chapel. I really started to feel a closeness to a God.

In my second year of college I was on the central coast of California visiting my brother Bill with a couple of friends. We had went out the night before to a nightclub and I remember being greatly hung over.

My brother’s phone rang and it was my mom. I got on the phone and she informed me that my brother Bobby had committed suicide.

It’s still hard to talk about. He was a beautiful man and a good friend as well as a good brother. A person who when he walked in the room it just got better. He was high on cocaine and alcohol and jumped off a three-story building. I turned my back on God that day.

This event set me into a tailspin. I spent the next two years of college smoking meth and drinking to excess.

I still played football and actually did quite well at that. My senior year I was an All-American. I can remember showing up the morning of the games after being up all night drinking and using meth . Talk about feeling weird, show up to a Christian breakfast with 45 teammates that are completely sober when you’ve been up drinking and using all night. What an awful feeling that was.

Me: Why did you turn to drugs after it played a part in your brother’s death?

Jim: That’s what addicts do. I had no other coping mechanism.

I didn’t want to feel. Seeing my father bury his son is something that I will never ever ever forget. No father should ever have to bury his son and addiction makes this occur far too often.
I’m so grateful he didn’t have to bury me also

Me: Someone special came along not long after that …

Jim: yes that next summer at a local carnival in my hometown of Hacienda Heights I reconnected with a girl from high school. She was the “hottest” girl in my school. Way out of my league in high school but I had matured and gain some confidence in that area. We hit it off immediately and were inseparable.

Me: Inseparable – and what happened next? (I know WHO happened next )

Jim: After dating for a couple of years I ended up buying a house.
We moved in together and a couple of years later she had an idea she was pregnant. She went to the doctor and came back with the wonderful news she was pregnant .

Later that night my brother called me and told me my dad died.

Again I turn my back on God. Such a bittersweet day that was.

Anyways D and I had used together for the previous four years. Mostly on weekends. We loved each other very much and with the coming of my son Taylor she wanted us to quit drugs all together.

Me: Wow. Poetic irony. A death and a life. So – you were still using and D decided baby was coming and time to change … did you quit?

'Tweaker'

‘Tweaker’

Jim: I promised her I would. I did quit using with her. Instead I just used by myself.
The relationship began to splinter and after a few more years she gave me an ultimatum. I chose drugs.

She met another man very quickly and move to Ohio.

I maintained custody of my son in California, (because you can’t move a child out of state unless you prove the other parent ‘unfit’, I was unfit, but functional).

This was such a horrible time in my life. I was using every day commuting to work, getting my son into daycare everyday and trying to take care of him.

I was falling way short. I remember one time getting in a high-speed chase with the police with my son asleep on the seat next to me. I ended up pulling into a driveway and the police drove by.

I made the decision that day that my son would be moving to Ohio with his mom.

Me: Do you think looking back. that you CHOSE to use? Or was the addiction too strong?

Jim: I have the mentality of this is who I am. I can quit at any time but I choose to use. I have a job, I have a house, I have two cars, I pay all my bills, and that’s what matters.

Me: I’ve seen videos of you and your wife and your son – you seemed so normal, so happy, but were using – fast forward. How long did you use meth?

Jim: I used meth from the age of 19 to the age of 31 when I move to Ohio to raise my son. The only reason I didn’t keep using meth is because I couldn’t find it. But I had no problem finding cocaine there which I have used on a regular basis.
But it wouldn’t be the last time that meth ruled my life. I’ll touch on that in a minute

At this point in time in my life I had given up on any type of life. I just wanted to be a dad and help raise my son. I partied like a rock star when I wasn’t with my son and then on the weekends when I did have him I wouldn’t drink or use any type of cocaine or that type of drug. I did smoke pot when he was in my custody though

Me: I know how much you love your son – I want to touch on the juxtaposition between loving people and the grip that addiction has on a person – you were trying moderation – how did that work out for you?

(I have to stop here – I was multi-tasking between translating to the blog and the interview – and while posting his photos – I was crying my eyes out. I called him. “This is hard” I said. “I see this kid – and he’s holding a beer – and I know what he’s been through – and I know how it ends, but I love this person and it’s so HARD!” “I’m in the middle of a sentence” he says. LOL! Let’s carry on.)

Jim: My moderation button is broke. I’ve never had two beers, I’ve never smoked a hit of weed, I’ve never just done a couple lines. Once I activate there is no stopping me until my run is over. I fell way short and those years of being a really good dad.. I spent most of my money on drinking and cocaine. I ran up bar tabs and had to pay them on payday in order to keep drinking for the next week. I remember borrowing money from my son on Sundays and paying him double the next week so that I could drink on Sunday night. I guess I did teach him about interest.

I lost so many really good jobs in my lifetime. My capability of making money was very high but I could never get the good job because I could never drug test.

This was the darkest time in my life in Ohio. I really didn’t fit in there. I didn’t like a lot of the people. I had an opportunity to work in California when I was 43 years old. I packed up a few bags in my car and told my son I would be back in a month. I never went back to my place and didn’t see my son for four years. I came to California picked up the meth pipe and couldn’t put it down.

In those four years I never paid rent. Are used up all my friendships sleeping on couches and getting by however I could. I used to live and lived to use.

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Me: I know that ‘enough is enough’ is not enough. You have to want it. What was you’re “I’m done”? Tell me about that journal …

Jim: The journal I wrote in a $1 million house in Simi Valley that I had been squatting in for almost a year. Squatting is living in the residence and not paying rent. I had met a woman who was growing marijuana out of the house and I was doing work for her. She got arrested and I moved into the house and rented out five bedrooms to local college students. I sold meth out of the master bedroom. Overlooking the whole valley, I was King of the Hill. After being in the house for eight or nine months without paying mortgage, the bank finally was closing on the house. I had been living with a girl there named M and she had tried to get sober a few times. I took her to rehab once, but she got out and used immediately.

Me: Then what?
Jim: I remember knowing that I was being kicked out of this house and had nowhere to go. No friends, no money, no self-respect, no hope.

On January 3, 2008 I dropped M off and she went into rehab again. The bank came and took the house and I was homeless in the San Fernando Valley where I hit my worst bottom. I was shoplifting, slinging dope and doing any kind of hustle to live. I was living in various abandoned garages and flop houses.

Me: Were you thinking of your son? Of your family? Were you a ‘Loser’ at this point?

Jim: Finally one night one of the man who I was living with, an ex marine 6’2, 290 pounds thought I had screwed his girlfriend and kick me out onto the street. That night I spent the night in a car I broken into. The next morning I called my best friend who had called me “you’re a loser” a year before and told me not to call him until I was done. That day I made the choice. I was fucking done. I didn’t know how I was going to do it. But I was going to fucking do it!!!!!

Me: What did ‘DONE’ mean to you at that moment? And when did you write that journal entry?

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Jim: I had written in the journal five months before when M was first trying to get sober. She had left me for the fourth or fifth or sixth time because I ran out of dope.
(M has almost 6 years clean and sober as of publication)

She would leave to her ex dealer boyfriend and steal money and dope from him and bring it back for us.
I wanted to change at the time I wrote the journal but I needed a little lower bottom my guess. The day when I called my friend it was March 12 of 2009

My friend picked me up that morning on the streets. He drove me to the town in Arizona where my mother lived. I crawled into bed for two weeks and didn’t move. I had been on a 4 1/2 year meth run.

I went to the local mental health facility in my moms town. I entered an outpatient program and begin to attend narcotics anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. After a month in the outpatient program I qualified to go to a 30 day rehab in Prescott Arizona. Hillside recovery center.
In my time there, there was over 30 addicts and alcoholics. I was only one of the few who took it seriously. Within a couple months of being out everyone had relapsed except for me.

Me: I know the outcome to this story – Beck – what were some of the goals you wrote in one of the journal entries?

Jim: As I wrote in the journal I just wanted to quit hurting the people who loved me.
I wanted to be there for my son.
I wanted to have peace in my life.
I didn’t want to lie anymore.
I didn’t want to steal anymore.
I knew I could get a job, a good job if I could just stay clean and sober.
I wanted to be helpful to others and use my experience to help others.
I was a perfect fit for Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous.
Deep down inside me was a person who just wanted to be good.

I had nothing when I hit my bottom. I had the clothes on my back and my dog Roscoe. That’s it.

At around 90 days sober I chose to move back to California.
With God in my recovery I have lost fear and began to believe in myself.
I came to Thousand Oaks California and got a sponsor an Alcoholics Anonymous. I worked the 12 steps and dealt with so many things that had ruled my life.

I dealt with the issues I had with my mother and sister. I finally grieved the death of my father and my brother. I finally had peace and serenity in my life.

Me: What do you have now?

Jim: My life is so much different now. The mother who I had such resentment for , I am her caretaker. The sister who abused me, I’ve forgiven and she acknowledged what she had done to me.
Huge step in my life.

I now have a great relationship with my son and I’m able to help him through college and take him on vacations. I’ve been able to make amends to him as well as the rest of my family. I have my friends back in my life now. I have a great job making more money than I ever have in my life.

Me: It was just very recently that you visited the graves of your loved ones – sober.

Jim: Yes recently my best friend’s mother passed away and I was able to suit up and show up for the funeral.

Be there for him.

She was put to rest in the same cemetery as my brother and dad.

I was able to visit their graves for the first time clean and sober. For that I’m grateful. Such an emotional moment for me.

My life these days is pretty simple. I am grateful to go to work. I spend each day in recovery and try to help others to walk the road I walk. We don’t shoot our wounded in recovery, we pick them up we dust them off and we love them.

Me: For those that are struggling – those who are hurting – those who are running away and maybe not ready to stop running – or, maybe just speak to Jim at 8 – what do you have to say?

Jim: Never lose hope. Find a God of your own understanding. Try to help others. In helping others we are less interested in ourselves which is a good thing.

It’s not what somebody can do for me these days, it’s what I can do for somebody else.

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(Note: If you or someone you care about is suffering from addiction – seek help. It doesn’t have to be a 12 step program. Any program that focuses on recovery and therapy will be of help! The person you love, if willing, will explore their own path … ‘God’ in the blog owner’s interpretation is a power greater than self. Do not let religion or lack thereof, stop you from believing there is a solution to your problem. Science is a higher power, Faith is a higher power – Nature is a higher power, a group with like minded goals is a higher power. If you need help, get it! You can Contact Me and I can put you in touch with Jim if you like.)

Gone to the dogs

I told you she could write – here’s my mum with her post. 🙂 Enjoy.

By Penny Hoskins

My sunrise friends and I are 0’dark 30 people. We’re up and out with our pups while most of you more sane (?) folk are still snoring away and dreaming of running free. Come On People! Get up, there are butts to sniff.

We’re a motley crew and just about all the pups have “issues”. Insanity, twisted humor and sarcasm runs rampant at this early hour. Nothing like laughter to start your day though. Mostly there’s a lot of pointing of fingers and laughing. Thin skinned people need not apply.

And the pups ~ We’ll start with Minnie. Minnie is a little Terrier (terror) mix who runs maniacally up and down the run barking threateningly at anyone who happens to walk, run or jog by. You should see her run up the fence, and I mean literally run UP the fence. Is she bigger than a bread box? Not much but this is the image that her potential victims see from their side of the fence.

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If she likes you she’s a genuine sweetheart, but if she doesn’t well…..

Buffy is Minnie’s housemate. There’s really not a lot one can say about Buffy, she’s the geriatric of the pack. Doesn’t move much, Poke, poke, oh good she was just sleeping. If she so much as stands up her person will say “Careful Buff, pace yourself.” She does like to eat though, perks right up if there are treats around.

Katy, ahh Katy Love, a beautiful little Sheltie who has panic attacks every time someone sneezes. You feel that sneeze coming on, oh no, not now Katy’s here. So you try to hold it in, but somewhere from deep in the recess of your memory that thought that someone planted suddenly pops up, the one about holding in a sneeze creates pressure that backs up and you collapse and die from an aneurysm. Sorry Katy Love, can’t risk that so here it comes, and there she goes, twisting in tight little circles and barking fanatically. Apparently a microwave beeping has exactly the same effect.

Then there’s Roxy, “Psycho Dog”. A really, really weird dog who must have been dropped on her head when just a tiny pup. Roxy is a Lab/Pit/Screwball mix who is obsessed with water bowls. She collects them and brings one with here everyday in her human’s “slobbermobile”. Ignoring everyone and everything she immediately starts to play nose hockey with it. She’d do this all day if she could. She’ll put it in the paddling pool to wash it and chase it around then come out and wipe her dirty wet face on Minnie and Buffy’s person’s pants. Good dog Roxy. We thought about getting the other dogs to play this game so we could have our own Puppy Hockey Bowl (pun intended) but the others didn’t want to know, Minnie couldn’t decide, she’s still on the fence. Besides Roxy doesn’t like to share her bowl with anyone.

Ever met an Italian Shih Tzu? Meet Pecos, of Chinese ancestry, a Mexican name and an Italian personality. Pecos can’t speak without waving his little hands around. Well, I guess in his case it’s little paws. He has a lot to say as well, he joins in any conversation and with each bark his front end comes off the ground, his paws lift up as if to give emphasis to what he is saying. Need to get a word in? Just hold his little feet and he can’t speak, let go and off he goes again. Hold feet, quiet, let go, speak, hold, let go, hold let go, it’s really quite funny. He can also fly, oh yes he can, I heard you doubt that. Just ask that pigeon, oh I forgot, you can’t ask the pigeon because Pecos ate it, well a bit of it. Pigeon was taking flight when Pecos leaped up and grabbed that pigeon right out of the air. He’s a multi-talented dog.

Then there’s Meesha. Meesha is a Cocker Spaniel/Australian Shepherd, a cocky aussie. She’s a very discriminating dog, she discriminates freely against all newcomers. Sniff my butt, I’ll bite your face off. She’s a rabbit chaser, chief lizard hunter, and the only dog I know who will choke up a hairball because she’s constantly washing her kitty siblings. At the dog run when she’s not lying on the bench with legs dangling, or trying for round two with her arch enemy, a small pug who is also itching for round two, she will grab hold of her leash drop to the ground, tuck her front legs under her, stretch her rear legs out and insist on being dragged across the grass. A sled dog gone wrong. She also spends a lot of time with her head stuck up a drainage pipe. Butt in the air, she’ll whine and growl into it, which then echoes back at her, convincing her even more that there is something in there. One of the sunrise people put a stuffed toy in the pipe as a joke. Meesha grabbed it, ran off and buried her “kill”. she’s madly in love with Pecos’s human, who tells her everyday how pretty she is. Good grief, now we have a preening alpha.

We’re looking for a canine psychiatrist who might be willing to give us a bulk deal. They could all lie on the couch, which they’re all good at, and talk about their puppy-hoods.

Well, there you have it, you have now met just a very few of the early morning canine characters and some of their amazing quirky personalities. Normal? Maybe not. But who wants normal. Loyal, loving, entertaining definitely. Weird they all are, but weird and happy, very happy.

Door Raptors and Bordel Baguettes

I don’t think there’s anything that could come out of my mouth that would shock people who know me anymore.

Even at work.

Ok, mostly at work.

It’s a think out loud, no holds barred environment with the top, seriously, the top professionals in the field.

When one of us isn’t in the building … Something feels ‘off’.

I was leaning in the copy room door way whilst eating a sandwich the other day – waiting for a fax confirmation.  (Told you I was a multi-tasker)

One of the men said “You look like a French girl at a bordel with a baguette’

I raised an eyebrow  while chomping on my huge bite of food and stuck my leg out a bit.  It’s a tad hard to imitate ‘seductive’ with hamster cheeks full of bread.

We play.

It’s amazing how much you can get done when you’re a real team – each bringing a different personality and skill to the mix – complimenting one another with a mutual goal.  Success.  And who knew it could be so much fun?!

I heard a noise outside our rear door today and my co-worker investigated.

He cracked me up when he did the horror movie “Hello??” as he slowly opened the door.

While I was laughing, he said ‘What if a raptor grabbed me?!?”

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“I’d run and get my camera” was my response.

“You would” was his.

It’s only now I’m thinking … Raptor?  Really?  Of all the creatures in the world – of all the creatures in the desert – a raptor was the first thing that came to his mind?

Speaking of creatures,  I did get a lovely photo of his wife’s purse the other day – it had a face AND tongue.  Any inanimate object with a face is a camera grab moment for me.

If something resembles a raptor in the near future, I’ll be sure to get a picture and share it.

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Whorls in the wood and the stupid curtains

I was feeling a little melancholy.

I awoke with lots to do – but after a night of tossing and turning and dreaming of old love and new love – cats and snakes – I decided to ease gently into the day with coffee, breakfast  and a movie in bed.

The movie was ‘One Day’ a sweet romantic drama about a long-awaited love coming to fruition.  Their story took years – but having waited 17 months to be in my love’s arms – I related on an emotional level.

I was still in my pajamas – went outside to sip my coffeebefore the desert sun claimed that side of the house, and looked down at the deck.

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I imagined myself in France or Italy, some small provincial town.  On a little patio, with coffee in hand – perhaps the aroma of  herbs and flowers drifting past me in a light breeze.

I imagined grass and gardens and quaint countryside.

I imagined going back inside and seeing my little home – a window seat next to piles of books.  Mismatched colorful pillows and copious amounts of fragrant candles, a tea kettle on the stove and a lazy cat sunning itself  on a comfortable chair.  Classical music filling every room as I padded bare foot with my coffee back to the bedroom.

I snapped back to reality when sirens sounded in the distance – had my usual ‘I hope no one is too badly hurt’ thought then returned to the whorls in the wood.

I could be sitting on any deck if I set my mind to it.  This was the thought I carried inside clutching my coffee – as I padded bare foot past my reality.

Herbs are present – in planters that take up the whole of my dining room table.  The rest of my home … well – it’s a rental and I think of it as a sufficient ‘shell’.

Nothing about it says ‘me’ except – inside, there has been so much love and so much laughter with my son.

This shell has seen me become humble and grateful.

Soon my love will be stepping through the very door I daydreamed through.

I’m anxious about the interior’s appearance.

My list of things to do consists of, once again, preparing the superficial to a degree of a satisfactory first impression.

An impossible task considering what i have to work with.

I hung new curtains in my bedroom and hated them.  I told him so.

His response:

“If you hate them, why do you use them?  OMG – ladies.   I will have you, not your curtains”

It made me laugh.

And of course he’s right.  And I’m wise enough to know the material things don’t matter, but I care about the shell being tidy and welcoming.

The curtains are lovely, but I refer to them as ‘the stupid curtains’ – mostly because they represent the silly need I feel to have objects make an impression.

As we skyped, and laughed today – while my very real dog barked from my comfortable sofa, I knew once we were looking at that deck – that whorl – together – nothing else would matter.

Especially not the stupid curtains.

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