The tattooed "To-Do" list on my wrist.

I'm not gonna sugar coat it people, stress is a b!tch.

I am 5 weeks away from competing in Fitness America's end of year extravaganza that we affectionately refer to as Nationals. I don't know why we call it that.....and by 'we', I mean the group of girls I train and compete with for these fitness competitions.

I think its silly to call it Nationals because people come from all over the world to compete in it. Shouldn't we call it the Worlds? Eh, whatever......where was I going....oh, yes, stress. Since my 12 week out mark, I was consistently dropping about 2 pounds a week. Last week, one pound and this week......2 tenths of a pound. Really? REALLY? 2 tenths? Why is that even on the scale? So a hair fell out of my head. Big deal. But its all because I am stressed.

This entry could go so many directions, so please forgive me in advance if I never actually get to explaining the whole tattoo thing. Seriously, I am so turned around right now, I'm, well, I'm just going 27 directions. Long weekend. Anyway...

Here is the source of my stress. My job. As I mentioned Friday about the uncertainty. What is really concerning me is that I feel like my boss has given up. She is so talented and a force to be reckoned with at times. I get along well with her and understand what she is looking for, so we have a great work relationship. Jobs have been hard to come by and I just feel like she is all turned around and feels like she is failing because she's not turning the same numbers she was the last few years. She actually told me the other day that if I got offered a better job, to take it. Not what I was hoping to hear.

But here's the funny thing. As I sat yesterday atop my couch, parked in the middle of my living room, piled high with my bedding, while the pack of wild window installers buzzed around me putting in the most beautiful and warm double paned windows I have ever seen....I opened the recent "O" magazine to an article that caught my attention. It was about living as our authentic selves. (I thought I was) And I probably am, but the thing is....we change. Oh yes we do. I am not the same person at 40 that I was at 30 or even 25. I am soooooo different and thank God for that! Looking back at 25, sheesh....I was a hot mess.....and not in a good way hot mess, but a fat, chicken finger eating, fat burner taking hot mess. Literally hot from the freakin' fat burners! Don't ever take those things. Bad news. I still have heart palpitations from the damage those things did. Eat right and exercise. No pills. No, no,no,no, NO!

I'm tired and getting distracted.....sorry. So I'm sitting on my pile of bedding amid the buzz of windows being installed and I read a gathering of articles about listening to your heart and following your calling and then the frying pan of reality smacked me in the face.

My life is about to change, again.

I'm a Taurus. Earth sign. Feet planted FIRMLY on the ground. Don't like change. Don't like it one bit. Hate it more than hating something could be hated....but I also know that change is the only thing I am ever guaranteed in this life. So what do I do? Tuck, duck and roll with it, because otherwise, its the frying pan to the face followed by the kicking and screaming into it. Better to go quietly and get it over with. Its like when I was little and my stepmom would take the band-aids off my very hairy legs. I think the waiting for it killed me more than that actual split second of pain where a patch of hair was torn up like old carpet. Now I actually pay people to rip hair off my body with hot wax. Oh the irony.

Something is coming. Its time. Its been 10 years. 1989 I decided to move to Las Vegas after college. 2000 I picked up and moved to LA. And now its 2009......its time. I don't think it will involve moving, but I think my career may change. It may just be that I move to cutting tv shows or some other form of editing. Who knows. I love advertising and would very much like to stay in the field, but who knows. This dropped into my lap outta the blue, so something totally unexpected could fall in my lap that would be incredible and hard to pass up.

Which brings me to my blog title. In 2007, while in Miami with my fitness friends at "Fitness Universe".....this is another of the big shows, like Nationals, but again, the name is retarded because it IS people from around the globe, but not the universe. I mean, I didn't see Mercury representing.....or Saturn....or....wait a minute, there was that one chick......

Eh, nevermind.

Ahem. Miami. 2007. With friends. I had been contemplating a tattoo on the inside of my wrist for over a year. So we looked up the tattoo shop from Miami Ink on TLC and went over there to get me a little more ink! We showed up just in time. It was 3pm and they were closing early for a funeral. Bummer. But they were more than happy to take my $300 for my 10 minute tattoo. Such gracious guys. (sarcasm) Whatever. It was worth it.

I got this really nice red headed dude named Morgan who quickly, delicately and beautifully scribed the word "Blessed" on the inside of my left wrist. I look at it every single day and its become a "To-Do" list of sorts because especially right now, in the face of uncertainty and eminent doom, I mean change.....I just need to remember that I am blessed and the "To-Do" list is reminding myself of all the good things i have going for me.

I still have air in my lungs and I'm healthy so I am blessed.

I still have talents undiscovered and untapped so I am blessed.

I still have friends and family so I am blessed.

Its all I can do right now and its all that I need to do because the Universe or God or whatever it is out there, always takes care of me and always opens amazing doors that I get to walk through and discover great things.

So anytime I start to stress out and worry, I just need to look at my wrist and remember that I am blessed and things will work out because they always do.

But if I choose to stress out and go kicking and screaming into change I get to welcome the frying pan to the face.

Hmmmm.....look at wrist.......frying pan. The situation is looking brighter already.

I know its been awhile. I've been debating.

And what, ye ask have I been debating?

Blogging.

Why?

Because I don't know if I want the world knowing my deep, certainly dark thoughts. I have so much to say and I may feel better sharing them but I'm just not sure. What if I am not pc? What if I offend? What if people are shocked to know certain things about me? Like that I love almond butter waaaaaay more than I like peanut butter? Or that I hate my legs? Or that I'd secretly love to know more about cars and that I wished I had kept my '94 Civic for the sole reason of tricking it out so I could join the all girls drifting club "Drifting Pretty"?

I dunno.

So much uncertainty. The economy sucks, but I hear its on the rebound. I wish my company felt that way. Things around here are, well.........morale sucks. There I said it. People are being scooped up by other companies and the president of ours roams the halls each day seeing who isn't busy and sends them home.....without pay. Yes. Things are bad. I love my job and I love my boss, but there are so many changes happening and the daily echo in empty offices filled with the footsteps of the president on his rounds is like waiting for the other shoe.....no boot to drop. Its not a good feeling. And its a heavy boot.

Tomorrow morning I have a pack of wild window installers descending on my house to replace my 13 rotting windows. (My building was built in the 20's) I asked my landlord to unstick 3 windows that her incompetent house painters painted shut last spring and her response, after much crying poor....did i mention she live in the Palisades? A very wealthy section of LA overlooking the FREAKIN OCEAN?

Ahem.

After she cried poor, she brought her 'window' guy over to look at them and she decided to replace all of them, while humming a tune about raising my rent when my lease is up. Nice. Not a lot to be happy about these days. Well, except that I am losing weight. In a healthy way. Eating whole foods and exercise. Not a fad diet people. Good old fashioned real food and exercise. I know, I know, you stopped reading when I didn't have a miracle quick fix. Read it aaaaaaand weep. Whole foods...........AND exercise. Write that down.

Which brings me to my pet peeve of the moment about losing weight and training for shows. I cannot stand it when people see me losing weight for a show and they say "Oh, so are you now in the starving part of your dieting?" (quick stealth backhand to offending person) "Uh, no, this is the part where I eat more than you and STILL lose weight." You really want to piss me off, ask me if I'm starving myself, but be warned, I offer up and healthy dose of whoop @ss.

The odd part....when I do starve myself by eating 2-3 meals a day.....like most people.....I actually GAIN weight. When I am "starving" myself for a show I am eating 5-6 times a day. You do the math. But no calculating while you are in the drive thru at Taco Bell.

I gotta go move some freakin' furniture around, so the pack of wild window installers can actually get AT the windows. Oh and did I mention, they never said what time they were showing up? Great, better wear something decent to bed but if they show up at 7am I'm kicking them off my porch.....or I'll let 6lbs of crazy do it. Better known as Monkey. Beware of the Monkey!

What a way to start a weekend. Grumpy and feeling like my job is empty and worthless.

yippee.

IM-ing instead of getting off me arse!

Why is Zac Efron on here? Read on and ye shall find out!

Ah, Thursday. Not quite Friday and certainly not Tuesday.

Last night, I had grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner with my partner in crime.....for eating junkfood that is, Lauren. She's also my new dog Monkey's dog walker. I'll tell you the story of Monkey at a future date. But basically he came into my life in January of this year. It was time. Anyway, Monkey adoooooores Lauren and goes bananas when she shows up at the door. I try to pull my best Cesar Millan to keep him sitting as she enters, but its hopeless. He sees Auntie Lauren as endless fun and who am I to rain on his parade of banana-ness?

Yaaaaawn. Its a slow day. I'm waiting on one graphic for a project, but before that, we are actually waiting for the client to approve the new look that we did for this round of tv spots. I've been bored so I made sure all my time was entered and up to date for billing, as well as shopped for computers and translated a french menu for my birthday dinner. Now I'm sleepy and feeling like I am going to need a Diet Coke to perk me back up. Something.

Just got a Blackberry today. My first. Came via Fedex after a 2 hour conversation with Verizon a few days ago. I wanted one with a camera, but I had to get a "World Phone" for the trip to Paris/Greece. What a waste. I'd keep this damn thing if it had a camera, but it doesn't and you know how you always need a camera while out and about, so upon my return, I am returning it for the Blackberry WITH a camera. Silly, petty crap. Why can't they just make one with a camera and call it a day? Oh, right, thats the Storm. The worthless touch screen phone they came out with. Useless to those of us who have nails! So I'm letting this thing charge up and have to hit the Verizon store this weekend to get someone to transfer all my numbers. In the meantime, I guess I better get all the pics off my old phone. I hate having to go through this every year or so. Although my Razr lasted like 10 mins, or 4 months, take your pick. Talk about worthless. Enough of this.

During lunch Anna* IM'ed me, she's my producer, about the graphics we are waiting on and after a few back and forths, it dissolved into a conversation about my Paris trip. Anna has been there several times and sometimes goes for a weekend just so she can get some good sleep on the 10 hour flight! She's crazy....in a good way. Anyway, we were IM-ing back and forth and she finally typed "would you just come in here!" I was thinking I should get up and walk the 30 feet to her office, but sheesh, talk about lazy!! That's me! Is that what 40 is about? Not wanting to walk to 30 feet so that I would actually have to do less to have a conversation?

I posted yesterday on my Facebook that I am a social retard. And I am. I have interwoven myself into the Facebook/Twitter worlds. Being anti-social WHILE BEING social has never been easier! I'm following the challenge between Ashton Kutcher and CNN to see who will be the first Twitter of the two to get 1 million followers. Right now I think CNN is ahead, but only by 10K and both are in the mid 900,000. So its close. I'm even following Anderson Coopers tweet and as much as I love him, I'm only following Ashton and want him to win over CNN. The good news is, whoever wins is helping out a charity. Ashton is donating $100,000 to Malaria No More for mosquito nets and I have no idea what CNN is doing. But also if Ashton wins, he said he's ding dong ditch Ted Turners house. I'd really like to see that! Hahah! Little things amuse me.

Oh and I loved this a few weeks ago, so I'm repeating it here. OMG@Yahoo posted pics of some fashion disasters and at the end of it was a pic of Zac Efron promoting his new movie "17 Again". He wasn't making the worst dressed list, it was so random and the caption just read: "You're weekly serving of Zac Efron. You're welcome."

So there you go. You're welcome.

(*name changed to protect the innocent)

The closing Door

Just a moment in the day.  An exhale.  I don't think I honestly breathe enough.  Last week, the world was coming down on me so much that I noticed I was holding my breath....while driving.  Doesn't seem like the best way to exist while doing 70 on surface streets....for those who don't live in LA, 70 on surface streets gestures up a cough with a "b*llsh*t" disguised within it.  Ok, but the point is, I wasn't breathing. Which meant I was probably so distracted that I wasn't paying attention.  The good news in all of this is that it was probably one of the few times I wasn't enveloped in road rage.  A true rarity for me indeed. 

Why have I held my breath?  Am I waiting for the other shoe to drop?  The lottery numbers to be read?  Waiting to see if the outfielder catches the hit?  No.  I'm waiting to see if the door is really closing.   Sure feels that way.  

Here's the thing.  In exactly 10 days, I am being catapulted into a new decade and I'm not sure if I like it.  On April 25, 2009, I will be 40 years old.  

There.  I said it.  I never thought I would mind 40 because, well, I was super excited to turn 30!  Couldn't wait!  Told everyone!  Threw a huge BBQ and invited everyone!  Even got a bottle of Patron from a friend!  Along with a lot of soap and lotion. (Note: don't give someone soap and lotion.  Two things:  It says you don't know them very well or aren't paying attention  AND it implies they smell.  Moving on.)

I'm spending my 40th in Paris with my family.  The best way to think to spend it....considering.  Considering what you may ask?  Considering I'm not married or have so much as a boyfriend.  And this is where the world comes down.  I've done this to myself.  No one to blame but me.  Well, I could blame one person, but we'll leave her out of this because its up to me to get over my fears.   Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not dreading spending my 40th with my family, I love them and am really excited to travel with them, but I can't help but wonder what it would be like to have a best friend and significant other in my life.  What if I had kids?  What if I had my career, my husband AND my kids? Forty wouldn't be so scary.  The door is closing on the baby maker.  

All my friends keep telling me, "Oh but you don't look 40!  You look great!  Why are you dreading it when you look amazing?"  Let me say this once and only once......BECAUSE THE BABY FACTORY IS CLOSING ITS DOORS AND IT HASN'T EVEN PRODUCED ANYTHING!!! 

I'm not afraid that I look old, I'm afraid the babies will never come and I'll be that old lady living with her dog.  So sad.  And with that comes the official end of youth.  When you can no longer produce children, you are no longer youthful.  I am thankful that I look early to mid 30's.  REALLY THANKFUL, but the problem is, I also attract the 20-30 something male crowd that just want to party like a rockstar and I've already been there, done that and done it REALLY well.  

I'm ready.

I'm ready for the husband.

I'm ready for the babies.

I'm ready for the new life.

I'm ready to give up the 2 seater for a 4 door.

I'm ready.

But turning 40 and having none of those just makes me sad.  As we make dinner reservations for that fateful night, I can't help but feel like its a last supper.  Almost as if my life is ending on that day.  April 26th will not come for me.  I will cease to exist.  Ok, well, my youth will cease to exist.  But it feels bigger than that and bigger than me.

As I spin out of control into my 40th birthday, I just pray that I can get out of my own way long enough to still have hope that all my desires are attainable.  Don't know if I can though.  Many years of disappointment have left me sans strength for that kind of crap.  Its so discouraging because anything else in my life, anything I have ever wanted or dreamed of, I have made happen.  Master manifestor.  If I wanted it, I made it happen.  But this eludes me.  It haunts me, taunts me and pokes fun at me.

If I can have one wish for my birthday, its for a family of my own.  A loving husband who is down to earth, sensible, a great provider, caring, strong, faithful and above all, my best friend.  And of course, my kids. Two biological and then 2 adopted.  A big family, with joyous Christmases and holiday getaways.   I know it looks like I am asking for 'perfection' but thats not it.  I want the regular challenges and I want to get through them with my family.  It can only make us stronger. 

So on April 25, 2009 while blowing out the candles, I will make my one wish and spend the last bit of hope I have into making it come true.

Wish me luck.

The rollercoaster

Coming up Wednesday will be 4 weeks since I put Peanut down.  Friends warned me about the ups and downs, but since I was feeling better last week, I thought I was through it.....for the most part.  I guess I am, but for some reason the weekends set me off, especially Sundays.  Every week since I let Peanut go, I get weepy on Sunday nights.  I have to call in to Hibachi (a local restaurant) and order salmon for the week.  I hate cooking fish, because I suck at it, and they do such a nice job of broiling it, and the owner is my neighbor....so I'd rather they do it.  

Just getting up the nerve to call chokes me up.  Walking there, I am always on the verge of tears and walking home is always the torrent.  Maybe because I would tuck Peanut in my hoodie for the walk because I felt safer.  Or maybe because everyone would give him a pat and ask how he is doing. (Yes, I snuck a dog into a restaurant.) Or just maybe he was woven into every part of my life and Sunday evenings just make it so obvious that he is gone.

So today, I am filled with anxiety.  I don't know why.  I am so anxious and feeling like I am going to explode in a fit of emotions.  I had to watch Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End, for the umpteenth time for a project, and at the end, I was sobbing.  Ok, its sad that Elizabeth and Will only see each other once every 10 years, but I've seen this movie a gajillion times and so why am I now crying?  Ugh.  Emotions. 

I think my downfall was drinking a Diet Coke.  Its a fast forward into anxiety land.  How annoying.  I drank it because I fell asleep TWICE while watching Pirates....for the umpteenth time.  Go figure.  Now I'm drinking chamomile tea to try and offset it.  Total pain in my ass.  Seriously, who has time for out of control emotions...not me.  Not ever.

Transitioning back to my life.

What a difficult month its been.  It started out wonderfully by having my parents and nieces visiting me.  Six jam packed days of the beach, horseback riding, aquariums, Disneyland and a grand finale of the Cheetah Girls: One World movie premiere in Hollywood.  It was a lot of fun.  By the end, I was exhausted from all the running around and then dealing with my elderly dog Peanut who could no longer stand.  One of the nights I had maybe gotten 1-2 hours of sleep and there I sat the next morning, on the kitchen floor in tears because he could no longer stand to do "dog business".  It was sad and I was overwhelmed by the feeling of helplessness.  I loved him so much and I couldn't help him anymore than I already was.  Its a horrible feeling.

After the family left, I proceeded to get a cold, that sounded like bronchitis, but never is.  Lucky me I guess.  I took 2 days off from work and laid on the couch.  When I went back to work the next week, that Tuesday, weeks of wondering about if it was time to put Peanut down came to a head.  I was looking online and tried to call my vet to discuss it.  Eventually, I came to the realization that it was time.   Its the hardest decision I have ever had to make. 

Peanut was still a hearty eater and very alert, but his body had given up on him.  His little legs withered beneath him and could no longer support the frail body that remained.  It broke my heart to make the decision, but I also needed to do it for me because I hadn't slept in months and was starting to lose my mind.  No wonder sleep deprivation is a torture technique, it works.  You start to feel like reality is a lie and everything looks weird and seems out of place.  Its horrific to live through.  I was willing to put up with it for a bit because I loved Peanut that much and then I realized that prolonging the decision was just going to chip away at me even more.  Plus Peanut had dissolved to a point of frustration and was just barking at me all the time.  Poor little thing.  My biggest regret was just not holding him more in the end.  He was such a sweet dog.

Wednesday August 20, 2008 I released Peanut from his broken body and at the same time, broke mine.  When I asked the vet if he was gone, and he said yes, I crumbled over onto the exam table because my back went out.  It was as if all of Peanuts pain transfered into my body and it broke me.   I have never felt so weak and disabled.  I didn't know what to do and I just wanted to hold and kiss Peanut forever.  

I loved his ears and how they were soft when I got him and now they were crunchy and bumpy from the skin issues.  But I loved them because when he slept they would fold down on his head like moth wings and I could just run my hands over them down to his back.  

I loved his paws.  Always stopping to do a mic check on them, "Hello!? Are these things on? Hello!?"  Then there was the 'rogue' paw, the front one that had dislocated out of its socket and caused me to put bands on his front paws so they would stay together and he could walk.  I had to reprimand it one more time and tell it it was a 'bad paw'.  I loved that they smelled like Doriitos or Fritos after he napped and I loved the little fur between his peds that was soft and he'd let me stroke for hours.

I loved his little snout.  Barely an inch and a half long.  So tiny and so sweet.  I marveled at how small he was sometimes.  Precious little dog.

I loved his belly.  I loved kissing it when it was chubby and even when his little ribs would stick out.  It was a feat trying to keep some meat on him.  He was blessed with a fast metabolism, but sometimes people thought I didn't feed him.  Oh please.  This dog would eat anything that wasn't nailed down!  I love telling the story of the burrito....it was more like a wrap, but he ate the WHOLE thing.  I left him alone with it and when I came back, only a little piece of tortilla and some lettuce were left.  Crazy little monkey.

My favorite spot by far, was his cheek.  It was a little space between his eye and his ear, where the bone had a natural bump under it and it was perfect for planting a kiss.  He was so funny about this too because he would always act like he didn't care and would just stare off into space, but you knew that secretly, he was soaking up the love.  This was my favorite thing to do to him and I could just kiss his little head all day long.

I also loved napping with him on the couch.  He'd snuggle into the crook of my arm or armpit.  Sometimes he would just sleep on my chest or I would lay on my side and he'd rest his head on my arm.  He was such a little napper since he was an old man and I remember many a weekend day where we would watch tv and just snooze.  Of course he was really happy if that nap took place with the sun on us.  He was just like his momma in loving the sunshine.

What do you do?  Where do you live your life when this little creature, who was like a child, is gone from it?  How do you find your footing again when you have such an emptiness?  Its a hole thats bigger than you, bigger than your soul and bigger than the universe.  Its like it takes so much away from you that you almost don't exist.  Its a horrible, exhausting, painful void that nothing can fill.  Nothing. 

Its frustrating because you want to feel better, but there is nothing to be done to achieve that.  No food, beverage, place, person, event, creature or thing to patch the pain.  And so here I sit, today, surrounded by the emptiness, the sorrow and the memory of a little dog that brought me so much joy and touched the hearts of everyone he met. 

 

He was a gift and I was the lucky one that received him.

Long time, no sleep.

Trying to function normally on little sleep for weeks and weeks at a time is about as fruitful as trying push a diesel truck up a hill with a toothpick. And I haven't slept since April. What I wouldn't give for a full 8 hours with no whining chihuahua, no creaking walls, no earthquakes, no thunderstorms, no coughing.....and no whining chihuahua. I had to mention that one twice because that has been the largest factor in my lack of nocturnal coma time. Just to prove my point, I am going to type the rest of this entry, without the backspace to fix mistakes as I type. (It took me 20 mins to type this paragraph) We'll see if I lose you all quickly, or if it turns out entertaining.

I can't in fact, remember the last ime i wrote in this thing an thats mainly because I coulsnt FIND it! Yes, I klost ,y blog. I hav since saved it as a bookmark....but thien i had a time remembering my password. why are there SO MANY passwords! PASSWORDS FOR EVERYTHING!!! I've been wanting to tell you all about he construction that continues across the street, the ghosta that invade my house and may family rhatr came into town last week! We had soooo much fun, but now I have a cold bcause, fun+visitors+lackofsleep=sick. And of course, all weekend, as I lay on the couch coughin and hacking, the whining chihuahua is doing what else? Whining. He's old. He;s cranky. He doesnt know what he wants and whats worse is that I don't know what he wants and so it esclates from a whning chihuahua to a flailing, barking chihuahua! Ugh. He's waering me out. I love him, dearly, but he's wearing me the F out.

BTW, the above picture is from when my fami;y was here and the neoghbors with the opium couch invited us for a Fedora and mustache party! Screaming success! Chihuahua didn't havw a fedora, but I made him a mustache so he wouldn't feel left out! And yes, he wears a diaper now!

Let me give you a brief breakdown of chihuahua's medical woes and why he has pawcuffs on. He is hovvering around 19 years of age. Hes' a rescue, so no one really knoes and the vet just kept adding years every time I went in becase of something he did, some behavior he exhibited or some new ailment tht had cropped up overnight. When I got the little man 4 years ago, he was infested woth fleas, dirty, had a lung infectiong, eye infection, seizures and a gagging habit.

Within 4 months of adoption, I found out he had skin cancer......on his penis. Poor little monkey. There were few options. Do nothing and let it spread to a long and painful death. Operate and have said cancerous penis removed (i can see men grabbing their crotches) or just put him down now. (I actually had people think this was the option I should have done) I opted for the operatin because I wasn't giving up on him and I had vowed to take care of him to the best of my ability. Little monkey made it through the surgery well and spent a week in the hospitail. I would go visit him and he would have all these IV's hooked up and i would hold him and he'd just cry in my arms. But he was a fghter and he healed nicely and had little complaint once we went home.

Next, his seizures got worse. They went from a few times a month to sevseral a day. Put him on meds and after a few days of stumbling around like a drunk soldier, he adjusted adn no more seizures. A month after that, I found out he had a heart condition. Luckily, he had made it through the cancer surgery, but if we had known of this before the surgery, he never would have had it and the outcome of the 3 1/2 pound whining chihuahua would have been very different.

Then he had a skin condition that makes his hair fall out.....followed by a neurological disorder whose medication stifles any functions deemed unneccesary, like hair regrowth. So the skin disorder is under control, but the medicine for his brain function will not allow his fur to regrow, so he is slowly becoming bald. On top of ALL of that, he had premanantly dislocated his left front paw and thus the "rogue paw" was born and hence, the pawcuffs that actually KEEP his paws together so he has hope to actually walk....as long as the neurologcal disorder is not in full swing disabling any and sometimes ALL paws at any given time....PHEW!

The thing I love the most are the dirty looks i get. Oh yea, I get 'em. If any of you know Manhattan Beach, CA, its like any upscale place full of wealthy soccer moms who have nothing to do all day but go to yoga class. I ran into one such mom at the vet one day when chihuahua had on the pawcuffs. She sat in the waiting room, in her workout clothes giving me great looks of disgust and just as her disdain for me and the cruelty I inflicted on this poor helpless animal got the best of her, she snarls at me "What's wrong with him?!" Luckily I was in a great mood that day and I said "What ISN'T wrong with him! He;s old! Hahah!" If it had been one of my grumpy days, this would have been my more likely response....

"Look lady, I get that you've downward dogged enough times that your brain has entirely too much blood flow. Hpwever, that doesn't make you smarter or better able to recognize a situation and therefore judge. So until you fully know the ALL the joys this little beast has endured, spend your dirty disapproving looks elsewhere!"

So there's the nutshell of this little chihuahua's life. And I continue to have nights of fragmented sleep and nights of none, but I long for the noghts I used to have where I would fall asleep and be off in that beautufl land of slumber for a solid 8! Oh, and if one more person tells me I'm ready for kids, I will hand them one very grumpy, very slobber, very whiny and very crazy chihuahua to spend a night with and they will see how he's more like birth control! I don't know i I could go through this again....I'M EXHAUSTED!!!