Two Peas In A Pod

You may recall that a few months back we adopted a six-year-old hound mix named Pete. You can find his back story here and here. We are now four months past official adoption, and he and our first dog, Maggie, could not behave any more like human siblings. It is unreal (and I am hoping good experience for kids!). Their personalities are so different. Maggie is very independent, while Pete loves to be around (on top of, next to, etc.) people at all times.

Maggie is a typical bossy little sister, barking at Pete any time she perceives us to be correcting him. Most of the time it is funny, but when she decides to bark at him and herd him from one room to another at bedtime, it can be a little much. She will still occasionally try to herd him for no reason, biting and tugging on his ears and face, but by this point, Pete is over being polite and has been known, on more than one occasion, to swat her on the head.

While they have their moments of sibling rivalry, more often than not you will find them playing “monkey see; monkey do”. One afternoon I was working from home, and they were laying on opposite ends of the couch in the sun room. Every few minutes they would swap sides of the couch. Most evenings, Pete sleeps on his bed on the floor, and Maggie lies on the love seat just above him. Close, but not too close.

Despite the heat we have been experiencing, those fools will spend all day outside, many times just eating grass (we now have actual grass – it no longer looks as bad as the picture!). At night they will go outside and retreat to the far back corner of the yard behind the garage where we can’t see them. We have yet to figure out what they are doing, but they will be back there for over an hour. Sometimes they come in huffing and puffing and all out of breath. Most times we have to go out and call them in. I’m sure it has something to do with a possum or raccoon, and I dread the day that we find something dead back there.

A couple of weeks ago my husband told me they were working in tandem to trap a squirrel on the fence. Pete stood on deck blocked that route while Maggie kept closing in on it along the fence line. I can imagine what would have happened had they fully executed their plan before my husband went out to stop them.

We certainly had our reservations about how these two would get along, even once we’d made the decision to keep Pete. They can certainly be exhausting, and they sometimes get into real fights, but overall I think Maggie is happy to have a friend, and Pete seems to love living here. I’ve never regretted our decision for a second.

Family Night at the Park

As I was sitting here earlier this evening, thinking about how weird I still find it that it is light out at 9:45 at night, and I was struck by memories that I haven’t thought about in years. When my brother and I were kids, we used to go to Family Night at the local park almost every Thursday night during the summer. This wasn’t just a typical park with some playground equipment. Oh, no. This park had amusement park-type rides, a petting zoo, a train, a giant slide, miniature golf, and a baseball diamond that serves as the home of the Colt World Series. (This became a HUGE deal once I hit middle school – before that it just meant big crowds at family night).

The memories bring mixed feelings, because while they were some of the best times I had while they were occurring, things simply are not the same as they used to be and that is sad. But that’s not what I want this post to be about.

We did not do the same activities every week that we went. We didn’t always ride the train, and we didn’t always play miniature golf. But my brother and I always rode the roller coaster in the kiddie area…over and over and over. I’m sure it was lots of fun for our parents. We also always rode the Scrambler with our parents. The last ride of the night was always the giant slide.

When we were little, we would have to ride down with one of our parents. We would all get in line and get our tickets; you know the kind – the red paper tickets with the work TICKET printed on them. We would paw through the crate holding the burlap sacks that we would ride down, convinced that the sack would determine the speed at which we flew down the slide.

After carefully selecting our virtual magic carpet, we would begin the trek up the metal staircase to the top of the slide. The walk always seemed to take forever, although I’m sure now it would seem like nothing. To my nine-year-old self, it appeared that the slide rose ten stories off the ground. I never minded the walk because I was always so excited to race down that slide. And I could look around the entire park grounds, watching the rides circle with their colorful light bulbs.

Once getting to the top, we would carefully select our lane. We would try to get next to each other because how else could you tell for certain who won? We would pile onto the sack, our parents seated behind us. The slide attendant would tell us when we could go, and we’d be off. Faster, I would scream, using my arms to try to speed us along, as everyone was laughing hysterically (or maybe that was just me). You knew it was a good trip if your butt came up off the slide on one or more of the hills. Once we got to the end, we would argue over who won.  Was it the pair that got to the end first? Or who slid the farthest past the end of the slide? Did it really matter as we grabbed the sack and ran up the metal staircase again?

After we had our fill of the slide (or more likely, when our parents would buy no more tickets), we would end the night with a trip to the ice cream concession window. My favorite was some kind of blue ice cream, and may have been Smurf related (does that give you any idea as to how old I turned on my birthday?!), but I can’t recall the name. Regardless, we would slowly eat our ice cream cones as we walked back to the car, satisfied with another successful Thursday Family Night.

I have no idea what prompted these memories tonight, and I’m now awash with emotions I wasn’t expecting. But I’m happy to have gone on this trip down memory lane with you, even if life has moved on from such simple times.

Another Year Older

Monday was my birthday, and I am a firm believer in embracing my birthday. Another year older does mean another year wiser. I like to think of my birthday as my own personal New Year – a time for reflection, change, new beginnings. I don’t mind getting older because I don’t feel older. (Although we went to a concert last night, and maybe I am too old to be out after 11 on a Tuesday!)

In general, it was a pretty good day. My husband made my birthday cake (see left) completely from scratch – including mousse filling and ganache frosting. Am I a lucky girl or what? Also, calories don’t count it they are in the form of birthday cake. One of my favorite parts of any given birthday is the call I receive from my 81-year-old grandma. She is so cute. We basically have the same conversation every year, but I like it. Strangely, I did not get a call from my brother, but perhaps family dynamics are better left for another post.  Birthdays are happy occasions.

I received an unexpected surprise, although I don’t know that it counts as a birthday present. I got a call about one of the out-of-state jobs I discussed previously. I have an interview two weeks from Friday. I can’t believe how quickly it came about, and I’m already fretting over having to make a difficult decision. My husband tells me not to get ahead of myself, which is wise advice, but I can’t help but think about what will happen if I receive an offer too good to pass up and we have to move less than two years after we bought our house.

It’s a new year, so I want to be open to opportunity, but the logistics have me stressed out already. If it weren’t for the house, I would be all for it. Not only would the move mean better opportunities for my current career, it would also be better for writing and photography.

However, it’s probably best to just take one day at a time. That’s one of the things I’m trying to do during this next year of life. No more wishing days away. I will just have to patiently wait for two weeks to pass…

Life Is Too Short

Today I received some incredibly sad news.  One of the lawyers in my community has been battling cancer for about a year and a half, and recently took a turn for the worse.  The prognosis is not good.  I had the opportunity to get to know this woman through the state bar’s women in the law committee.  I won’t say that we know each other well, but through our subcommittee work I came to know her abilities as an attorney, her reputation in the community, her dedication to family, and her resilient attitude.

She started a blog to keep family, friends and colleagues apprised of how things were going.  Post after post described what can only be considered bleak diagnoses – the cancer had spread from her leg, to her lungs, and eventually to her brain.  Yet despite this, her posts were always focused on the good things that were happening – the time she was spending with her family, the successful treatments, the potential for recovery, regardless of how slim.

I admire her ability to remain positive in the face of something so unpredictable and scary.  Every time I saw her, she was always smiling, happy, and upbeat.  I don’t know that I would be able to be as strong as she if I were faced with such devastating news.  I mean, my heart breaks and my eyes fill with tears every time I think about her situation and her two young sons.

When I received the email from our committee chair this afternoon, I felt my heart sink.  I had been expecting this news for a few weeks, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.  I can’t help but think how unfair it is that this young, beautiful woman who has been raising two boys on her own while opening and maintaining a successful family law practice will be taken from the world in the prime of her life.

This tragic situation has made me start to reevaluate things.  The whole purpose of this blog is to find a way to follow my dreams, find my passion.  Now, more than ever, it seems paramount to love what I do.  But life is short.  Moments are fleeting.  I have to start enjoying every day that I have despite hating my job. I can’t take for granted my husband, my family, my dogs or my friends.  They might not be here tomorrow.  I might not be here tomorrow.  I have to make the most of what every day gives me, and take a lesson from my colleague to always focus on the positive.  I think it’s a lesson we could all take to heart.  Do me (and you) a favor – hug your loved ones and tell them how much they mean to you.  Do it every day.  You won’t regret it.

Traveling Along the Path of Life in an SUV

A few weeks ago I described my experience shopping for a new car.  After sleeping on it for a few days, doing some research on the value of the car, and looking at interest rates, I decided to go back to the dealership and try to negotiate a deal.  After much back and forth, waiting, and frustration with the process, I walked away the proud owner of a new (to me) SUV.

I had been contemplating buying an SUV with third-row seating for a couple of years now.  The official purchase marks a new chapter in our lives.  I know you might be thinking “It’s just a new car.  What’s the big deal?”  For me, every big decision means thinking about how it impacts the overall path in life.

I have been telling people that now was the right time because we have two dogs.  Eighty pounds between two dogs just doesn’t quite work in a 4-door sedan.  Soon we will have to take both of them – together – to the kennel or the dog park, and it’s just easier to have cargo room for them.

All of that is true.  But that’s not the main reason.  The main reason is that it’s time to start thinking about having kids.  And don’t you need an SUV for kids and all their stuff (and your two original “kids” – the dogs)?  I refuse to drive a mini-van, so it’s this the obvious choice?

As I began to think about what the new car symbolizes, I began to think about all of the things that go along with kids.  Doctor visits, labor, delivery, maternity leave, car seats, strollers, cribs, health insurance for the little ones, day care, school, and so on and so forth.  The list was unending.  I won’t say that I became panicked.  But I quickly realized there was a lot more planning to be done.

I am considered an independent contractor at work. I say considered because I don’t think the arrangement would pass scrutinization.  Regardless, this means that I have an individual health insurance policy, no maternity services coverage, no paid time off.  Yikes!  Something is going to have to change.

What really scares me is no maternity leave.  We can handle medical expenses (probably!).  However, the two options for leave are really non-options – 1. Don’t take any time (really, this is impossible); or 2. Take the time and don’t get paid for 6 or 8 weeks (also not a viable option).  Luckily, we still have time to figure out what to do.

Save like we’ve never saved before?  Find a new job with benefits (but that requires more time in the office thus potentially impacting the pursuit of my real dreams)?  Who had any idea that all of this came along with a new car?!  I’m hoping genius strikes while I’m cruising around town in the car.  It prompted all of these thoughts.  Maybe it will provide resolution as well.

Decluttering and Simplifying

Once or twice a year I like to go through the closet and clean things out.  I supposed the desire to do some spring cleaning hit me yesterday, and I took it to a whole new level.  It started with the photos on my external hard drive.  I switched to a new editing software and was learning about organizing the photo library.  There were around 4,000 photos on that drive, and I knew many of them could be deleted.  What better time to do it than when I’m working on organizing.

I love organization and lists, but it seems like things get out of control despite my best intentions.  This year, I didn’t even buy a calendar for our house.  I know, I know.  Who needs a paper calendar with a Smartphone.  There’s just something I love about writing birthdays and travel plans on a calendar.  So, I decided I would start using the iCal on the MacBook Pro.  No, it’s not the same as a paper calendar with pretty pictures, but it’s fun to use.  And we plan on getting iPhones soon, so everything will sync.  Synchronized organization!

I got through a decent number of photo folders, but was getting hungry.  I started getting ready, and then got sidetracked going through the closet.  It’s a natural time for closet organization with the seasons changing.  This time I went through with serious determination. All those clothes that I thought about getting rid of before, but left in there, positive I would wear them the very next week, were gone.  No hesitation.  However, I waffled on a few pairs of pants.  Over the years, I have spanned six different sizes.  I still have some of what I like to call my “big girl pants” (and no, I don’t mean maturity level).  It would take some dedication to have to wear those pants again, but what if we have kids and what if I gain 60-80 pounds like some of my friends have?  So, I held on to them.  Perhaps I’m setting myself up by keeping them…hmm, it’s not too late to put them in the Goodwill bag…

After pulling out stacks of clothes and organizing what was left, I felt like I’d tackled enough for the day.  Unfortunately, a few hours later I stopped at one of my favorite clothing stores and bought five or so items to “replace” what I had pulled out of the closet.  But I got a good deal!  Everything was 40% off!

Today, I decided to tackle my personal email account.  That Type A part of my personality feels the need to save a copy of all my sent messages…in my personal email…which I use to email friends and family.  Who does that?  I looked in my sent mail folder and had over 3,500 messages dating back to August of 2008!  Look at what happens when I have unlimited storage space.  Don’t get me wrong, it was entertaining to have a short trip down memory lane, but that was way out of control.  I deleted everything, and changed my settings so that no copy is saved.  If I need to keep something for some reason, that’s what the bcc is for.  After deleting all those messages, I was again hungry, and could not bear to go through the rest of the folders today.  Just imagine how many “real” messages I’ve saved if I had 3,500 irrelevant sent messages?  I couldn’t face it.

Now that I have started the decluttering process with new vigor than ever before, I am hoping the I can continue to stay organized and simplify life.  It makes it much easier to enjoy down time if I’m not worrying about the clutter around the house.  I’m optimistic.  However, the means I should probably go fold the laundry…

You Won’t Find a Better Deal

I love to shop.  I love shopping for shoes, clothes, books.  I love going to Target and wandering around.  However, I detest shopping for a new car.  I’m in the market for something new (new to me, at least) and I want an SUV with third row seating.  You know, planning for the future, and all.  There are not a lot of options out there – at least, not a lot that meet all of my picky specifications.  A couple of months ago we got an online subscription to Consumer Reports.  We did some research on new SUVs, and yesterday morning did some more on used SUVs.  We took off in the afternoon to do some looking.

I have had my current car since 2003.  It’s got a little wear and tear, but in relatively good condition.  The problem is, it was a lease that I then bought out (at a ridiculously high interest rate…I don’t want to think about it) so I still owe money on it. I know, who has an almost eight year old car that they still owe money on?  So, in order to be able to buy something else, I really need to get what’s left on my loan, plus a little more on trade-in.  I knew this would become an issue.

We stopped at a dealership and began looking around.  Hardly any of the models we were looking at had any sticker information on the windows.  No way to tell the year, mileage, price of features.  We looked through the handful of SUVs we were interested in and I was about to say let’s just leave when a sales person came up to us.  She introduced herself, and I didn’t get a strong “car salesman” (or saleswoman, as the case was) vibe.  She showed us the features of the 2011 model, pointed out standard features on the 2008s and up, discussed safety features, and then we went through the inventory in stock.  A 2009 with a little over 20,000 miles on it (but a somewhat high price) seemed to be the best one to test drive.

Big mistake.  I loved it!  I didn’t feel like I was driving a huge monster and it was so comfortable.  It was a certified pre-owned vehicle, so all manufacturer warranties were extended.  No scheduled maintenance.  No synthetic oil.  But the price…ouch.  We got back to the dealership and she asked what other models we were looking at.  We told her, and they just so happened to have a 2009 of those as well.  A decent amount less, also.  But of course, not nearly as nice of a ride.  When we got back from that test drive, she took a look at my vehicle.  One big issue – I cracked the driver’s side of my front bumper pulling into our garage one day after work.  I have no idea how I managed to do that.  Who knows what was distracting me that afternoon.  Unfortunately trade-in value was significantly less than what I was hoping for.  I was already starting to feel disappointed.

We told her we needed to think about it and left the dealership.  We went down the street to have a discount dealer look at my car and tell us what they would buy it for.  Good news – significantly more than what the saleswoman was telling us we would get through a trade.  Armed with that information, we headed back to the dealership.  I made it so far as to pull into a parking space.  But I just couldn’t get out of the car.  All of her sales tactics were running through my head – these models go fast, people don’t trade these cars in, you won’t find something with so few miles, interest rates are going to go up, etc. etc.  However, I knew if I went in there, I would walk away with the car but I would probably pay more than I wanted to for it.  So, we drove away.

We did some research of our own on interest rates, and plugged her vehicle into the same program she used to calculate a trade-in value for mine.  Shockingly, the car was priced above the range the website gave us.  I’ve been letting all of this information percolate over the last 24 hours.  According to their website, the car is still there.  I still really want it.  But I know what monthly payment I want and if they can’t do it, then I’ll have to look at 2008s or just walk away.  I can be strong, right?  I can keep driving my car, even though we have no way to transport two dogs, let alone two dogs and a child.

It’s time to practice my negotiating skills and my poker face.  I’ll report back.

How To Fall In Love With San Francisco

I had never been to San Francisco before our honeymoon.  My experience with California had  been limited to a week in San Diego and a layover at LAX.  I knew San Francisco would be nothing like San Diego.  I was prepared with umbrellas, jackets, cardigans, and every length of pant you could think of.  I was expecting to be cold, maybe a little miserable at times, with hopefully a bit of sunshine mixed in.

Boy, did we luck out.  We had beautifully perfect weather every day we were there.  It was chilly early in the mornings and after the sun went down, but during the day I couldn’t have asked for anything better.  We stayed in North Beach at this lovely bed and breakfast across from Washington Square (aptly name The Washington Square Inn).  Considering we knew nothing about the city’s neighborhoods, we found a great location.

We arrived around 7:30 or 8 pm, and the woman at the front desk helped us with our bags and reminded us of the wine and cheese hour every evening at 5:30.  We settled into our room and found an incredibly helpful binder with a list of recommended neighborhood restaurants and what to do in San Francisco depending on the length of your stay.  Armed with dinner suggestions, we left to walk around the neighborhood.

We didn’t truly experience the hills until the next day, when we ran from our hotel to the Fisherman’s Wharf and along the pier towards the Ferry Building.  Coming back up Stockton I wasn’t sure if I could make it, but I did (and repeated that run up the hill 2 more times).  The weather was ideal for running, and what better setting can you ask for than the ocean.  Later in the trip, I had to do a 10-mile run and ran towards the Golden Gate Bridge through the Presidio.  I’ve never enjoyed a long run so much.  In fact, I felt like I could have run forever, but had to get back for breakfast.  The number of other runners and walkers out was amazing.  There were so many dogs frolicking in the grassy areas, beaches and even the water.  Oh, to be able to do this every morning.

We walked everywhere (I know – who goes to San Francisco and doesn’t ride a cable or street car), and made a pretty good exploration of the city.  I guess I should qualify my statement – we took ferries to Alcatraz and Sausalito.  I’ll admit, there were times when we reached a hill so steep that I did not believe it physically possible to walk up it in a standing position, convinced I would have to crawl up it on hands and knees.  Or we would reach a descent I thought I could not walk down without the mere weight of my upper body causing me to tumble head over heels down the sidewalk.  Neither of those things actually happened, though.

We walked to downtown and ate at Michael Mina’s RN74 and Tyler Florence’s Wayfare Tavern.  We explored Chinatown and Nob Hill.  We spent a good chunk of Saturday morning at the Ferry Building, perusing the goods at the local farmer’s market and across the street at the artists’ booths.  We walked across the Golden Gate bridge and saw dolphins! (Unfortunately, I did not have my zoom lens on and did not think it wise to try to change lenses on a windy bridge hovering over the ocean).  We perused the titles at City Lights Books for what seemed like hours, but limited ourselves to one selection each – pesky travel restrictions on suitcase weight.

Despite my efforts not to, I was in love with the city well before it was time to leave.  Then we ate breakfast at Mama’s, a restaurant catty-corner from our hotel, and it was all I could do to roll our suitcases down the hall an hour later.  I didn’t cry as we said goodbye to the City by the Bay, although I felt like it.  Since being home, we have half-jokingly researched real estate listings and job openings.  Neither of us relishes the thought of taking the California bar exam, but perhaps we find jobs as paralegals.

Coming from the midwest, the cost of living is astronomically higher.  I don’t know that we can seriously put San Francisco on our list of somedays.  But sometimes you just can’t help what you fall in love with.  I think maybe I’ll hold out for “someday.”

Remember To Use Your Indoor Voice

I know that we were staying only a block off of Bourbon Street while in New Orleans, so I expected some street noise during the night.  I can deal with that.  It’s typically short-lived as whoever is stumbling by at 3:00 in the morning is on his or her way home.  What I did not expect was having to deal with excessive noise inside the hotel on multiple occasions – sometimes late at night, sometimes early in the morning.  Once I woke up to such loud voices that I actually thought people had managed to get inside our hotel room (OK, I might have still been half asleep).

One night, a group of people decided to hold an impromptu party outside our room.  I didn’t quite understand the reasoning for selecting this location, as there were no rooms directly across from ours, and I heard (through the loud discussion) that no one was in the rooms around us.  They laughed and discussed their night, decided to head to their rooms for a while, and then meet up again later.  Of course, they met up again outside our room.  You would think they would have been considerate enough to knock on the door and invite us to go!

A couple of days later, I heard voices in the hall around 5:00 am.  These particular guests were on their way out of the hotel.  There was discussion about having someone come up and get their bags, what time the cab was to arrive, and what time the flight was.

Through all of this I kept thinking, really?  Are we really so self-absorbed that we are not aware of the fact that we are in a hotel?  With other guests?  And it is late at night/early in morning?  These were not just normal talking voices.  No, these were loud, almost shouting voices – even the people checking out of the hotel.  Other than the people being noisy, there was nothing else going on in the hotel.  Nothing to impede the ability to hear someone.  No need to shout.

Now, you might be asking what I did about these rude and inconsiderate guests.  Did I fling open the door and demand quiet?  Did I crack the door and meekly ask them the please keep it down as we were trying to sleep?  Did I call the front desk and make a noise complaint?  No, I did none of these things.  I simply rolled over, put a pillow over my head and muttered under my breath.  And made sure to use my indoor voice when I was walking through the hotel (at any time of day).

How do you deal with rude people, be it at a hotel, a restaurant or the movies?  I almost always resort to muttering under my breath…

If I Had A Time Machine

Today I had to travel to the home of my college alma mater for a deposition.  While dark clouds threatened to unleash a torrential downpour during the morning, by the time the deposition was over, it was a beautiful spring day.  A day that reminded me of my college years in that very same town.  And oh, how I longed for those days.

The warm breeze blew through my hair and the sun warmed my cheeks.  I wanted to walk around campus, but my suit and high heels would have been a dead giveaway that I no longer belonged among the students.  What I wouldn’t have given, though, to fall in line with them walking to and from class…or, more likely, ditching class in order to enjoy the beautiful day.  Not that I ever did that during my time…riiight.

I remember doing that very thing one early spring day.  It was bass fishing class.  Yep, you read that right, bass fishing.  What day did we decide to skip out on?  The only day of the entire the semester that we were actually going to do a physical activity related to fishing rather than just watching videos.  It was only one credit hour, but I wonder what my parents would think about me spending their hard-earned money on tuition for a bass fishing class.  However, I would totally take the class again if I had to do it over.

I often yearn for the days of my college youth.  The days when I could go out at 11:00 at night, stay out until 2:00 am, and still manage to make it to all my classes the next day.  These days it’s all I can do to stay up until 11:00 pm.  Today I had an even stronger sense of nostalgia because I am usually on campus when the students are not.   I was reminded of my own days after spring break, the countdown to finals and summer vacation.  Trying to study outside on the rooftop of our dorm, but inevitably our concentration would wane, we would start people watching, and we would eventually dissolve into hysterics.  I know I’m dating myself, but those were the good ol’ days.  I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.