I have a bit of a feel-good, happy story to share. My daughter and I had brunch and did a little last minute shopping yesterday. She ran to the ladies’ room when we walked into Target so I perused the displays of ‘every woman stop here and look at this stuff you don’t need’, you know what I’m talking about. As I round one of the racks, I see a man walking toward me with the most beautiful chocolate lab. I smile and go about my business. I know better than to walk up to a random dog and pet it. The man and handsome boy wind up very close to me so I ask the man if I may pet the dog. He’s not wearing any ‘support’ gear but he’s on a leash. He said, of course. So I rubbed handsome boys’ head and immediately dissolved into stupid baby/dog talk. The man and I chit-chatted and I learned the dog’s name is Cool Hand Luke. I already love this dog and the guy for naming him that. I shared with him that I had two black labs years ago, Wyatt and Hunter. I miss them.
Luke is SO well behaved. Can you imagine bringing a 2yo lab into Target 2 days before Christmas? He was better behaved than any child and many adults, lol. The man told me so much about Luke’s training and his daughter/family, and even threw in a few little witty jokes, clever guy.
By this point, P walked up and I told the man she was my daughter, as she started to oooh and ahhh about Luke. I told her what his name was and she gave me a knowing look, we’re both big Newman fans. Luke immediately laid down and rolled over for a belly rub. More chatting about dogs, family, etc. We then wished each other a Merry Christmas and went on our way. When we got far enough away, P asked me, ‘you know that guy?’ I said, no, I just said hello and asked if I could pet his dog.
A few minutes pass and I realized the man told me things that may seem extraneous in a random conversation, for instance, he doesn’t train Luke with treats (as a lot of training is done that way), rather by positive reinforcement and letting the dog know when he’s happy, so he’ll actively seek to model that behavior, and the fact that his daughter is a principal at a local school – you could see the pride on his face. This man is a good dad.
I felt like I had just talked to my Dad ❤️ Miss you, Dad.
Merry Christmas, everyone🎄
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How not to do this…
Gas pump confessional resumes.
It’s been awhile since I’ve done this, bear with me.
As the storm of the century looms over the Northeast, I decided to get my prep done today. Provisions such as; milk, snacks, alcohol, and gas for Black Betty are the usual necessities.
The grocery store was not as chaotic as I expected, probably by tomorrow morning more folks will decide to stock up.
When I got to the gas station, a cute beardy in an FJ pulled in at the pump across from me. He surprised me by saying ‘hi’ and asked how I was. I politely answered, but focused on filling Betty’s enormous and empty tank.
I will admit, I stole a glance and checked beardy out at one point. All the appropriate gear, flannel, jeans (not skinny jeans! bonus), good boots, and a cute hat. Hmm, not bad.
After finishing Betty’s refill, I got in and started to pull away. He was looking at me! So I waved. And nearly ran over the curb in the process. Wtf. Am I fourteen again and turn into a spaz when in the presence of a handsome guy with kind eyes? Apparently.
I consoled myself by remembering my criteria. If he doesn’t have a cabin tucked away somewhere, where we can hole up for days at a time and bring my dog, I won’t be interested.
Gotta stick to the plan.
Just old t-shirts
Recently, I was given something that is so invaluable to me, that I almost cried. My Mom found my Dad’s old motorcycle t-shirts from 30+ years ago. Well-worn, and some are tattered, but to me they signify comfort and my childhood. These are the few that survived.
Outside of work, you would always see my Dad wearing one of these shirts. They were his weekend uniform. Hanging out at the shop, at a game, teaching my brother or me how to build or fix something, he was invariably wearing one of these shirts.
On the likely rarer occasions when he found time to take a ride on one of his bikes, he was most often wearing one of these under his Barbour jacket.
Some might see them and think, really? they’re just old t-shirts. But I think we can all relate. You know that smell of your Dad’s or grandfather’s favorite jacket, flannel, or winter hat.
These shirts remind me that all is right in the world, Dad is close. Gone eleven years, but never from my heart.
Different kind of love
Have you ever been fooled by a good song? Have you been convinced to share your heart?
The dichotomy of life is a slipstream of consciousness. What we feel vs. what we believe.
How do we reconcile the two? A compromise?
No. Don’t settle.
Fire. Passion. Real.
That’s all you can accept. Honesty. Completeness.
It exists. Wait for it.
Cleave
This word came up in my work email this morning. Apropos.
Definition: 1) to divide (something) by or as if by a cutting blow: split. 2) to separate (something) into distinct parts and especially into groups having divergent views.
I can wait. While I’m frustrated that I can’t get this time back, I know the truth will be known someday.
Slake
Verb. To satisfy or quench one’s thirst.
That’s what life is, or should be ideally. It sounds pithy or trite, but we are only given one ride on this ball. I intend to make it worthwhile. I refuse to miss an opportunity to tell someone I love them, or that their presence made a difference.
No Ragrets
That which I feared became my salvation. There’s nothing wrong with deciding to do what is best for you, whether others understand it or not.
To awaken with no regrets means freedom. To finally be able to take a deep breath and not feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, incomparable.
My hope for my daughters is that they will revel in their lives. Own it. Do what makes you happy. But be kind while doing it.
There is nothing more beautiful in a person than seeing their true soul. To know you can be honest with yourself about what you want is absolutely amazing.
Don’t ever pretend to be something you’re not, because ultimately you will destroy yourself. There is no value in limiting who you are. If they don’t understand, they weren’t meant to stay.
Find joy in the little things, don’t wait for the big moments. Don’t be afraid to love big, bigger than you can imagine.
Reminiscing
I was browsing through Instagram this morning drinking my OJ, when I came across an image of a city street. A very tall building, lots of traffic, and the pedestrians looked minuscule.
I can’t even tell you what the pithy quote was, but the image instantly reminded me of one of the trips I took to NYC with my Dad when I was eight or ten.
Dad was the caretaker of a boys camp where we lived. In late June, kids would arrive by bus or get dropped off by their parents, but many were international and flew into LaGuardia or JFK. Dad would drive down to pick them up and bring them back to camp.
Those trips were so exciting! Getting up early, stopping at the Gran Prix diner for chocolate chip pancakes on the way, long talks with my Dad, I loved that.
That particular trip that the city image reminded me of, we took a green Volvo wagon (which I had the use of in high school and was technically my first car).
As it was June, the air was sweltering. I remember sitting in traffic staring up at the buildings and watching an older woman hang laundry outside of her apartment, the cotton blowing in the minimal breeze.
As uncomfortable as that moment was; sitting in traffic, no air moving, vinyl seats in the Volvo, seeing that woman hang laundry made me feel connected. We may live several hours and lifestyles apart, but day-to-day life is fairly consistent.
They say travel is important to help expand your world-view. (Granted, further than NYC) How can you appreciate what you have and where you are, if you have no frame of reference?
This.
I don’t cry. It happens so infrequently that it surprises me when I do. Maybe three times a year.
I gave it up a long time ago. Tears don’t change anything; love, loss, etc.
I will go into a deep funk and over-analyze the shit out of something before I will cry about it.
I cried at the movies last night, A Star is Born. I made sure to let my girls know that it’s okay to do, other people in the theater certainly did.
I didn’t cry because of the ending of the movie, well not entirely. I cried because I believed a love like that can exist. And I hope it does.
Just a girl and her Jeep 