Thursday, November 12, 2015

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

All Dogs Go to Heaven

This morning, like most mornings, I logged onto Facebook. This morning, like most mornings, Facebook showed me a post from my past and suggested I share the memory. This morning, unlike most mornings, it was a painful memory. The picture was one of my childhood dog, Aggie, running on the beach. I had shared the picture five years ago, the day Aggie passed away.

I was sad and angry at Facebook. "Thanks for reminding me about how heartbroken I was five years ago." I X'd out of Facebook and went about my morning business. Checking emails. Small talking with coworkers, wishing I had more coffee. The usual smattering of office clich├ęs.

A few minutes later I turned around to look out the window behind me.  A sneeze was stuck tingling in my nose and natural light usually helps things along. Before turning back to my computer something caught my eye. A man and his dog were walking through the parking lot. This made me double take because, well it's an office parking lot. There's no residential homes nearby, no field beyond for animals to romp in. Concrete surrounded by concrete and other businesses. No reason for a person to bring a dog to this location. But something about the dog caught my eye too.  The white coat, floppy ears, and tail with long curtain of fur. The unmistakable silhouette of an English Setter. Aggie was an English Setter.

In the world of pets, they aren't terribly common to see, and here was one practically parading through my parking lot. I sprang out of my seat and urged the elevator not to stop on the trip four floors down, walking outside just in time to see the pair rounding the corner. For a split second, I hesitated to chase them down. But in a life full of opportunities missed and to-be-missed by hesitation, I decided now wasn't the time to give into that temptation.

"Hi! Can I pet your dog?" I asked awkwardly.
"Yep, this is Milo. He's an English Setter."
"I know" I said, reaching out to pet the familiar silky coat, "I used to have one as a kid."

So I will share this fuzzy memory, not in the way Facebook intended, but shared and remembered and loved, nonetheless.

Monday, October 19, 2015

What happens when I lose 5 pounds...

My boyfriend tells me I look good.

Women at work tell me to, "eat a cupcake" in tones of veiled concern while probing for what must be sinister methods of weight loss.

The 7-eleven clerk says I look like "an athlete."

My pants fit comfortably again.

I wonder if maybe there IS something wrong with me?

Try to account for how I've lost this weight. Did my half ass attempt to limit my carbs work? Or maybe it's a lifestyle change. Colorado is the most active state in the union and I am walking a lot more...Get on WebMD and check the symptoms for Hyperthyroidism. Symptoms? No to all.  Text my friend who is a doctor but also has known me for a long time. She knows what "normal" is for me. Did I look healthy the last time you saw me?

And on. And on. And on.

I've heard it takes a village to raise a child. I had no idea the village stuck around to chime in about slight fluctuations in my weight.