Monday, May 31, 2010
Not only do I want things, but I want to be able to look at something I’ve done that I am proud of. I want to reread something that I wrote, giggle internally, and say, “I wrote that!” And, actually, that letter to myself (from myself?) gave me that feeling. It was honest, encouraging, and dare I admit that I really like my own writing style?
That letter is a reminder of what I want. A private island? Where we can host a summer bible camp for kids? To foster and adopt kids after ours are grown?
It’s a reminder of why I want to write. Telling the world my mother’s life story? Writing fiction in a genre that is little represented? Finally putting all that goes on in my heart and head to paper, and sharing it with the world.
It reminds me who I’m writing for. For my husband, who worries that I don’t do enough for myself. For my friends, that want nothing but to see me succeed at something that I love. For my children, to teach them to follow their dreams. For myself, to learn to put my wants first once in a while.
I am a writer, but I have suppressed that part of me, in exchange for changing diapers and washing uniforms. That letter to myself demands that I take time (even just 15 minutes) to write everyday. It tells me that some (definitely not all!) of my ideas are really good. It’s a tangible item that I can look at, and remember those goals that I’m working toward. It’s a reminder of what I want to do, and who I want to be.
Dear Lamphone, you are a writer. Now make it happen. You can make it happen.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Today, I purchased a six-foot tall kennel for my pit-mix, Daisy. She is such a pain in my heiny. I love my big baby, but (and there’s always a but) she is so much work! She was the product of a rescue. I say product, because Daisy was not a direct rescue, per say. We rescued Daisy’s pregnant mother moments before being taken to the local animal shelter. Three weeks later, we were the proud, second-hand, parents of ten puppies. Daisy was the third born, and she was my favorite from the beginning. We kept Daisy, and not her mother, because her mom was not well socialized with other dogs.
But I digress (and get easily sidetracked). Our base and community leaders have decided to ban aggressive breed dogs, and make those of us grandfathered in jump through major hoops and over huge hurdles to keep our fur-babies. The most annoying of which is this kennel that I assembled today.
In order to keep my chew-monger, I had to buy an outdoor kennel that she will almost never be in. It was a swift kick to the pocketbook. Acquiring and assembling this thing was, in a word, an adventure. I do not own a truck, so I had a friend take me to the pet supply store to buy the kennel. While waiting to order a couple Frosties on the way home, her husband called from overseas. I volunteered to drive home, because driving while talking on a cell phone is illegal in this state. I missed my off-ramp, and then in an attempt to go around to the next exit, I was stuck behind a funeral procession. On the highway. There are so many back roads they could’ve taken, but they chose the highway. On a payday and holiday weekend. Really? Someone wasn’t thinking when they planned out that route!
After finally getting out from behind the procession, I missed a second turn! Oh yeah, I was on a roll. We finally made it home, dumped the box in the backyard, and I retreated into the A/C to read the instructions. After reading all the English directions, I thought to myself, “Oh yeah, I got this.” Ha ha! The adventure continues....
I was able to lay out the bottom, and the upright poles, and then I attempted the top. After struggling for a few minutes, my older daughter fully dunked her little sister in the pool, and I was forced to quit. A short while later, my best friend and her husband showed up.....
Someone cue Tom Bergeron, because I think we have a winner for America’s Funniest Home Video. We spent the next three hours attempting that stupid thing together. It completely fell apart about five times. We managed to screw up the nuts and bolts (Did you know there were two different sizes? We didn’t.). My best friend managed to get hit in the head with one of the poles, and did I mention her husband has one of his arms in a sling? Our hands were filthy from the metal afterwards, we’re all going to have some awesome calluses, but we are dang proud of ourselves! Oh, and who likes being in the kennel more? Of course the little, fluffy white dog.