Unconditional Love

In my twenties, my spending habits were out of control, especially when it came to shoes. I loved buying shoes that I couldn’t afford—truth is, I still like shoes I can’t afford. However, I’ve grown smarter with my finances and have learned to respect my hard-earned money a little more.
I remember the very first pair of Prada shoes I ever owned. They were gorgeous, black Italian leather sandals with these little buckles on the straps. I loved them, even though they killed my feet. I saved up to buy them one summer and was so proud when I was finally able to walk into Saks Fifth Avenue (the flagship store!) and walk out with my new lovers.

At the time, my dog Simon was about 2 yrs old and loved to chew things (you probably know where this is going).
He could chew through just about anything; the edge of doors, rugs, stuffed animals, couch pillows etc, etc. The one thing he didn’t like to chew were his rawhide bones.
He was such a jerk in his youth.

One fateful day, I forgot to put my new loved ones into their shoebox and when I came home from work, the heels were chewed off and those cute little buckles on the straps? They were lying on the floor, next to the bodies.
And the worst part?
The labels in the soles were barely recognizable!! He basically bit the hell out of the ‘sole’ of the shoes.
I yelled and screamed and cried and kept asking him, ‘Why?!’ over and over again. Seems utterly stupid now that I would be questioning a dog and his taste in Italian leather but at the time, I was so angry. I had barely worn them!

I sent Simon to his bed which I moved to the corner of the room and forbade him to move for the rest of the night. I wanted to put a dunce cap on him but I knew he would have just chewed that, too.

The following morning, still drunk from the wine I chose to soothe my aching, shoeless soul, I heard him panting at the foot of my bed.
I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, looking at me with those big, brown eyes, tail wagging, tongue firmly sticking out of the side of his mouth.
He did this every morning however, I was surprised that he bothered on that particular morning, knowing full-well what could be awaiting him; a cold shoulder. But he came to greet me anyway.

He had forgotten the events of the night before and so I had to as well. I couldn’t stay angry at him because he was just so forgiving.
That’s unconditional love for you. No matter what goes on in a relationship, you can always find it in your heart to forgive that person. In my case, a dog.

The other day, I had a scare. My Simon didn’t look so hot—he was in very bad shape. I thought for sure that the vet was going to tell me that Simon would have to be put to sleep. I was a mess and all I could think about was the time that he chewed my first pair of Prada shoes. I don’t know why.

He’s 15 yrs old now and has changed a lot this past year. He moves slower, he sleeps more--he’s getting old.
Very long story short, my dog is fine. It turns out he has something called Geriatric Vestibular Disease which is quite common in old dogs. It will pass with time and pretty soon, he’ll be back to his ‘old’ self again.

I know he’s not going to live forever so I’m going to try to enjoy every second I have left with him because really, that's all I can do.

I Don't Know Why

I just signed up for Twitter. Never, in a million years, thought that I would.
My pal, Carrie Blogshaw http://sexandtheshtty.blogspot.com/ has tried to convince me (to no avail) to join Facebook but I refuse. There are limitations to just how connected I want to be.

This whole new internet socializing world is kind of making me feel old because I remember the days when I used to talk for hours on the phone AND actually write letters--with my hand, not with my laptop.
So, is the hand-written letter dead? Um, I hope so because my handwriting is an embarrassment. I can barely read it, let alone a friend or loved one.

Can't believe it's been so long since I last posted!
I've been busy job hunting. Finally landed one and started a few weeks ago! Horray for me.
If you've been following my blog, you probably know just how rocky my career has been over the last few years. I hope the bumps are getting smaller....but...life isn't supposed to be a smooth ride.

How Did I Survive These People?

When I was six months old, I fell off the freezer. The story goes; my Mom placed me in my little chair, sitting atop the freezer while she was doing the dishes. Apparently, I got a tad overzealous with the rocking action my chair endulged me with and flipped out, hitting the floor, directly on my knees. When I heard this story (just the other day) I was pleased to know that I could blame my bad knees on my parents! Horrah! Like a lot of other ailments and shortcomings in my life, I blame my family. It's wonderful.
God only knows how many other stories of neglect my parents have stashed away. Just waiting and anticipating the right moment (like Thanksgiving dinner) to share their horrific tales of parenthood.
Here are a few more 'events' from childhood that force me to ponder; am I a cat?:

• When I was five or six years old, I almost drowned. I did it again at the age of about eight and then again at the age of sixteen (can't blame them for that incident) while vacationing in Mexico.
• At the age of seven, I came down with Mononucleosis and ended up in hospital for about two weeks. At the same time, I had to have my tonsils out and then hemorrhaged shortly after the doctor sent me home. Let's just say, for Christmas that year, I wasn't wishing for new toys.
• When I was four years old, my Dad left me in his truck for a split second while the engine was running; I grabbed the gear stick and threw it into reverse. All I remember is my Dad and his friend chasing the truck, trying their best to stop it before it crashed into the car behind me. They were successful and VERY lucky. Or am I the lucky one?

My parents had me when they were very young and very stupid and probably very high. Like most other occurences in the 70's, I wasn't planned. I like to think that they did their best but when you know NOTHING about babies, how do you know what your 'best' is?

Each and every time I go to visit my parents I say the same thing: how did I survive you people?

They bring out the Best and the Worst of us...

That's what the holidays do.

Each and every year since I was a child, I wondered what the holidays were all about. I wondered why we do what we do this time of year--what's it all for? Is it simply a celebration of Jesus' birth? Or is it all about that fat guy in the red suit?
I thought I would have found the answer by now (it's been almost 20 years since I've started looking!) but I'm still searching. I'm still trying to figure out why we all run around picking up gifts for people that, more than likely, do not need more 'things' in their life.

Really, when I think back to Christmas' past, I remember the one's that included good friends (and sometimes family) and good food--simple as that. Christmas' that didn't have a ton of hype surrounding them--one's that were planned last-minute. What don't I remember from Christmas' past? Things. Material Things. For instance, Christmas 1996 was one of my fondest memories--I don't recall what presents I got that year, though. (Actually, I probably didn't get much of anything that year because most of my friend back then were starving artists)

I was on the subway yesterday, minding my own business, listening to my ipod. There was an older, attractive woman sitting across from me. At one point when I looked up, she was wiping tears from her eyes. Like a trainwreck, I couldn't help but watch her. She then began to ball, tears flowing like a faucet. I felt bad for her--I wanted to comfort her but she's a complete stranger and I didn't want to make her feel worse. I wondered what she was crying about. Did she lose a loved-one recently? Is her best friend dying of Cancer? Or, because of the holiday pychosis we all suffer from, was she simply crying because her husband invited two more people to Christmas dinner?
Food for thought.

In the world we live in right now, where celebrities rule and enough is never enough, it's hard to find the true meaning of Christmas. So, no matter what your plans are for the holidays, keep in mind one thing: just when you think you have it bad, there's someone else who has it worse than you.

Tick, Tock

I was checking my email on MSN earlier today and stumbled upon an interesting article about the highs, lows and truths of parenthood.
As it turns out, studies are now showing that childless marriages are happier marriages.
I didn't need an article to tell me that. But am I alone?

It seems that more and more people are popping out kids like bottomless Pez dispensers. Everywhere I look, I see one designer baby carriage after another. In fact, my neighbourhood is most definately going through a baby boom. It doesn't matter what restaurant or store you walk into, you're sure to find the $1200 carriage--most likely a Bugaboo in the infamous red colour.
Gone are the days of quiet booths in fancy restaurants. Now, they're all replaced with open tables, ten feet between them for the carriages and high chairs.
Have babies become the cool accessory? It seems so. However, I would rather carry a purse.


I guess I should thank my family for forcing me to babysit my younger cousins as a teenager because those evening and weekends reiterated the fact that I despise taking care of miniature humans. I despise listening to kids whine. I depsise changing diapers. I despise allowing kids to decide what they want to watch on tv; Barney or Sesame Street. They should either watch what I want to watch or just go to bed. You see, I come from a time when children were 'seen and not heard'.

I often sit and ponder; will my biological clock ever start ticking? I mean, I'm not getting any younger--I'm in my mid-thirties. Shouldn't the clock have started by now?
I should be cooing over cute little babies when I see them but all I think is 'damn, that's a lot of work!'.

Where Did August Go?

It's now August 21st and I just want to know where the time went.
I've been so busy this past month, I can barely think straight--too much going on in my head.

Work is going well, for the most part. Things are quite hectic as we are opening new stores all over the place with not a lot of turnaround time.
Being in retail means I must wear ten different hats everyday--something I dislike but not enough to get out of the industry entirely. I guess I'm a masochist.

I haven't done much writing lately which makes me feel anxious and guilty. I feel like I'm neglecting my child or something. The good news is I gave some of my work to my 'uber editor' and friend, Peter to take a look at. I told him to be brutally honest and I know he will as that's why I chose him in the first place.
Actually, out of all my friends, he's the only one that can understand what it means to feel the need to write.
I think it's important to surround yourself with friends that have similar interests, even if it's only one friend--that's better than nothing. Writing has a tendency to make you feel isolated and misunderstood as a lot of time is spent alone with your thoughts.
When I lived in New York, my friend Daniel was my art gallery/museum friend, Mark was my writing friend, Marianna was my getting wasted friend, Judy and Cara were my concert-going friends, etc., etc....
In my opinion, this is the best way to live a balanced life. Oh, and coffee...can't forget the coffee--and it goes so well with friends!!!