Puppy Love

I'm thinking about getting a puppy. My friends and relatives think I am insane given the fact that I have two children and another dog destroying my house on a regular basis as it is. And sometimes, if I'm lucky, I've got the neighbors dogs running through the house as well. This is all especially fun when it is raining and a Saturday and I am having friends over for dinner. (Actually, that is precisely why I want another dog. To keep it real).

Since the seed has been planted, I have been blessed with memories of when my dogs were puppies. There is indeed, Gracie, who is still alive and kicking. There are memories of Lucky (who wasn't so lucky after all, given that a speeding car took her down. I say it lightly, but my heart is still broken over that one), and of course, Sebastian who rocked the dog world and my household for thirteen years.

They were all puppies at some point. And they all come with tales (and tails, if we're technical). For instance, Sebastian was a doberman and very protective, menacing-looking but a sweetheart. Yet, when the doorbell rang, watch out. He was at the door in the time it takes a person to blink. On one particular Saturday, the household task was to paint the hallway in the townhouse that connected the upstairs and downstairs. The color was a beautiful blue to be shown against the white carpeting of the stairs. The paint was poured into the tray, and we were happily painting the walls. Then the doorbell rang, and here's what happened:

Sebastian awoke from a sound sleep and jumped from the master bed, into the hallway, into the paint tray with all four paws, down the first set of white-carpeted stairs, down the second step of white-carpeted stairs, onto the purgo floor of which he slid across and onto the tiled foyer in front of the door where he barked, jumped, and turned in circles. You can imagine the joy in having to clean that up!

Oh, and then there is the memory of Gracie as a pup. First off, she had a bad case of separation anxiety, so walking to the mailbox required much consolation. We couldn't put her in a crate because she would foam at the mouth like a rabid raccoon and would tear up her teeth and paws (have you ever smelled a rotten tooth?), so we kind of locked her in a room and hoped for the best. Somehow she got out. She ran to the kitchen, up on the stove, on top of the refrigerator and pulled down a poster that had just been printed from Kinkos. It cost nearly $400 and was destroyed when we got home. I suppose this made her hungry, so she pulled down the entire bag of sugar that sat on the countertop and brought it into the dining room, the playroom, the living room, the bedrooms upstairs and finished it off. It happened five years ago, and I still find sugar grains around the house!

Finally, Lucky-girl. I found her as a pup, walking down the middle of a busy road, and despite the direction that I should turn my head because she was probably going to get clipped, I walked into the main road, directed traffic away from her and picked her up. Love. Love. Love. She was mine from that point on.

I went to church one Sunday, leaving my new puppy with my then-husband to watch. He was fine with it, and tied Lucky to a small tree outside our townhouse while he washed his car. Within thirty seconds, Lucky chewed through the leash and was running about the neighborhood, Sebastian chasing after her to talk some sense into her. My then-husband scooped her up, tied her to the tree with a thicker leash and commenced washing the car. It took her a while, but she chewed through that leash too. Seeing no other option, he put her into the house for a few minutes to run loose while he dried off the car.

When he opened the front door, three potted trees were down and Lucky was running around the small house with a tree branch, wrestling with it like it was a cat. My then-husband yelled, "What did you do?" and tried to race after her. She slid beneath the kitchen table into the chairs and he chased her, slipping on soil and other debris. A couple chairs were knocked over, a few more leaves were scattered and the whole thing was left for me to see as I walked in from church, a graceful and peaceful feeling in my heart. When I discovered the mess of the house, I immediately ran to my then-husband and asked if he was okay, assuming that a robber had been involved in some of this struggle. I think I might have even looked to the ceiling and walls for gunshot holes. He pointed at Lucky and said, "It was her! She was only in the house for 10 minutes and she did all of this!"

I laughed. Heartily, I laughed until tears fell from my chin. My Lucky-girl. Love. Love. Love.

Cannot wait to take the kids to pick out their new pup.

Research Shows It's Better to Give than to Receive! Gifts say more about us than we know

Happy Birthday, I Love You, Thank You, Wishing you a Speedy Recovery, With Deepest Sympathy, Congratulations, Thinking of You. Each day millions of gifts are exchanged by people who want to send thoughtful regards, to friends and loved ones. A recent study by Rutgers University found that the presents we pick to convey our special message, says a lot about us.

Rutgers University researches explored what the gifts we choose say about who we are and whether they affect how we are perceived. The research reveals that those who send flowers, in comparison to other gifts, are viewed as successful, caring and emotionally intelligent people. Here are a few other things I found very interesting:

Both men and women who give flowers are perceived as happy, achieving, Strong, capable and courageous people;

Men and Women come across as more emotionally intelligent; they give the impression they can effectively express their feelings and take time t understand the feelings of others! (That's powerful stuff)

Female floral gifters are viewed as more appreciative of beauty and nature.

"Our findings show that you can influence and change what people think of you in a significant way through the gifts you give," say Ms. Haviland-Jones. "That news is particularly important to those interested in enhancing friendships, romances, and business relationships."

Who wouldn't want to be that kind of person?? You know what to do...order flowers today for someone you are trying to make an impression on and see if it works!

The Great American Flower Arrangement

After a busy day of lawn mowing, weed whacking, clearing my front garden of weeds and a quick trip to the hardware store, I walked into my house to see this bouquet of flowers on my kitchen island. The card said, "Keep working on that dream. Love, Larry." I smiled for many reasons. One, his command was one that warmed my heart because as a single mother of two, my whole world is wrapped up in making life a little more palatable for my children; and two, he is one of those people that gets it.

The flowers were hand-delivered by Julie, owner of Little House of Flowers, friend first, neighbor by serendipitous luck, and another person that gets it. She said, "I just used the key and put the flowers in your kitchen, hoping you would find a nice surprise." And a nice surprise it was, and the flowers were breathtaking. I was told that Tracy, a flower arranger at Little House of Flowers (I don't know if there is a common label for what she does) had so much fun putting this together, and that she was really proud of how it turned out. As she should be! It's symbolic of how nurturing and channeling love creates exquisite beauty.

This is how Larry's simple statement of "keep working on that dream" came about. I fancy the idea of someday becoming a novelist, hip, magnetic, intellectually stimulating and above all, entertaining enough to compel readers to read the meaning behind the words - to find beauty through my words. A few days before the flowers were sent, I spoke with Larry on the telephone. (He has become one of those staple people in my lives since separating from my husband. You know, the person that wasn't intimidated by my rants, or tears, or desperation in "figuring it out". He offered me money to pay a retainer for my lawyers, he offered me compliments to allow me to keep my chin up and above all, he offered me a friendship that I didn't know was available to me). When we spoke, he asked how the world's next best-selling author was spending her time. (You see, that's awesome!) I replied by saying, "This best selling author is knee-deep in keeping her kids happy, well-fed and entertained. I'm working on that dream today." We spoke for some time, I relayed my current concerns with regard to the children, stories of their impeccable gorgeousness and eagerness and intelligence, and the current state of affairs with regard to the family, which was all positive. At that particular point in time, I was like Tracy at Little House of Flowers - a nurturer and a channeler of love.

Larry got that. He understands it. He realizes that my ultimate dream, above the desire to ceremoniously shoot the breeze on Oprah's couch about my latest release, was that of my family. Through his words, he assured me that my other dreams were still valid but that nestled inside those wants was what really mattered, and that I was achieving it.

The flowers you see above are so much more than flowers - they come with a story. Like any great novel, they have character and love and fortitude and balance. And boy, they sure are pretty.

Friends and Flowers

You know when you lay in bed at night and you can’t go to sleep and your mind won’t quit thinking….well that was me last night. One of the things I was thing about last night was friendship. I was thinking how precious they are. I was also thinking how friendships can be like flowers.
Every year I plant some annuals out in front of my house. They bloom for a short period of time, but I love them while they are there. Some friendships are like annuals. You are thrown together with some people for short periods of time and for some reason that friendship fades away after awhile. It might be because you moved or got a new job. Lots of friendships revolved around children, if you had any, and their interests. As their interests change so did the friendships.
I also have some perennials planted in my yards. Without fail, they come back every year. If you are lucky, you have a few friendships like the perennials you have planted in your yard. No matter what, they are always there. You may not see them daily, weekly or even yearly, but you know deep down they would be there for you in heart beat. I am lucky enough to have a few friends I think of like that. One I can think of is a friend I made when I moved to Maryland at the age of 16. Not an easy time to make a move. When my dad wanted me to meet his boss’ daughter I thought …great this is going to be the longest day of my life. Well, it turned out to be one of the best days of my life because I met my lifelong friend. We went to the same high school. We got our first jobs together. We met boys together (one of which she eventually married). After high school, my family moved again, but we stayed in contact. Over the years our lives took different directions. She married and had kids several years before me but we continued to stay in touch. We didn’t see each other often but we both knew the other was there if they were needed. We both continue to have busy lives, me with a couple of athletic teenagers and her with a business; but I know if I needed her, she would be there for me and I would do the same for her.
Take some time to think about that friend who is like that perennial flower you have planted in your yard, always there year after year. Give them a call, send them an email. Better yet call my friend who has been there since I was 16 and order some flowers to let them know you are thinking about them. By the way, my friend is the owner of Little House of Flowers.

Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog.

Jason and I have a dog. Ok, well when I say “we” have a dog, it really means, Jason has a dog. He paid for her, pays for her vet bills, and pays for her food. I am more like the fun Aunt who brings toys and lets her drink beer behind his back.
When we brought her home it was the week of Thanksgiving. I had a 10 day vacation from work and couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more, than spend those cool fall days inside cuddling up with a 7 pound, all white, cute as a button, bulldog.
The first hour she was home I just watched her waddle around the yard and took pictures like I was Anne Geddes. She fell in the leaves with her wobbly footing, and I fell in love. A few hours went by like a few minutes, she melted my heart.
Overnight, the honeymoon came to a screeching halt.
I try to repress the memory of her first night with us because if I let it into consciousness I’m not sure she would still be part of our lives (Just kidding! though, if you told me that following morning that we could give her back with no repercussions, she would have been out of there faster than me at a tractor pull)

But don’t worry, I now love this pooch more than a fat kid loves cake.

Her name is Stella and this her first summer. She is spunky 8 month old and she has picked up quite a hobby. Mud. Yes, wet dirt. I don’t know what it is about this dog, but she rolls around in mud like I dream of rolling around in mashed potatoes, or mint chocolate chip ice-cream. And I don’t mean she runs through it or simply lays down to cool off. I mean, when she emerges, you would think she had been in the trenches at war. So dirty, I wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a line up. The rolling is then followed by frantic sprints in circles, which I think are purely to gain enough speed to perform the perfect belly flop, right back in the swampy hole she came from. It is like a drug to her, and I’m not sure we will ever be able to detox her, and this quote shows exactly why we would never try.
“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.”

We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm the daughter of the owners of Little House of Flowers...

Well, it's taken a long while to find a boy i could stand to spend a year with, so this is quite an accomplishment! Haha, just kidding (sort of). But today Jason and I celebrate 1 year of love, laughter, and fun.

Since he has unloaded his bank account for the beach house, and i have yet to get a full grasp on what the word "budget" means, we will be celebrating low key. I put post it notes up all over the bathroom mirror of sweet thoughts and kind words for him to wake up to. He called to thank me and I guess felt guilty I left the house empty handed, he offered to take me out to dinner. I'll take it! A few roses wouldn't hurt either :)

Don and Tony

He's a little over 50 years old, he's just under 5 years old. They're good friends, you know.

Tony, the 5 year old, tells his mommy that he wants to spend the entire day with Don. Don, the 50 year old, tells his wife that he wants to spend the entire day with Tony. What do they do? They pick up sticks before mowing, they load up the truck with garbage and ride side-by-side to the dump, they hammer nails, they check out engines of cars, they tighten bolts on the training wheels of Tony's bicycle or they hang out with the dogs.

Their last trip to the dump ended in smiles because they visited the Little House of Flowers and picked up a random rose for Tony's mother, after working together on something or other. Tony's daddy lives in another town and they only get to visit once in awhile, Tony's mommy doesn't do the "boy" things as much as Tony needs, and so, Don, and his wife Julie, have become the neighbors and friends to them, picking up the slack where his mother cannot.

Incidentally, they own the Little House of Flowers. And also incidentally, Tony's Mommy is me, the writer of this particular blog post.

We all have a story to tell. Mine is not so different than many others, and in the past few years, I have realized that going through a painful divorce and losing a brother at a very young age can actually make the people in your life all that more special. It also helps me to realize just how many blessings I actually have in my life. There are so many more people who are struggling with that and even more. Death, birth, heartache, aging parents, divorce, unemployment and ah, what else? So many more things. It is helpful to know that we're not all alone, isn't it? There is someone out there who knows how you are feeling, and there is someone out there who knows the key to living...

On the days when I feel like it is all-consuming, I think about the friendship that my son has forged with Don. Forty-five years between them, and they both know what the key to this life is. They know the things that matter and the things that don't.

Live.