Sunday, January 6, 2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
As characteristic, you began that dark evening at the stroke of midnight with such hope and promise as all new beginnings do; we clung to it as that of a child with a security blanket.
I imagine we were all attempting to prevail over the tragedies of 2011; the Penn State scandal, the assassination attempt on Gabby Giffords that ultimately killed 6 and wounded a dozen others and the deadliest tornadoes in the southern United States that killed hundreds. We were repeatedly disillusioned with our government with rising gas prices and our involvement in foreign issues that took billions of U.S. monies from the citizens in our own backyard to name a few.
But alas, the year was closing and the eagerness to embark upon you, 2012 came with exuberance and excitement. Fair or not, we placed on your commencement immense anticipation of transporting responses to our prayers and cheerful progressions to our dreams.
With the passing of 365 days however, I am NOT filled with hope as I desired, but rather disappointment and despair in our world. Those feelings also were encompassed by family and friends. Many have buried loved ones and struggle daily with loss and depression. Jobs have been lost but not a hint to replace- unemployment checks vanished as our government would rather engage in recreation than resolve problems.
Our paychecks are smaller as a result of exorbitant tax rates and expanding insurance costs (although most can’t afford to even undergo medical procedures without amassing major debt) yet the cost of goods continue to mount. Our world’s anger is evident as growing violence and mass killings occur that bewilder and perplex.
So 2012, your time has come to an end and our faith and optimism is now placed upon 2013. Like my loved ones, obscured deep within is the undying optimist that my world-OUR world will ring in the New Year and suddenly the obstacles will be addressed and diminished.
However, I have misplaced that childish belief that a fresh number will carry with it new-fangled ideals, but I do take comfort in these words: Never let go of hope. One day you will see that it has all come together. What you have always wished for has finally come to be. You will look back and laugh at what has passed and you will ask yourself; how did I ever get through all of that?
In closing, I bid you farewell 2012 and welcome 2013~
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
Okay, I’m a lost and broken dog. I have a terrible confession: I have a sock fetish, which according to the dictionary means “an obsessive or unhealthy preoccupation or attachment with an object.”
But there, I said it . . . and often heard that the first step in overcoming an addiction is to admit I have a problem. It is a terrible problem. I can’t get enough socks, which is even more of a problem because they aren’t my socks!
Well, they eventually become my socks because I chew and tear so many holes in them that no one can wear the foot coverings by time I’m done with them, but that’s beside the point.
You see, they are my family’s socks. I can’t help it and I am so ashamed of myself. Whenever I see a sock in the laundry basket I have to go grab it, stretch it until I hear that priceless sound: ripping. AAHHHH, a sound of satisfaction! Tear it, shred it, and grate it; that is when they are at their best!
Even though Big D has tucked them deep into the toe of the shoe, I like to get into Big Daddy’s running shoes. I stick my nose into the cavernous shoe until I can reach just a teensy-weensy thread and pull it out. Yeah, I know, the smell is pretty unpleasant and you’d think that would deter me, but I guess that indicates how desperate my dilemma is.
I’ve even been known to chase Little Daddy around the house when he’s taking his shoes off so I can grab a sliver of the cloth and help in pulling it off his foot. If I do that, then at least the taste is in my mouth and there’s a better chance I get to keep it since I put the entire sock in my jawbone and slobber all over it. They don’t like to touch it when it is coated with dribble.
Then, I dash into my favorite upstairs hiding place: under the bed. I know, I know, I’m a big dog but I can still fit under the bed and no one comes in after me. The beauty of that is they know I have the upper hand, so they go to the cabinet in the bathroom to get a biscuit to entice me to come out. When I hear that box, I immediately go to my bed, the heck with the sock!―a quest for a later time and date. Besides, I have the best of both worlds: a biscuit AND the sock!
Yes, it is true. I go to great lengths to feed my addiction. I follow Nee Nee up the stairs biting at her heals until she gives them up, or until I trip her. Sorry, Nee Nee! Or, I stand on my hind legs at the washer and dryer searching for strays, and park myself politely at the dryer while clothes are being folded to quickly grab one that may fall on the floor. I’m getting pretty good at Snatch-and-Go’s.
Now, if you want to know how the story finishes, go to Amazon.com to download the book Life through the Eyes of a Hurricane: Doggie-Dog! This e-book will be free for this week ONLY! (SAle ends Saturday, July 7.
So tell your friends, tell your neighbors and tell your relatives that there is something free in life.
Fellow bloggers; post the information on your blog if you want to help me promote my book~