Two weeks ago, a deer literally ran into my car as I was turning onto my street and caused $4,000 worth of damage to my vehicle. After calling my insurance provider, I was advised to go to Gabes Collision on Genesee Street in Cheektowaga because it would "cut back on the paperwork." Ok, I am all about skipping signing on the dotted line a thousand times, and since my insurance "guarantees" their work, I figured I'd give them a try.
I dropped my car off the Tuesday after the accident and was told it would take about a week to finish because of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. My claims adjuster would be in touch though with up-to-date information throughout the whole process. The adjuster called me every other day until Wednesday the following week when he called to let me know the car wasn't quite ready and it could be finished by EOD Thursday but he would call me to verify. Thursday came and went, then most of Friday and by 4 p.m. I called him to find out the status of Big Red. I left a voicemail, and received a call a short while later telling me to call Gabes myself to find out the status. Strike 1.
It was 4:30 p.m. when I called Gabes to find out that my car was indeed ready for pick up, but I had to get there by 5 p.m. when they closed... well, I work about a 1/2 hour away, so there was no chance that I'd get there by closing time. So Saturday morning, I picked up my car and headed to my mother's for a full day of Christmas shopping. As I drove, I realized that my heat no longer works and in fact cold air blows out of the vent. By the time I was able to call Gabes, the shop had closed for the day and would not reopen until Monday morning at 8 a.m.. Strike 2.
Monday morning, I called and left a message at 8:05 a.m. that someone should call me as soon as possible, because my heat was not working properly, and I had found two random car parts (small caps) in my cup holder that led me to believe that the car was not put back together properly. I left home by 8:30 a.m. because I had to get to work. On my way, it was freezing rain with no heat, which is bad enough, but now I also discovered another problem, my defogger was also not in working order. So, I have no heat, my windows are fogging up and freezing rain is sticking to my windshield. After taking extra precautions, I finally arrived at work, but I still have not received a phone call back from Gabes Collision and it's now after 9 a.m.
I waited until 9:30 a.m. and tried again. Amazingly, the shop was open and someone answered on the second ring. I asked to speak to a manager and explained my dilemmas. After telling the manager that I did not feel safe driving the vehicle, I was told that they would not send a tow truck and I would have to essentially suck it up, put my safety and others safety at risk, and make my way back to Cheektowaga. Strike 4 and 5.
Now for the kicker, after a 2 hour wait, I was then told the problem was fixed and that it was just an air pocket and those left over pieces were really no big deal, but they put them back in place to make me feel better. OK this now strike 6,7 and a million.
Are you kidding me!?!?! DO NOT tell me that these parts are not necessary. How dare you tell me that they are no big deal. Would you feel ok driving a vehicle that may or may not have missing parts no matter how superfluous these parts may be? I highly doubt that. Would you feel safe driving a vehicle with fogged up windows and no heat in the beginning of winter? I highly doubt that, too. And finally, would you be ok with someone speaking to your daughter or wife as you have addressed me. I highly doubt that also. Moral of the story. Do not take your vehicle to Gabes Collision on Genesee Street in Cheektowaga. They have horrible costumer service, and from what I can see, are highly incompetent.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Dog-Eat-Ring World Out There
Well, Thanksgiving left me little to be thankful for... other than my family and friends of course. Thursday morning, I woke up, made breakfast, watched a little of the parade and started to get ready for the day. I had a lot to do and not much time. Eric, against my advice, decided to go play in the "Turkey Bowl," which is a group of now 30 somethings playing two hand touch and running around like they're in their 20s again. Sidebar: this the same Turkey Bowl game that Eric tore his rotator cuff just the year before. I digress.
While he got ready for the game, I started baking and getting the food ready for the scheduled family visits later in the day. Eric left his wedding ring on the end table, put his spikes on and left for the big game.
As I baked, Marley sat by my side hoping I'd drop some tasty scraps for her to eat. Occasionally, I'd take a break and play chase or catch with her and also let her outside so she could go to the bathroom. All in all, it was a relatively quite day, which I should learn by now is always the kiss of death.
Eric returned home around 1:30, just in time for the asparagus to come out of the oven, and for me to jump in the shower so we could leave on time at 2:15. As I began the "beautifying process - washing hair, shaving legs, getting dressed and putting on make up, Eric was downstairs frantically searching for his wedding ring. He called up to me, asking me where I had put it... of course, I hadn't known that he didn't have it on, so naturally, I didn't put it anywhere. We moved furniture, searched other areas of the house, but to no avail. During our search, I went into the kitchen and noticed that while my asparagus were untouched, my oven mitt did not fair so well. All that was left was the bottom half of the mitt as the top half was consumed with no trace of its existence.
Frustrated and late, we left thinking maybe just maybe Marley ate the ring, too, but we still had faith that our "little" pup knew better. We came home between family meals to check on our dear labradoodle, but Marley seemed fine, so we went to Eric's side for dessert. However, still racking our brains to see if maybe one of us misplaced the band. We returned home, and I took Marley for a much-needed walk, then we went to bed with no ring and fearing the worst - that one of us would have to search for the ring after it has passed.
The next morning, Marley ate breakfast and I went Black Friday shopping with my mom. When I returned home a few hours later, Marley had already thrown up twice and was on her way to throwing up some more. It was time to call the vet. At the doctor's office, we were told that there was no evidence that pointed to bloat or a blockage, but we needed to be leery of the oven mitt, and not the wedding band. So we authorized an xray, so we could rule out emergency surgery, and right there on the screen was the evidence we needed - she did indeed eat the symbol of our vows and lifelong commitment to eachother. The good news, she didn't need surgery, the bad news we were $200 poorer and we'd be looking through her poop for the next few days.
Marley felt much better after the doctor gave her a shot and some fluids, and was up to her old antics... causing a raucous. Saturday came, and by 6 p.m. Marley had eaten two meals and digested them. I had the unfortunate luck of taking her outside when it was time to pass the ring and the remaining bits of oven mitt. Not only was I thoroughly disgusted because of what I was doing but also, because I had to pull the ring off of the oven mitt like it was a finger. I couldn't look at my pup for two days and I can only hope that she learned her lesson and will not be eating valuables or oven mitts anytime in the future... this better not be another kiss of death statement or Marley will have some splainin' to do!
While he got ready for the game, I started baking and getting the food ready for the scheduled family visits later in the day. Eric left his wedding ring on the end table, put his spikes on and left for the big game.
As I baked, Marley sat by my side hoping I'd drop some tasty scraps for her to eat. Occasionally, I'd take a break and play chase or catch with her and also let her outside so she could go to the bathroom. All in all, it was a relatively quite day, which I should learn by now is always the kiss of death.
Eric returned home around 1:30, just in time for the asparagus to come out of the oven, and for me to jump in the shower so we could leave on time at 2:15. As I began the "beautifying process - washing hair, shaving legs, getting dressed and putting on make up, Eric was downstairs frantically searching for his wedding ring. He called up to me, asking me where I had put it... of course, I hadn't known that he didn't have it on, so naturally, I didn't put it anywhere. We moved furniture, searched other areas of the house, but to no avail. During our search, I went into the kitchen and noticed that while my asparagus were untouched, my oven mitt did not fair so well. All that was left was the bottom half of the mitt as the top half was consumed with no trace of its existence.
Frustrated and late, we left thinking maybe just maybe Marley ate the ring, too, but we still had faith that our "little" pup knew better. We came home between family meals to check on our dear labradoodle, but Marley seemed fine, so we went to Eric's side for dessert. However, still racking our brains to see if maybe one of us misplaced the band. We returned home, and I took Marley for a much-needed walk, then we went to bed with no ring and fearing the worst - that one of us would have to search for the ring after it has passed.
The next morning, Marley ate breakfast and I went Black Friday shopping with my mom. When I returned home a few hours later, Marley had already thrown up twice and was on her way to throwing up some more. It was time to call the vet. At the doctor's office, we were told that there was no evidence that pointed to bloat or a blockage, but we needed to be leery of the oven mitt, and not the wedding band. So we authorized an xray, so we could rule out emergency surgery, and right there on the screen was the evidence we needed - she did indeed eat the symbol of our vows and lifelong commitment to eachother. The good news, she didn't need surgery, the bad news we were $200 poorer and we'd be looking through her poop for the next few days.
Marley felt much better after the doctor gave her a shot and some fluids, and was up to her old antics... causing a raucous. Saturday came, and by 6 p.m. Marley had eaten two meals and digested them. I had the unfortunate luck of taking her outside when it was time to pass the ring and the remaining bits of oven mitt. Not only was I thoroughly disgusted because of what I was doing but also, because I had to pull the ring off of the oven mitt like it was a finger. I couldn't look at my pup for two days and I can only hope that she learned her lesson and will not be eating valuables or oven mitts anytime in the future... this better not be another kiss of death statement or Marley will have some splainin' to do!
Friday, November 18, 2011
Regression is never a good thing!
Last weekend, Eric and I went to Allegany State Park with my family and decided to leave Marley with Eric's parents from Friday to Sunday. We made the decision to leave her at home, because we were nervous that she'd "break free" in unfamiliar territory. Unfortunately, she did not like being left at home without us, and she took it upon herself to make her feelings known.
She terrorized my in laws and made for a very uncomfortable pick up visit on Sunday morning.
Because of this short getaway, Marley has apparently regressed in all of the training progress we had made prior to our trip. She has been a brat - for lack of a better word - for the past week. She has gotten paperwork off of the kitchen counter and ripped it to shreds. She took an entire box of tissues from the bathroom and left a beautiful blanket of white shreddies strewn from one room to another.
This morning, I could not find her when I got out of the shower. So I searched the downstairs, then the upstairs, but it wasn't until I heard the faintest ring from her collar that I realized she had squeezed her 60-pound self under the bed. She somehow got the connector cord for my digital camera off the top book shelf and left it in tiny little pieces for me to vacuum after work.
There are days like today that I just shake my head and wonder what the heck I have gotten myself into. I love Marley with all my heart, but she is certainly living up to her name, and John Grogan's nickname of World's Worst Dog!
She terrorized my in laws and made for a very uncomfortable pick up visit on Sunday morning.
Because of this short getaway, Marley has apparently regressed in all of the training progress we had made prior to our trip. She has been a brat - for lack of a better word - for the past week. She has gotten paperwork off of the kitchen counter and ripped it to shreds. She took an entire box of tissues from the bathroom and left a beautiful blanket of white shreddies strewn from one room to another.
This morning, I could not find her when I got out of the shower. So I searched the downstairs, then the upstairs, but it wasn't until I heard the faintest ring from her collar that I realized she had squeezed her 60-pound self under the bed. She somehow got the connector cord for my digital camera off the top book shelf and left it in tiny little pieces for me to vacuum after work.
There are days like today that I just shake my head and wonder what the heck I have gotten myself into. I love Marley with all my heart, but she is certainly living up to her name, and John Grogan's nickname of World's Worst Dog!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
What a weekend
I haven't had a chance to blog in recent weeks, so I figured I'd give an update today. Last week was interesting to say the least. Marley was having difficulty holding her urine and would randomly start peeing in the living room, in the kitchen while she ate, on her way to the back door... poor thing just couldn't stop herself. The final straw came Thursday morning as I was pouring my coffee. Marley was following me around, as she does most mornings, but something was off... as she watched me at the counter, she literally started urinating on my foot. OK, I thought, either we are seriously regressing with training or there is something wrong with my doodle.
When I got to work, I called the vet to find out if dogs could get urinary tract infections. To my amazement, they can and I was advised to get a urine sample to the vet as quickly as possible. How I was supposed to get this sample had yet to be determined. So I took an early lunch and brainstormed on the way home. I decided my best tactic would be to put Marley on the leash and tell her to go to the bathroom, and when she starts to pee I'd put the container underneath her. I was ecstatic when I got my sample within the first few minutes of being outside. I was just as quickly traumatized when Marley jumped up and knocked the sample out of my hand, spraying her pee all over my hands and clothes. Back inside, I changed my clothes, washed my hands, and encouraged her to drink as much water as possible. A short while later, we went back outside, leash in one hand, container WITH lid in the other. 45 short minutes later, I got my sample and headed to the vet... Only problem, I was in such a rush that I left the back door wide open... luckily no birds of prey (that's another story for another time), no bugs (that I know of) and no intruders entered my home - just an annoyed husband and an earful about responsibility when I returned to the house 6 hours later after work.
Turns out, Marley did have an U.T.I., but it was caught early and treated and she's back to normal. I'll have round two of getting another sample in 10-12 days. Oh boy!
When I got to work, I called the vet to find out if dogs could get urinary tract infections. To my amazement, they can and I was advised to get a urine sample to the vet as quickly as possible. How I was supposed to get this sample had yet to be determined. So I took an early lunch and brainstormed on the way home. I decided my best tactic would be to put Marley on the leash and tell her to go to the bathroom, and when she starts to pee I'd put the container underneath her. I was ecstatic when I got my sample within the first few minutes of being outside. I was just as quickly traumatized when Marley jumped up and knocked the sample out of my hand, spraying her pee all over my hands and clothes. Back inside, I changed my clothes, washed my hands, and encouraged her to drink as much water as possible. A short while later, we went back outside, leash in one hand, container WITH lid in the other. 45 short minutes later, I got my sample and headed to the vet... Only problem, I was in such a rush that I left the back door wide open... luckily no birds of prey (that's another story for another time), no bugs (that I know of) and no intruders entered my home - just an annoyed husband and an earful about responsibility when I returned to the house 6 hours later after work.
Turns out, Marley did have an U.T.I., but it was caught early and treated and she's back to normal. I'll have round two of getting another sample in 10-12 days. Oh boy!
Friday, September 23, 2011
When will the hate stop?
I was sad to hear of the untimely death of a Williamsville North High School freshman earlier this week. The freshman killed himself because he was bullied by other students about his sexual orientation. My first thought was that poor kid. Everyone's bullied, but I wonder what incident put him over the edge, and my second thought was in these modern-day times why aren't people more tolerant of homosexuals, and then I thought why aren't people more tolerant in general - why is there STILL hatred toward people of the opposite race, gender, religion, intelligence level, disabilities, etc.
My conclusion - it starts at home - around the dinner table. Kids at very young ages can sense a parent's attitude toward specific things. If the parent makes a derogatory comment about gays or against someone who's a "dork" or against a person of color, that child processes that it's ok to degrade others. Why aren't we sitting around the dinner table discussing tolerance? Why aren't we teaching our children to be a leader, not a follower? I'm not a parent yet, but I hope that I can teach my child values and to not only stand up for him or herself, but for others.
I, as many others, was the brunt of many jokes growing up. I was rail thin, had an abnormally large nose, and said some pretty dorky things. Today as a "grown up" I'm not necessarily thin, my nose is no longer abnormally large, but I still say some pretty "dorky" things. As a kid, I'd crack a joke about myself to prevent someone else from making the same joke at my expense. I then turned to making jokes about others, and although at the time I didn't think I was being mean and I certainly didn't mean it to be malicious, I shouldn't have made others laugh at someone else's expense. My thought was if I was making people laugh, they wouldn't pick on me. In retrospect, I should have stood up for others. I should have been kind to everyone. And I should have stuck up for myself, rather than showing others that I could take it when secretly I couldn't.
Today, I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I do hold some resentment for things that were said to me in high school. And although it was 10-15 years ago, and I shouldn't continue to let it bother me, I'd be lying if I said that it didn't.
I can't imagine what that poor Williamsville child was going through that day - the day he decided he couldn't take life anymore. It not only breaks my heart to think of the torment he must have felt, but also the regret that no one stood up for him. I wish someone would have told him that it gets better, and that life does not begin and end with middle or high school. It begins when you take control of your life. When you decide that you will no longer let other people's opinions bother you. The day you realize it's ok to have bad memories, but it's not ok to let it define you.
My conclusion - it starts at home - around the dinner table. Kids at very young ages can sense a parent's attitude toward specific things. If the parent makes a derogatory comment about gays or against someone who's a "dork" or against a person of color, that child processes that it's ok to degrade others. Why aren't we sitting around the dinner table discussing tolerance? Why aren't we teaching our children to be a leader, not a follower? I'm not a parent yet, but I hope that I can teach my child values and to not only stand up for him or herself, but for others.
I, as many others, was the brunt of many jokes growing up. I was rail thin, had an abnormally large nose, and said some pretty dorky things. Today as a "grown up" I'm not necessarily thin, my nose is no longer abnormally large, but I still say some pretty "dorky" things. As a kid, I'd crack a joke about myself to prevent someone else from making the same joke at my expense. I then turned to making jokes about others, and although at the time I didn't think I was being mean and I certainly didn't mean it to be malicious, I shouldn't have made others laugh at someone else's expense. My thought was if I was making people laugh, they wouldn't pick on me. In retrospect, I should have stood up for others. I should have been kind to everyone. And I should have stuck up for myself, rather than showing others that I could take it when secretly I couldn't.
Today, I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I do hold some resentment for things that were said to me in high school. And although it was 10-15 years ago, and I shouldn't continue to let it bother me, I'd be lying if I said that it didn't.
I can't imagine what that poor Williamsville child was going through that day - the day he decided he couldn't take life anymore. It not only breaks my heart to think of the torment he must have felt, but also the regret that no one stood up for him. I wish someone would have told him that it gets better, and that life does not begin and end with middle or high school. It begins when you take control of your life. When you decide that you will no longer let other people's opinions bother you. The day you realize it's ok to have bad memories, but it's not ok to let it define you.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
My dog is a pica!
I've heard of dogs eating furniture, ripping apart pillows and shredding toys, but I have never experienced a dog who eats everything and anything as my Marley does. I can't take it anymore. Never in my life have I gone through so many articles of undergarments as I have in these past few months, considering ripping them apart is one of Marley's favorite past times. In fact, I hadn't noticed that several articles of clothing were missing until pieces of them showed up in her bowel movement. I learned two valuable lessons that day - nothing is safe in my house, and to keep the vet on speed dial. I have since learned that drawers need to be shut tightly and dirty laundry needs to be immediately taken to the basement to be washed as opposed to placed in the clothes hamper where apparently Marley can open the lid and get out her choice of garment.
Never in my life did I think for a second that my puppy would nuzzle her nose into my nightstand drawer to devour something that would spark a telephone call to puppy poison control, accompanied by a very uncomfortable conversation about the amount of the substance that she drank. But on Saturday morning, that's exactly what I had to do.
I can't understand why my puppy, who I love as I would my own child, would be so devious as to chow down on my new shoes, my purse, and basically anything that she can sink her teeth into and ruin.
Her favorite hideout is underneath the master bed where she knows she can stay just out of arms reach so that she can destroy my personal belongings. I guess I am lucky because she hasn't chewed any furniture...yet.... knock on wood. However, I am frustrated by my near daily findings of shredded cloth, toy stuffing cotton wads and chewed pieces of leather, including anything from baby presents to my favorite pair of pumps.
We take Marley for walks, play catch with her for hours, run laps around the house, we try anything to tire her out so that we can get some sleep. No matter how much we exhaust ourselves though she wakes up at 4 a.m. and is ready to go. We've also increased the amount of food she gets so that she isn't so ravenous that she'll eat, not just chew, my pants, shirts and undergarments. Nothing helps.
This morning, at around 1:30 a.m. Marley decided she needed to go outside, so she woke up her favorite person to pester - Mom. I took her outside to do her business, gave her a treat, and then proceeded to chase her around the house for 15 minutes trying to coax her back upstairs to bed while at the same time trying to be as quiet as a mouse so that I don't awake my sleeping husband. At 4 a.m. the routine continued. Marley woke me up so she could go outside and then hid behind the couch, so that I couldn't go back upstairs to bed. Succumbing to defeat to my 6 month old Labradoodle, I blocked off the family room with the puppy gate, grabbed a couch pillow and blanket and tried to go to sleep on the couch, only to be awoken by the sound of gnawing and licking of yet another pair of my sandals that I had just purchased to replace the last pair that she tore to shreds.
When Eric got up to get ready for work, and I told him of her tirades, he said, and I quote, "I just don't understand. I wish you had a camera, so that you could see how good she is with me." Really, I'm on 3 hours of sleep and you have the audacity to rub it in my face that my dog doesn't respect me? That deserves the husband of the year award, let me tell you.
I've paid for obedience training, I tried playing the tough guy, and I've practiced the techniques that was taught to me by the dog trainer. The problem is that while we're practicing Marley acts as though she's mastered her listening skills. She leaves the rocks alone when I tell her to "leave it." She walks nicely on a leash and even stops jumping up on me when I tell her stop. But as soon as she finds her window of opportunity- when I'm napping, in the shower or on the phone - she devices her plan of attack and sneaks away to destroy, devour and conquer.
Needless-to-say, today was not a good day.
Never in my life did I think for a second that my puppy would nuzzle her nose into my nightstand drawer to devour something that would spark a telephone call to puppy poison control, accompanied by a very uncomfortable conversation about the amount of the substance that she drank. But on Saturday morning, that's exactly what I had to do.
I can't understand why my puppy, who I love as I would my own child, would be so devious as to chow down on my new shoes, my purse, and basically anything that she can sink her teeth into and ruin.
Her favorite hideout is underneath the master bed where she knows she can stay just out of arms reach so that she can destroy my personal belongings. I guess I am lucky because she hasn't chewed any furniture...yet.... knock on wood. However, I am frustrated by my near daily findings of shredded cloth, toy stuffing cotton wads and chewed pieces of leather, including anything from baby presents to my favorite pair of pumps.
We take Marley for walks, play catch with her for hours, run laps around the house, we try anything to tire her out so that we can get some sleep. No matter how much we exhaust ourselves though she wakes up at 4 a.m. and is ready to go. We've also increased the amount of food she gets so that she isn't so ravenous that she'll eat, not just chew, my pants, shirts and undergarments. Nothing helps.
This morning, at around 1:30 a.m. Marley decided she needed to go outside, so she woke up her favorite person to pester - Mom. I took her outside to do her business, gave her a treat, and then proceeded to chase her around the house for 15 minutes trying to coax her back upstairs to bed while at the same time trying to be as quiet as a mouse so that I don't awake my sleeping husband. At 4 a.m. the routine continued. Marley woke me up so she could go outside and then hid behind the couch, so that I couldn't go back upstairs to bed. Succumbing to defeat to my 6 month old Labradoodle, I blocked off the family room with the puppy gate, grabbed a couch pillow and blanket and tried to go to sleep on the couch, only to be awoken by the sound of gnawing and licking of yet another pair of my sandals that I had just purchased to replace the last pair that she tore to shreds.
When Eric got up to get ready for work, and I told him of her tirades, he said, and I quote, "I just don't understand. I wish you had a camera, so that you could see how good she is with me." Really, I'm on 3 hours of sleep and you have the audacity to rub it in my face that my dog doesn't respect me? That deserves the husband of the year award, let me tell you.
I've paid for obedience training, I tried playing the tough guy, and I've practiced the techniques that was taught to me by the dog trainer. The problem is that while we're practicing Marley acts as though she's mastered her listening skills. She leaves the rocks alone when I tell her to "leave it." She walks nicely on a leash and even stops jumping up on me when I tell her stop. But as soon as she finds her window of opportunity- when I'm napping, in the shower or on the phone - she devices her plan of attack and sneaks away to destroy, devour and conquer.
Needless-to-say, today was not a good day.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Always remember, never forget
In 9 days, America will reflect on the 10th anniversary of the most horrific terrorist attacks in United States history. The day Osama Bin Ladin's minions carried out a series of four "suicide attacks" that left nearly 3,000 people dead and a nation heart broken.
I will never forget the morning of September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my journalism 101 class with Professor Denny Wilkins at St. Bonaventure University when Dean Coppola came to our classroom and told us all to immediately return to our dorm rooms and turn on the television. I arrived back at Shay/Loughlin just in time to see the second plane crash into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. At first I didn't know what had just unraveled on live television. As I started to process, I realized that our nation was under attack. That some sick people had flown not one, but two planes into one of New York City's most recognizable structures. As I sat glued to the television, I watched the first tower and then the second tower plummet to the ground. I watched in horror as people stranded on the top floors of the WTC buildings jumped to their deaths to escape the fury that was unfolding around them. We then listened to newscasters tell the nation that another plan had been flown into the Pentagon, and it was unclear, but it was a good possibility, that a fourth plane went down in Pennsylvania before hitting its intended target - the Capitol Building in Washington D.C.
No one was safe. Rumors spread through the dorm like wild fire that all airports were subject to terrorist attacks. I tried frantically to reach my family at home, but because everyone else in the nation was also calling their loved ones to find out if they were ok, it was hard to get through. When I finally reached my mother I sobbed into the phone. For days, weeks and months after 9/11 we mourned those who were lost in the Towers, at the Pentagon and the heroic efforts of the passengers on United Flight 93. We attended vigils in memory of those who died and those whose bodies were never recovered. We discussed the media coverage and ethics issues that were associated with the images of people falling from the sky. It's a day and a year I will never forget.
Last night, I watched a special on Ground Zero and what New York City was like on Sept. 11, 2001. I can't imagine being in the frenzy that unfolded that day. I can't imagine being a wife of one of the ill-fated passengers on any of the flights that were hijacked that day. I can't imagine being one of the New York City residents who had a loved one lost forever in the wreckage of the downed Twin Towers. I can't imagine having a loved one in The Pentagon that day and I can't imagine being one of the survivors that lived through the most horrific attack on U.S. soil.
I can't imagine how I would feel, because although I wasn't directly affected or I didn't directly lose anyone that I loved during the attacks, I am still angry that my country was attacked. And I know that I'll always remember and I'll never forget how I felt on 9/11.
I will never forget the morning of September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my journalism 101 class with Professor Denny Wilkins at St. Bonaventure University when Dean Coppola came to our classroom and told us all to immediately return to our dorm rooms and turn on the television. I arrived back at Shay/Loughlin just in time to see the second plane crash into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. At first I didn't know what had just unraveled on live television. As I started to process, I realized that our nation was under attack. That some sick people had flown not one, but two planes into one of New York City's most recognizable structures. As I sat glued to the television, I watched the first tower and then the second tower plummet to the ground. I watched in horror as people stranded on the top floors of the WTC buildings jumped to their deaths to escape the fury that was unfolding around them. We then listened to newscasters tell the nation that another plan had been flown into the Pentagon, and it was unclear, but it was a good possibility, that a fourth plane went down in Pennsylvania before hitting its intended target - the Capitol Building in Washington D.C.
No one was safe. Rumors spread through the dorm like wild fire that all airports were subject to terrorist attacks. I tried frantically to reach my family at home, but because everyone else in the nation was also calling their loved ones to find out if they were ok, it was hard to get through. When I finally reached my mother I sobbed into the phone. For days, weeks and months after 9/11 we mourned those who were lost in the Towers, at the Pentagon and the heroic efforts of the passengers on United Flight 93. We attended vigils in memory of those who died and those whose bodies were never recovered. We discussed the media coverage and ethics issues that were associated with the images of people falling from the sky. It's a day and a year I will never forget.
Last night, I watched a special on Ground Zero and what New York City was like on Sept. 11, 2001. I can't imagine being in the frenzy that unfolded that day. I can't imagine being a wife of one of the ill-fated passengers on any of the flights that were hijacked that day. I can't imagine being one of the New York City residents who had a loved one lost forever in the wreckage of the downed Twin Towers. I can't imagine having a loved one in The Pentagon that day and I can't imagine being one of the survivors that lived through the most horrific attack on U.S. soil.
I can't imagine how I would feel, because although I wasn't directly affected or I didn't directly lose anyone that I loved during the attacks, I am still angry that my country was attacked. And I know that I'll always remember and I'll never forget how I felt on 9/11.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
I don't like spiders and snakes
A few nights ago while taking Marley out for her before bed pee, I noticed a very large brown, hairy spider living in my sun room. This spider's body was the size of a nickel and had long, hairy legs. It was sitting in its funnel web in the corner just waiting for its prey. One thing that I am absolutely petrified of is spiders, and the bigger they are, the louder I scream. Naturally, I ran upstairs to wake my sleeping husband to come outside and kill this arachnid that can clearly eat me.
Reluctantly, Eric followed me outside to see what all the fuss was about. As he moved toward the tarantula-like spider, I grabbed a heavy construction boot and told him to do his manly duty and kill the sucker. Apparently, Eric has a slight fear of spiders, too, because it was too big for him to kill. As he moved the patio furniture to get an even closer look, he noticed another very large brown, hairy spider sitting in yet another funnel web waiting for its prey. As I yelled "you've got to be "explicit" kidding me," I looked up and for the first time in the many nights of taking Marley outside noticed that my sun room - the room that has become the thorn in my side - has been taken over by very large, hairy spiders. There are spiderwebs at every corner of this metal structure, which can only mean that there are many more spiders and probably different species of them to boot.
Naturally I panicked, and got on the internet to see if I could identify what type of arachnid was living in such closer corridors as me, and simultaneously immediately called my father to find out what to do. First, he told me to calm down and that these spiders would not eat me nor are they poisonous, but if they bothered me that much I could get out my vacuum cleaner and get rid of them, but he reminded me that spiders do control the mosquito and fly population so I might consider leaving them where they are and waiting for the fall when the cold weather would drive them away. Against my better judgment I decided to leave them be for now, but to use caution as I open and shut the patio door. So now, Marley is on a strict time limit. She has 5 seconds to run outside before I slam the patio door behind her. Otherwise I start to panic that one of these monsters might follow me into my family room.
Last night, as I lay my head on my pillow and shut my eyes, I sat there thinking of those spiders lurking in that little room, waiting to get a taste of me. Sure enough, about a half hour into dreamland I awoke screaming at Marley to "move, move, move," that there's a spider in the bed. I stripped the bed of the linens in search of Charlotte. To no avail, there was no spider crawling in my sheets, nor were there any waiting for me on my bedroom walls or inching its way across the rug. After some reassurance that it was only mind playing tricks on me, I finally fell asleep.
At around 6 a.m. this morning, Marley decided it was time for me to get up, because nature was calling her. As I took her to the patio door, I noticed another very large, only this time not hairy, red and white spider. She was in her web above the door preparing her meal, wrapping her prey over and over in her silk web. It was actually quite interesting to watch, but at the same time made my skin crawl all over again. I had had enough. Not only do I want that room taken down, I also want the spiders gone. I am contemplating getting a jar and coaxing them into it, so that they can be released into the woods behind my house, but now I have to find someone with enough cajones to do it. Any takers?
Reluctantly, Eric followed me outside to see what all the fuss was about. As he moved toward the tarantula-like spider, I grabbed a heavy construction boot and told him to do his manly duty and kill the sucker. Apparently, Eric has a slight fear of spiders, too, because it was too big for him to kill. As he moved the patio furniture to get an even closer look, he noticed another very large brown, hairy spider sitting in yet another funnel web waiting for its prey. As I yelled "you've got to be "explicit" kidding me," I looked up and for the first time in the many nights of taking Marley outside noticed that my sun room - the room that has become the thorn in my side - has been taken over by very large, hairy spiders. There are spiderwebs at every corner of this metal structure, which can only mean that there are many more spiders and probably different species of them to boot.
Naturally I panicked, and got on the internet to see if I could identify what type of arachnid was living in such closer corridors as me, and simultaneously immediately called my father to find out what to do. First, he told me to calm down and that these spiders would not eat me nor are they poisonous, but if they bothered me that much I could get out my vacuum cleaner and get rid of them, but he reminded me that spiders do control the mosquito and fly population so I might consider leaving them where they are and waiting for the fall when the cold weather would drive them away. Against my better judgment I decided to leave them be for now, but to use caution as I open and shut the patio door. So now, Marley is on a strict time limit. She has 5 seconds to run outside before I slam the patio door behind her. Otherwise I start to panic that one of these monsters might follow me into my family room.
Last night, as I lay my head on my pillow and shut my eyes, I sat there thinking of those spiders lurking in that little room, waiting to get a taste of me. Sure enough, about a half hour into dreamland I awoke screaming at Marley to "move, move, move," that there's a spider in the bed. I stripped the bed of the linens in search of Charlotte. To no avail, there was no spider crawling in my sheets, nor were there any waiting for me on my bedroom walls or inching its way across the rug. After some reassurance that it was only mind playing tricks on me, I finally fell asleep.
At around 6 a.m. this morning, Marley decided it was time for me to get up, because nature was calling her. As I took her to the patio door, I noticed another very large, only this time not hairy, red and white spider. She was in her web above the door preparing her meal, wrapping her prey over and over in her silk web. It was actually quite interesting to watch, but at the same time made my skin crawl all over again. I had had enough. Not only do I want that room taken down, I also want the spiders gone. I am contemplating getting a jar and coaxing them into it, so that they can be released into the woods behind my house, but now I have to find someone with enough cajones to do it. Any takers?
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Full of emotions
This morning I woke up feeling unsettled, which usually means I dreamed about Grandpa last night. I dream of him often, remembering him at various stages of his life. Sometimes I don't remember the dream, but know I visited with him in my subconscious by the way that I feel in the morning.
My first encounter with him was right after he passed away at the end of April. He came to me angry and unhappy, which was not only unsettling, it was down right upsetting. I wasn't sure if he was mad that he died and that he wasn't able to say good bye, or if it was something else? I still don't know for certain, but eventually the dreams of him became happy again. One day I dreamed he was an image of his young self - a stage of him that I have only admired in pictures, and the stage in his life that I believe he is living in the Spiritual realm. He was gardening and happy. Grandpa never says anything in these dreams, just turns and smiles and continues on with his digging and planting. Looking back on those first initial images of him, I think maybe Grandpa was upset that he had to leave us all behind, but now that he knows we are all ok, he's able to be happy in heaven.
The reality is that we move on with our daily lives, but we never forget him. I think of him everyday at some point in the day. Sometimes it's with a happy memory and other times it's with a deep sense of loss. Today was one of those deep sense of loss feelings. The wave of emotion was almost nauseating as I thought of his last days on earth, his wake and funeral. Fresh tears came to my eyes, knowing it could be decades before I am able to see him again. The memories I have of him will be forever ingrained in my mind. It's like yesterday that I see myself walking with him in his garden, admiring the way he picks a cherry tomato off the vine and eats it. I imagine us walking together along the seashore and collecting seashells as we did when I was a child. Sometimes I worry that I will forget the sound of his voice and his laugh; the way he could cheer me up when I was down. I cherish these memories and hope that they will forever stay fresh in my mind, as if it were yesterday.
This morning after my drive to work, and after my trip down memory lane, I learned that my Grandfather's brother, Sam, passed away after a long battle with cancer. It's comforting to know that they are together again with their parents, sisters and brother who have predeceased them. However, knowing of the loss Uncle Sam's sons and daughter, wife and living brothers and sisters will feel makes the fresh wounds of losing Grandpa all the more real today. My Uncle Sam was a very nice man, and I feel privileged to have known him. I pray that he meets up with Grandpa, Uncle Pat, Aunt Fe, Aunt Betty and Aunt Pauline very soon. May you all rest in peace.
On a happier note, I want to wish my nephew Alex, who is also my Godson, a very happy 12th birthday! I love you kiddo.
My first encounter with him was right after he passed away at the end of April. He came to me angry and unhappy, which was not only unsettling, it was down right upsetting. I wasn't sure if he was mad that he died and that he wasn't able to say good bye, or if it was something else? I still don't know for certain, but eventually the dreams of him became happy again. One day I dreamed he was an image of his young self - a stage of him that I have only admired in pictures, and the stage in his life that I believe he is living in the Spiritual realm. He was gardening and happy. Grandpa never says anything in these dreams, just turns and smiles and continues on with his digging and planting. Looking back on those first initial images of him, I think maybe Grandpa was upset that he had to leave us all behind, but now that he knows we are all ok, he's able to be happy in heaven.
The reality is that we move on with our daily lives, but we never forget him. I think of him everyday at some point in the day. Sometimes it's with a happy memory and other times it's with a deep sense of loss. Today was one of those deep sense of loss feelings. The wave of emotion was almost nauseating as I thought of his last days on earth, his wake and funeral. Fresh tears came to my eyes, knowing it could be decades before I am able to see him again. The memories I have of him will be forever ingrained in my mind. It's like yesterday that I see myself walking with him in his garden, admiring the way he picks a cherry tomato off the vine and eats it. I imagine us walking together along the seashore and collecting seashells as we did when I was a child. Sometimes I worry that I will forget the sound of his voice and his laugh; the way he could cheer me up when I was down. I cherish these memories and hope that they will forever stay fresh in my mind, as if it were yesterday.
This morning after my drive to work, and after my trip down memory lane, I learned that my Grandfather's brother, Sam, passed away after a long battle with cancer. It's comforting to know that they are together again with their parents, sisters and brother who have predeceased them. However, knowing of the loss Uncle Sam's sons and daughter, wife and living brothers and sisters will feel makes the fresh wounds of losing Grandpa all the more real today. My Uncle Sam was a very nice man, and I feel privileged to have known him. I pray that he meets up with Grandpa, Uncle Pat, Aunt Fe, Aunt Betty and Aunt Pauline very soon. May you all rest in peace.
On a happier note, I want to wish my nephew Alex, who is also my Godson, a very happy 12th birthday! I love you kiddo.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Getting Spayed
Yesterday morning, Marley had her vet appointment to be spayed. The plan involved me dropping her off before I was to head to work, and Eric was to pick her up at 5 p.m. after the surgery. I've only been to the vet once as a passenger in the vehicle, so I was unsure exactly where I needed to go. I ended up turning down the wrong street and having to decide whether I should turn around or try another route. After several attempts to reach Eric on the cell phone for directions and a few unladylike choice words left for him on his voicemail, I reached out to my mother in law who brings her dog to the same vet. Luckily, she pointed me in the right direction so I could drop Marley off for her surgery.
Poor Marley didn't know what was coming, because the last time she was at the vet she received lots of treats and praise during her puppy socialization class. She was ecstatic to be back at this "fun" place and was scratching at the door to get in. She greeted each receptionist and wanted a nice pat on the head from the other pet owner waiting to see the vet. After a short stay in the waiting room, we went back and had her weighed. She's a slender 37.5 pounds and in great health. The vet came in, listened to her heart and sent the vet tech in to take her to the back room so she could be prepped to go under the knife.
Seething from the inability to reach my husband, added to the nervousness I felt after leaving my puppy at the vet for surgery, I was in for a long day at work. Luckily for Eric, he called to apologize and explain that he had fallen asleep and did not hear the cell phone ring. Although I was still irked by his lack of consideration since I clearly did not know exactly where I was going and he should have kept his eyes open until I called to give him the deets on when to pick Marley up, I couldn't stay mad at him for long. He has this irritating way of making me forgive him when I am clearly not ready to let him off the hook so easily. Maybe next time I'll have the will power to make him suffer with the silent treatment for more than 15 minutes. However, according to my male coworker, men typically look forward to getting the silent treatment. Apparently, it's the perfect time to catch up on their football stats. Thanks to this tidbit of information, I will have to get creative for the next time Eric is need of consequences. I digress.
I got home shortly after Marley came home from the vet to find her angry with me and still loopy from the anesthesia. She didn't even wag her tail when I went to check on her. She didn't try to leap into my arms as she typically does during a regular work week, nor did she want me to snuggle up next to her. Instead she turned away from me, leaving me a little heart broken. It didn't help that when Eric came into the room her tail started wagging. All the more proof that she saw me as the the evil mother who left her at the vet to get snipped, and Eric as her knight in shining armor who rescued her from that horrible place. This refueled my anger at Eric for not answering his phone when I called for directions. I got over it as the night went on and so did Marley's attitude toward me as the effects of the drugs wore off.
I slept on the couch to keep an eye on Marley who is under strict orders to take it easy for the next 2 weeks, and at 1, 3, and 5 a.m. Marley was up and wanting to play and show me love. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep a 5 month old puppy from doing laps in the back yard? Or from jumping up to show she wants to play catch? This is going to be a long 2 weeks of trying to control our hyperactive and wacky Labradoodle, but we'll do our best to keep her safe.
Please say a little prayer for my sanity.
Poor Marley didn't know what was coming, because the last time she was at the vet she received lots of treats and praise during her puppy socialization class. She was ecstatic to be back at this "fun" place and was scratching at the door to get in. She greeted each receptionist and wanted a nice pat on the head from the other pet owner waiting to see the vet. After a short stay in the waiting room, we went back and had her weighed. She's a slender 37.5 pounds and in great health. The vet came in, listened to her heart and sent the vet tech in to take her to the back room so she could be prepped to go under the knife.
Seething from the inability to reach my husband, added to the nervousness I felt after leaving my puppy at the vet for surgery, I was in for a long day at work. Luckily for Eric, he called to apologize and explain that he had fallen asleep and did not hear the cell phone ring. Although I was still irked by his lack of consideration since I clearly did not know exactly where I was going and he should have kept his eyes open until I called to give him the deets on when to pick Marley up, I couldn't stay mad at him for long. He has this irritating way of making me forgive him when I am clearly not ready to let him off the hook so easily. Maybe next time I'll have the will power to make him suffer with the silent treatment for more than 15 minutes. However, according to my male coworker, men typically look forward to getting the silent treatment. Apparently, it's the perfect time to catch up on their football stats. Thanks to this tidbit of information, I will have to get creative for the next time Eric is need of consequences. I digress.
I got home shortly after Marley came home from the vet to find her angry with me and still loopy from the anesthesia. She didn't even wag her tail when I went to check on her. She didn't try to leap into my arms as she typically does during a regular work week, nor did she want me to snuggle up next to her. Instead she turned away from me, leaving me a little heart broken. It didn't help that when Eric came into the room her tail started wagging. All the more proof that she saw me as the the evil mother who left her at the vet to get snipped, and Eric as her knight in shining armor who rescued her from that horrible place. This refueled my anger at Eric for not answering his phone when I called for directions. I got over it as the night went on and so did Marley's attitude toward me as the effects of the drugs wore off.
I slept on the couch to keep an eye on Marley who is under strict orders to take it easy for the next 2 weeks, and at 1, 3, and 5 a.m. Marley was up and wanting to play and show me love. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep a 5 month old puppy from doing laps in the back yard? Or from jumping up to show she wants to play catch? This is going to be a long 2 weeks of trying to control our hyperactive and wacky Labradoodle, but we'll do our best to keep her safe.
Please say a little prayer for my sanity.
Monday, August 15, 2011
What a production
For Eric's 30th birthday, I booked him a flight to Atlanta to celebrate with his friends from high school who left New York for greener pastures a few years back. He's been itching to visit them, but hadn't had the opportunity because of busy schedules and other circumstances. So, I figured it was time to make it happen. After some scheming with his friends, I booked his flight so that on June 8 he could open his flight itinerary and Atlanta Braves tickets. Although he has an irrational fear of flying, he was excited for his August trip.
He left on Thursday and he comes home today after a weekend filled with golf, drinks and new memories with friends. I am glad to know that he had a great time, but I am ready for him to be home again. Although I like alone time as much as anyone, I was amazed at how much I missed him despite my own busy weekend.
My mom, sister, grandmother, aunt and I took a road trip of our own to Grove City, Pa. for some heavy-duty shopping. After a long three hour drive there, we arrived at the Outlet Mall with our credit cards in hand and ready to shop til we dropped. And that's exactly what we did. I even got some Christmas shopping done while I was there - hopefully I remember these purchases come December.
My sister, being the money-saving genius that she is, booked us a room at a nearby Super 8 motel... we learned a valuable lesson that night after we arrived at the room exhausted from a full day of shopping - sometimes a bargain isn't worth the bargain price. Since there were five us, we were forced to sleep three in a double bed. Being the youngest at 27, I was relegated to the middle spot sandwiched between my mother and sister with no pillow of my own, not that it would've helped much anyway because the hotel pillows were as thin as sheets. Unsure of where to place my arms I alternated between under my head and at my side throughout the night, turning only when someone else needed to turn. These circumstances made for a very long, restless and amusing night. We laughed as my grandmother complained of no cups or tissues, at the ant that was crawling under the sheets and at the stiff necks we were in for the following morning. I wouldn't trade the experience for the world though. We had a wonderful time just us girls, but as soon as I got home, I was in for a much-needed nap in my own king-sized bed.
He left on Thursday and he comes home today after a weekend filled with golf, drinks and new memories with friends. I am glad to know that he had a great time, but I am ready for him to be home again. Although I like alone time as much as anyone, I was amazed at how much I missed him despite my own busy weekend.
My mom, sister, grandmother, aunt and I took a road trip of our own to Grove City, Pa. for some heavy-duty shopping. After a long three hour drive there, we arrived at the Outlet Mall with our credit cards in hand and ready to shop til we dropped. And that's exactly what we did. I even got some Christmas shopping done while I was there - hopefully I remember these purchases come December.
My sister, being the money-saving genius that she is, booked us a room at a nearby Super 8 motel... we learned a valuable lesson that night after we arrived at the room exhausted from a full day of shopping - sometimes a bargain isn't worth the bargain price. Since there were five us, we were forced to sleep three in a double bed. Being the youngest at 27, I was relegated to the middle spot sandwiched between my mother and sister with no pillow of my own, not that it would've helped much anyway because the hotel pillows were as thin as sheets. Unsure of where to place my arms I alternated between under my head and at my side throughout the night, turning only when someone else needed to turn. These circumstances made for a very long, restless and amusing night. We laughed as my grandmother complained of no cups or tissues, at the ant that was crawling under the sheets and at the stiff necks we were in for the following morning. I wouldn't trade the experience for the world though. We had a wonderful time just us girls, but as soon as I got home, I was in for a much-needed nap in my own king-sized bed.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Puppy Class!!!!
Well, unlike John Grogan's Marley, my Marley did not flunk out of obedience school, try to hump the teacher or escape down the beach. My Marley did pretty well. She grasped the concept of not jumping up on people, but she certainly wasn't perfect.
The trainer came to our house and the first thing we did was discuss Marley's "issues," which includes excessive jumping, rock chewing and being prejudice. She does not like my black neighbors, or the black man who was shopping in PetSmart, or the Muslim couple who was taking a stroll in our neighborhood the other day. I do not know where this came from as we are friendly with our neighbors, I said hello to the man in PetSmart, and had I been outside at the time, I would have said hello to the nice looking couple coming down the street. I tried to "talk sense" into Marley and explain that we are not prejudice in my house and her behavior was unacceptable. I also tried to point out that she, too, is black by holding up a mirror to her face... But to no avail. She's still nervous around people who have a darker complexion, and although she's not aggressive, she tends to be quite cheeky with them by barking at them and jumping away if they get near her.
As I explained my dilemma to our trainer, she found MY behavior quite amusing. She told me that Marley does not understand the word prejudice and she is not aware that she, too, is black, because dogs can only see a few colors - red, green, blue and another shade that I cannot remember. The rest of their world is black and white and shades of gray. The reason she is nervous around other ethnicities is because she may not be able to distinguish certain features - such as a mouth and hands - as she can with Eric and me. This came as a relief to me, but we certainly need to work on her impolite behavior. So we will work on some techniques that the trainer showed to us, which includes giving treats to Marley while our neighbors are outside at the same time we are and moving closer to them little by little so that Marley can see that they are not a threat to her or to us.
We next worked on problem numero uno - Marley's excessive jumping. It will take some time and several treats to rid her of this problem, but I think we can do it so long as our family and friends cooperate. I will give each of them their own private tutorial as I do not want to give away all of my trainer's secrets - she needs to make a living, too. But let's just say that this involves a leash, treats and soothing words of encouragement. As the evening went on, Marley seemed to grasp the concept of focusing on me as others approach, and because she is such a good sitter, we will be using that to our advantage.
Rocks are the final issue, and while I was worried about her swallowing the rocks, I hadn't taken into account the damage the rocks could do to her teeth. I trained Marley not to grab the little rocks that she could easily swallow, instead I encouraged her to gravitate toward the larger rocks - not a smart idea on my part. So to alleviate the problem, it was suggested that we take hot sauce and pour it on an area she regularly grabs rocks from. We did this, and after she licked the hot sauce for a minute, she decided that it was not a taste she liked. The problem is she went to another area of the rock pile and picked out a clean one. I realize that this behavior could take time to correct, so in the meantime, I'll remain patient and keep a bottle of hot sauce at my side.
The trainer came to our house and the first thing we did was discuss Marley's "issues," which includes excessive jumping, rock chewing and being prejudice. She does not like my black neighbors, or the black man who was shopping in PetSmart, or the Muslim couple who was taking a stroll in our neighborhood the other day. I do not know where this came from as we are friendly with our neighbors, I said hello to the man in PetSmart, and had I been outside at the time, I would have said hello to the nice looking couple coming down the street. I tried to "talk sense" into Marley and explain that we are not prejudice in my house and her behavior was unacceptable. I also tried to point out that she, too, is black by holding up a mirror to her face... But to no avail. She's still nervous around people who have a darker complexion, and although she's not aggressive, she tends to be quite cheeky with them by barking at them and jumping away if they get near her.
As I explained my dilemma to our trainer, she found MY behavior quite amusing. She told me that Marley does not understand the word prejudice and she is not aware that she, too, is black, because dogs can only see a few colors - red, green, blue and another shade that I cannot remember. The rest of their world is black and white and shades of gray. The reason she is nervous around other ethnicities is because she may not be able to distinguish certain features - such as a mouth and hands - as she can with Eric and me. This came as a relief to me, but we certainly need to work on her impolite behavior. So we will work on some techniques that the trainer showed to us, which includes giving treats to Marley while our neighbors are outside at the same time we are and moving closer to them little by little so that Marley can see that they are not a threat to her or to us.
We next worked on problem numero uno - Marley's excessive jumping. It will take some time and several treats to rid her of this problem, but I think we can do it so long as our family and friends cooperate. I will give each of them their own private tutorial as I do not want to give away all of my trainer's secrets - she needs to make a living, too. But let's just say that this involves a leash, treats and soothing words of encouragement. As the evening went on, Marley seemed to grasp the concept of focusing on me as others approach, and because she is such a good sitter, we will be using that to our advantage.
Rocks are the final issue, and while I was worried about her swallowing the rocks, I hadn't taken into account the damage the rocks could do to her teeth. I trained Marley not to grab the little rocks that she could easily swallow, instead I encouraged her to gravitate toward the larger rocks - not a smart idea on my part. So to alleviate the problem, it was suggested that we take hot sauce and pour it on an area she regularly grabs rocks from. We did this, and after she licked the hot sauce for a minute, she decided that it was not a taste she liked. The problem is she went to another area of the rock pile and picked out a clean one. I realize that this behavior could take time to correct, so in the meantime, I'll remain patient and keep a bottle of hot sauce at my side.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Eureka!
I made an interesting observation/revelation this past weekend. You shouldn't criticize others until you walk in their shoes for a day. I came to this conclusion yesterday while at an in-law family function. We arrived with Marley in tow, and because she's a puppy she is a bit overzealous when meeting new people. At 4 months old, Marley can sit, lay down, give paw, catch treats and stay (although she does tend to get impatient if I make her wait too long). Nevertheless, I am a proud mama of her accomplishments, but watching a puppy and making sure she minds well is an exhausting task.
When we first arrived at the relative's home Marley was jumping and trying tirelessly to play with their 6 year old Golden Retriever. Much to Marley's dismay, Carly was not a fan. Carly growled at my pup and even nipped at her a bit - nothing overly threatening, but it still made me nervous - and after Marley lost interest in the other dog, she decided to focus her energy on the other guests. She just wanted people to pet her and love on her. I honestly did not see this as an issue, because again, she's only 4 months old and while she minds well most of the time, she still isn't 100 percent obedient. We are working really hard to stop her from jumping on people, but at 40 pounds, I simply can not hold her back ALL of the time while in the company of others. I certainly pull her back and tell her off, but I can only do so much.
After being questioned when Marley would be attending obedience school, I explained that a trainer is coming to my house tomorrow (now today) to help with her jumping habits. It was then that I was told "it's often the parents of the dog that need the training as they reward the puppy's bad behavior." I couldn't believe what I had just heard. While I admit this was not meant as a dig to me I couldn't help but go on the defensive. Marley is not a poorly behaved animal. Yes, she is a jumper, but she is a PUPPY with puppy energy. She listens to me and comes when I call her. But, as any small child would, she has difficulty focusing when there is a lot of commotion.
After about 30 minutes though, Marley settled down and stayed by my side for the majority of the remainder of the evening. After some coaxing and the offer of many dog treats, Carly even came around and horse played with Marley for a bit. By the end of the night though, I was exhausted because I went into overdrive to make sure that I could prove that my Marley was well behaved. I showed off her tricks and made sure she stayed by my side for the rest of the night. Maybe I'm a little sensitive, but I can understand how it must feel for mothers who have a hyperactive child. You want so badly for others to say how well behaved your little one is, but sometimes that's just not in the cards. I just hope tonight's training session helps with Marley's bad jumping habits so that I never feel as though I am a bad "mom" again.
I realized through this that I should not judge others by their children's behavior. Before last night, I regularly discussed parenting skills and what I would do differently with "my kids" so that they would behave a certain way. The truth of the matter is though you can't control everything. You can only do your best to teach your children (or in my case my puppy) to be polite, kind and to listen when they are told to do something. Sometimes, you simply cannot help it though when there is a lot of commotion and your child or puppy becomes hyper and may temporarily shut down their listening skills. It's the attention given by the others that they love and whether it's good or bad behavior while they at the center of attention they may act in a way that is out of characteristic from their regular every day routine.
When we first arrived at the relative's home Marley was jumping and trying tirelessly to play with their 6 year old Golden Retriever. Much to Marley's dismay, Carly was not a fan. Carly growled at my pup and even nipped at her a bit - nothing overly threatening, but it still made me nervous - and after Marley lost interest in the other dog, she decided to focus her energy on the other guests. She just wanted people to pet her and love on her. I honestly did not see this as an issue, because again, she's only 4 months old and while she minds well most of the time, she still isn't 100 percent obedient. We are working really hard to stop her from jumping on people, but at 40 pounds, I simply can not hold her back ALL of the time while in the company of others. I certainly pull her back and tell her off, but I can only do so much.
After being questioned when Marley would be attending obedience school, I explained that a trainer is coming to my house tomorrow (now today) to help with her jumping habits. It was then that I was told "it's often the parents of the dog that need the training as they reward the puppy's bad behavior." I couldn't believe what I had just heard. While I admit this was not meant as a dig to me I couldn't help but go on the defensive. Marley is not a poorly behaved animal. Yes, she is a jumper, but she is a PUPPY with puppy energy. She listens to me and comes when I call her. But, as any small child would, she has difficulty focusing when there is a lot of commotion.
After about 30 minutes though, Marley settled down and stayed by my side for the majority of the remainder of the evening. After some coaxing and the offer of many dog treats, Carly even came around and horse played with Marley for a bit. By the end of the night though, I was exhausted because I went into overdrive to make sure that I could prove that my Marley was well behaved. I showed off her tricks and made sure she stayed by my side for the rest of the night. Maybe I'm a little sensitive, but I can understand how it must feel for mothers who have a hyperactive child. You want so badly for others to say how well behaved your little one is, but sometimes that's just not in the cards. I just hope tonight's training session helps with Marley's bad jumping habits so that I never feel as though I am a bad "mom" again.
I realized through this that I should not judge others by their children's behavior. Before last night, I regularly discussed parenting skills and what I would do differently with "my kids" so that they would behave a certain way. The truth of the matter is though you can't control everything. You can only do your best to teach your children (or in my case my puppy) to be polite, kind and to listen when they are told to do something. Sometimes, you simply cannot help it though when there is a lot of commotion and your child or puppy becomes hyper and may temporarily shut down their listening skills. It's the attention given by the others that they love and whether it's good or bad behavior while they at the center of attention they may act in a way that is out of characteristic from their regular every day routine.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Starting a family
It's amazing how quickly the baby "itch" comes on. Two years ago I would have said that children were a long, long way off, but the maternal instinct snuck up on me like a blow horn. Three of my dearest friends recently had babies, and then my sister gave birth to a beautiful little girl and bam! - I want a baby of my own. Before, I really liked children, but I also enjoyed the ability of handing them back to their parents at the end of the night. Now, I want someone else to hand my child over to me at the end of the night.
I can't wait to be pregnant and become overprotective of my little one growing inside. I can't wait to go through morning sickness and then feel the baby kick for the first time. I even look forward to watching my belly grow. (Although, I pray I have some of my sister's genes and have her ability to lose the weight quickly)...
I can't wait to hold my child in my arms and raise him or her to be good citizens who are kind, compassionate and responsible. I'd like to believe that I'll be a good parent who will love my child unconditionally and have the patience to do as great of a job parenting as my mom and dad did for me. I wasn't always the easiest person to be around, but my parents taught me to work hard, be polite and make wise decisions. I strive to do those things, although I admit sometimes while my intentions are good, I don't always follow through on the wise-decisions part. But another thing that my parents taught me is to learn from my mistakes and I can honestly say that I do... most of the time. These qualities are what I hope to pass on to the next generation.
I look at my 6 month old niece and yearn to be able to give her and my other nieces and nephew a cousin. Will I know immediately how to be a good parent? I hope so, but I'm also realistic that it will take some practice. I hope that my maternal instinct kicks into overdrive and I can give my own child the love and attention that my mother gave to me. Hopefully someday in the near future, I'll be writing that this newfound dream has come true.
In the meantime, I'll focus my energy on being an aunt who spoils her nieces and nephew and a dogmom who spoils her 4-month old labradoodle to pieces.
I can't wait to be pregnant and become overprotective of my little one growing inside. I can't wait to go through morning sickness and then feel the baby kick for the first time. I even look forward to watching my belly grow. (Although, I pray I have some of my sister's genes and have her ability to lose the weight quickly)...
I can't wait to hold my child in my arms and raise him or her to be good citizens who are kind, compassionate and responsible. I'd like to believe that I'll be a good parent who will love my child unconditionally and have the patience to do as great of a job parenting as my mom and dad did for me. I wasn't always the easiest person to be around, but my parents taught me to work hard, be polite and make wise decisions. I strive to do those things, although I admit sometimes while my intentions are good, I don't always follow through on the wise-decisions part. But another thing that my parents taught me is to learn from my mistakes and I can honestly say that I do... most of the time. These qualities are what I hope to pass on to the next generation.
I look at my 6 month old niece and yearn to be able to give her and my other nieces and nephew a cousin. Will I know immediately how to be a good parent? I hope so, but I'm also realistic that it will take some practice. I hope that my maternal instinct kicks into overdrive and I can give my own child the love and attention that my mother gave to me. Hopefully someday in the near future, I'll be writing that this newfound dream has come true.
In the meantime, I'll focus my energy on being an aunt who spoils her nieces and nephew and a dogmom who spoils her 4-month old labradoodle to pieces.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Oh Marley!
For our one year anniversary, my husband and I decided to skip the traditional "paper" gifts and go straight to the furry friend. We searched ad after ad trying to find a Labradoodle for a moderately good price (not that we could put a price on our Marley, but we did not want to break the bank either.) One day, Eric called me while I was at work to tell me that there were Labradoodle puppies for sale near Erie, PA, which was much closer than we thought we were going to have to travel to get one. I called the number and there was only one female left, so naturally I was convinced that it was fate. I told the woman not to give her to anyone else, because we absolutely wanted her. I surprised myself by doing something that I never would have done under normal circumstances and put a down payment on the puppy sight unseen. Yes, I know, it sounds crazy, but it was fate remember?
We arrived in Erie on Saturday, May 21 and fell in love with our girl right away. She came running up to me when we first arrived and literally jumped into my lap as if to say "I'm ready, take me home." After chatting with the breeder for a little while we were set to head for home. She was such a good girl the entire two hour ride back to our house. She slept most of the way by cuddling up next to me. We at first gave her the name Bailey, but as she quickly showed her mischievous side, we had to change it to Marley. Plus, she has the most adorable black beard that resembled the famous locks of Bob Marley, so her name was changed to match both her appearance and personality.
For the first two weeks we tried to crate her at night, but after the 14th day I decided I needed some sleep and allowed her to lay in bed with us for "just one night." She now nestles in between us every night with her head between our pillows and her paws in Eric's back. I am pretty sure that one of these days she will succeed at kicking him off the bed - she's expected to grow to more than 75 lbs, so really, it's only a matter of time.
We've had our good and bad days, but she's very smart and curious. She has a thing for rocks, which drives me crazy because I'm afraid she might swallow one. She literally taunts me by sticking the edge of the rock out of her mouth and then sucks it back in as if to say "nah, nah, nah, nah, nah you can't get me." My neighbor thinks it's a riot. I am not so easily amused.
She also LOVES my shoes, the more comfortable the better. My black ballet flats that just recently got so that they were perfectly molded to my feet - shredded. My brown flip flops, then my white flip flops - ripped apart and even partly digested. My black heels that I wear to EVERY wedding have teeth marks all over them, now thrown away. No matter how well they are hidden, secured and blocked off, my little Marley finds a way to get her paws on them. She waits patiently until just the right moment to sink her teeth into them - as soon as I fall asleep on the couch, hop in the shower or get on my phone - that's when she strikes. She's one smart puppy alright, but she's my puppy and I love her nonetheless.
This past weekend, Eric and I went to a friend's house to practice for Beer Olympics, an annual event going on its 5th year. We were gone from 7-11 p.m., which was just enough time for Marley to sleep cozily in her crate until we got home, then she was ready to party. We took her to bed, but at 12:30 a.m. she barked to go outside. Not because she had to go to the bathroom, rather to do laps. At 1:30 a.m. she decided she needed to do more laps around the yard. At 2:30 a.m. she wanted me to play catch with her, barking at me until I played along. 3:30, 4:30, 5:30 a.m. this went on. She wanted to play and couldn't understand why I wanted to sleep. Finally at 7:30 a.m. she had tired herself out, just in time for when I had to get up and start my day. Marley's certainly training me for when Eric and I decide to have kids. And even though I was quite angry with her most of Saturday, she more than made up for it on Sunday. She stuck by my side as I cleaned and cuddled with me when I had finished. It's days like that, that I am reminded just how lucky I am that fate brought us together.
We arrived in Erie on Saturday, May 21 and fell in love with our girl right away. She came running up to me when we first arrived and literally jumped into my lap as if to say "I'm ready, take me home." After chatting with the breeder for a little while we were set to head for home. She was such a good girl the entire two hour ride back to our house. She slept most of the way by cuddling up next to me. We at first gave her the name Bailey, but as she quickly showed her mischievous side, we had to change it to Marley. Plus, she has the most adorable black beard that resembled the famous locks of Bob Marley, so her name was changed to match both her appearance and personality.
For the first two weeks we tried to crate her at night, but after the 14th day I decided I needed some sleep and allowed her to lay in bed with us for "just one night." She now nestles in between us every night with her head between our pillows and her paws in Eric's back. I am pretty sure that one of these days she will succeed at kicking him off the bed - she's expected to grow to more than 75 lbs, so really, it's only a matter of time.
We've had our good and bad days, but she's very smart and curious. She has a thing for rocks, which drives me crazy because I'm afraid she might swallow one. She literally taunts me by sticking the edge of the rock out of her mouth and then sucks it back in as if to say "nah, nah, nah, nah, nah you can't get me." My neighbor thinks it's a riot. I am not so easily amused.
She also LOVES my shoes, the more comfortable the better. My black ballet flats that just recently got so that they were perfectly molded to my feet - shredded. My brown flip flops, then my white flip flops - ripped apart and even partly digested. My black heels that I wear to EVERY wedding have teeth marks all over them, now thrown away. No matter how well they are hidden, secured and blocked off, my little Marley finds a way to get her paws on them. She waits patiently until just the right moment to sink her teeth into them - as soon as I fall asleep on the couch, hop in the shower or get on my phone - that's when she strikes. She's one smart puppy alright, but she's my puppy and I love her nonetheless.
This past weekend, Eric and I went to a friend's house to practice for Beer Olympics, an annual event going on its 5th year. We were gone from 7-11 p.m., which was just enough time for Marley to sleep cozily in her crate until we got home, then she was ready to party. We took her to bed, but at 12:30 a.m. she barked to go outside. Not because she had to go to the bathroom, rather to do laps. At 1:30 a.m. she decided she needed to do more laps around the yard. At 2:30 a.m. she wanted me to play catch with her, barking at me until I played along. 3:30, 4:30, 5:30 a.m. this went on. She wanted to play and couldn't understand why I wanted to sleep. Finally at 7:30 a.m. she had tired herself out, just in time for when I had to get up and start my day. Marley's certainly training me for when Eric and I decide to have kids. And even though I was quite angry with her most of Saturday, she more than made up for it on Sunday. She stuck by my side as I cleaned and cuddled with me when I had finished. It's days like that, that I am reminded just how lucky I am that fate brought us together.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Getting started!
This is my first blog post ever. I hope you find my life as interesting and comical as my family does. My grandmother often tells me that I should write a book, but I am unsure if I really do encounter amusing situations or if my grandmother is just humoring me. I guess this is a great way to find out if people would enjoy the stories of my life. Let me know what you think!
My husband and I purchased a home in Depew almost two years ago, 9 months before our wedding. I, being a good Catholic girl, did not move in until after our nuptials, but Eric moved in shortly after we closed on the house.
Prior to finding our dream home, we dragged our realtor to more than 100 houses in search of the place where we wanted to settle down and raise a family. It became a running joke that we would fall in love with a house where someone was murdered or died unnaturally. Little did we know, our joke was actually a psychic revelation.
After we placed our offer and it was accepted, it was told to us that the man's wife had passed away two years prior to us purchasing the home. We were so tired of looking at homes that we decided it did not bother us that the woman had passed away there, after all, she technically died in the ambulance right? As more information became available to us, we learned that there was very bad karma in this house due to several visits from police for domestic episodes. In truth, the woman's death was initially investigated as a homicide and she did not die in the ambulance, rather she died in the family room.
Undeterred, my husband and I tore down wall paper, began painting over walls and shopped for our much-needed furniture. Once Eric settled in, our first "encounter" occurred. I met Eric after work one day at our new house so that Eric could test out his incredible cooking skills (no lie, I've gained about 15 lbs since our wedding because he is such an amazing chef). Anyway, he asked me to go to our pantry and grab the lemon juice that he just purchased earlier that day. I went to look for it, but could not find it anywhere in the pantry which only had about 10 items in it. I took everything out and was convinced that he simply forgot to purchase it. We finished our meal, without the lemon juice, and I started to put the food away. As I opened the pantry door, there sat the lemon juice right on the middle shelf - the only item left in the pantry.
This is not the only visit we have had from "Maryann," our ghost and roommate that we don't speak of while we are at home. She turns on lights, opens closed doors and moves items off of our shelves. A few months ago, we learned that she also haunted her husband my blowing the lid off of her urn several times. So much so, that he duct taped the lid shut and told my neighbor that if she sees an urn being chucked in the woods, you know she blew the lid off again. I guess that explains why our low-ball bid was accepted with such enthusiasm.
And so our life together began - Eric, myself and "Maryann" - the other woman in our life.
My husband and I purchased a home in Depew almost two years ago, 9 months before our wedding. I, being a good Catholic girl, did not move in until after our nuptials, but Eric moved in shortly after we closed on the house.
Prior to finding our dream home, we dragged our realtor to more than 100 houses in search of the place where we wanted to settle down and raise a family. It became a running joke that we would fall in love with a house where someone was murdered or died unnaturally. Little did we know, our joke was actually a psychic revelation.
After we placed our offer and it was accepted, it was told to us that the man's wife had passed away two years prior to us purchasing the home. We were so tired of looking at homes that we decided it did not bother us that the woman had passed away there, after all, she technically died in the ambulance right? As more information became available to us, we learned that there was very bad karma in this house due to several visits from police for domestic episodes. In truth, the woman's death was initially investigated as a homicide and she did not die in the ambulance, rather she died in the family room.
Undeterred, my husband and I tore down wall paper, began painting over walls and shopped for our much-needed furniture. Once Eric settled in, our first "encounter" occurred. I met Eric after work one day at our new house so that Eric could test out his incredible cooking skills (no lie, I've gained about 15 lbs since our wedding because he is such an amazing chef). Anyway, he asked me to go to our pantry and grab the lemon juice that he just purchased earlier that day. I went to look for it, but could not find it anywhere in the pantry which only had about 10 items in it. I took everything out and was convinced that he simply forgot to purchase it. We finished our meal, without the lemon juice, and I started to put the food away. As I opened the pantry door, there sat the lemon juice right on the middle shelf - the only item left in the pantry.
This is not the only visit we have had from "Maryann," our ghost and roommate that we don't speak of while we are at home. She turns on lights, opens closed doors and moves items off of our shelves. A few months ago, we learned that she also haunted her husband my blowing the lid off of her urn several times. So much so, that he duct taped the lid shut and told my neighbor that if she sees an urn being chucked in the woods, you know she blew the lid off again. I guess that explains why our low-ball bid was accepted with such enthusiasm.
And so our life together began - Eric, myself and "Maryann" - the other woman in our life.
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