This dog is such an ass sometimes. This isn't any secret to anyone who has met him or has met me or reads this blog. It's just that I never run out of new examples of why he is so terrible.
The other night I am looking for him so we can go to bed. I keep walking up and down the hallway, calling his name. He isn't coming and I don't see him on his usual perches:
- the guest bed
- Roxy's bed
- the dog bed downstairs
Then I happen to look down as I am walking back through the hallway for the 12th time and see him like this:
Yup. He's laying in the laundry basket. On my clothes. (They were dirty.) This same dog is TERRIFIED of the laundry basket when it's empty. But then it's not soft. It's understandable.
Empty laundry basket = cage of terrifying mutilation death.
Full laundry basket = soft fluffy bed humans placed for me in the hallway.
I wasn't as annoyed with him sleeping on my clothes as I was at his refusal to respond to my calls to him. It was as if he knew he wasn't supposed to be there so he tried to camouflage: "Please don't find me. Don't find me!"
And that face he is making right there? It's the oh-man-I-am-so-sorry-but-not-really-at-all face. He doesn't give one crap about whether we are mad at him. He would prefer I just walk away and let him be. Which I didn't. I beat him.
I started Weight Watchers. Not because I do New Year's resolutions. Because I don't do those. Usually my resolution is to not have a resolution. Just like I give up Lent for Lent.
I started this because I noticed over the holidays that I looked pregnant. Without being pregnant. Typically if your belly looks like there is a small human in it, you want there to actually BE a small human in it. And I know I can just eat less. But if it was up to me alone, that wouldn't happen. I love food too much. And I like rewarding myself. I think I just reward myself too much. (But can you blame me? I kind of deserve it.)
Weight Watchers has you track points and with all of the apps available, it's actually pretty easy. When you are hungry, you are supposed to fill yourself up with fruits and veggies. I like fruits and veggies so this really isn't a big deal. I would rather fill myself up with cookies and brownies, but then that defeats the purpose. There is something that comes with it that no one talks about though. And I know this can't JUST be me. All that fruit and veggie eating is, well, um, cleansing.
I signed up for the program that has you go to meetings. The theory there was that I would feel gentle pressure to make sure I stick to the points so that my weight actually changes from week to week. If I get good at keeping to it, I'll cut the umbilical cord.
My first meeting was last night. Guys, I had to resist the urge to film it. It was... interesting. Have you ever seen Little Miss Sunshine? If not, you need to because it is amazing. The meeting leader or whatever sounded like Richard Hoover (the dad) from the movie. The best way to draw this picture for you is to put some quotes below from the movie, which were almost exactly the kinds of things they say at these meetings:
"There's two kinds of people in this world, there's winners and there's losers. Okay, you know what the difference is? Winners don't give up. "
"Sarcasm is the refuge of losers. "
"Inside each and every one of you, at the very core of your being is a winner, waiting to be awakened and unleashed upon the world….go out and make your dreams come true."
"No hesitating, no complaining and no excuses. I want you to go out into the world and I want you to be winners."
Here is a video I found. These people totally drank the Kool-Aid:
^That's the kind of shit they say there. I'm all for positivity (haha!) and encouragement, but it was pretty surreal. They wanted me to stay even longer since I was new but I left after about 20 minutes. I just want to weigh in and go people. Your propaganda and indoctrination seminars are not something I am interested in.
Anyone else go to those meetings and feel the same?
I’m not one for holiday letters. This is evidenced by the fact that I have only written one other holiday letter ever. This is because generally they aren’t all that exciting. (I think if we were honest with ourselves, we would agree. Am I right?) If you have written a letter and mailed it to me or plan to do so, don’t worry! I will read it. And I will be glad to learn about what is happening in your life. And generally they are all cute and very peppy. <--Those are good things to be during this season!
Here are the highlights for us. (Keep reading. I tried to make it funny. Plus I added pictures!)
Last year we bought a house. Buying a house is a terrible experience in itself (as every homeowner can attest to), but we LOVE the house. Win!We have been spending time doing things to the house, including changing the front yard, redoing the guest bath and bedroom, and general decorating. We have learned all about the benefits of owning tools, specifically tape measures and levels. Whether or not we use them every time is an entirely different story.
Roxy tried to make friends with the dog next door and failed miserably. This did not come as a surprise. (Crazy Dog was not invited to partake in the friendship making. I can’t blame them.) So in lieu of playing with friends, she busied herself helping with the decorating and painting that has been our life this past year. She’s REALLY excellent at holding down drop cloths.
Evidence:
Crazy Dog has managed to successfully look adorable for another year, yet still make our lives miserable. So it was a productive year for him. He also discovered he was totally cool with lounging in dirt if that dirt was from his very own yard.
More evidence:
Breanne abandoned her old career to pursue college counseling. She joined the staff at Collegewise in June, a group of unbelievably funny and talented people (and we aren’t adding that in because they are receiving this letter…. well, not entirely anyway) and she received her certificate of college counseling from UC San Diego this December.
Oh! And we bought a horse. Breanne turned 30 this year and figured what the hell? She’s wanted one her whole life anyway. Her name is Sassy and she’s cuter than the dogs even. Since we ran out of room, we will end there. (Not so painful, right?)We love you all dearly and wish you the best for the holidays.
That fully sounds like a cute children's story. Hmmm... COPYRIGHTED.
There is a dog named Charlotte that lives next to the barn where my horse is boarded. That's not the intro to a story - that's real. She is pretty much amazing. And SUPER cute.
Just look at her:
RIDICULOUS.
She is a shepherd mix of some kind. The mom was a shepherd at least. She is probably 45 pounds. And, obviously, adorable.
She needs a home. :(
The people who have her can't take care of her. They have three other dogs already. She sleeps outside and LOVES people. In fact, she might love people more than anything else. I go up to the barn around 6am on week days and she always waits at the bottom of the hill for me when I pull up and runs the length of the fence up to the top as I walk up. Then comes running over to greet me.
The current owners are nice people, but just don't have time for her. They have said she can go to a good home. For example, she got a cut on her leg and they duct taped it. Please help her.
She is playful, but doesn't seem to want to play rough at all. I am not sure if she was scolded over that or not, but either way her play is really mellow.
I have no idea if she is house trained or not. She is less than a year old. She is fine with all people and other dogs. I filmed her with the cat that rules our barn, and even then she is pretty awesome. She REALLY wants to play with Rascal (the cat), but is totally submissive to the cat and will show her belly to her all the time.
And here she is just hanging with me, laying on her back, for no good reason except that SHE IS AWESOME.
Her vices: - If you have chickens, she will probably chase them. - If you have horse poop laying around, she will probably eat it.
If you don't have those issues and want a seriously awesome dog, she's it. Call, text or email me. I want to find her a good home.
Here she is laying as close as she can to me while I stood in the arena:
I want her but since I have terrible animals, I can't have her.
I tried to convince my partner to kill Crazy Dog so I can have her. Haha! Just kidding! I would probably never do that.
Seriously. Contact me. I will find a way to get her to you.
Because I sure as hell am not beating myself up over not posting a third time. Enough already! This trip was supposed to be enjoyable and now it just haunts me.
So I am combining Munich and Berlin into one post and calling it my Germany Post. The last one was my France Post. See? A trend.
After the few days in Paris, I wasn't ready to leave, though I am not sure many people would say they were. Unless you were my partner, who would then make some dumb joke about the French surrendering and hop on the first train out. Who am I kidding? He wouldn't even go there in the first place. This is why I needed a buddy.
So Munich.
I loved it. I didn't know that I would love it so much. It might have been that the first day there we rode bikes all over the city and drank beer in a beer garden, but then again I wouldn't have wanted to ride bikes in Paris. Or in Berlin for that matter, which we were originally planning to do. It would be like doing a bike tour in downtown LA. With traffic. Or better yet, a bike tour of the 405 freeway. On CARMAGEDDON! Just kidding. We all know THAT was way overblown.
So bikes.
We rode these little bikes with bells on them and stopped at major tourist spots to get the Cliff's Notes version from Mike's Bike Tours. The bikes had little baskets and everyone got a Schnauzer puppy at the end. Well, not that last part but if I ever open a bike tour in Germany I will totally do that.
Before we got into Munich though there was the train. The overnight train that was cute and had fluffy duvets and even came with individual champagne bottles for each of us. I was thinking, finally I will get some sleep. HAHAHAHAHA.
The train stopped somewhere every 30 minutes which meant I woke up every 30 minutes from rolling from one side of the bed to the other. So while the comforters were impossibly fluffy, the train was terrible for sleeping. But hell, I thought, I can deal. Holy Moses, I CAN NOT deal. When we got to Munich I told Jen I felt like I was on a boat. Even while standing still. And I get seasick people. It was kind of overall shitty.
But then! Then we rode these glorious bikes and I wore my jaunty Paris scarf, and I drank some delightful beer and ate what I will now refer to as "The Most Wonderful Cheese-y Garlic-Y Dip Thing Ever." And then I felt okay. Well, until a few hours later. Actually until I landed in LAX to be honest. I felt like I was on a boat for about 6 days. THIS IS NOT PLEASANT.
There is so much history in Munich, being that it is pretty much the beginning of the Third Reich and Hitler. We saw Dodger's Alley and other historic places.
My favorite place in Munich was the entire city, but aside from that, it was the English Garden. People were playing with dogs, strolling, biking, RIDING HORSES, and nakedly sunbathing. It was like living in a Disney movie, but with nudists. So, basically, awesome.
In that garden, at the edge, is a place where people river surf. No. Really.
In between all that Disney-like fun, there was Dachau. I know, right? Sorry to ruin your day. I don't even know if I can properly write about it. So I will leave you with one of the images that will be in my mind forever:
Oh, and for more levity, I bought a legit dirndl (but cut the skirt shorter) when I was there and I wore it just last week for Halloween:
And on our last night there, I cried. Not really. But on that last night we ate at the oldest restaurant in town and flirted with a much older businessman who bought us wine in return for the company. When we were there, I asked the waiter if he could speak english (in German) and he said "a little" so then I asked him if he could speak French (in French) and he shook his head like, no way! It was important because I wanted to know what something was on the menu. He then said, in English, "I think you call it Leopard."
Um....
Jen and I looked at each other and said, "No. No I don't think that's right."
Turns out he meant rabbit because he was thinking "lapin" which is rabbit in French.
So I ate that. The rest of my Munich photos are here.
Then we went to Berlin, where I liked the city the least of all three cities. But that didn't mean I didn't enjoy it or even love it. Because I did. But it didn't make heart beat faster and my lungs fill fuller with air like Paris did, and it didn't make me feel giddy and full of Bavarian good cheer like Munich did.
The history there is palpable. And the dichotomy of seeing several-hundred-year-old buildings next to a building that was demolished just short of 100 years ago, was in a different way... breathtaking. But sad. Yet Berliners are hopeful, pleasant people, for the most part. Berlin has more of a Parisian air than Munich does, but it lacks the romance. Germans are RULE FOLLOWERS. In fact, they would never write that in all caps, because it sounds like yelling. WHICH IS AGAINST THE RULES.
Main rule they follow, though we never learned why: Put your goddamn back pack in front of you when in a museum.
No idea. They were VERY insistent on this.
I think I found the history of the DDR fascinating here. I was rapt in museums like Checkpoint Charlie and the DDR museum. It's tough to describe. Here are some photos:
And here is a recording (the audio is what's important) from inside a bomb shelter of the bombing above in the city:
I have a hatred for hedges. Look, if I wanted to live in an office park, I just would.
So I have been methodically murdering all of ours from the front yard, much to my partner's horror.
I have only one row of them left and they are against a stone wall, so for now they will stay.
Here is the newest planter I did today: Those are grasses and then a Salvia on the left and Sea Lavender on the right, plus some annuals (Marigold) to add some color, even though I don't believe in planting annuals in general.
Here is the top planter (Halloween decor and all): There are Papyrus plants flanking the archway, and I love these because they are all prehistoric looking. And then there are some grasses and succulents to add some color. And the pumpkin face. I have solar uplighting on the Papyrus so at night they get to be all show-offy.
And here is the whole thing:
I am liking it! The colors work well I think. Hopefully I can keep it all alive. God bless sprinklers.
I kind of hate this time of year. And also love it. I am so damn conflicted. I am excited that it is fall, and, therefore, HALLOWEEN! AND THANKSGIVING! AND THEN HOLY CRAP CHRISTMAS!
But. I hate that September also brings with it this fickle, and terrible, weather. It's very much like an abusive boyfriend. <--I can say this statement because I've had one. It's the same. Almost. Really close.
I wake up in the morning and it's all cold and freezing and I am like, I will wear boots! And a sweater maybe! Or at least just boots! And then by noon, I am sweating like it's the deep south (that is NOT a euphemism). WTF California? And I should be used to this since I have experienced it almost every year for <cough> 30 <cough> years. There that boyfriend goes: hitting me again. I shouldn't expect anything else.
You know what else happens this time of year? (Now that we own a house)
Western Exterminator pays a visit. And soaks our yard with so much poison. DEATH TO CRAWLIES! (flips hair) Gawd, they use organic inside. Sheesh.
I really do not know what it is but our house always has spiders. And not just this house. All the ones we've lived in. There is obviously a common denominator: spiders are assholes.
But no really it's because we have dogs. And we leave windows open a lot and screen doors ajar for them to go in and out.
Last week we had the yard and house sufficiently soaked with poison to end the spider camp outs we disrupt when we go to bed... BECAUSE THEY ARE IN OUR BED.
For some reason we have yet to figure out, our house had an infestation of flies this past month. Like not 5 or 6, but very seriously like 12 at a time flying around. We would no sooner kill them when 6 more would pop up. I started glaring extra hard at the dogs to make sure they weren't pooping and hiding it.
So I thought, Ah ha! I know a solution! I will get those bag traps we use at the barn! They catch MILLIONS of flies! Except what I never realized is that those bags? How they catch flies? It's this bait in there that smells like 2,500 rotting carcasses all in one spot. I hung a bag from our stairs and within 45 minutes I was stopping my gag reflex any time I was on our first floor.
It. Was. Disgusting.
You know who loved it?
The dogs.
This is them: OMG THERE IS SOMETHING SO YUMMYGROSS OVER HERE!
Crazy Dog was standing on his feet, doing dances underneath the bag, sniffing the air as if the air was filled with truffles (Truffles are amazing. Stop).
Once Roxy got wind of it (literally), she then decided to be pissed any time Crazy Dog even looked in the direction of the stairs, where the bag was hanging.
If that animal so much as even shifted his body weight, Roxy was throwing him glares and snarly faces.
OVER ROTTEN FLY BAIT.
Why are my animals so stupid?
Even if it wasn't about to cause a dog fight and therefore spill blood all over my nice hardwood floors (and let's be honest, half the time I get worried about them fighting it's because I have no idea if blood will come out of our carpet/wood floors), it still smelled like sh!t.
So I moved it outside to hang under a tree. I figured if I already opened the package I might as well use it.
I am sure people are tired of all the 10-year anniversary stuff you’ve been fed all weekend. But I felt reflective these past 48 hours and I felt like sharing. This is why I have a blog after all.
I was sitting in my Poetry class the fall of my junior year with Professor Reiss – who was an ass, by the way, and probably the worst professor I have ever had, for varying reasons – and as the class filled up, one of the students walked in and, sort of in disbelief, said, “Um, a plane just hit the Pentagon.” And then we stared at him. And someone asked him if he was for real, and he said, “Yeah. My dad works there.” And we sat dumbfounded yet again.
I wish I could say that Reiss let us out early or that we all ran to a TV to see what was happening but remember what I just said about him above? That whole being an ass thing? Right.
I think we didn’t totally comprehend it anyway. I think we were thinking, hmm a plane hit the building. Weird. Probably some damage.
Little did we know.
After class, I heard a buzz building throughout the halls and realized there were other buildings hit. I booked it over to Shiver Center, where I stood with other students in utter silence as we watched the videos of the towers falling in New York. I don’t remember hearing anything. I just remember seeing it play over and over again. And looking at the students next to me and we all just had blank faces. It was incomprehensible. Some were crying. Most were just struck.
I am pretty sure I skipped the rest of my classes that day since I ended up in my dorm room in Tappan Hall, comforting freshman in my hall (I was the RA). They had just started college in this foreign town with all of these new people and then their world was turned upside down. It was particularly tumultuous for them, I think. And especially for one of my students, who was from New York City.
The rest of the evening is a blur. I am sure I talked with many people and shared many comments of horror and disbelief. I am also sure that I spent time with my boyfriend trying to make sense of it all. I am sure I spoke with my parents on the West Coast. I know I worried about an attack on LA. People were saying that city was next. I then became worried for my own city and hometown friends.
In the days that followed I was both moved to tears, full of pride, and conversely, horrified and angered.
Miami (my alma mater) put up a makeshift paper wall in the Shriver Center for people to express their thoughts. Mostly there were prayers and voices of encouragement on that paper, written in sharpies. But there was also hatred expressed.
The fall of 2001 was only a few months before I was going to be moving to Europe to study abroad. The fallout from this event in New York was to have consequences and impressions on my life for the entire time I lived abroad. But that first week after the attacks was when I first realized the hatred man carries for others.
I remember hearing about an Arab student getting beat on our college campus. Because they were Arab. Because I am SURE they planned those attacks. It was as if the anger was so full, so pronounced and red and hot, that those white students boiled over and the first brown person they saw received the brunt of that white-hot hatred.
I hated people that day.
But the people I hated were Americans. I was more angry at those students and the students saying racial slurs than I was at the hijackers. The hate that spurred those pilots to do what they did, while not excusable, is sad to me. It is something I can accept as a casualty of influence and of terror on their own part. Never excusable.
But the hate that came from those privileged white students was worse in my mind. Or at least on the very same level. Hate begat hate.
When I moved to Luxembourg a few months later I was warned that it was a dangerous time for Americans abroad. I decided to tell people I was Canadian. For two reasons. One, for safety and two, because it redirected hateful comments from Europeans. There was a lot of hatred and anger toward Americans, let me assure you.
There was a feeling that Americans deserved the attacks, because of our meddling past and present. I can’t 100% say I don’t agree to some extent. I sat in a train on one trip and listened silently while a woman lectured me on American foreign policy for close to the entire three-hour trip it takes to get from Luxembourg City to Paris. And she had some very valid points. She was very resentful. I don’t blame her.
On the flip side, I had a resident in Nice, France, come up to me and tell me that, “the USA is in my heart always. You are in my heart!” And that was pretty amazing. But I was still an ex-pat walking around in a fog of paranoia. At a store in France I saw a person leave a black duffle bag next to a shelf and walk away. I told the security guard. I was afraid it was a bomb.
Distrust hasn’t completely left my system yet, but compassion never, EVER did. It left others though. My compassion extended, and still extends, to all those Muslim-Americans who felt and still feel the wrath of Americans and others. I have felt that wrath. I have turned the mirror on my own country and seen it for better or for worse. And there is better for sure. But there is a lot of worse. That black part of our psyche as a country is what fuels my bitterness and frustration at ignorance.
Because someone is Muslim doesn’t mean they want to blow up towers. And when politicians add to the hate, it’s despicable.
So yes, I am still affected 10 years later. I think this country was sent into a tailspin of fear and fear mongering after 9/11/2001. It’s still evident.
I still hate people sometimes. But I do remember the vigils and the speeches and beautiful parts that came from this tragedy. And that part still exists today.
So I volunteer for Hanaeleh Horse Rescue. My horse is boarded at their facility and the people who run the rescue are just amazing.
Check out the web site to see some of the stories about the horses saved through Hanaeleh.
The rescue is doing an event at OC Fairgrounds on November 6th and it will include jousting and a silent auction
So a few things.
1. If you would like to buy tickets to the event (proceeds help the rescue, plus there is awesome jousting), the price is $20 each and you can call 949.842.7408 to order those.
2. SILENT AUCTION. So I have been begging and pleading with businesses in the area to give me free stuff for the silent auction. It has been only mildly successful. I need to say thank you to the Lake Forest Home Depot, Roman Cucina, the Laguna Hills Outback, and Boot Barn for chipping in with items. BUT IT'S NOT ENOUGH!
So, savvy friends, here is where my brilliant plan comes in. If you can donate even $5 or $10 to me directly, I will use the money amassed to buy items for auction. The more money, the better, because then I can buy cooler things.
HOW TO DONATE (to me, but really to the rescue in the long run): - Paypal me at breanneboyle@hotmail.com and put a note that says horse donation or something so I know. (not that I get random payments anyway) - Or email my personal email (NOT hotmail): breeboyle__at__gmail.com and I can send you my address if you want to send a check. - Or text me at 949.three five five. 5099 and I can send you the address like above.
I completed the guest bedroom, albeit without hard flooring. But that is because I took a new job, which is AMAZING (and I not just saying that because my boss linked to my blog in his own blog), but it also means I don't have the same budget as before. No worries. We don't need laminate or hard wood floors to live. For now.
Here is the post I wrote about that shows my initial pieces that inspired me.
I painted the walls gray, though actually they look like a slate blue, which I am not entirely happy about, but since the color is pretty anyway, and I don't want to repaint it, it will stay as is.
My partner helped:
Oh. And so did Roxy:
In fact, she basically feels the need to be next to me at all times, so she needed to lay on the drop cloth every where I moved it. Which, needless to say, did not help my painting AT ALL.
And without further ado, here is the end result for now (I may do some more tweaking but we will see). (Also, the really dark pillow is actually just purple but it doesn't register well in the photo.).
Bed (and those hot pink vintage candleabras):
The hat rack with vintage hats and my scarf from Paris:
The little nightstand I repainted, plus a hot pink lamp and vintage books (oh, and an appearance by the inspiration item of the teacup pin cushion. and the knob came from Anthropologie):
And the vanity/craft dresser that is originally from my bed set as a kid (mercury glass knobs from Anthropologie):
And a close-up of the items on that wall:
Whew! Now I have no excuse to not be starting the painting in the master bedroom. I am dreading it because it's a larger room and has vaulted ceilings. (crying)
