And that's when I snapped . . . .

That dog up there, that dog is my dog. His name is Henry, he's a rottweiler. He came fully trained and full of love. I loved him back. Everyone loves Henry. He is a good dog. No, wait . . . he is the best dog.

About a year ago he developed a limp. It came and went. We did nothing, no vet trips. We blamed it on not walking him so much after the second baby. Then the limp grew undeniable and off to the vet he went. We got the news about 2 months ago. Cancer is growing from the inside of his left front leg. Right about the time I moved up here.

Henry stayed behind with my husband. Thus, I haven't seen him much, except on weekends. This weekend Henry moved up for good. I wasn't really prepared for it. Denial is a comfy place. I was forced to leave it as I watched Henry this weekend, all boney, Limp, limp, limpy. Big fatty turmor globbed on the leg.

Then I had to deal with getting his pain meds.

Stupid vet from two hours away, stupid petmeds.com, stupid stupid stupid. Then I took matters into my own hands, came up with a plan. I told Mr. Hall about it, whilst getting my oil changed. It was a quick-e-lube. My windows were rolled up because of the smells. The oil change guys were giving me hand signals to pop the hood. I was on my cell phone.

"I've made an appointment to get him established here so I don't have call and frick around with getting his meds."

Mr. Hall said, "Wait, just have the vet fax the prescription up there or try again with petmeds . . . "


And that's when I snapped.


I just started yelling and sobbing at my husband. Big fat tears popping down my cheeks. "DAMMIT, look!!! This is where we will help him, this is where it's going to happen!!!" Big heaving sobs.

I try to pull it together when I noticed both of the teenagers, all dark blue coveralls, standing there with a clip board, staring at me, looking helpless . . . um, ma'am, do you want the car wash with that? . . . .

I pulled it together and finished the job. Just like I will in a few months.

Mr. Hall and I have since talked. He didn't understand that I was just getting Henry established so he can get the care he needs. He thought I was getting a second opinion, getting a bunch of tests or something. Which we are not. I mean, at this point,

our goal .


is to keep him.


comfortable.

It sucks writing that. Sucks. Sucks. Sucks.

But if I write this here, I can begin to help myself not have freak outs whilst getting my oil changed. And that picture up there, that picture cheers me like no other.

I hope the picture cheers you too.

O... and the girl? Yeah, I am not sure who she is, but she keeps calling me Momma :)

Henry Hall, beloved family pooch, passed away today

Thank you for clicking on this post and thank you for reading it. It is still fresh, what happened, but I will do my best here to explain.

Henry Hall, Best.Dog.Ever., passed this afternoon.

It was a good death, as death goes. I was holding him while he passed. And for this I am eternally grateful. I have a few things going for me in this regard, being able to help my dog on his way out, I am a Mom, a Nurse and a HIS HUMAN. I am so thankful I could lead him on the way out, like I had lead him on so many walks.

It was really sudden and really out of the blue, his death. I was not expecting it today. When I let him outside to do his 3 oclock business, he took about three steps out the door and promptly layed down. His breathing got all puffy and labored.

I stroked his head, listened to his breathing change and well, stroked his head and told him it was ok, everything was fine, he was alright, he was ok. And I massaged his ears and jowls. His pupils blew. I prayed to God. I said, God, please take Henry so he won't feel anymore pain, let him pass peacefully. I thanked God for sending us Henry, because he was the best dog, he loved us and we loved him. He made our family so much richer, we are a better family for having had him in our lives. I thanked God for this too.

And so passed on my lap, out in the warm spring sun, in the back yard. It was perfect. I am so humbled by it. And I feel so blessed to have been there, to be able to help him. To be witness.

Because death, like birth, is a miracle.

So let's raise a glass this weekend, to the mighty and gentle Henry Hall, may he be slobbering all over the other doggies in the great dog park in the sky.

Next week, you get more pictures of the mighty and gentle Henry Hall. Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel like i've been run over by a truck. I'm off to weep and sob, all snot bubble ugly cry and feel sad. It's a good sad though, thankful sad even. :) Take care all.

Old bastards and yippie dogs that I'll miss the most

Dang, if it just didn't make noise, it'd sooo be my next dog

Our next door neighbors, eh hem, soon to be ex next door neighbors, are old bastards. Old, retired, married couple bastards in their mid to late sixties. But, old bastards nonetheless.

They are living the good life, she sells Avon for pin money. He does country and western gigs at local bars. They have two of the yippiest dogs I have ever known. The dogettes go crazy when the kids get near them. All twitchy spastic, manic yip yip yip, and furiously licking at their tiny hands through the waist high, chain link fence. Yip yip yip . . .

They absolutely luuurved Henry. Fed him treats over the fence. Henry was ever the gentleman. Always well behaved, did tricks too. He never barked at the tiny dogs, just took it all in. The old bastards bought him a treat jar last Christmas. It was in the shape of a Rottweiler. They really did love Henry.

Mr. Hall sent me a message today. They are having a yard sale for the next few days. What is left of our furniture is going into that yard sale, it'll run from Thursday through Saturday. If you want what is left of my college apartment furniture, better hurry.

Especially since a ton of old bastards in big tan Cadillacs began to arrive at 7.00 this am. Even though the sale is going on for four days, old bastards in big tan Cadillacs gotta get their yard sale on. And clogg up the feng shui of our cul de sac.

Soon to be ex cul de sac, I mean.

I will miss them. And their old bastard rummage sales. I will miss the yippiest dogs I have ever known.

I have made a decision though. I need to self nurture here. Stop living over there so much.

Have something to do besides kids, work, kids, intense happy YAY!! Mr. Hall is here!!, sad soooo sad, walking funny, sad Mr. Hall gone, work, kids, work, kids, intense . . . . .

This painting is called,"Woman holding a balance" Ya'll get the metaphor of the painting in relation to the content of this here post now, doncha? :)

So, for once a month, I have made something for me to do.

I am going to join a local club.

I called to inquire about it. Because there was no email listed on the web site.

Ring Ring

"Elllo, this is Klouten rezidense"

"Um, Hello, My name is Holly Hall and I am calling to find out more information about the writer's club out of [the town I live in]. My husband and I are moving up to the area, so I am new here."

When I get nervous I lie. It's like a very bad tick. Bad because I SUCK at lying.

"Es, veddi goot, es see Twosdai, edder month"

"I'm sorry, um is this Kurt? Did I reach the writer's club. . .? "

"Ooof! Sorry ma'am, mien Austrian accent is veddi thick, I speak slower k?"


Old bastards on the phone is fun.

I know he was an old bastard because this was 10 am on a Tuesday. And he picked up by saying 'this is the Klouten residence.' This is old bastard manners.

"Mrs. Hall

[GOD I LOVE WHEN PEOPLE CALL ME THIS!!!! old bastard manners rock!]

"Mrs. Hall, vhat do u write?"

Long pause. I think. Then, I think some more.

I mean, seriously, what do I write?

"Um, just about anything." Long pause.

I hear him kind of chuckle.

Then I said, after searching for someway to explain what the hell I am doing-

"I have a blog."

He said, " Un Blug? Blouck?"

"Yes, a blog, um, do you know what a blog is?"

He said yes. But, I doubt it. Old bastard on the phone.

So, once a month, on the first Tuesday, I will be rejoining the human race by going to a writer's club. I've been part of 3 or 4 writer's clubs in my wee life. It is fun, kind of like this blog circle, only in real life.I have seen the pictures of their meetings. And much like this group here. . . . . . . well . . . . .

I will be one of the younger members. Heck, I think Earl is the oldest at 52. The youngest member here is Caz I think. Well, she is definitely the most pregnant. Seriously, you must visit Spacebook, it is all sorts of crazy busting out love! But, again, to quote another blogger, I'm about 12 in grown up years.

But, this is a start, just me, getting the fuck out of the crazy house, stretching my creative wings. Hopefully there will be booze.

So now, let's not get ourselves all whipped up in a shy frenzy, let's remember to smile and beam positive energy.

Let's not get all worked up being around real writers in the real world. Or get all worked up about thee fact that old bastards have had more time to hone their craft. Let's not be scared about this, after all, I've got some skills.

In fact,

Let's not be scared of anything.

And let's go further. Do more stuff I like to do. I see myself going back to yoga class, maybe volunteer, maybe bible study again.

Yes I know, this life I lead, this life is party central :)

But it'll have to wait until I move back into my own house.

Soon though, soon. :)

In Praise of Chihuahuas and Honeywine

Hello All! How was your turkey day?

My little SIL, who's such a cutie herself, has two chihuahuas. They aren't purebreds so they lack that ridiculous shaking thing that pure chihuahuas do. We went to the dog park and they were so adorable, zipping around, chasing each other. Nipping at each other's heels. Barking like crazy at the big dogs.

Sigh. There were a few dogs there that were big. They came upon me all humungo doggy like. Leaned into my legs. They were rotties. Big, black rottweilers. I found myself weeping a bit. I miss my Henry. I didn't realize that going to the dog park would unfurl such feelings. So I petted them and leaned back while the tiny chihuahuas went all spastic crazy. Yippily barking while the big dogs stood silent, taking it all in.

hold on, gonna cry a bit here. I love Henry. Even though he's passed on, my love remains. As we unpack all our stuff I find bits and pieces of him. Stray collars, his winter dog bed, a leash I tried out. Then there is his huge kennel that we never really needed. We'll put it on Craig's list soon. hold on . . . I'm having hard time here, give me a minute.

sigh . . wiping a few tears . . big deep, cleansing breath, and ok, that's better . . i'm ok now . . ;)



Let's turn this around eh?

So the tiny dogs were fun. Just the right size for my kids to chase, pet and get lovins from. They practiced being gentle and petting softly. Mac kept trying to get them to play trains with him. He would hold up a wooden caboose and say, "Here puppy, you chew on this." Or he would say, "You can push it with your tail!" Watching him warm to the dogs was awesome.

The wee doggies really helped me yesterday. It was a wonderful Thanksgiving with lots of merriment. And honey wine. Good lord! Whoever put together honey with wine is a genius. One of the guests yesterday was from Ethopia. So really, the honeywine was from Ethopia. It was like nectar. Nectar from the Gods!



It was so good, I wasn't really paying attention and had three glasses. I am a lightweight. It was nice being sauced. But, then it was 9.30 and I was still tipsy. And I still had to drive two hours to get home. So I didn't.

I slept on my SIL's floor with the puppies. The chihuahuas were aggressive snugglers. I like to sleep on my right side, spooning a body pillow. They snuggled in the crook behind my knees. It was so comforting having them there, enjoying the doggy love. Enjoying the massive healing powers from such tiny pups.

Make no mistake. Dog is God's definition of love.


This is Henry by the way. With my daughter Pancake.



So now, if you'll excuse me. I got up at 5.30 am this morning and drove 2.5 hours to get to work. Time to act like I am well rested and intelligent ;)

Take care all and have a good weekend ;)

Never read the craigslist 3sum ads before you go to bed (trust me on this)

So, I was poking around in the pet section of craigslist because I still miss Henry. And with Craigslist pets, you get a ton of 'free to a good home' ads for dogs and there is none of that pesky petfinder $275 dollar adoption fees. Or needing three references and submit to a criminal background check. And having to pass a drug screen.

Wait, that's not right. I think I just make that last one up. Anywhoodle . .

I read about the dogs and then decide I kind of like having a clean lawn and not having a big dog giving me the doe eyes until I walk him. Plus, we can come and go as we please, no kennel fees even. So I look and dream and that satisfies my Henry sadness for now.

Then drifted to the craigslist 3sum ads. GOOD LORD!! Have you people read these things? I was interested about how people advertise for such things. But then again, I'm interested in everything, at least once.

There are piles and piles of these ads. They seem pretty simple, my girl wants this or I want to party for my bf birthday, et cetera. These people seem very simple. They advertise themselves as muscular, trim and shaved. Noone described themselves a bigger or plump. Some put up pictures of big fake boobins and long acrylic nails. Which really, white trash alert! Acrylic nails and bowling balls stapled to your chest is not a good look! How did this become something women want to look like?

This is Shawna Sand. I.do.not.like.her. Because that's the outfit she brings her kids to the beach in. seriously. that outfit is like child abuse or something. look at those stripper heels! Oh I judge her, yes, yes I do!

Anywhoodle back to the 3sum ads. . . .

Then I got to thinkin'. A lot of the adverts were from 2 hours away from me. I live in a largely agricultural state. Lots of dairy, lots of cheese, lots of beer. And lutefisk. Two hours from here is rural in all directions. There is no way these people can be all fit and fake boobin. There's only one plastic surgery shop in this part of the state. And farmers do not make enough cash for that type of thing. They must be lying through their missing teeth I say!

Then I thought some more. There a lot of ads that say, 'we'll entertain'. I think this means they will invite people over for these 3sums. How does that work? Do you make dinner? How do you plan a menu for this? I imagine one must cook light, no gassy foods. Wine should be part of things to loosen everyone up. Not too much wine, or whiskey. This would cause the men to well, have whiskey dick. Plus, you don't want your new friend too drunk. I imagine there will be a lot of bending, twisting and upside down business. This is no good on a full drunk belly.

Also, how does the conversation go? I mean, when the person arrives, what the hell do you talk about? I imagine that the sex is a like a big elephant in the room. It must clogg the chatter quite a bit. This is no good!

And really, threesomes are just no good. In the words of Bill Maher, or (Bill Maher's best friend HEFF) "sex is designed for two people only. If you have a third, someone is always disappointed." And yes, I totally agree. Not that I know anything about this type of thing. OK well, there was this once, maybe twice, but I tell you this-I was an artist once and that's the kind of thing one does while ensconced the studio apartments of friends, lounging on their Indian rugs, basking in the glow of a particularly rousing poetry slam at the local coffee hause. And I never needed to advertise for anything. What? Stop looking at me like that!



ANYWHOODLE!

So then I decided to go to bed because I was getting obsessed with these crazy craigslist ads. I had started to read the various fetishes. People are freaks I tell ya! I am so glad to be married lo these past nine years. Best bedroom loving in the entire world happens between two people who can stare into each other's eyes while bumping uglies. It's all about intimacy and love. Just sayin.

THEN I WENT TO BED. Guess what I dreamt about?

I dreamt I was part of a 3sum with one of those couples. I was smiling and being with the girl. Only she was only half into things. I could feel some dude in the background. Then I realized she was really sad inside and she was also kind of bigger weight wise. She felt self conscious. So dude and I tried to coax her into smiling and being happy with herself. Only the more we tried to make her feel good about herself the more she retreated. And it was sad because I think I liked her. Then I woke up all sad that my 3sum went all sad.

THAT DREAM SUCKED!!

So, let that be a lesson. Never read the craigslist 3sum ads before you go to bed.


Ok! class dismissed!

The Cedar House, a cat named Harely and bursting at the seams

This is our Cedar House (a house with Cedar Siding).
Wait, no, that's not our house!
This house is actually in California ;)

Life is good here.

Mondays are a little tough. That's when Mr. Hall absconds to the Cedar House. He took the wee Pancake with him this week. She will be sleeping in a sleeping bag. There are no beds left there. No TV, no cable. Just one tiny laptop that is broken half the time. It is an empty house that she will, most likely, see for the last time. Last time I was there was, most likely, my last time.

That weekend was fun. Sad and fantastic at the same time. Funny thing though. That Sunday, Mr. Hall and I took separate cars to our favorite breakfast spot. On the way, I stopped at a few places and to take some photos. Then I kept stopping and took more photos. Then I realized, with each stop I started lingering. Then Mr. Hall called my cell phone. He had gotten to restaurant a half hour ago. "Where are you?", He asked.



I couldn't really answer because I was too choked up. I was standing in front of the best slide in all of Cedartown, in the best park too. I was petting the cat from one of the nearby houses. Her name is Harley and is a fuzzy orange tabby. She is always at the park.

All of the kids that come here love to pet Harley. My kids loved petting her. That cat loved every kid who loved her. And here I was, without the kids, saying goodbye to Harley. I gently scratched behind her ears and rubbed under the Harley Davidson Collar. My eyes were all blurry with wet tears.



Best park ever. Even came with a cat for the kids to love on.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

I have lived in Cedartown, in the Cedar House, for the entire breadth of my young motherhood. We moved in when I was eight months pregnant with Pancake. Brought my dog, Henry, into that house. He ran all over the place in our back yard.

Started labor (both times) in that house. I painted fluffy clouds and Winnie the Pooh characters on the nursery walls. Each of my kids learned how to walk in that house. Each kid had their own room, decorated with their art from school.

Each room is filled with a these buoyant memories, stuffed floor to ceiling with big, fat overblown balloons. 7 years of memories, eight years of love coating the walls, soaking into the carpet. That house, it's filled with our love. Our family love.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

Let's turn this ship upright shall we?

Let me make this simple.



This love is not ending. It is a bit fractured right now, but it’s still thriving.

And let me say this. Mr. Hall comes here on weekends. On Mondays, he gets up at 5.30 to make the 2 hour drive back. But not today, today he lingered. We all woke up at seven am. We are tired, sore and sunburned from such a wonderful weekend.

And while I write about clicking my heels three times, he is doing the job of seven men. All manner of drywall, carpet, rewiring, trim refinishing, all of it going on at a furious pace. All of this happening in an empty house. Without his wife and kids.

But this week he has Pancake. And more understanding from his wife. A few more days, a few more weeks, all the measurements of time are small now. We are on the edge of being back together. And then the Cedar house will be filled by another family's love. Just like we took over for the previous family.

And then our next house, oh lordy, lordy, it won't know what hit it when we bust through the doors. Our love may very well burst the seams.

Stuff I don't feel guilty about

RW did a post about things he doesn't feel guilty about. I don't feel guilty about stealing his idea.

1. Not liking Henry Rollins (who is pictured above)

I was once a fan of his spoken work, quick wit and funny stories. Nowadays, I find him grating. I can't take all the f-bombs and assorted swears. I just can't take it. Plus, I believe there is a time to be a punk ass then there is a time to grow up. To revel in the complexity and beauty of life. And stop saying the f word. He is older than me, he needs to grow up. Until then Mr. Rollins, we'll always have 'Get in the van'.

2. Buying those stupid products from PAMPERED CHEF, AVON, MARY KAY, MICHE BAGS, SCENTY OR ANY OTHER CRAP from my friends who are 'selling it'.

I am a girl. I have friends that are also females. Females think that if they sell things like pampered chef or avon, they will make money. IT DOESN'T WORK LADIES. These types of sales are pyramid schemes. You need to rope people in to be your sales staff and take a cut from their sales to even break even. So no, I won't be supporting that kind of scam. Plus the prices on that stuff is overpriced. I realize they are trying to generate a second income for themselves but just ask for money instead. Be honest with me and maybe I'll help.

And stop inviting me to your 'parties' with these products. A real party is a gathering of friends with wine, cheese and giggles. Where you don't try to sell me anything. :(

3. Saying no to stuff like PTA

I like my life on the lazy side. I will only give so much to extracurricalar activities. I really, really like my family. I like lounging and relaxing with them. I like not having my kids in three sports each. Sure, I co-lead some church groups, work almost full time and work out. But, beyond that, I need time to decompress and have quality, monkey love with the Mister. So no, I'm not volunteering for anything more.

4. My religion

Like any group of people, Christians conjure up a lot of images, thoughts and stereotypes in peoples' heads. These are influenced by the images in the media mostly. The media has a job to emotionally provoke the viewer by showing them images of hate, fear and intolerence. If the media can scare you, or make you mad . . . . you'll watch longer. And thus buy more products. . . It's a fact jack!

So, when people think about Christians, sometimes they think not so nice things. But here, in this cyberspace, let me be a shining example of God's love towards all my brothers and sisters. Let me show what God has done in my life, how rich and awesome His power is.

So there ya go.

Stuff I don't feel guilty about!

What don't YOU feel guilty about?

That is odd for me.

My blog is changing. I can feel it. I use to write a lot of evocative stuff. Crazy, saucy stuff. Almost daily. It's different these days. It'll probably cycle back to that. But . . at this point, I do a lot of speaking in random thoughts and sentences.

Por ejemplo:

1. We bought our daughter a corn snake. They're itty bitty snakes. My daughter loves snakes. It turns out, the snake is helping me with my Henry sadness. He's a friendly fellow that makes me smile. And I say this: no matter who you are, GET A PET. They rock!

2. I put pink streaks in Pancake's hair. It wasn't that hard since she's a blonde.

Yes, I am the coolest Mom evah! (at least for now)

3. My Mom and I are getting along like gangbusters. It certainly helps that when she makes me mad, or says stuff like, "I don't think I was there for you enough when you were growing up"--when she says stuff like that--I don't start yelling and blaming. I don't yell because that's not going to help. And I'm not that angry anymore. She is here. She is here now. Maybe I'll even facebook friend her. ;)



4. Been thinking about my trust in God during this whole getting pregnant stuff again. I've not been focusing on the fruits of my labor-what with the pills, inserts and such, I've just been doing and trusting the Lord. The race to get pregnant was central conflict in my life. That conflict is now absent because of my faith. Pretty cool I must say.

Actually, as I grow in my faith, I become much, much quieter all together. Which is odd for me. I mean, I have ADD. I vibrate and chatter and hyper at baseline. And the more I go to women's bible study, go to Church, the more I turn my life over to God, the less I struggle and thrash around. And now Mr. Hall and I are going to couple's bible study starting this week. Woot!

Maybe that's why this blog as been thin as of late. This blog is me, telling my story, working out my inner chaos. And my inner choas is becoming less so.

Well . .


Huh . . .

Here's to growing some inner peace ;)