Dog Rules

We have a rule in our house that the dog is not allowed on the furniture. She has free reign to roam about the house. She is house broken and reasonably trustworthy. She has a perfectly comfortable bed in the laundry room and she often goes there to get away from us.

But, she has a wild side. It's almost like she wants to let us know that she will not be controlled. "Look at all these comfy places that no one is using!"



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We have a rule about no dogs on the furniture. Gabby did not get the memo.

Exposure Equals Tolerance

I just read a horrible article about a boy being bullied because he was, or appeared to act, homosexual.

I recently had a conversation with our copper, who guards our credit union, and I asked him about gang activity in Indianapolis. He gave me a lot more information than I really wanted to know. His perspective and his experience was enlightening. So many of the gang recruits are joining because they are protecting their racial territory. You don't see as many of the black gangs killing others as you do the black versus Hispanic situation. Then throw in poverty, ignorance, drugs, absent parents ... well, don't get me started.

When I was a young girl, dancing was my life. My sport of choice. I was also involved in community theater. At Butler/Jordan College of Music, my primary instructor was Mr. Copeland. He was as flamboyant and stereotypical as any gay man could be. I loved him madly. (My Dad used to refer to him as "Mrs. Copeland" just to annoy me but truly, my Dad doesn't have a prejudiced bone in his body.)

Mr. Copeland wanted me to attend many, many classes. It made me better and I think he liked having his "pet" students around. My parents couldn't afford 7-10 classes a week so he decided on a creative solution. I would be a demonstrator. (For those of you without dance experience, that's the person that stands in front of the class and demonstrates the move or the steps that the instructor expects everyone to do.)

I did this for years! The other demonstrator was a black girl, my age. We became fast friends. Some of my happiest memories are hanging with her between classes or the many times we were in the same show. I did not even notice that she was black and I don't think she really cared that I was white. We were friends.

In my feeble mind, bigotry equals ignorance. And, I am tired of it. I know, or have friends, or have coworkers, or have relatives who:

are black,
are Hispanic,
are gay,
are rednecks,
are ignorant,
are snobs,
are crazy.

Somehow, I manage to like, love or at least tolerate them all.

Let Summer Begin!

We in the midwest have been burried in snow throughout the Winter and pounded with rain storms throughout the Spring.

Now, we are on the cusp of Summer. Bring....It....On. I know it's not officially Summer until June 23rd but this is Memorial Day Weekend -- the unofficial start of Summer. Pools open, friends open their lake cottages, patios seem like a good place to be.

Soon we will all be griping about the heat and humidity. Our gardens will need rain. But right now, we can enjoy the flowers blooming, the kids with the Summer energy that kicks in before the "I'm bored" phase and the opportunity to light up the grill.

Jump in a lake. Go visit your neighborhood pool. Get a pedicure and rock some kicky sandals. Take the family on a picnic. Attend an outdoor concert. Plant a few vegetables. Plant some flowers. Try some new recipes. Go on vacation.

It's Summer. Enjoy!

A Dog for the Rest of My Life

I am a dog lover. Right now, I am into black labs but I love all breeds. I've had some great mutts and probably will have more. Do dogs have souls? We had this great discussion in Sunday School last week but I firmly believe they do. And, I believe they have the greatest capacity to love.

I've told you this story before but it bears repeating. When I was about 5 years old, I begged and pleaded for a dog. My mother, who had some dog issues, agreed with a few caveats:

not a puppy
housetrained
not huge

With my beloved grandmother as co-conspriator, we found the perfect dog: Candy.

Candy was with us until mid way through my college days. I miss her still. No offense to my other dogs but I think she will always be my favorite.

My parents have had oodles of dogs and I have loved them all. Well, that's not true. I was not crazy about Ashley whose idea of a good time was to bite everyone in sight. I tried very hard not to touch her.

The great thing about dogs is the one you own at the time is your favorite. Best dog ever! I miss the others but I am so grateful for the one at this time in my life. My Gabs, my friend, my dogger. And, Harriet, who lets me carry her around like a baby.


We dog people are drawn to cute sayings and cute stuff about our dogs. Here's one I read a couple of years ago about why people love dogs:

Dogs are angels here on earth. They carry a white light, a spirit. That is why people feel better after they've touched a dog. The dog has a forgiving soul and always thinks we are better than we actually are. You can tell them anything, and I mean ANYTHING, and they will always love you no matter what you have just told them. So perfect and beautiful in so many different packages, God knew what he was giving us with the gift of a dog. What a great world this would be if everyone could live up to be the great person your dog thinks you are.

I will always own a dog. Or one will always own my heart.

Prayers

If you believe a certain religious sect, the Apocalypse begins tonight and those of us who consider ourselves believers will not be here tomorrow.

So, what am I doing to prepare myself for this great event? I am doing laundry, running errands and most importantly, writing prayers. I am liturgist tomorrow. I suspect my congregation of great friends and wonderful Christians will be in their normal seats in the pews.

The hardest part of being liturgist is writing the prayers. I know what I pray for and for whom. But you try to strike a balance between the generic and personal. You, at least I, try to say something that touches the soul... that makes someone think, "Yes, I pray for that too."

Whenever I remind myself that I am not worthy and I share this thought with my minister, he replies, "No, you are not. Do it anyway." What a gift!

The next time you are in a house of worship and someone says, "Let us Pray," remember that someone put some time and effort into crafting a community prayer. And, the greatest gift may be the ability to worship together.

Alone Time

I crave alone time. And God's joke on me is that I live with the most social man ever put on the planet.

Alone time allows me to breathe, to pray, to make lists and to listen to my soul. Alone time heals me.

Yesterday I took a couple of hours off work to do personal stuff. Catch up. Walk the dog, send some cards. Dan came home to pick up some stuff he had forgotten. Alone bubble busted.

There's a balance we all strive to find. Socially engaging/work engaging/private time. I spend a big chunk of my week with a smile on my face and a story to tell. It's rude, but I often come home with the silent message of, "I'm tired and I don't want to talk." How awful is that?

Doing the voyeur thing, I often wonder about retired people. How do they do it? Do they enjoy spending 24/7 with each other? In my voyeur experience, I can tell you the answer is no. One of them is always wishing the other would get out of their hair.

But, I'm on the young end of the Baby Boomer generation. One perk is I'll never know about retirement because we will be the ones who can't afford to retire. I will work until I can't work anymore. If I get really successful, I will have a room to myself and I will occasionally channel Greta Garbo,

"I want to be alone."

But just for a while ....

The Help

Have you read this? I read it a while ago and recently reread it. I can't explain it but it touches me.

I have southern roots. Lots of them sprout in Knoxville, Tennessee but I also have an adopted love for Mississippi and the family of my in-laws.

There is a graciousness that goes with the South. There are also a lot of secrets and terribly dark days of prejudice and violence.

Whenever I spend two minutes with any of my southern cousins, I immediately begin to speak with a southern accent. I can't explain it.

Can you imagine asking your "help" to use the bathroom outside? That's just a little glimpse into this book and the issues it raises.

If you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it. I read an article last week and the author said the book was rejected more than 40 times. I applaud her for rewriting and resubmitting a b'jillion times. Now, it's also been sold to Hollywood and a movie will be coming out in August. I hope the movie is as good as the book.

If you've read the book or see the movie, let me know what you think.