Hopelessness

We all have those days...those days when absolutely nothing is going to go right, no matter how much we try to will it. Not one of us is a stranger to the feeling of hopelessness. It's the kind of feeling that makes you want to curl up in a fetal position and cry. Today is one of those days. First, there is my cat, Lester. He's having trouble breathing and I'm not exactly sure what to do with him. I'm giving him antibiotics and breathing treatments and I think he is better but it would sure be easier if he could just tell me how he feels. Then, my cat Joey shows up at my feet with the whole right side of his head swollen. It could be a sinus infection. It could be his teeth. It could be any number of things. So he will go to the vet on Thursday. My biggest dilemma of the day was getting my laundry done. Jenni broke our washer over a year ago, so everything involves hauling it to the laundromat. So, I borrowed my mom's last $5, leaving the balance in her checking account at a whopping 70 cents. (Thank heavens she gets paid on Wednesday.) I went to the laundromat and fed the precious $5 into the coin machine and....nothing. Absolutely nothing happened except that high-pitched whining sound it makes when it is picking up the money and sucking it in. So, stupidly thinking that it just needed to be unjammed, I fed in my last dollar bill. Again, nothing. The hopeless feeling of standing there and watching this machine eat the last dollar I had in the world was a perfect illustration of my day. I stood there, hitting the machine saying, "Oh come on!" and I thought...nope...you're screwed. So I called the owner of the laundromat and was told they would get my $6 out when they can and mail it to me. WELL THAT DOESN'T GET MY LAUNDRY DONE TODAY DOES IT???? Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....screwed. Thanks, Dee, for the loan so I can put some clean clothes on and sleep in a clean bed tonight. Sighhhhhhhhhhhhh.....screwed.

Truth in Advertising

It strikes me as funny that commercials for medications are required to tell you the side effects and they do it so cheerfully that you hardly even catch it. "Hey guys, if Cialis gives you an erection lasting more than 4 hours, call your doctor." (Cue the happy music.) So my question is, why doesn't everything else come with the same truth in advertising? I would love to see a commercial that says, "This toothpaste works, but we have to tell you that it tastes like crap." Or "We want you to use this shampoo because we will make tons of money. However, your hair will frizz and you will look like the love child of Tina Turner and Richard Simmons." Why not? Wouldn't you rather know before you spend your hard-earned money? Besides, we all know that there are plenty of people out there who WANT that look. So I think I should start my own television channel with real-life advertising by unpaid common folk who actually use the stuff and have an opinion that isn't geared toward making them tons of money. We can start with coffee. The dialogue could be something like this: "I woke up this morning with Folgers in my cup. However, the rich and smooth flavor they promise is a farce and I about gagged on the crap." Or, "Maxwell House...good to the last drop? Not a chance! That is the last drop I will ever drink!" Or how about, "McDonalds...I'm not lovin' it! It's making me fat and if I eat one more dollar burger I may gag!" Or, "Alka Seltzer...plop, plop, fizz, fizz...oh how disgusting this stuff really is!" Or, "Yo quiero Taco Bell.... Yo also quiero heartburn at 3am and the runs for 4 days!" Or, "A T & T, Reach out and touch someone. The hell with that, it is easier to whip your cell phone at their head. Go with U. S. Cellular but make sure you insure your phone."

I just think the world needs a little more honesty...

Fat People and Uncomfortable Clothing

Ok, let's talk about fat people. I, personally, am one and I have been one my whole life. Never in my entire life has anyone ever said, "Wow, you look skinny!" and, alas, they probably never will. So I am certainly not in a position to tell anyone to lose weight. Here is what I don't understand: I don't understand fat people who squeeze themselves into clothing that is OBVIOUSLY too tight and too small. Now, I agree that a fat person who wears baggy clothing looks..as they say...frumpy. That would be me. But, I guarantee you that I am way more comfortable than these people who go around showing off their belly rolls and can't lift their arms without exposing their breasts. And, for the love of God, WHY are these women trying to squeeze their fat feet into these tiny little high heeled shoes? It's painful to look at and I am SURE painful to walk on. They are trying to squeeze 20 pounds of pork hocks into size 3 shoes and I just want to know why. Do they think it makes them more attractive? I don't know many men who are attracted to women who look like they had to jump from a third story window into their jeans. And I don't know many women who think, "Wow, he's sexy" when a man bends over and the crack of his ass stretches from the floor to Cleveland. It's just too much for me to take. Ladies, I don't care how "cute" your little shoes are or how much you paid for them at the BOGO sale at Payless, get a size that FITS your fat little pork hock feet. Guys, it doesn't matter how much you think your tight jeans are enhancing your package, no woman wants to see it. It just looks painful. So please, all of you out there, let's start a new fashion trend...clothes that FIT! Thank you.

Grams

Yesterday would have been my grandmother's 102nd birthday. She died on April 28, 1997 at the nursing home in Portage when she was 88. I find myself thinking about her often, even after all of these years. She was the kindest, funniest, sweetest lady on the planet and I truly believe that the world would be a better place if everyone had a grandma like mine.

Grams' name was Edna Mable Walton. She was born on August 18, 1908 in Niangua, Missouri in Webster County to Stephen Smith Walton and Julia Florence McKeel Walton. Grams had an older brother, Herschel and a younger sister, Wilma and there had been a stillborn sibling somewhere in the mix. Because it was Stephen's second marriage, Grams also had many half-siblings. (I will insert them when I am on my own computer and have access to my genealogical files.) I am blessed to know descendants of the Walton side of the family.

Grams didn't have an easy life. She told me of working in the fields and then coming in the house and laying on the dirt floor to cool off. And in 1926, when Grams was about to turn 18 years old, she lost her mother Julia to a ruptured spleen at the age of 49. Julia's death certificate gives no indication of why her spleen ruptured and Grams never really spoke of her mother. It was probably too painful, considering the funeral was held on Gram's 18th birthday. I have a copy of Julia's obituary, from a time when writing obituaries was an art form. It is beautiful and it talks of a beloved woman who was everyone's friend and drew the largest crowd to a funeral in Webster County history at that time. Julia was known to many as "Julia Ma" for her kind and gentle ways.

One thing I will never forget about my grandmother was her sense of humor and her infectious laugh. She loved to laugh and found humor in the simple things in life. I can still see her laughing, 13 years after she has passed. On days when I need it the most, I can still close my eyes and hear her sweet laugh and it still makes me laugh right along with her.

In 1932, Grams married my grandfather, James Ballard Shields and they had one son, my father, James Edward Shields. They divorced in 1940 and Grams married my grandpa Johnson. Grandpa Shields remarried and adopted a son named Richard, who now lives in Texas. I had the great fortune recently of meeting my cousin Brooke through Facebook. She is the daughter of Richard. It was an amazing connection.

Grams spent most of her life as a nurse at the Methodist Medical Center in Peoria, IL where she lovingly worked on the maternity and pediatric wards. For extra money, she rented out her basement and took in jobs ironing people's clothing. She worked hard and did what she had to do to survive and to benefit her family. She was the toughest of the tough and the sweetest of the sweet. I still miss her everyday and I look forward to seeing her again.

This post is dedicated to the memory of the greatest lady who ever lived. Long may she wave.

Edna Mable (Walton) (Shields) Johnson
18 August 1908 - 28 April 1997

The Little Things

Last Thursday my beloved cat Ozzie lost his 7 year battle with diabetes. He was diagnosed when he was only 3, which is very young for a cat. For several years, he was very easy to deal with. He took his shots like a champ and ate well. You would never dream he was diabetic by the looks of him. But in the last few months, his health declined rapidly and he became increasingly difficult to regulate. He was shutting down. In the last week before his death, his blood sugar readings plummeted as far as 31 and skyrocketed as high as 838, sending him into diabetic ketoacidosis. Finally, on that fateful Thursday morning, his little body could not longer endure the brutality of diabetes and he passed away quietly in my arms.

Today, I received a card in the mail from the staff of Columbus Countryside Veterinary Clinic (CCVC). It was a wonderful, heartfelt sympathy card from the entire staff with a personal message from Dr. Gerber. Words cannot describe how much this little gesture means to me. Ozzie didn't die in their clinic. Ozzie didn't die under their care. Ozzie died at home, but since they were his doctors and I was their client for the last 5 years, they took the time to reach out to me and offer their condolences and understanding of what exactly it meant to let go of my sweet Ozzie. It was an unspoken understanding of the struggle I face in not having Ozzie around and how, for 7 years, my entire life, mindset and routine revolved around giving him his shot twice a day. It was an amazing yet simple gesture of understanding that he was a part of my life and a big part of my heart and the ache I feel is not going to heal easily or quickly.

The staff at my veterinary clinic does a lot of these simple things...these heartfelt, small little gestures that make me certain each and every time that I go in there, that they not only care about my animals, but they care about me and they honor my love and devotion to the animals. From complimentary nail trimmings when an animal has surgery, to paw prints and hair clippings when one of them dies, I appreciate tremendously the little things they do.

Having recently worked at a veterinary clinic where animals were seen as dollar signs and clients were open checkbooks, I have come to appreciate the staff at CCVC even more. Their advice is ALWAYS in my best interest as well as the best interest of the animals. And it is always honest and forthright, no matter how difficult it may be. It's not always easy to hear, but it is always appreciated. I need to know the facts to make the best decisions I can for the animals. Sugar-coating things just makes it more confusing and difficult.

So, this post is dedicated with my deepest gratitude in the loving memory of my sweet Ozzie to the doctors, staff and crew at Columbus Countryside Veterinary Clinic. Doctors Gerber, Brye and Twardowski - you are credits to your profession. Dr. Twardowski, you were Ozzie's primary doctor and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there for him through thick and thin and for always offering advice and explanations on his condition. To the vet techs, thank you for caring about him and all of the animals I bring to you. Ozzie lived a good life with the help of all of you. And to the front desk staff - thank you for putting up with my endless phone calls and understanding that, although you deal with 100 different people every day, at that moment, in my world, I need to be important. God bless you all and thank you for choosing veterinary medicine as your profession.

From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you,

Heidi & Ozzie

Lisa, Beautiful Nieces and Kidneys

Lisa has been me best friend for over 25 years. We met in high school and the connection between us has never truly waivered. As I recall, in 25 years, we have argued twice to the point of not speaking..and the subjects of those arguments are not even important enough for me to remember. Lisa and I have a lot in common. One big thing is that we both have nieces that we love and adore. Mine is Nikayla, who is 20 and lives in LaCrosse. Lisa's niece Randa is 21 and expecting her first child. The difference? Randa doesn't talk to Lisa. I would love to explain this and give you all of the sordid details of the rift that has wedged itself between my friend and the niece she loves like a daughter. But, I can't. You see, there is no explanation. Randa has fallen victim to influence from other people who formed opinions based on their own hang-ups and inablilities to let people live their own lives.

In October, 2009, Lisa was diagnosed with end-stage kidney disease. She needs a transplant or she will die. In the last 10 months, I have seen my friend go through painful procedure after painful procedure. She has endured infections and surgeries. She has scheduled her entire life around dialysis three times a week, all in an effort to stick around and watch her son, Joshua, grow to be a good and decent man. And where is Randa in all of this? She claims she is "not ready" to "forgive" Lisa. FORGIVE HER FOR WHAT? For always being there? For loving her? I know that Lisa would never say a cross word to Randa, but I have never made that promise. So, you selfish little brat, sit down, shut up and listen...

RANDA! Your Auntie Lisa loves you more than you could ever imagine and she needs you right now. Life is way too short to worry about trivial crap that means absolutely nothing in the long run. You need to take a good hard look at yourself and ask yourself, if Lisa died tomorrow would you really be ok with never having spoken to her? Death is final and you will never get a second chance if you wait too long to talk to her. SHE LOVES YOU. She just wants to know that you are doing ok. She wants to be able to send you gifts for the baby and give you advice as you enter motherhood. She just wants you to email her some pictures of the baby and say, "Hi Auntie!' PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS LITTLE GIRL! Life is too short and too precious for your bullshit. If you were my niece, I'd knock some sense right into you. Lisa has never hurt you. She would NEVER hurt you. Stop being a whiney little victim of NOTHING and CALL HER. Whatever you think she has done to you, you are punishing both of you. Let it go. Joshua Liebman once said, "We achieve inner health only through forgiveness - the forgiveness not only of other but of ourselves." Forgive Lisa. Forgive yourself. See what happens. I know Lisa already forgives you.

TOURONS

OK, so I decided to resume my blog in a different format. Although the animals are and will remain the biggest part of my life, I have decided that I have strong opinions on just about everything (go figure) and I am just going to babble about them to whomever wants to read it. Whatever strikes me for that day will be the subject. Some days it will be the animals and some days it won't. Today I want to discuss TOURONS. What is a touron? It is a cross between a tourist and a moron and let me tell you, the place is crawling with them. I grew up in Pardeeville - a small town with a lake. In fact, I grew up on the lake. It used to be that you could go anywhere and do anything without worrying about who you might offend. Well, not anymore. It seems that just about all of the lakefront property in Pardeeville is either owned or rented by some touron, usually from Illinois. Now, this, in general doesn't bother me. What DOES bother me is that they come in and act like they own the place, with absolutely no respect for the natives. I took my dogs swimming today at the boat landing 2 lots away from where I grew up. The house on the north side of the landing is owned by a fat touron from Chicago and the lot on the south side of the landing was being rented by a young couple from somewhere in Illinois, according to their license plates. I got nothing but dirty looks as I happily played with my dogs. I have news for you people. Just because you decided to bring your pretentious vehicles up from Illinois and park your vacationing asses in Pardeeville, Wisconsin, does NOT mean my dogs should be denied their exercise and play time. WE LIVE HERE. If you don't like it, find a different lake in a different town. You come up here and shoot off your freaking fireworks all night long on the 4th of July without any regard for the fact that the people who live here are not on vacation and have to work the next day. You let your kids pee in the lake and you think it's funny. I personally think it's hilarious when you have gone out to eat and my dog takes a big ol' crap in your yard. I am usually the responsible pet owner that cleans it up, but I make an exception for you. Go home!

Thanks for letting me share...