Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Cracked.



We are all a little bit cracked. Some of us maybe more than others. And sometimes a person gets so many cracks and has so many broken pieces that they don't know how they can ever put them back together again. This doesn't make them weak or cowardly or less than. It makes them feeling and hurting and in need. Whether this person is Robin Williams or a twenty-two year old kid back from his second deployment, they are one of us.

Anne Lamott, in a tribute to her friend Robin Williams, touched on the fact that one in three people will be either an addict or diagnosed with a mental illness or both. One in three, buttercups.  Think about that when you are in your next spin class or waiting in a line of fifteen people for your latte. Think about it when you throw around terms like 'nutjob' or 'crazy' or 'mental', because chances are that you are talking to someone who might technically indeed be 'mental'.

So remember, we are all cracked. And we can all be the light. At the very same time. Hug your monkeys, call your friends, and be gentle with the people around you.

Peace and love and light among the broken pieces. XOXO

Monday, August 4, 2014

Beacons in the dark

Today was such epic suckiness that I truly thought about taking sick leave from work to curl up in my bed with the covers over my head. From stepping out of my bed into pee (not mine, thank you very much) to the Comcast fail to work fail to a nonfunctioning lawnmower to a stolen/missing iPad to a garage infestation of earwigs and black widows... It. All. Sucked.

However, sometimes, when things are awful, the good things stand out like beacons in the dark.

You want to kiss this face. Admit it.
This girl. Oy vay. She was so sick last week while the monkeys were gone that I thought she was going to die. I had to carry her out to the yard, and she would just pee on herself, not moving. When she did move, she would stumble and fall. Bloodwork and stool samples and neurology and various doggie indignities, and nothing came back except a lot of questions about ingesting mushrooms/chemicals/xylitol and an ear infection. Six days later, antibiotics and anti-fungals and lots of love, and she is her old puggie self. She may well have incurred brain damage or who knows what, but she is getting back to normal. When she was barking like mad at air earlier, I had to smile. At least she is barking.


Another beacon? Perserverence. When I checked on the price of equal lawnmowers, I got ticked. So ticked that I downloaded the troubleshooting PDF for my lawnmower, tinkered, changed a blade, cleaned it out, and it worked. My lawnmower roared to life like she was supposed to. And she cut grass like a sword-wielding Samurai.

More beacons. Monkey brought me a Reese's Cup and brought the trash cans in from the curb. Without being asked. Sweet texts, reminding me that I am loved even when I am stabby over Comcast. A forged metal butterfly from the amazing Jodie Bliss, pure happiness as art. An unexpected letter in the mail. Yummy brisket sammich with my monkey, the part-time vegetarian.

Lest you think I am done with wallowing, let me leave you with this...


Don't ever ask me to make you toast. Bad things happen. Really really bad things, y'all.

Peace and love and pugs and lawnmowers. XOXO