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Blessings on Dr. Green Monday June 22, 2009

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UPDATE:
Annie’s doing better
now.  Thank heavens for Dr. Green!  The part I’d left out because I was
such a wreck Saturday was the problem of having $350.00 in the bank at
the drop of the hat to pay for the surgery.  I had $50 on my bank card
thinking she just needed some phenegran or something simple.  All the
banks were closed already.  The doctor told me I could pay the rest of
the charges for the day ( another $90) Monday but that she needed the
surgery.

 Mike blew a gasket when I called and told him how much the
surgery was.  I almost understand how he felt…$350 is a lot of money,
and we’d just replaced the transmission in his truck last week AND
bought a used van for me ( a CHEAP van, but nonetheless, money we
didn’t usually put out).  But this was Annie!!! 
I told the vet I would pay the rest of it the first when my SSI comes
in.  He looked me in the eyes and asked me, "WILL you pay it then,
because I’m carrying thousands of dollars on the books from people
who’ve told me that".  I’d been crying and hugging Annie since he’d
drawn blood on her 20 minutes earlier to see just how bad the infection
was, I had almost collapsed in horror when he told me she needed the
surgery NOW because it was so bad.  I choked out how YES YES YES I
would pay him the first, as soon as his doors opened.

I don’t know what made him believe me.  I don’t even know if he did. 
Perhaps he just loves animals so much he couldn’t send one home to die
when someone promised to pay.  But thanks to him, she had her surgery. 
He called me early Sunday morning and asked me if I was ready to pick
up my girl.  I laughed and said I’d be there in 10 minutes.  He called
twice to check on her too.  I hope everyone who has a beloved pet has a vet as wonderful as our Dr. Green.

My Annie is safe and home.  Puts so much in perspective about what is important.

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A Prayer for Annie Saturday June 20, 2009

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I know a lot of people really don’t like it when we ask for prayer requests.
It seems even worse to ask for a prayer for a dog.

I don’t care.  This is my dog, and I’m asking for prayers for her.
We just lost Jack a year ago, and I don’t know how we’d go on if we lost Annie now too, especially with her 3 week old puppies to care for.
Really, the heck with the puppies, we’d deal….I just don’t know if I could carry the heartbreak of losing Annie.  She’s my girl.

Woke up this morning to her clear vomitting.  Everywhere.  Over and over again.  She’s had a hard time keeping up with milk production for all those pups, but I figured, who wouldn’t?  We’ve been trying to wean them slowly so she’d have a break, but this constant vomiting had me really worried.  I called the vet and he said to bring her in NOW.

Uterine infection.  He’s doing surgery on her now.  That 30 minutes it took for all the bloodwork to come back took a lot out of me.  I did a lot of praying, a lot of crying, a lot of telling her how much I love her, a lot of wishing I’d had the chance to tell Jack all those things before he died of poisoning, in agony.

Hug your animals today, your kids, someone you love.  You just never know when you’re going to be praying over one of them waiting for a doctor to tell you just how bad it is.  I love you.

“Information Please” Tuesday June 16, 2009

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THE OLD PHONE ON THE WALL

When James
was quite young, his father had one of the first telephones in our
neighborhood. He remembers the polished, old case fastened to the wall.
The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. He was too little to
reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when his
mother talked to it.

JAMES:
Then I
discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing
person. Her name was ‘Information Please’ and there was nothing she did
not know. Information Please could supply anyone’s number and the
correct time.

My personal experience with
the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a
neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked
my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no
point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house
sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The
telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged
it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor
and held it to my ear. ‘Information, please’ I said into the mouthpiece
just above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
‘Information.’
‘I hurt my finger…’ I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

‘Isn’t your mother home?’ came the question.

‘Nobody’s home but me,’ I blubbered.

‘Are you bleeding?’ the voice asked.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.’
‘Can you open the icebox?’ she asked.
I said I could.

‘Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,’ said the voice.

After that, I called
‘Information Please’ for everything. I asked her for help with my
geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with
my math.

She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called,
Information Please,’ and
told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups
say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, ‘Why is it
that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families,
only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?’

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, ‘James, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.’

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, ‘Information Please.’
‘Information,’ said in the now familiar voice. ‘How do I spell fix?’ I asked.
All this took place in a
small town in the Pacific Northwest .

When I was nine years old, we
moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much.
‘Information Please’  belonged in that old wooden box back home and I
somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the
table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those
childhood conversations never really left me..

Often, in moments of doubt
and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then.
I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have
spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my
way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about a
half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone
with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was
doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, ‘Information Please.’


Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.

‘Information.’
I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, ‘Could you please tell me how to spell fix?’

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, ‘I guess your finger must have healed by now.’

I laughed, ‘So it’s really you,’ I said. ‘I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?’

”I wonder,’ she said, ”if you know how much your call meant to me.
I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.’
I told her how often I had
thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again
when I came back to visit my sister.

‘Please do’, she said. ‘Just ask for Sally.’

Three months later I was back in Seattle .. A different voice answered,
‘Information.’ I asked for Sally.
‘Are you a friend?’ she said.

‘Yes, a very old friend,’ I answered.

‘I’m sorry to have to tell
you this,’ she said. ‘Sally had been working part-time the last few
years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.’

Before I could hang up she said, ‘Wait a minute, did you say your name was James?’
‘Yes.’ I answered.
‘Well, Sally left a message for you.. She wrote it down in case you called.

Let me read it to you.’
The note said, ‘Tell him there are other worlds to sing in.
He’ll know what I mean.’
I thanked her and hung up.. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.

Whose life have you touched today?

I don’t know the author

Love to you all,
Lynn

Crappy Memory Sunday June 14, 2009

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Some days just shouldn’t go by "anniversary".  Like Friday’s.  A year ago my father, Emily’s Poppa, decided he wanted to check out my naked breasts and feel Emmy up.  He effectively ended a long and loving family relationship I had not only with him, my nuclear family with my parents and my brothers, their wives and my nephews, but my touchstone holiday traditions that meant everything to me.  AND my big family traditions.  It’s almost unbearable to go to the big family gatherings now without squirming and flinching constantly-everyone knows I am no longer in contact with my parents, and they all want to know WHY, and since they sure as heck aren’t talking, they worry me to death about it.

Not to mention the gut-wrenching, core-deep pain.  Pain doesn’t even touch the word for it.  To say my parents are dead to me is to make it ridiculous.  Parents who’ve died, after the grieving process leave good memories behind. You can eventually share good feelings with your siblings and relatives about them.  You can go to a memorial plaque, a headstone.  I have none of that.  I just have all this all encompassing PAIN that Mike doesn’t understand because he didn’t have a real relationship with his mother and hated his step-father.  He says "F*ck ’em and forget ’em, that’s what they deserve."  The girls are bitterly angry at my parents for what they did to us that day, for my mother throwing us under the bus for her husband, for my pain.  Laura asks about her Nana and Poppa, not having a clue what’s happened.  How do you explain to a 5 year old that sometimes parents stop loving their children…..when the last thing you ever want her to believe is that truth?   I’ve lived my adult life solely for the purpose of making sure my children NEVER EVER doubt I love them, no matter what. 

I’m so lost.  I talk to my brothers once in a while.  I’m going to try to throw an end of the summer party in a pool nearer where we all live and get them to come to it, sort of an early birthday present for the twins, I pray my brothers will show up.  It’ll be the first time I’ve seen them since last Thanksgiving.  I miss them.

How do you get over something like this?

June is Gay Pride Month Friday June 5, 2009

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Just something to think about.

What a friggin’ week! Wednesday June 3, 2009

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So, Annie went into labor around 8 pm Memorial Day evening.  Her first pup just sorta popped out. Btw, I told Mike and the kids all day long THIS was the day, and they just ignored me, as usual.  When pup #1 showed up, they all acted like Jesus and His Angels had arrived, and all I could do was say "Told Ya."

Yeah, I AM that kind of person who will say "Told You!"

Next pup didn’t show up for 3 blinkin’ hours.  We were beginning to get a little worried.  Not worried enough to go fishin’ for it…but worried.  Then along came 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.   By 9 am Tuesday we had a nice respectable, remarkable TEN!!!!  Holy overdone it, Annie!!  Jeez!  So when Annie started panting and heavin’ again about 4 in the afternoon, I told everyone she was about to drop another pup on us.

Can you believe no one believed me????

Low and behold, when we went to change out the bedding when she went outside to do her business, YES, we had eleven dang puppies.

ELEVEN.  From a first litter.  And Annie only 10 months old.

They’re all black, except for some white markings here and there. It’s kind of bizarre-blonde dam, black pups-Father most probably a rust Boxer.

Sadly, we’ve lost two in the last week.  It’s been very hard on me and Emily.  We tried nursing them, but it just didn’t work.  Natural order of things the vet said.  I just hate it.

That’s been my week mostly.  Recovering from ghastly summer cold and migraines and taking care of Annie’s stinky backside and all her pups.

Hope you all have had a better holiday.