Eat, Pray, Love...Skunk?

My husband and I went to see "Eat, Pray, Love" last night. When we came home he insisted he reclaim his testosterone so we watched "The Green Zone" a military movie. After that, we watched another one. We were just not tired. By the time we were headed to bed, it was 3:00 a.m. I know, sort of crazy, but we didn't have any kids and we really didn't have much planned on Sunday. We are both night owls.

As we were about to head upstairs, we let Jack out to go to the bathroom, as we always do right before bed. We heard barking and cringed since it was so late and we hoped the neighbors weren't awaken. When he came inside we smelled a horrible smell and I mean horrible. It was like stinky feet that hadn't been cleaned in a year and we soon realized Jack had just gotten directly sprayed by a skunk. My poor husband, I ran upstairs so fast to get away from Jack and he was left dealing with the situation and tried to coax him into the laundry room. Meanwhile, Jack was rubbing against my husband who started to reak himself. The whole house was under an odor attack. We could smell it everywhere. Finally, he got him into the laundry room, came upstairs and left his clothes outside our door. We got into bed around 3:30 and fell asleep.

I woke up several times last night to the horrible smell and stinky dog that awaited us downstairs and finally, at 10 I got up to call Petsmart to make sure we could get Jack in. We got their last appointment, which was at 12 and he was whining on the way there. God is watching out for us. We brought him in and they said it could take up to 6 months for the smell to dissipate. Oh boy... We went home and cleaned for the next 3 hours to try to get the smell out. We had the windows open, mopped twice, vacuumed and then had to go to Walgreens to get a new mop and some stronger floor cleaner for the laundry room. The laundry room now smells like a combination of skunk, pine sol and Lysol or what reminded me of a hair salon where they do women's perms. It still sort of reaks and even as of now, we have all the windows open. When we picked Jack up, he still smelled, but no where near the intensity of early today. We decided to take him for a good hour walk to let him continue to dry off. He seems unphased by the whole thing now and is happily sleeping in front of the TV.

Stick with the Coffee

Last weekend my girls felt like making a blended fruit smoothie. My husband was mowing the lawn and I went for a jog in the neighborhood, while they prepared the smoothie. When I came home, I found a nice cold glass of berry smoothie waiting for me. As the girls were sipping on theirs and I gulped my entire glass down (since I was so thirsty), I asked them what was in the smoothie because it really tasted delicious. They were so proud. They said frozen berries, ice, and yogurt. I gulped and remembered there was some vanilla yogurt in there I had been meaning to toss and I wasn't sure how old it really was. We go through tons of Yoplait here, but vanilla is a flavor that is not so popular. I nervously asked them what yogurt flavor they used and my littlest piped up, 'vanilla'. I started to panic and went into the trash to look at the date on the container. I couldn't make it out and then I remembered there were two vanillas in the fridge. I grabbed the other one and saw that the date was almost exactly a month old. I opened it and it seemed to smell okay, but when I poured it in the sink, I saw curdling on the bottom. YUCK!!!!

I am a fanatic about food poisoning and go out of my way to make sure that I prevent contamination. I was freaking out and started to google what would happen if you eat expired yogurt. I was reading things like painful vomiting, diarrhea and hospitalization if it gets bad. They said to look for a bad smell and a blue tinge. I thought I was sweaty after the run, but I started sweating even more thinking about the fact I downed that whole glass. Luckily, the girls had only a few sips so we dumped theirs. I was thinking that perhaps I should try to make myself throw up, but I'm way too wimpy for that. (I could never be bulimic even if I wanted to). I decided to just pray and hope that I'd be alright. I figured if I made it through the night, I was home free. THANK YOU GOD! I made it. Whew! The girls now know to always check dates on the container and for me...I'm gonna stick wit coffee!

Crater Lake, an Unforgettable Journey

The year was 1993, and I was just graduating from college, and getting ready to move out of state. I convinced my younger Sister Angela, who was 21 at the time, that a road trip from California to Oregon would be a memorable way to spend a few of our summer days.

As we made our way to Oregon, we stopped in several little towns along with way, mingling with locals, sipping our coveted mochas and chatting with each other, like there was no tomorrow. At the top of our list was a visit to Crater Lake, known for being the deepest and most breath-taking lake in the United States.

As we wound our way around the Cascade Mountain Range, we finally reached the crest, where we found a place to park and explore. Feeling like we were kids again, we excitedly ran to the viewing area, and almost simultaneously, dropped our jaws in awe. There before us, was the most spectacular view I had ever seen. I could finally understand why this historic lake has inspired hundreds of people that flock to the site each year.

The water was the deepest blue, almost purplish color. The fluffy white clouds that hung in the sky vividly reflected their images upon the water. There were still small patches of snow around the top of the six-mile wide caldera and you could hear the wind whispering through the pine trees, almost if they were talking in some unfamiliar language.

As I paused there, with my sister, I reminisced upon our years of growing up; the times we had played together, the times we fought, the years that we had perhaps taken for granted. I made a mental note to frame that moment of togetherness in my mind, which I still reflect on to this day. You see, the memories we associate our vacations with, aren’t just about the trip, it’s about who in our lives we share it with.

Lab Love

This past weekend, as I was relaxing with my steamy cappuccino and pouring over the Sunday newspaper ads, Jack, my rambunctious yellow lab, thrusted his wet nose into my leg begging me to get up from my comfy chair to play ball with him. Normally, I don’t hesitate at the opportunity to run around the house and burn a few extra calories; however on this particular Sunday morning, I didn’t want to break the unbelievable air of silence and inner peace I was feeling inside. But, knowing I didn’t want to disappoint my crazy mutt, I slowly let the caffeine take over and felt my energy level increase as Jack sat patiently, watching me, puzzled. I managed to muster up enough energy to swipe the soggy, red, tennis ball from his mouth. I made the decision that the newspaper could wait.

As I got up from the kitchen chair, I quietly hunched over and sashayed in stealth mode, in my socks and jammies, to creep behind the couch and out of Jack’s site. This always marks the beginning of our little ritual. I pretend that I can’t see Jack and he pounces around the corner of the couch, then I let out a surprised, loud howl that seems to satisfy him in his own doggy way.

My husband, who is now parked on the family room sofa, rolls his eyes as to imply, ‘here we go again’. This quiet sarcasm of his does not phase Jack or I as we continue to circle the room in our warrior dance; Jack strategizing how he will sequester his red, round, squeaky ball and me plotting to outsmart the dog. Just then, I lift my hand far back behind my head, holding Jack’s red ball in position, like a sling shot waiting to shoot. Jack is now in a bent stance, his right paw pointing towards the hallway where I usually throw his ball so that he can get a head start, as if he’s stealing a base. Within seconds, I propel the soggy ball which zooms across the room, barely avoiding a tall vase on its travels through the house. Jack takes off like lightening speed. I could almost see his face drawn back as if he was in a wind tunnel. As he leapt for the ball, I positioned myself in defensive mode as I readied myself for my ritual workout.

Jack ran furiously around the coffee table holding the ball in his mouth, like he was an overworked farmer trying to churn his own butter. Meanwhile, I’m jetting from side to side not quite letting him make his full turn as I deeply lunge, with each back and forth motion, to work my upper thighs, while pretending to go after the ball. This really is a great form of exercise. My husband, as if he knows what will be asked of him next, places his leg on the coffee table to form a bridge in Jack’s path so that with each passing from side to side, Jack has to leap over his leg like a horse jumping barriers. We continue this dance for about 5 minutes as Jack’s leaps turn to crawls under my husband’s leg to avoid yet another jump over the barrier.

Jack’s slobbery tongue is now hanging from his jaw as he’s panting of pure exhaustion. I look at him feeling exhilarated and satisfied and still full of energy. He gives me a tired puppy dog look and plops onto the cool, wood kitchen floor, panting heavily as he extends his arms and legs, preparing for his nice, cat nap. I manage to find my camera and snap my victory picture of him just before he dozes. As I’m reviewing the photo, I hear a small snoring coming from below me. Jack is now sound asleep, the ball tucked in with him and his leg twitching while in his dream state. A peculiar smile rolls across his sleepy face and then I knew he must have me beat.

I walked quietly back over to the kitchen table where my newspaper was waiting and the coffee was still steaming and sat back to finish where I left off.

Waves of Laughter

"The human race has only one really effective weapon, and that's laughter. The moment it arises, all our hardnesses yield, all our irritations and resentments slip away, and a sunny spirit takes their place." Mark Twain

Yes, laughter is a wonderful cure, but what about when it truly comes at the wrong time? As I silently sat in the pew during Saturday evening mass with my two daughters and my Mom, whom was visiting from out of town, I glanced around the Church and noticed the serene, but packed pews surrounding me. I was happily surprised that the Saturday Vigil had drawn such a crowd that evening. Was it a religious holiday that I had forgotten about? I scanned my memory bank, but could not recall a holiday on Saturday, November 8th. So, I let it go, as a smile draped across my face with the contentment knowing that God just happened to have a great turnout that evening.

As Church began and the priest motioned to everyone to greet each other, my littlest threw her body into me, buried her face in my sweater and said, “I love you Mommy”. Life just couldn’t be any better. It was a wonderfully tranquil moment. We sat down and listened to the opening prayer. Within what seemed like seconds, we were back up again in full standing position. This is very common if you haven’t been to a Catholic mass…you’re up, you’re down, you’re kneeling. You really get a dual workout with each attendance, one for the soul and one for the body. As I intently listened to the priest I noticed that he started walking to the far right side of the church. He grasped what looked to be a small broom in his hand. It was probably the length of a ruler, only it was much bulkier. The bundled bristles appeared to be straw, though I soon found out, whatever it was; it was much more absorbent than it looked.

As the priest dipped the mini broom in the bowl of holy water I thought to myself excitedly, we’re reliving our baptism. I always cherish these types of events at Church, such as the blessing of the throats or Ash Wednesday. It’s like a bonus gift at mass knowing you get that extra little blessing for the week.

The music was blaring and a cantor was singing at the front of the Church with a beautiful, angelic, voice that made the priest’s every move appear to be in slow motion. As he removed the mini broom from the holy water bowl and began to flick the tiny little drops of baptismal blessings over the crowd at the far right side of the church, my heart stopped in terror. As if time had stopped, I witnessed a slow moving wave extend over the whole pew area. Quickly glancing at the crowd, who was still smiling and singing, it was apparent that they didn’t see the terror that was quickly approaching them. As if in disbelief, the stunned crowd stood motionless, dripping with water, jaws wide open. The priest, completely unaware of the reaction he was drawing, was already on his way to the main pew area, where we just happened to be sitting, helpless. As he drew his broom, which looked like a gun in a western movie, I tightened my closed eyes and braced for aqua impact. Each second seemed like an eternity as I awaited the wave of my baptismal dunk and moved to protect my littlest from the blow. Then it happened, impact. As I opened my eyes, I felt water dripping from my hair, my sweater and my face. I turned to assess my fellow pew mates. The woman in front of me was swooshing waves of water off her leather jacket. The elder couple stationed at the far right end of the pew, were looking in disbelief at their seat, which was completely sprayed with water. Surveying the area, it looked like a small tsunami had hit. Then, I felt a stirring inside. As I caught eye contact with the elder lady, the laughter started as we looked at each other and began to giggle. Surely, it would subside, I thought to myself as the singing continued and I could hear small gasps from the people behind us as the priest continued circling the church, which made me laugh even harder. I couldn’t stop the uncontrollable hysterics. I truly felt like I was in some dream, like the kind you have when you’re giving a speech, standing in front of a crowd without any clothes.

At this point the priest was finishing his round and headed toward the far left side of the Church. These unfortunate souls had witnessed the entire drama unfold and were already bracing for impact. My eyes settled on a tall man whose expressions truly captured the moment. He winced as his head drew back over his right shoulder. His elbow slightly came up as if to block his face from the collision. Then, just like a recurring nightmare, the clear wave traveled across the bunch, not one but two waves. The priest must have thought that particular area needed a little extra blessing. My laughter continued almost nervously as I witnessed more people laughing, strangely enough it looked like they couldn’t decide if they should laugh or cry. I saw men wiping their brows and women shaking their heads to rattle off the beads of water. At this point, I mustered up everything I had inside me to control my laughter. It was though it felt like I was trying to swallow an elephant and I tried to contain myself so as not to draw a stare. I settled back into my damp seat as the priest walked up to the alter and continued with mass. I sat content once again, and smiled, knowing how happy I was to be part of this extraordinary extended family.

Through the Looking Glass

What is it that drives each of us to move forward? Is it our past, the vision of how we want our future to be or the inner flame inside us that continues to burn and create the energy we need to move forward? I was sipping my Irish crème coffee this morning, and in a rare moment of pure silence, eyeing the beautiful, crisp and quiet city scene outside my window, pondering this very thought and trying to see through the looking glass. The quote below inspired my reflection:

"Don't wait until everything is just right. It will never be perfect. There will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions. So what. Get started now. With each step you take, you will grow stronger and stronger, more and more skilled, more and more self-confident and more and more successful."

This quote, by Mark Victor Hansen, sums up the internal dilemma that has been inside me at times during my life regarding the career piece of my balance pie. Thinking back to my childhood memories, I would relate this sensation to the feelings I had inside after my parents announced they were taking my sisters and I to Disneyland and then having to wait 6 weeks for the trip. That giddy, overwhelming, awesome, anxious, funny pit in your stomach, impatient, feeling that was with me until the moment I entered the Disneyland Park and it exploded into a feeling of euphoria. This is symbolic of the passion I feel for starting something of my own, something that I, ultimately, create. The hurry up and wait, the when is the right time feeling, the hope that knowing it will happen some day and then trusting in God’s plan.

I consistently battle the drive of self entrepreneurship versus happily employed corporate life, the driving need to start something on my own, versus the reality of the financial and personal responsibilities in my life. This internal battle sometimes holds me back from taking the steps I need to take in order to move forward. There feels like no right time to start. Life isn’t perfect, and it comes down to what we make of it. I know the future is in my power and it’s what I do with it now that will keep my flame burning inside.

I have a personal project that I’ve been contemplating taking on. It’s rather daunting, but I know that once I actually start it, I will push it to completion, whether or not it is successful. So for me, this is the inner reflection I needed to experience today to began this journey, and take the steps needed to grab hold of life and to feed the entrepreneurial tiger inside. I feel so blessed to have a loving husband, wonderful children and a supportive family environment that why shouldn’t I move forward and have it all? There will be more to come on my personal endeavor, and nourishing that inner child-like spirit inside.

A Perfect Day

"You have not lived a perfect day... unless you have done something for someone who will never be able to repay you."

By Ruth Smeltzer

This quote says it all. And, although I’d like everyday to be a perfect day, it really is hard to find the time to give back, but when you do, the sense of happiness is exhilarating.

This year I made the commitment to volunteer at a local nursing home. I have a passion for helping seniors. Two of my grandparents, who both had Alzheimer’s, spent their last days in nursing homes, out of town, and it was so hard not being able to be close to them. I am forever grateful of the caregivers that made their last days bearable and comfortable.

So, my time is spent with the “Apple Valley Gang”, as I like to refer to them. Marlin, Jean and Nancy are my favorites; however, the whole gang is really an unforgettable bunch. Alzheimer’s is so devastating, yet my gang somehow finds a way to appreciate life even through the shadows of the darkness cast upon their own lives. It’s strange how Alzheimer’s affects people in different ways. Helping the gang eat their lunch and realizing just how fragile they are, always gives me a sense of sadness wondering how one makes the transition from a healthy, vibrant, adult life to one of being completely dependent upon others for simple tasks.

Marlin is as happy as a clam and every time I see him he thinks it’s a wonderful coincidence that we happen to ‘meet again’. He absolutely loves tennis and couldn’t be happier when there is a match on TV. He makes my heart smile.

Jean is a wonderful lady who doesn’t talk to many people. In fact, the first time I met her, I was told not to expect her to talk at all. When you look in her eyes you see this deep, truthful soul that just wants to find a way to express herself. When I get through to her and she utters a few words back to me, I feel alive.

Nancy always has a good story about her youth and her vibrant career as a nurse and she loves taking walks. She may not remember me right away, but when I remind her about the stories she’s told me, it’s an instant connection that we share.

I love my gang and I try not to think about the day that one of them will pass away. I some times wonder why I’m putting myself through what will ultimately be a sorrowful loss, but then I realize, maybe in some way, I can make a few minutes of their life a little bit better.