Pass It On

I was at work making people cry which I have to tell you is not uncommon for me since I spent over 20 years as a nurse. As a nurse, I was used to making people cry over injections, diagnoses, prognoses, and sometimes about just taking a shower. I am used to seeing people burst into tears when I have bad news. It still effects me, but I have learned over the years how to keep the calm and respect their tears without falling apart myself. I worked as a hospice nurse where I literally had to call people in and tell them their parent had died. What could be worse than that? Not much, I am sure. Maybe if I were a pediatric nurse who had to deliver that news to parents about their child, maybe that is worse. I make people cry for other reasons now. It isn't about their health, it's usually about their hopes and dreams. Working in financial aid, there are times when I am a dream crusher. One day last week I made five people cry, nearly in a row. I bought a box of tissues and leave them at my seat for just such occasions. I hate when I have to look someone in the eye and tell them that all their hopes and dreams will have to be put on hold or changed completely, and they will have to find another way to get where they need to go. I know there are those who think these situations aren't a big deal, but in one case the girl's brother was shot in the head and she had to help take care of him, leaving her school work behind. Another case a woman left her very abusive husband with her children and lived in a shelter for months, moving back to Houston to be with family only to find out we could not help her now, not never, just not now. Do you see why I am the dream killer? I have to point out all the red tape, the guidelines, the things that need to be secured in order for them to get any help. Do they deserve help? Sure they do, I think they do, and if it were up to me they would get it, but it's not. If it were up to my boss, my dean the people all around student services they would get what they need, but it's not. We do what we can. I am the face, in a way, of the department, the first person in a long list of people who touch their files. I try really hard to see each and every one of them, to not view them as a number, but to remember that I was them once a long time ago. I guess, that is why I like my job so much, this twisting and turning of guidelines and number crunching that helps people live up to a potential greater than most ever thought they could achieve. In some ways, I am living proof that great things can happen after tragedy, that good people, nice people do not always finish last, but learn and pass on whatever knowledge they have gained. Years ago when I was on my own with my kids, our finances hanging in the balance, I was in school, working two jobs and just doing whatever I could to hang on. One really bad month, a friend of mine, my supervisor at the time, told me to meet her in the parking lot. She popped her trunk and inside was food, a whole car load of food, paper towels, cookies, a week's worth of groceries to help us out. "I can't take this," I protested. "I am not dragging all this back home," she said smiling at me. Embarrassed, I put all the groceries in my car. Crying openly, I fell into her arms as she hugged me and said this, "You will be O.K. One day, when someone else needs a hand up, pass this on. We have to be here for each other, we have to help each other. It's how we will all survive." It was not the only time she helped me, not with money, but Ma Carol helped me with problems, giving advice, sharing a cup of coffee, making me laugh. To this day we still keep in contact and I try my level best to live in a way that would make her proud. I try my level best to pass it on, in whatever way I can. I love my job, I do. Not everyday is filled with tragedy, just some. Those are the days I remember from whence I came. I was single mother. I had really tragic times. When Danny died I had to take finals the very next week. I failed every one. I had to repeat the whole semester. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but I survived because Ma Carol put her hand out and helped lift me out. She didn't coddle me, she helped me help myself. I love when I get to help people get the assistance they need, so they can go to school and pass this on. I reiterate to them, when I can, that is the bigger picture for them and for me. One day they will be O.K. One day when they are doing well, they will be able to help someone else who is having a really hard time. One day in the not so far future they will be able to pass it on.

Dear Kellie - Monday, January 09, 2012 - Copyright 2007 Ourtribune.com

Dear Kellie - Monday, January 09, 2012 - Copyright 2007 Ourtribune.com


First column of new year.

Hi Kellie

Deep in a dark, dank room, down the stairs in a church basement, there is a room filled with people. In the outside world they appear normal, but here one can see the dark circles, the worn clothes, the oppressed nature of the beast that has a hold of them. I find myself one of them now, a place I could not have imagined when I first had kids, or even the dream of kids so many years ago. "Hi, my name is Kellie and I am a parent." Group looks over, "Hi, Kellie," they say in unison in a bland, monotone voice. "I am finding myself having difficulty letting go. I admit I have screwed some things up pretty bad, but look, I thought I was just hurting myself, you know, just affecting me, but now I see this is a bigger problem than I had originally anticipated. Oh, God, I really think I need help." The group leader gets up and moves to a chair directly in front of me. Leader-"At what point did you really start to notice the problem?" Me-"Oh, I don't know..." Leader-"Really think now, Kellie, when did this get out of control?" Me-"O.K., O.K., I think it was back in '06, but I had my reasons, the stress of their SAT's, college entrance exams, prom,...I had a handle on things, I did, but then, the first one moved out and I could not stop myself. I always told myself I would quit when the right time came, but then..." Leader-"But then what?" Me-"But then there were always reasons to visit the campus, to call her, to check on her and how she was doing, plus there were other ones still in high school. Look, there was no way to go cold turkey because of the other ones." I buried my head in my hands. Leader-"Was there ever a right time with the other children? Have you ever stopped long enough to let your recovery really take hold?" Me-"No! Are you happy? I have never once since all this began let go long enough for anything in my life to take hold! I can't stop, it's too hard. I can't stop..." The group all nod in unison. In the distance, in the back of the crowd I here an older woman's voice, "Been there, done that." Leader-"At what exact point did you know you had bottomed out and needed help? Share with us, Kellie, this is a safe place." Me-"Well,..." I look down ashamed,"I was in the superduper market, you know, just picking up household items, when I was drawn to the ...I can't. I am too ashamed." Leader-"Kellie, you can do this, please go on. I promise you just saying it out loud will bring you some relief." Me-"I was in the baby isle." An audible gasp from the crowd can be heard as I lower my head and tears run down my face."I was touching the baby clothes, looking at car seats, then I found the booties. It was all over then. I knew I needed help." Leader-"I admit, you are one of the more severe cases, but you can overcome this. Having four kids in four years, well, someone should have seen this coming, but not everyone is affected the same." Me-"It's just that I am not useful anymore. They don't need me so much anymore.I shouldn't have gone in the baby stuff, I know how far I have fallen, but I miss it. I miss it everyday." The crowd, still nodding with understanding, this group of middle aged and above, men and women, who have been in the battle of their lives. Leader-"Look, this is why we are here gathered to support one another. You an do this, you can live like a real grown up without all the worry and anxiety of parenting.It's time for you to move on, to let go and let God, one day at a time." Me-"Will I ever feel normal again? Is it possible to not be a mom after all these years?" Leader-"Kellie, You are looking at this all wrong, you will always have this situation of being a mother, but it's how you decide to handle it that will determine whether or not you ever find yourself sobbing in the baby isle again." Me-"I never thought I'd be this person, you know the one who cannot get passed all of this? One minute I am living the dream, and the next I am spit washing my husband. Once, on date, back when I was a single mother I actually fixed my dates tie and combed his hair." "Poor dear, she's got it bad." I could hear again from the crowd. Leader-"We meet twice a week for our more severe cases, and once a week for those who merely want to maintain their recovery. In the times when you are not at a meeting, we will assign you a sponsor to help. Margie, I think would be a good a fit for you. She's a grandmother now and has all kinds of outside activities. She only baby sits when she wants to. She even went on a vacation recently and was gone for two whole weeks. Me-"That's possible?" Leader-"Oh, my yes! We have many parents who have recovered and have gone on to seek personal interests, and grow their romantic relationships. Help is here if you want it. You can go on to live a very fulfilling life." I pondered the idea of not cutting anyone's meat, not checking on someone's finances, not calling with reminders, not shopping for, thinking of, planning for all that time. For the first time in 25 years I felt like there might be life after parenting. Me-"I will try, with all your help." The crowd burst into applause, said the parenting prayer and pledged to do something normal for the week ahead.

Keeping the Lucky Penny

Some love stories are epic tales, or in this case epic tails. This blog is dedicated to just such a story of a man and his dog, a simple, tried and true love story that changed the world for the better in the most unexpected ways. Penny, the beautiful girl seen above, left a legacy of love, compassion and opened me up to a world I had thought I never wanted to be within. Brady, the man, is a disc jockey. That title seems small when describing him. He is so much more than a record spinner. An ex military guy, he is strong, really smart, and incredibly funny. I met Brady a million years ago when I was a tiny child. He is a few years older than I am and back then he was infatuated with my sister. He was a boy from our neighborhood, a boy who was a bit of a ring leader, who had this way of getting us into just enough trouble without risking our lives. He was also the guy who covered everybody's butt if things got out of hand. We all sort just did what he told us. I have no idea what made us trust him so easily back then, maybe it was the innocence of youth, maybe it was that we were just dumb, or maybe we all knew he would never do anything to really hurt us, but if he got to laugh at us all the better. No one was more committed to comedy than Brady. I learned years ago there was no way for anyone to make you feel embarrassed if you were truly committed to the bit. It took me a lot of years to learn that, when my dear friend Brady intrinsically knew it from the time he was very young and still in school. If he was going to do something silly, you could bet your life he was totally committed to the bit. He never felt embarrassed, if anything he was able to gain followers who admired his ability to stay loyal to the outcome. Thinking about this trait in him, this loyalty, it did not take much to connect the dots and realize he was as committed to everything in his life. Brady has this way of whittling a situation down to find the heart of the matter, whether it be in humor or another emotion. It's really quite remarkable the way he takes a block of information and chips away at it to find a truth buried beneath all the outer rings. He does it with big social topics, he does it with music, and he does it with pop culture, which is where he makes me laugh the hardest. He is very punny. This past month, I was privileged enough to see via social media, him and his beautiful wife go through something heartbreaking. Publicly, he never wavered from being the strong, smart, funny guy, but for those of us who are honored enough to be in his friends list, he showed honestly, his heartbreak of taking care of his beloved Penny. It was all there, his heart open and mourning her illness. He told us how they had taken her hours away for help, hoping beyond hope that someone could save her. His brutal honesty was in every word, on each post, and we all were standing by waiting for a Christmas miracle that would save one of the loves of his life. There was the power of the throng, wanting, praying, wishing them their miracle. When so many other times we see people gather in large groups that end in destruction, here we all were pulling so hard for something beyond ourselves, pulling for this family to become whole. Brady, knowing we were all in this with him, graciously took time out to update Penny's condition. In the end, even the best veterinary medicine in Oklahoma could not save his beloved Penny. Ultimately, they took her home where she wandered in the yard, wagged her tail and in the night, surrounded by those she loved and who dearly loved her, she let go. I have no doubt she knew exactly how much she was loved. If it was so apparent over the internet, I am certain in person, face to face, it had the power that could light up even the darkest night sky. My friend, lost one of the loves of his life just before Christmas. His family, in mourning, put to rest the girl, who loved them in a way no one else could. They did not have a Christmas tree, forgetting about the holiday because they were so focused on their girl. The holiday passed quietly for his family as they faced the new year without the beautiful girl who impacted their lives and changed them forever. I believe we are made up of mostly soul with a few spare parts to keep out the cold. It is the soul in us that creates our beauty, develops our hearts and allows us to feel things so deeply we think our heart might burst. I believe all animals and humans are born with the capacity for love, some delving deep into the work of expanding mind, body and soul, and some who just sort of give up. Having had animals all my life, they are each so individual, so unique, that no generalizations can really be used with any accuracy. These furry souls, these little dependent, trusting, loyal to the end souls wait for us to help them develop their own hearts and minds. It is truly in the way they are treated that they are able to become something more ethereal. We all have the ability to choose for ourselves how we want to impact the world. Because of what Penny was taught and what she ultimately taught Brady, their souls have risen to another mark. They both, with the love and loyalty of each other raised each other up to the heavens, a little closer to God. Recently, my friend, Brady posted this: "Losing Penny has taught me one thing: no matter how hard I try, there are just some things that I can't control or fix. For me, that's a hard thing to come to terms with....but I'm trying. Maybe I'll have just a little bit less stress in my life going forward. Thanks, big pup." There it is, the result of an epic love story that changed the world for the better. I had been witness to this epic love story, when a dog who I would never have tried to help before, because of my fear of pit bulls, showed up at my door. My initial response was wishing poor, sweet Percy gone, but here is the caveat: I had literally just been a part of something so heart wrenching between Brady and his beloved Penny, that I could not allow my fear to sway me away from helping Percy. It was my singular thought, that some man was out looking for his beloved dog and I was responsible for helping him. What help I could not offer my friend, I could offer this man here, in my hometown. Had I not been aware of the love story of my friend and his Penny, maybe Percy would not be happy at home with his owner, today. Penny's soul, her light from within is what saved a sweet dog here, and turned my heart, changing my perception of what I thought I knew about pit bulls. Once again, the world became a little brighter, trying to reach the same brightness, to match the glow of Penny's light that continues to shine.

With Open Arms and an Open Heart, Thank You.

I have manners, I do. My parents being of the very socially conscious mindset spent hours teaching me which fork to use, where to stash my napkin, what a good hand shake feels like and most of all, to say "Thank you" when it is deemed appropriate. I am nothing short of a trained poodle, when social occasions arise, no offense, Mom. I have met very important people, self important people and folks like me who I find fascinating, but maybe do not have as much street cred as the previous groups. I can sit a very fancy restaurant and use all the utensils correctly. Yeah, that's right, you heard it, I said it, all of them! I can be at a professional dinner party and keep my elbows off the table the entire duration. I ain't no hooker, Yo, from "Pretty Woman", I know what escargot is and have eaten it without event. I will confess, though, that when I am at a dinner party of close, valuable friends, I tend to lean in on my elbows completely locked and loaded in the conversation. It is my state of engagement, my leaning my face on my folded hands. Albeit somewhat impolite, it means I am riveted by you and want to be as close as possible to your voice. I was a debutante. Ha! bet you never saw that one coming, did you? Well, smarty pants, I was, and I did not embarrass my parents or myself even once the entire evening. I did embarrass my mom briefly at a rehearsal with my dad, but he started it. After the face melting glare of her angry eyes, we both decided it was best if we went back to playing it straight. I will tell you, I felt slightly uncomfortable in those circumstances with all the hoopla, the rigamarole, and such. I was a senior in high school, very active in my school in the dorkiest groups that ever existed. I was a band geek, a choir nerd, in the musicals, etc. Not exactly a popularity power play. But I did it for the love the work that was involved. I would gladly do it the exact same way if I got the chance. My activities were all about the work, much like sports. Unlike sports, no one was going to vote us Homecoming Queen or King. This white gowned, polite, super conservative, waltzing show of prestige, well, I am sure by now you can see where I might have struggled. I just showed up with a gown my mom made which I will tell you was rocking hot, and did my own thing, dancing into the night with my very best friend. I love those pictures. My mom got her dream of her little grungy daughter dressing up to the nines, wearing white, dancing with her father, not belching in public, and I got to be me, only cleaner, wearing make up, with my hair done. Jim, my best friend since I was 9 years old, and I danced to every song until we nearly fell over. Looking back I can't imagine taking anyone else. It was one of those epic nights in my memory, where manners were of the utmost importance. I had accomplished what would have been akin to a game winning touchdown for my parents. "Look, Ma, no hands, no feet, no bad manners." The pictures of the a fore mentioned debutante ball is my proof that yes, since a young age, I have manners. I noticed something about myself when I was performing this past fall in the play. During rehearsals, our director would shoot out where she wanted us, how she wanted us and when we did good, she was the first person to compliment us. During this I took in her compliments and used them as fuel to try and get where she needed me to go. I never thought, "Oh look how good I am." I just thought, "Oh thank God I didn't screw that up." I have so much respect for this director. I love her. She has been honing her theater craft for decades and it shows. Any thoughts or questions I had she knew the exact thing to tell me. Being a complete novice, I had no idea how to do theater without singing my way through it. I had never done a play before. Never once did my dear director give up on me, not during pneumonia, not during my confusion about the blocking, never. She merely guided me with her words to help me through the rough patches. Which for the students who were experienced, yeah, well, I am sorry for all that. My point here is, I took in her compliments, but when it came to our performances and others saying nice things to me, I muttered "Thank you for coming" and stared at my feet. I am the world's worst compliment taker/acceptor, bar none. There I was receiving the most genuine, heart felt, kind words I had ever received and for the life of me I could not take it in. This wasn't about ego, it was about neurosis, ya know, the thing I am trying to get rid of this year? I stood as people said the nicest things I have ever heard, whether they felt like they had to or just did it anyway is irrelevant, it was the fact that I got so embarrassed, I could not look them in the face. That just ain't right. I am proud that I did not do my "go to" move of trying to convince people how wrong they were and list every mistake I made. I used to spend so much time convincing people why their compliment was way off base. I believe the word for that is "asshole". I was being a complete asshole. Here, I had people trying to encourage me with words from the heart and I was going out of my way to show them how wrong they were. O.K., so since I am older I stopped being such an asshole. I did not have one singular asshole moment in the receiving lines after our performances. That is progress, in it's own right, but I think I am still too far away from where I should be. Performing for me has nothing to do with ego. It is the act, the performance the opportunity, the immediate response in the moment that thrills me. It is, and always has been about the work. I have never performed a perfect show, ever! In all the years and all the performances, whether singing, playing, acting or doing stand-up, at no point did I walk off the stage and think, "Good enough!" That is what I mean by I have no ego in performing. Well, that and I always worry at some point I will just fall apart and pee my pants. I have worried about that since I was 9 years old, doing a talent show with my sister. This year, I would like to spend more time taking in the good stuff that people say. I do not want to be taken in by compliments, but to absorb the kindness of others without making them regret it. Having manners, I say "Thank you", but what I thinking is "Oh God please make them stop. This is embarrassing and if they had any idea, they would never even acknowledge me." It is in my body language, my down cast eyes, my inability to be grateful for any talent or God given gifts I possess. It shows in my self deprecating humor, where I constantly make fun of me, which I will not be giving up because some of it is pretty darn funny. It shows in my lack of confidence when I have a run in with another asshole who is out to say or do destructive things. Now, that big ball crap I internalize. I mentioned "Pretty Woman" and the one line I love and will repeat myself with, so bear with me is, "Why is it, the bad stuff is easier to believe." That line hit me like a truck. I hear and talk with women and men who have had incredible compliments thrown their way, but the bad stuff is what sticks. This year is about making the compliments stick like tar. It's about helping others hear the compliments they get, too. It amazes me when the most talented people, or incredibly smart, funny, compassionate women around me can not take in compliments, even after having worked so hard to receive them. This year when someone says I look nice, I plan to look them square inn the eye and say, "Thank you", and mean it. I have always felt they were too kind, but now I want to believe they are being just kind enough. When someone takes the time to say something nice to me about something I have done well, I want to absorb it, swallow it whole and let it fill me instead of dismissing it as if they have had a mental break down and need to seek professional help. I do not want to do this to feed my own ego, but rather to honor their words and feelings. I also want to honor my beautiful brain, and this body of mine that kept me going all these years. So, here's to you and your resolutions or journey for the year. You look fabulous, by the way. I just thought you should know.

What Goes Up, Must Come Down.

So here we are in 2012. Congratulations for making it into another year.
Yesterday the whole family and a few friends got together at our house and shared food, great gobs of thick, rich Polish food. It's the best hangover cure ever. Unfortunately, the electricity went out and folks left early. In some ways it seemed apropos, the quiet, the many candles with their dancing light and the fireplace glow, with Asti lying in front of it on her pillow. It was warm and cozy, like being inside a giant, fuzzy blanket. We didn't have a storm, or weather related problems, so I am not exactly sure why the electricity went out, but in the end, it all worked out as things usually do.

I have to finish my resolution list today. Today it goes from conceptual thinking to black and white print. I have so many things to do this year. I have a whole new set of goals for myself, and for my little family. So tell me, do you have lofty goals for yourself? ............................Well, I am waiting.............................
Surely you could have come up with something.
O.K., O.K., I'll stop pressuring you. Geeze, relax would ya?

In writing down what I want, what I need, what I aspire, it occurred to me that was goes up, must come down.
Let's start with the obvious, I have gotten fluffier, not fatter mind you, I weigh less than I did a year ago, by more than a whopping ten pounds, but my couch time when I was sick turned my generally firm muscles into flowing jelly rolls. The good news is there is always room for jello. Since I am a shape shifter, I need to get a handle on that. I have no want to be the one who refuses to walk to get the mail because the 40 feet is just too far.

Next up is Christmas and holiday stuff. It takes me days, alone to put up all of our "stuff". I have a few days now to get it all to fit back in their containers. It's no easy fete to accomplish this. I have no idea what happens but the original stuff never fits quite right back into the boxes making me huff, puff and squeeze things in ways that nature fights against. I'll do the outside first so the neighbors think I am organized as I take the next week and a half to shove everything else.

Next is expectations, mine, theirs, and maybe even yours. I have found myself more than once thinking things should be one way, when clearly the universe, God or some one who just doesn't agree with me, thinks things should go another way. Ultimately, I am faced with choices of being pissed, compliant, easy going or hurt. The good news is I get decide which one reaction happens. I am thinking this year, maybe I will wait for as much information as possible before I expect anything. There is some truth to never being disappointed if there are no expectations to impede the progress.

I need sleep. Real, relaxed, cover my eyes with one of those Lone Ranger masks without the eye hole, sleep. I haven't had a good night's sleep in years. Did you hear me? I said YEARS. Some it is hormones, thank you, Mother Nature, and some if it is kids, and some of it is habit. Since I have been up for years, it definitely time for me to come down. I have hatched a plan to help. I will not be available to anyone during the week after 8:00 PM. It's my own version of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell". Don't ask me for anything during my bedtime ritual, and I won't tell you what to do with your request.

My biggie this year is stress. Our stress level has been maxed out for all of 2011. Now that the new year is here, it is time for us to kick back, let it be and allow us to slowly descend from the heightened awareness we have been suffering from. Michael and I have aged exponentially, since last year at this time. I had a conversation recently with a "friend". This supposed friend said, "You are just not yourself lately." She was right, I haven't. We were and are faced with life altering decisions and I went through a health scare that I thought might kill me, so my usual laid back jolly self had crawled into the fetal position to take cover. Not to worry, my old usual self is on the rise as the old decrepit, sickly self is disappearing. Oh, and thanks for the heads up. Your keen awareness of my state of mind has been invaluable. Alright, maybe my sarcasm level should come down, too.

My teeter totter, is on it's gentle decline to the ground this year. Last year I was trapped up by the fat kid, waving my arms, suffering cherry bumps, screaming to be let down. With the bully under control, I am now able to find my way to solid ground.
I realize this is day 2 and we have many more to go, but I know what optimism does. I know that my glass half full is a much better way for me to view things than my glass shattered and on the floor in pieces. I believe my half glass is on the rise also. I believe I will gain contents of unimagined joy.

I have so much already. Really, with all of our stuff, clothes, a home, a family, friends who love me even when I am in a bad place, I have so much. This journey, this year isn't about gaining stuff, I want nothing tangible. It isn't about a quest for friendships, although I have never turned one down. This year is about gaining insight, compassion, understanding, and knowledge. It's about reading, doing, dreaming, writing, painting, sculpting, trying things I never thought I would ever be able to do. This year is about allowing the meager dreams I have, fall away so that greater things can happen. I believe God dreams bigger things for you than you can ever dream for yourself, so this year is about letting down my guard, my need for control, to see what God has in store for me. I have never felt so free, or so naked. If Kellie's neurosis falls in the woods, with no one else around and she doesn't blog about it, will anyone hear it?

Change Will Do Us Good

Ladies and Gentlemen I would like to introduce Percy. Percy came to us quite by accident because he had wandered away from his loyal owner, jumping his fence and taking off. Tom was outside when Percy came up to him with tail wagging and seemed very tired. He was wearing a harness, was well groomed and obviously very loved by someone. Tom, being my Dr. Doolittle petted Percy showing him kindness and love. Percy followed Tom over into our yard and into our courtyard. Tom gave him food, water and a pillow to sleep on. Percy, being a lost stray, was tired and I believe a little scared until he came upon my Tom. Percy is a full blooded pit bull.

I woke up and got my coffee, heading out to the courtyard, like I do every morning. Tom stopped me briefly and said, "There is a pit bull on our porch. He is lost and we need to find his owner." Seeing the abject terror on my face the minute he said pit bull, Tom quickly told me how nice the dog was and I needn't be scared. But I was scared, I am terrified of certain breeds of dogs. I have read enough stories of horror in our own small town papers, to know that certain owners of certain breeds, breeds disaster. Tom kept talking as I wandered out to see this mammoth headed dog laying on the wiener's outdoor cushion. "Oh, Tom, I don't know..." I began. "Mom, we need to help him. He is so sweet."
I walked out to be greeted by a sweet tempered, docile but imposing dog. It was his structure, his large boned body, square head and small eyes that was imposing. Percy, himself was just happy that someone had showed him some kindness. He walked over as I sat on the bench and laid his giant head on my lap. I petted his head, rubbed his face and began talking softly to him. "Who are you, boy? Where is your home?" This imposing dog merely wagged his tail and moved in for more love.

The hunt began early to try and find Percy's home or if that could not be accomplished, at least find a safe place for him to stay until we found someone to take him. I began posting things on our neighborhood website. There amongst the other news were lots of postings for lost or found dogs. I found out, thanks to "friends" on the site, that if we took him to nearly any shelter he would be automatically put down. As a pit bull, it was procedure to euthanize the strays. Mike and I could not bear the idea that someone's family pet put down for no reason other than his breed. Percy proved himself to be anything but vicious. As a matter of fact, he would wag his tail at everyone who came to the gait. "Not much of a guard dog, are you?" I laughed as I rubbed his belly. We put Percy in the car and drove around our neighborhood looking for clues of who might be missing their beloved dog. No one had seen or knew of anything, so back to the house we went. We collectively decided with New Years coming fast, Percy needed to be indoors. Fireworks and gun shots are overwhelming here at midnight. I did not want poor Percy to be outside panicked as the great booming sounds surrounded us. Tom began hunting for some place for Percy to stay.
I was on the phone with my girlfriend when Tom much later that afternoon, came rushing in. "I found Percy's home!" Our community is about 75,000 people. It was a needle in a hay stack for us to find Percy's home, but we had each taken a turn to try and help. At one point, earlier in the morning as sweet Percy slept, I prayed for him. "Please, help him find his home. Spare his life. Help us do the right thing." It took all day, and many miles of travel before we were able to find the man who was sorely missing his beloved dog. Tom found out that Percy was a rescue. The man who owned Percy had rescued him as he wandered in the woods, badly wounded and scarred from being forced into dog fights. He had been a puppy and the man took Percy in, loving him dearly. Had we taken him to a shelter, he would certainly been put down. This wasn't just a happy ending, it was a glorious one. I felt like it was a sign of things to come for the new year. Sometimes happy endings do happen and everyone really is the better for it.
Later that evening I was getting ready to go out with my darling Michael. Everything I touched turned to crap. I was having a real girl moment when what I planned to wear was not going to do in the balmy, humid weather, my shoes did not match anything else and my hair was taking on a life of it's own. "Oh geeze!" I kept saying loudly. Michael could hear my huffing and puffing as my frustration grew. A man who has been married long enough realizes the exact moment when a girlie woman goes from frustrated to locking herself in her closet not wanting to go out. The response of this man takes the precision of a surgeon. One false move, one off handed comment and the night would go up in smoke. Michael carefully traveled around the emotional landmines I had set up in my hurried, furious, frustrated state with the grace of an Olympic athlete. Thirty minutes later we were out the door. My hair had been pinned up, my outfit changed and the shoes, well, they were basic black. I had tried to put as much lipstick on the pig of the night as I could. Dressing to the last moment, I had to carry my mom purse because no time was left to change bags. I did my best to salvage my attitude, trying desperately not to punish the man who actually wanted to spend time with me.
Once at the restaurant, we took our seats. I had carefully made sure of time, place, and menu. We did not want a big new year's extravaganza. We wanted to go out to grab a light meal, sip some wine and enjoy each others company. They handed us their "special" New year's menu, an extravagant, expensive, over the top, we could not possibly eat that much food, menu that had both Mike and I looking at each other as if we had been duped. I saw the frustration return but this time it was Mike who was feeling the pain. The waiter came over asking to help us, when I asked for a few minutes to try and figure out what we were going to do. "It's $200 by the time we get drinks and gratuity," Mike whispered across the table. I had put on my readers and was looking at the menu, it was not anything I cared for, and I was growing angrier at the woman who had reserved our table for us. "I asked about all this, She said their regular menu was available. This is upsetting," I whispered back. We looked at each other, I could see Michael not wanting to pay for something we did not want, but feeling torn he would ruin our New Year's evening. I looked at his face, smiling I said, "Baby we do not have to do this. I was lied to. This is not what either of us wants. We can just leave. We do not have to sit here and pay for stuff we do not want." My sweet husband, my boyfriend, looked at me with wide open eyes, asking, "Are you sure?" the love he has for me, the way he protects my feelings, the want to do whatever I want, it was all there in my boy's face. "Hell yeah, I'm sure. Let's bounce." Just as quickly as we had been seated we got up and headed for the door. I stopped at the hostess desk to let her know her table was once again available. "There seems to be a misunderstanding," I spoke in a low voice to the young girl at the desk, "I called and was assured we did not have to order form a special menu. Since that is not the case we will be leaving." She told me then the waiter would have given us a regular menu. "That's alright, dear, this has turned into brain surgery, and all we wanted was a light supper. Happy New Year." And with that we left. On our way to the car Mike and I talked about the possible extortion that had just nearly happened. They did not give us the regular menu, I would have had to ask for it, and to be perfectly honest, I would not have known to do that. It was clear they wanted us to spend way too much on their menu to increase their profits. I specifically asked for something, and that is what I should have gotten, without having to beg a waiter for it. I am not at all fond of people doing slimy business tactics and this smacked of exactly that. In the end we were back in our car with the evening hanging in the balance, again. "Go to the grocery store," I told Mike, "I have an idea." I said nothing more wanting him to be surprised and maybe hang onto what evening we had left. Mike pulled into the parking lot and we barely made it in before they closed. I headed for the meat counter to see what was left. Mike tugged on my now determined sleeve, "Baby, you do not have to cook tonight. It's O.K. we will figure something out." "I know," I said while looking at my impeccably dressed handsome husband, "trust me, I think I am on to something."
I grabbed the last rack of lamb, some fresh greens for salad, and a bottle of wine. We headed to the register, and my husband gently kissed me, as we waited to check out. "I love you, Kel." "I know, and you sir, will be having a magnificent dinner for two at Chez Gregg." As we checked out, the bill came to $36.00. "We will dine on superb food, sip this lovely crisp wine and all for the low, low price of $36. Now that is a steal!" I giggled as we grabbed our bags and headed home.

Mike and I had a lovely garlic and rosemary crusted lamb chop, with asiago mashed potatoes, gently broiled to crisp the edges and a fresh green salad. We sipped wine, watched New Yorkers standing in the cold as Celo Green sang, "Imagine". We kissed at the east coast stroke of midnight and again an hour later when Houston finally celebrated 2012. We took our time eating, drinking and laughing, as Michael complimented every morsel I had made. We took our wine to the living room and watched Asti sleep soundly in front of the gas fireplace, with the twinkle lights gleaming in the background. It was not the new Year's Eve we had planned, it was better. Instead of wincing at an over bloated check , we had a lovely meal planned just exclusively for us. It was warm and loving, this new New Year, each of us so willing to sacrifice for the other. Had I wanted to stay at the restaurant, Michael would have paid that bill. We wanted us to be happy, to be together, to enjoy the quiet of each others company and that is precisely what we got.
I have a feeling about this upcoming year, with Michael and I together, and Percy safe in his loving home, the signs all point to a very good year.