Street Smart Kitten vs. Dog Who Acts Like a Person

Yesterday I tried to force the dog and cat to be friends. They had previously only interacted by stare downs taking place across the room. I told Lola to be nice and to give the kitty kisses. She wasn't really sure at first.

  But since she's good at obeying, she went for it.

  Now they seem to be the best of friends. I think Lola could befriend a Grizzly Bear if we let her.

They have been chasing each other all over the house all night tonight. As I'm typing this, Lola just walked in the room and looked at me. The little kitten trailed right behind her and did the same. Then they both ran off.

 Lola is going to be very sad when I take her playmate to my mom's house where she's going to be staying.  I wish we could get a replacement kitty but my allergies have went haywire since stray kitty arrived. Looks like we'll have to find a different playmate for Lola.


                                                       

Oh.

Things are always more clear once you put them in writing.
Looking back at my last post, I can see very clearly why the bathroom scale has been acting up and why my summer wardrobe seems to have shrunk since last season. I guess I will have to stop blaming the dryer and start blaming the real culprit......nice relatives with their gift cards. Shame on you!

Mood vs. Food

As I reflect on my day, I've found there is a clear correlation between my mood and my food. 

       This morning, as nearly every morning, I have this clear plan in my head to get up and jog. That is why for over a year now my alarm goes off at 5:45am and continues to buzz until 7:00am. Now some mornings, I have that dream. You know which one. The one where you get up, shower, brush your teeth, and have a relaxing morning and leave for work. Then as the door closes you startle to wake up realizing you haven't really done any of those things and you must start all over, only this time you've overslept.

      Today was not that morning. I knew very good and well that I was awake and instead of getting up to jog, I was just lying there. Somehow in the midst of thinking about how I should jog before church , I realize that I've missed my window and I am running late for church. Kyle is supposed to give me an occasional shout out of our countdown to keep me on schedule. However he forgets this but informs me that we need to go now because by the time I "dilly daddle" my way to the door it will be time to leave. As I'm walking out the door, I tell him that I don't "dilly daddle". Shortly followed by "Oh but I forgot to grab my Bible and I think I need to pee." He's waiting in the car while I'm mumbling something about him playing video games and not making me a cup of coffee. By the time we get home from church I'm hungry and tired and in a great mood for an argument. 

      Argument resolved and we decide to head to Illinois to swap my car back with my family and take a hike to Garden of the Gods. We fill up with gas and grab McDonald's on the way out of town. As we order, I clearly state that I want a classic grilled sandwich. As we're heading off, I open the bag and my little cardboard box says crispy not grilled. And what is in the box? None other than a crispy sandwich. A demon rushes into my body and has a full-on 2 year old child tantrum. It sounded something like "CRISPY?!! I SAID GRILLED!!" Then a noise,sounding somewhere between a lion's roar and a train whistle, came out of my small, ladylike mouth. It was accompanied by a full body shudder and my hands raised in fists. I'm not sure exactly what came over me. Kyle said he has never seen anything like it. Maybe it was years of getting lettuce put on my food, when I request otherwise,or maybe it was the lack of food in my system. I"m not sure, but as I'm going on and on about crispy chicken making me sick, and how easy it must be to read a screen and put what the screen says into a bag, Kyle turns around and waits in the car while I walk back into McDonalds. Now, I'm a polite person, so I walk in and calmly ask to get the grilled sandwich I ordered. The manager, very nicely asks her cook to make me another one, apologizes and I say "No problem" and prance happily to the car with my grilled chicken. 

       As the day wears on, we reach a point where we are debating our supper. Sometimes this is an argument in itself.  We decide to go to Outback since we have a giftcard. I am a little nervous. What if something goes wrong and my tantrum goes public? What if they put lettuce on my food? Our waitress is very nice and substitutes green beans for me instead of seasonal veggies, which in most cases is broccoli that I choke down because I paid for it. My steak is cooked to perfection, my green beans are steamed fresh, and my baked potato is delicious. I purposely save half of my steak and green beans and a little corner of my potato so I can take them home and enjoy them for lunch tomorrow. As we're driving home into the sunset, Kyle gives me a huge grin as my hair blows in the wind from our doorless Jeep and I sit clutching my small take home container for dear life. I close my eyes and soak in the happy ending to my day. 

      

The Three Stooges

I went home Mother's Day weekend. It was beautiful weather for a change and Lola had a blast playing with the family.

Lola's favorite part was running in the yard with her buddies. Wally-my sister's dog and Max-our family dog. 

I tried to get them to sit for treats all at the same time, but Wally's only trick is jumping. And I mean JUMPING. So Lola sat, Wally jumped, and Max, who's main trick is to pretend to be a guard dog and chase rabbits, just rolled over to get his belly petted. We'll have to work on synchronizing those tricks later. 

But they did have fun running and dog piling on each other.

The hippie held a gun.

I'm the hippie and this is the story of how I came to hold a gun. 

In my hometown, guns are just as much of a sport as baseball.  Children learn from their dad's how to hunt for deer and turkeys at an early age. Our school is even dismissed on the first day of deer season. I, however, did not grow up around guns. My family never had the interest. The only guns we owned were passed down and used for killing rabid raccoons in the backyard. At least that's my one memory of our gun from my childhood. While my friends were showing off pictures of their first kill, I was on another train of thought.  I have always had a driving love for animals. I understand the need for hunting for animal control and I don't have a problem with hunting. However, it is not something I could do myself. I grew up as the one person in my family that would stop the car to ensure a small turtle crossed his path safely. I cried the first time I hit a bunny rabbit crossing the road. I saved our kittens from rain storms, and spent many hours at the fence where my neighbors horses came to greet us. I even cut barb wire out of the fur of a homely stray goat that came for a visit. 

Then there is my husband.  

Kyle grew up in the same small town as I did. He was on the side of hunting skills that have been passed down from grandpa's and dad's and now even to daughters. He grew up exploring the creeks and fields next to his house and I daresay his compassion towards animals might have involved more of a stoning than a saving act. He was a boy's boy and now a man's man. And what is more manly than the act of hunting?  When we started dating, I quickly found out that he has a love for firearms that I will never understand. He cares for them, cleans them, misses them, and talks about them the same way I talk about shopping for shoes. I do not pretend to like his guns. They are unfamiliar and intimidating to me. I have come to the conclusion it's best if I just let him love his guns and he lets me love my shoes. 

After 4 years of previously declined invitations, I finally agreed to accompany Kyle to the shooting range on Monday. 

After watching Kyle shoot for a while our conversation went something like this: 

Kyle: "Well, would you like to try to shoot today?"

Jill:   "Yes, I think so. But do you promise to warn me if a bird flies by just in case I accidentally might hit it?"
Kyle: "Sure, but I think the birds have been around long enough to know not to fly near the shooting range."

After thorough instructions with a few diagrams drawn, I understood the concept of a gun and was ready to shoot. Kyle said I did really well. I was just glad I hit the big cardboard target and didn't embarrass myself. 

This was from about 20 yards. I was aiming for the top left white square. I didn't think it was too bad for my first time holding a gun.

While I still love my shoes more than guns, I did enjoy myself. I told Kyle I would come back again next time with him. Although, I can say with certainty that you won't catch this hippie hunting any time soon.

Trusting

I should start this blog by saying this is not another witty, silly blog about my boring life. It is more of a soul searching blog while I type and think about the direction my life is headed.

My whole life, those of you who know me well will attest to this, I have loved children. I have had a strong desire to have a big family with lots of backyard ball in the summer and snow angels in the winter. As some of my friends have said "You were born to be a mom." But my mom role has always taken a different meaning in my eyes. I have felt the calling to adopt a child (ren) who otherwise would not know the kind of love every child deserves. I have never had a connection or special feeling towards having my own flesh and blood. Even now as I'm thinking about having a little boy who would grow up to be just like my husband Kyle,it does not strike me as something I must have to fulfill my life. To me, I feel as though there is a place God has placed in my heart that will only be filled by my obedience to God to adopt. I cannot remember the first time I felt this, as far as I can remember it has been my true heart's craving.
Kyle and I have talked about this before and he does feel that urge to have his own flesh and blood. He would like to have our own biological children. I am not sure how or why God would put such a strong calling on me and not on my husband. Kyle has never been opposed to the idea of adoption. He just had never considered it before I brought it up.
This brings me to where we are now. We've been married six months. For us it has been a huge life change because Kyle and I have lived at least 2 hours apart for most of our 4 year dating period. I have come to this point in my life where I want to be just married with no tie-downs. Free to travel anywhere I choose for vacation. Free to get away for long weekends to visit our friends. Free to eat cookies for supper without having to set an example for anyone. I see my friends juggling soccer, dance, work, school and I cringe. We have always wanted to wait a few years before we have kids.  We don't feel pressured to have kids from anyone-that is not the issue. But I feel my desire that was embedded so deeply in me diminishing. I have even considered not having children. That scared me to think that I'm putting aside my life calling for selfish reasons.  Or maybe I'm just finally enjoying where I am in life instead of hanging on to this person I have always pictured myself to be at this stage in my life. I do know that everything is in God's timing.  Someday He will lead me to my child (ren) and will fill that God given place in my heart. I pray he overflows that place.
Trusting in His relentless love.

Jogging Attempt

Yesterday Kyle wanted to go for a jog. I contemplated not going. Then the picture of me in a bathing suit this summer popped in my head. So off we go to jog around town. I am going strong for about 3 minutes and 40 seconds until I get a side pain. Kyle says if you stomp that foot harder as you land it helps. So I'm stomp-running and finally it goes a away. I pushed through it! I envision my college self running the 2 miles I did almost everyday before class. I'm feeling good and thinking, "Oh yeah! I've still got it!"
And since God likes to strike down conceited people I experience another side pain only 10 times worse. I clutch my side and start stomping. Only this time the pain accelerates and doubles me over. So, because I don't want to look like a big weenie in front of my husband, who is practically running circles around me with his hands casually resting inside the pockets his little livestrong running jacket, I keep running....er.... sideways limping in a fast manner. With each step I'm yelling aloud "Oh it hurts!" "It hurts so bad!"  "I'm not going to survive" "This is the end of me" Finally when I think I have hit rock bottom and I feel myself collapsing to the ground,  I see a beautiful pink tree ahead. Since I love to look at pretty trees, I announce that I should walk for awhile once I get to the tree. I made it. At least to the tree. I ended up walking the rest of the way, enjoying the beautiful scenery that I could not stand to run by and miss. A few times I did run up a steep hill, only because I needed the momentum to carry myself up or I would be rolling back down. Finally we reach the corner where the Jeep is parked. Somehow I jump my jell-o legs in and feel the sweet relief of a cushioned seat. All in all, I'm going to call this jog a success. After a long bubble bath and some deep searching within I might adventure to say I'll try it again.