Caleb and the Psychic

I met Dawn through the bookstore where I work but got to know her a bit better when I went to the alpaca farm not too long ago, where she goes to spin alpaca wool. She came into the store yesterday and looked unbearably sad. It turned out her dog had died suddenly, after surgery to remove gall stones.

Dawn's husband is career military and is in Afghanistan until mid January. They have no children so her pets have become her kids and she loves them with a true maternal love. She is mourning her dog. So I told her this story:

Years ago, I fell in love with a little keeshond puppy. These puppies look a lot like baby bears.




When Caleb was about a year old (I always seem to name my dogs 'people names.') I bought a brand new, baby blue convertible, and I loved to put Caleb in the front passenger seat, lower the top and take off for country rides. He just looked perfect for that car. It was enjoyable, for both him and for me.

Keeshonds are gorgeous animals and he was no exception.




He was, in fact, so perfect that when I talked to the vet about getting Caleb fixed, he talked me out of it, saying that Caleb was perfect and we really should show him. I guess you cannot show dogs who have been neutered because they are often used for breeding.

One day, Caleb and I were tooling around in my little blue convertible. I stopped at the beginning of our long driveway and jumped out to get the mail from the box. I slammed shut the driver's door and heard an immediate yelp. I had accidentally slammed poor Caleb's nose in the door! I took him to the vet, who was pretty furious at me, and found I had broken his nose. Trust me, my heart STUNG over this. There was no way to set a dog's broken nose. So in time, in did heal, but it healed crooked, at almost a 45 degree angle. (So much for showing my dog!)

My friends all knew how much I loved this dog and their way of trying to make me feel better, (thinking they would make me laugh, I suppose,) was to tease me unmercifully. After a while, Caleb forgave me. But I never really forgave myself.

Quite a few years later, I lost Caleb rather suddenly. One evening, he went outside and several discs in his spine crumbled. We rushed him to the vet, who told me it was time to put him down. Instead, I took that poor dog back home with me. I fought like a tiger to keep him going, but after several hours it was clear that it had to be done. As I lifted him into the back seat of the car, as much as I'm sure that process hurt him, he leaned forward and gently licked my hand. I took this as his way of saying "thanks, mommy, 'cause I can't go on."

About a week later I was sitting at my computer. My heart was still broken and I needed to try and get my mind off Caleb. ICQ was a new instant chat and I got a random message from this Canadian lady. After a bit of boring chat, she told me she was a psychic. I thought, "yeah yeah yeah, right.." But then she went on to tell me she felt I was grieving. Well, I perked up a little, but not much. She continued.

"You lost your dog. He was silver and black."

Lucky guess, I figured.

"He's telling me you don't believe. He said to tell you two words and then you will believe."

I read this but didn't respond. Then she said this:

"He said to say, "my nose."

I felt the hair on my neck rise. I called my daughter into the room (I think she was about 10 years old at that time) who read it and burst into tears.

The instant message box kept blinking with messages from this psychic lady. She kept saying "What does that mean? What does that mean? What does that mean?"

I didn't answer her question but asked one of my own instead.

"How long is he going to stay with me?"

"As long as you need him." she replied. "He wants to go but he wants to wait until you're ready."

"Thank you." I said, wiping tears off my cheeks. "Can you tell him he can go now?"

"Why don't you tell him yourself? He's sitting right next to you."

I looked down to my right and whispered.

"Go baby. Go be well. Mommy loves you."

And I pictured him licking my hand and gleefully running off.


********************************************************************


You can choose to believe or disbelieve this; it doesn't change a thing. This is a true story. And I can tell you, it helped my friend, Dawn.

And if any you reading this have lost a beloved pet, I hope it helps you, too.

I Want To Be A Little Light

It seems that lately there has been, more than ever, a rash of unbelievably evil doings in our world. We have soldiers killing soldiers, as what happened at Fort Hood in Texas yesterday, babies being hidden in coffin like boxes under beds for twelve hours along with a box of baking soda to cover the inevitable stench of an unchanged dirty diaper, little girls taken from their very beds and slaughtered with absolutely no regard.

I don't know if these horrid acts have always existed to the extent that they do now, or if the media is just able to give it more coverage, but it is disheartening, to say the least. Each time one of these things happen, it chisels away at the goodness of all of mankind. It takes what sets us apart from the rest of earth's creatures and instead, casts us to the bottom of an abyss where we may not be able to recover as a species.

There is only one way to redeem ourselves. We must continue to quietly do good in each of our own lives. We must live quiet lives of faith, hope and charity; faith that we can more than balance out the evil with kind acts of caring and generosity, hope that we will continue to treat each other and all the living things in God's world with dignity as a way of making life better for others, and charity in that we show a broad sense of love.

My friend Sheila is about to travel to India for an extended stay in order to help others there. She is not receiving international fame for this, but simply and quietly doing what she can to make the world a better place for others. This is more than most of us are able to do. So we need to compensate in smaller, more personal levels. Feed the hungry who live on our streets. Give comfort to those who are suffering. Pray for people who seem to be victims of hopeless situations. There are countless ways we can counteract evil in our world, small ways that will receive no press but which will shine a little light in the life of someone who hurts.

I believe we all need to do this. we need to carry a beacon in order to light up our world. I've heard of this called 'random acts of kindness' but we don't even need to label it. Just do it. Otherwise, what will happen is this; all that will be apparent to our children is the treachery of selfish acts. And that's what will propagate itself.

I don't usually lecture here in this blog. I created it in order to lift others up, to brighten days with a touch of silliness, to add a little levity to the serious business of living. But, sometimes we need to vocalize things which should be obvious.

So today, I wish you all a day of contentment and peace. I have not a lot more to give to you, except to try and convince every one of you that FOR EVERY SINGLE HORRIBLE ACT OF HATRED, THERE OCCURS, SIMULTANEOUSLY AND CONSISTENTLY, TEN THOUSAND LITTLE ACTS OF PURE LOVE. And I pray for all of us that these acts are what we truly focus on.
So in the words of my 20 year old son,

"Peace out."

Re-embedding Diamonds

I had my nails done this afternoon which, in itself, is not blog worthy. But this was the first time I've had them done since I had that diamond chip embedded in my nail.

The process to remove the diamond was not really a big deal. He put some of that burny stuff on it, and then took a tool that looked something like a one sided tweezers, and carefully pried it off. Then he smoothed down the surface with this thingy that sounded like a dentist's drill.

After the manicure was done, he re-embedded the diamond. Here's the new result:



Pretty, huh?

Broken Stuff

A couple weeks ago, my house phone broke. I don't know what happened to it. It seems it was one of those mysterious demises that occasionally happen to things around my house. We do have an entity that lives here named "Not Me.' For years now, whenever something has broken and I've asked who did it, there would be a duet coming from my kids. "Not me!" they would say. Not Me has broken a lot of things over the years.

Well, apparently Not Me broke my cordless house phone and so I trotted off to Best Buy and bought another.

I go neither cheap nor extravagant. I tend to buy middle of the road, price wise. So the phone I purchased, tho not dear, was nor cheap either. Now here's the rub. I cannot get it to work. The damned thing's handset blinks incessantly. I am not talking about a non obtrusive little dainty light, either. The entire top of the handset blinks like a neon sign. I have tried to get it to turn off. I have poured over the instruction book that came with it,and there is no reference to this happening or how to stop it. It has blinked for two weeks now and it is driving me crazy.

On top of that, I can't figure out how to work the answering machine. I have phoned myself repeatedly, allowing the answering machine to pick up. But when I play it back, all I get is the dial tone. I hate this phone.

I would normally return it but, tho I have the receipt, I have tossed the box. So I am up a creek without a paddle..and without a phone too.

Did i mention that I hate this phone?

Then, yesterday, I was wiping off the burner plate on my coffee maker when I heard a snap. Apparently I am stronger than I knew because I snapped the burner right off the base. I do have a nice percolator, but I get up really early in the morning and do not feel like fussing with it and then waiting a half hour for it to do its thing.

So today I am going small appliance shopping. I am getting a new coffee maker and a new cordless phone. This ticks me off because I don't like spending money I have relegated for something else. Like my nails. Or my hair. Or clothes or my gym. Me stuff.

Dumba Zumba

Okay, let me start by saying I won't go back to that class. You'll understand completely by the end of this entry.

I went with this little college girl who has kind of adopted me. She's a psychology major, about to graduate in December. Shes as cute as she is smart, very mature and a lot of fun.

We arrived a little early. We pulled up in the parking lot and noticed that we were the only females there. And what's more, we were the only white people there. We were surrounded by the most gorgeous group of young black men I have ever seen. All of them had dred locks. All of them were lean and muscular. I thought to myself, oh god, please don't let this be the zumba class. I mean. I am not prejudiced. My best friend is black. But I know, as much as I think I can dance well, I KNOW they will all out dance me.

Fortunately I did not need to find out if this was true.Turned out they were part of a basketball team meeting in the gym there.

So, we go into the area where the classes are to be held. I notice there is a healthy mix of all kinds of ages, from teens to elderly. I watch as one woman, I'd say about 75 years old and about 250 lbs, is energetically greeted by a group of women who must be regulars here. I think to myself, this should be a breeze.

Alison leans toward me. "Look at the instructor." She nods toward a stage at one end
of the room. This is not our instructor but it will give you a pretty good idea of what we were dealing with:




"Wouldn't you think the teacher would be in better shape?" Alison asks.

I'm sitting there smug as a bug in a rug. "Oh ho!" Thinks I. "I am going to shine tonight!"

The instructor calls us all to our feet and starts the music.

"What you are going to do, "she says, "is follow the leader! Me!"

Suddenly her hips move, her arms move, her feet move and this lady is rocking all over that stage. She yells out "cha cha!" and we all try to keep up with her magical feet which are moving like flying bullets all over that stage.
"Rumba!" she yells. Suddenly, we have a whole new set of steps and I do not know what the hell I'm doing. But I am trying to follow the leader.

"Ok class! slither down, make a fist. pull air to your hips!" Go up, go down, turn around and now!! We will cha cha line dance. Left foot, tap tap, right foot tap tap, pull air to your hips, jump left. Cha cha up down left right forward backward jump! Now, rumba!!"

"Shit." I think as I swing sweat off my bangs.

"Move that butt round and round!" The dancing marvel orders. I am trying. I am! My butt's going in circles, my hips are going in and out. Im pulling air to my hipbone. and cha cha cha jump!" In short, I am about to have seizure.

I glance over at Alison who is doing a pretty good job but is sweating profusely. Then I see her, right past Alison is this young woman who is as cool as a cucumber. Her hips are moving in time with the music, her hands are gently fanning her face as the Latino singer croons "OH baby, youre so hot so hot so hot.!" And Im watching her and thinking, "I can do that." Only problem is, I can't! I mean, in time I might, but not yet!

Just then the music changes. Our fat fearless dancing leader is leaning far over backewards, head thrown back. Her arms are up in the air, fingers splayed. Her shoulders are vibrating like an off balance washing machine on the spin cycle. The music is now drums and exotic bird calls.

"Eeee hay!!" She screams from the stage, her shoulders shaking all over the place. "Oy! Oy!" She screams. she looks like a woman possessed.

"Oy oy!""screams the 75 year old 250 pound lady, who looks like a zealot at a revival meeting, shaking all over the place, eyes rolling, tongue lolling.

"Where am I?" I wonder. "Am I hallucinating? Did someone slip something in a drink of mine and I am on this weird trip??"

I realize I need to get out of there so I stumble off balance to a chair that's conveniently next to a wall on my left. Alison follows, shaking torrents of sweat off her hair, like Rocky Balboa after the big fight.

"Wanna leave?" I ask her.

"Yeah I do." she squeaks out between gulps of air.

On our way home I ask her, "Do you want to join up?"

"No." she says. " it's not what I thought it would be. She's a sucky teacher. I think I'll join your gym instead."

"Yeah, good idea. Let's stick with the samba class. January's not that far aay."

"Yeah." she says.

Neither of us say anything for a little while and we finally catch our breathe.

"let's go eat." says Alison.

"Okay." says I.

Zumbo, Zumbas, Zumbat. Latino!

I start my first Zumba class in about two hours. if it doesn't kill me, I'm going to go again on Thursday evening. So my schedule will include three to four days at the gym, and two evenings with Zumba classes, weekly. In January, I will trade the Zumba lessons for Samba classes.

They say what doesn't kill you will make you stronger.

Wish me luck.

The Reality Check

Miss Bea is a Southern woman in her eighties who comes to my book store several times each week. She is the epitome of Southern grace. There is no other way to describe her. Last week she came to me and asked for a book recommendation. I suggested a heartwarming memoir I had recently read called 'The Glass Castle' by Jeannette Walls. She purchased it, bade her goodbyes and left.

Yesterday morning she returned.

"Beej, I finished the Walls book and I loved it. Thank you for recommending it to me. I even phoned my daughter and told her she had to read it. What are you reading now?"

"Well, Miss Bea, I'm doing something I usually do not do. I always focus on one book at a time but right now I'm reading four books."

"I know you're reading Carl Jung's autobiography. What else?" she asked.

I told her I was also reading a Bronte book, a true crime book (loaned to me by a regular customer, a charming investigator who had worked on the murder that was the subject of the book,) and a new book by Robin Meade, who is the anchor for CNN's Headline News.

'What's the Robin Meade book about?"

"Its not what you would think Miss Bea. I love Robin Meade and that's why I picked it up, but it's really about developing self confidence."

She stepped back and looked at me. "Why in the world are YOU reading THAT??" she asked.
"You are the last person who needs more confidence!"

Well, if this didn't leave me puffed up. Obviusly Miss Bea must believe I am confident individual. How wonderful that others must feel I exude confidence! Wow, I am proud of myself!

Not ten minutes later, my best friend Cynthia comes in.

"Hey Beej. Whatcha say?"

"Not much Cynthia. "

"So whet are you reading?"

This all takes place in the bookstore so it's not rare for me to be asked this often. I go through my short list and she, like Miss Bea, asks about the new Robin Meade book and I explain that it's a book on developing self confidence.

"Why the hell are you reading that?"

Wow, even my best friend must think I exude confidence. I tell her about Miss Bea.

"Beej," says Cynthia, "if someone were to ask me to define self confidence, I would simply introduce them to you."

I am now proud. Very Proud. But I should have stopped and realized the old adage about pride coming before a fall. and then it came..

"Beej, you are so confident that you're cocky. In fact, you can be so cocky that it borders on arrogance!"

I study my friend's face to see if shes joshing. She is staring back at me with a dead pan expression.

"Cocky? Arrogant?? Me? MEEEE??"

She puts her hand on her hip and opens her eyes as wide as possible.

"Yes. You."

I study her for a minute.

"So?" I ask. "What's your point?"

She bursts out laughing. I'm hoping she's laughing because he's been teasing me with all this business. In fact, I am sure that's why she's laughing. She can't possibly believe that I, of all people, am cocky or arrogant. I am just too perfect to ever be that way.