A puppy is a marathon not a sprint.

Puppies are a big life changing event. I’d been thinking about getting a dog for a while now, pretty much ever since I moved back to Virginia. I’ve lived with lots of dogs and one of my roommates used to train labs and pet sit so I’m not a total dog novice but I am still a first time dog “owner” (that’s not the right word, but I can’t bring my self to write guardian/human/buddy without feeling like a total weirdo).

Anyway I was having a crappy day Thursday and decided to knock off “early” at 6 PM and visit the dogs at the local shelter. I’ve swing by a few times in the past but hadn’t met anyone I liked. 

This go ‘round I met “Riley”… and kind of feel in love when he crawled in my lap with those big dinosaur paws of his - what’s more this kids got swag. 

Still who knew that they would let me have a puppy in less than 48 hours. I feel like I’ve skipped 9 months of labor and now I have a puppy.

He’s adorable and a lot of work.


The “worst”

Note to non-native speakers:

"The worst" when used as an adjective is used to describe mildly bad situations. These situations are never in fact “the worst”.  


Correct: “Wearing flip flops when it rains in New York is the worst.” 

Correct: “Getting whole milk when I explicitly asked for soy is the worst.”

Incorrect: “Wow after watching CNN, I have to say the conflict in the Middle East is the worst.”

Incorrect: My dad’s funeral was the worst.

Since only about half of Americans understand irony, contextual clues may need to be applied when determining whether the meaning is “tongue-in-cheek” or simply indicates that the speaker lacks perspective.

Good luck!


Objectively different. Subjectively whatever.

Wouldn’t it be nice if our differences didn’t make us feel different but instead made us feel special? 

Note to self:

  • I am special because of the off center mole on my nose.
  • I am special because I’ve had three surgeries and the scars to prove it.
  • I am special because I gravitate to the underdogs, the overlooked and the meek.
  • I am special because I feel “too much”, because I cry when I feel  it.
  • I am special because as hard as I get hit (metaphorically) - I bend but I don’t break.
  • I am special because I have been poor, shabby, and unwanted (and sometimes still feel that way).
  • I am special because I have learned from the lessons of my mother’s abuse, I yell when I am assaulted, I file police reports, I don’t take shit, and I’m ok with being alone until I can find someone I love who can handle and love that about me.

For the record.

Anyone who believes sexual orientation is something you can change has never been a single woman in New York. When I think back on all the amazing wonderful, sexy, awesome, smart, athletic, kind, single female friends of mine and compare them to the guys I dated / knew at the time – if I could have flipped a switch and chosen a team there is no way I would be straight. 



I am missing thoughts that I had in my head this morning.

I have not be as good as I want to be with capturing my thoughts locking them down on paper in reality – no not nearly as good as I would wish. 


I keep coming back to the thought that there are a finite number of truths. A finite number of lessons to be learned about the world, our selves and reality – immutable and changeless even relative to everything.

It recalls my thoughts to solid pale stone oak branches and sturdy bones – defining me but not limiting me, supporting my reach for the stars.

I dream of a massive architecture of mineral veins and intricate lattice - a stone tree - a spiritual monument against which truth and understanding vibrate.


emotional rollercoasters

I didn’t realize how worried I had been until I left my mother in the hospital, and tears started rolling down my eyes - relieved that she was through surgery and doing as well as could possibly be expected. I overheard the technician quietly ask my mother “Is she your only child?” — I’m not sure what that meant, as the oldest was I supposed to be tougher, less mushy? 

I took the stairs not wanting to share a crowded elevator with tear stained cheeks.

It’s been a weird week, in truth it’s been a weird few months. So many people, friends and loved ones have been visited by death, my stepdad’s father, my friend’s son, the sister of another friend and last night I received word that my uncle went into a coma Saturday and passed away Tuesday night. 

It’s unbelievable. I’m not entirely sure how I feel or if I do.