Archive | March, 2012

Who is Kony?…

13 Mar

The name Joseph Kony has been floating around not just the blogosphere, but Facebook, Twitter and everywhere in betwixt, prompting me to ask “Who is Joseph Kony” and maybe more importantly, “why would anyone want to make him famous?”

So I succumbed to peer pressure, watched the amazing video Jason Russell put together and felt inspired and enlightened and hopeful. Haven’t felt so inspired in a long time.

The crimes this terrorist has committed are just horrible. Abducting children from their homes, killing their parents and forcing the boys to mutilate and kill other children and forcing the girls to be sex slaves.

Yes, it’s imperative that everyone know who he is, that they care about humanity without borders, and that we keep the pressure on our government to keep our advisors in Africa to assist with the capture of this fucktard.

Reblog this – or write your own. Link this blog, or at least the video on your Facebook or Twitter feed, but most important, sign the damn pledge. It’s easy. Better yet, call your senator or congressman.

Here’s I’ll make this even easier… Copy and paste this link to your social networking site. Here it is:

For me, I feel empowered that we can in fact change the world. After watching the video, I bet you will too.



One last night…

8 Mar

It’s been 9 months since the hubby and I split. We didn’t however split our financial expenses until this week. We spent the last month negotiating who would pay for what and finally agreed. So now he’s got his own checking account, his own credit cards and his share of our obligations. It’s time. It’s our time to move on.

It was a bittersweet meet-n-greet on Tuesday to finalize that. We spent 30 minutes making sure we captured everything, then the next hour drinking cocktails and talking about the future.

We chatted about the new people in our life, gossiped a little about people we know, and then we talked about Buddy. This is our 16-year old Yorkie. I’ve had both of our dogs for the last 4 weekends and I’ve noticed such a marked change in Buddy that we talked again about euthanasia. It wasn’t a new conversation, but it hurts every time to talk about it. The selfish parts of us don’t want to let him go. The pragmatic side knows he’s just hanging on to this life. He doesn’t eat his dog food anymore, he can’t keep his dog treats down, and he doesn’t know where he is. Our vet told us that when his quality of life diminishes to the point where he no longer wants to be with us, that’s when it’s time to make that appointment.

My sweet little Buddy

It’s time. It’s his time to move on. To be greeted by Spike and Nikki, our other beloved pets who will surely be waiting with tails wagging and big doggie smiles to greet and welcome Buddy to the meadow.

With heavy hearts, we set the date with the vet. It’ll be tomorrow, Friday. I’m meeting the ex in a few hours to take Buddy and Sparticus to my place for one last night together. I want to be strong and not some weepy girl, but I am just a puddle of tears about all the change that’s going on.

I don’t have a pithy point to this post. No earth shattering self-realization. No correlation between what I’m experiencing and my past life. I’m just putting computer ink on computer post paper.

For my sweet little Buddy – you are loved and cherished and I thank you with all my heart for the 16 devoted years you loved me.

For my dog loving friends – a few quotes to remind us all why dogs are so revered…

My little dog – a heartbeat at my feet.  ~Edith Wharton

Happiness is a warm puppy.  ~Charles M. Schulz

Whoever said you can’t buy happiness forgot little puppies.  ~Gene Hill

I have agoraphobia…

2 Mar

I might as well be as I’m afraid to leave the house on weekends. Wait, what? Did I just expose a phobia to you?

No, I’m lying. Sorta. You see, this is the fourth weekend IN A ROW that I’ve got custody of the kids. And by kids, I mean my yorkies.

Let me explain… I love and miss my dogglies and when they aren’t here I want them cuddled on my lap, and yet, when they are here, I’m completely housebound. It’s like this… I signed a lease for this condo with a NO PETS clause.

Which means, I’m sneaking my ankle biters into this condo and crossing my fingers and closing their muzzles so he doesn’t find out.

Which means, I’m afraid to leave them here unattended. I picture a constantly yapping pair of pooches scratching the paint off the front door, their tiny little paw-nails gauging grooves into the wood.

Let’s not even fathom the likelihood that OG (that’s old guy, aka Buddy) will pee all over the hardwood floor, his urine acids seeping into the grooves.

So this means, for the fourth weekend in a row, I’m housebound. In a small condo, just busting to get out.

There are however two upsides:

1) The Rockstar stays with me and shares the doggie doody duty.

2) I get to cuddle my three boys (2 yorkies, 1 human – all boys) whenever and as often as I want.

So I’m not actually complaining, but I do have a new pair of L.A.M.B. stilettos that are itching for a night out on the town. I do, after all, have some priorities.