All I need…

They say Sagittarians are brutally honest people. Hmmm hmmm. Well, I wasn’t so honest about sneaking Sparky into my condo on weekends. And for this, my sun sign got the best of me and forced me to man up, confess, and beg my landlord for mercy.

When I discussed the matter with Harold, my landlord, he completely understood my situation but reminded me that I chose to rent a place that didn’t allow pets. But he’d think about it.

He called me later and told me he’d allow me to have Sparky there on weekends provided I pay $1000 more in deposit and $150 per more in rent. I told him I’d have to rethink this a bit, I mean, seriously, $150 more per month for my little 8 pound yorkie?

Then he called again. Guess his lawyer (who calls a lawyer about stuff like this anyway?) said it would be a bad investment for him and that Harold should deny my request.

Here we go again. Gotta move. Again. So not looking forward to that – I have accumulated a lot of stuff since getting my own place. And with the packing and moving we did for the cabin in May still fresh in my memory, I started thinking I’d have to consider not letting Sparky stay with me. Oh, not to mention breaking my lease would cost me a shit ton if we couldn’t sort this out.

Isn’t he the cutest motherflippin dog?

So I wrote a 5 page letter to Harold and his wife. Complete with my sob story and pictures of me with Sparky, and candids of Sparky lying in the sun and frollicking in the grass. And I reminded Harold that he asked me to rent that condo because he knows that I would keep it pristine. You know, it’s “the devil you know” angle.

It worked! He wrote back “Dear Sparky’s Mommy”, and agreed to let me have Sparky stay and even reduced the monthly rent add-on to just $50!

I’m glad I don’t have to repeat the whole moving experience. At least for now. And it turns out, which cracks me the fuck up, that Sparky, who whimpers to get me to help him up on the couch, can actually jump up on my bed when I’m not there.

That little stinker.

I heart this boy with all my love…

I’ll be picking him up for a long weekend with me tomorrow and whereas in the past, I’d worry about him when I’d leave him alone, this weekend, I’ll know he’s happy as a clam all burrowed in my pillows.

All I need right now is the warmth of his breath and the softness of his touch to make me smile.

Sounds like life…

The other night I was on the phone with a friend and there was a lull in the conversation. This is totally fine and somewhat cool that we can just sit on the phone not saying anything for a minute. During that lull however, I listened to things I hadn’t really heard before.

The whoosh of traffic. The high pitch of wind. The rustling of the leaves in the big oak tree outside my room. All common sounds of course, but it feels like the first time I stopped to listen and tune in.

All I could think of was how connected I felt to those noises. How this friend actually inspires me not to just listen, but to hear. To even go outside in the dark and feel the wind.

As I prepared to go to sleep that night, I felt connected to a place that is new to me. A new place that holds promise, adventure, inspiration, and special people. One that sounds like life.

Living on the edge…

Thank god for friends. Or thank Facebook really.

When I left my husband and house, I hadn’t first made a plan – I was literally packed for a trip but had nowhere to go. I started running the names of all my friends through my head and weeding out the names of friends who were ‘couple friends’ when the name Juli popped in there.

Juli is a friend of mine from high school who I lost touch with at 19 and reconnected oh-like-a-nano-second-ago via Facebook. We got together ONCE for drinks about 2 months ago. But… she is so laid back and it really felt like no time had passed. So when I called and asked if I could stay for a couple weeks, there were no questions asked – she said of course. Still amazed by this. Juli and her family are abfab wonderful and welcomed me and seriously let me come and go as I needed.

I knew I needed to find some place to live though. I really only wanted something temporary while figuring out what the hell we were going to do about the assets we spent a quarter of a century building up. Plus, I had made some long-range plans to share an apartment with another long-time friend who’s moving back to Cali from Chicago in the fall.

A room with a view...

So in the end I found a room to rent closer to my work. It’s actually quite nice – it’s a furnished master bedroom that’s been walled off from the house with an unobstructed view of the valley and a private entrance. And a fridge! So I moved in over this past weekend.

And amidst some drama (a) like staying at my house while the hubby went out of town (b) a swarm of bees building a nest in my attic (c) my dog Buddy getting stung by a bee on his paw (baby is fine) – I was able to get my shit together and all moved in so I’d have a place to call my own. After all, I’ve never lived alone. Never. NEVER.

Here’s the joy: When I went shopping for groceries, for the first time I was able to only think of what I wanted and that I didn’t have to stick to what I knew. Did I like colby cheese? Hmmm. What about Laughing Cow cheese triangles? So I bought them. And it was fucking awesome. And by ‘it’ I mean the ability to try something new.