I love when “happy” (or some variation) shows up as a search term that leads someone to my blog. Happy is my third most common search term, (surpassed only by my brother’s name and “Bubba’s Hawaii Robert Downey Jr”… Okay, that’s pretty odd…). Not claiming this makes me the happiest person on earth, but at least it means my blog must exist in some positive stratosphere if the word happy brings me visitors, (especially since the clicks are always to posts which have nothing to do with my book title).
Of course, I also get some weird ones, like “dunk tank my teacher” and “can you create water springs by swallowing a mountain.” I’m such a data nerd. This stuff fascinates me.
Any equally amusing search terms to report? What is your most common? Most disturbing? I think mine is “feed slave my toenails…”
Our first dog was purchased from a breeder as a scrappy 6-month-old puppy. He was the last of his litter and his picture on the internet was love at first sight. Sure we had to potty train him, but he came with no emotional baggage. He was secure, feisty, and ready to love.
This scrappy picture from the internet stole my heart.
Odi, on the other hand, is a completely different dog. We are probably his sixth placement, (wherever he started, pound, rescue group, adoptive family, rescue group, us). The family who adopted him before us returned him because he was taking their 3-year-old son’s toys. I can imagine it was more than just the toys.
I laugh that unlike Simon, Odi is an actual dog. He likes being outside, exploring, getting into trouble.
Odi is a ball of energy in the mornings. He wants to play for hours. He has marked in our house. He chews. He scratches at invisible pests even though he has been flea-free for days. We’re helping his tummy overcome the stress of a new home with a bland diet of rice and boiled chicken fed four times daily. There was a moment on the beach yesterday where he looked around and did not recognize anyone. He bolted back toward the car, stopping to see if a stranger was anyone he knew by tapping her ankles with his paws. She looked startled, I got there just in time for him to turn and wag his tail. Thankfully he remembered me.
Put simply, Odi is work. Adopting a dog sounds so beautiful, a saved life, a happy home. And, it is these things, with time. But the work comes first. He offers so many glimmers of a wonderful companion. He plays with Simon without aggression, he sleeps happily in his crate, he is affectionate, calm with people, gentle. He gets Simon to move his butt off the couch. He plays fetch. He loves the backyard. Everyone who has met him has been in awe that we’ve only had him for such a short time, that such a happy, well-mannered dog was homeless.
He is amazing, but he also requires more work and patience than a dog who has never been abandoned. He hates getting in and out of cars. He refused to walk into Petsmart. One out of a hundred people makes him cower behind our legs as though we’ve crossed paths with an evil witch. He likes dogs the most. It is clear he has a history we will never fully understand.
Friends with similar stories give us hope, reassuring us their now well-adjusted dogs were no where near as calm after only a week. Odi is calm, I’ll give him that. I just have to admit I thought rescuing a dog would be a little easier. I don’t regret it and I’m sure his list of challenges is minor compared to many others like him. I’ve already fallen under his spell. He just requires more energy than our lazy little guy lying on the couch next to me. But, I guess that’s why we got him in the first place…
Odi is definitely special. We’re hopeful the love and consistency will pay off.
Spring break ended in a blink. I finished four books, adopted a dog, wrote my last essay to clear my teaching credential, watched two movies (Sessions + Ruby Sparks), went to yoga, submitted two short writing pieces (one was accepted!), and walked by the river. Yesterday, the grand finale, we packed up the dogs and drove to Muir Beach, our favorite hike.
The pet-friendly beach is leash free and the huge hill promises a view down the coast toward San Francisco. I used to look forward to the Pelican Inn as our after hike reward, but now I recommend just the beach. The Pelican is too crowded and the food has lost its magic. Still, Muir Beach was the perfect way to end a week off, even if that week disappeared faster than I’d like.
About a month ago, yoga cat disappeared. We were sad. Our dog was sadder. He destroyed long-time favorite toys, sniffed every inch of ground on our walks, and just looked generally depressed whenever he was left home alone. He and yoga cat used to play chase to pass the time and we almost always found them in the same room, together, when we got home.
Lacking the chase exercise, he began to put on weight. Suddenly, the dog door he had used for years was a little too small. I finally drew the line when he got stuck. Yes, stuck. His harness was the straw that broke the camel’s back, or got the pomeranian stuck in the dog door, depending on how you look at it.
My husband had been trying to convince me he needed a friend for weeks. I was reluctant. What if Luna came back? Did we really want the added expense and work of another creature in our house? Did we feel like potty training a puppy? I was staunchly on the no side, but my husband persisted and I gave in. It would be his dog. He had to pick it out, do the work.
He found a pure-bred border collie puppy down in Modesto. My gut said no. I didn’t want a puppy and I was nervous about having such a smart, possibly high-energy dog. So, I did what any good wife would do and got back on Petfinder to look for a decoy. Success. A wire-haired terrier with grey polka dots on her ears. She looked a lot like Simon’s favorite girlfriend down the street. The dog was supposed to be Simon’s new friend, after all.
My husband, the good sport he is, approved of a quick trip to Elk Grove to check her out at a sanctuary for homeless pets. Poor creature, she was a mess, and Simon had zero interest. He is breed-ist and prefers dogs with poofs similar to his own. Fortunately, in the back of one of the dog runs, Alex spotted our new dog, a border collie mix who patiently wagged his tail while all the other mutts howled in pandemonium.
Our gentle boy.
Alex asked if he could be brought out. It was love, for Alex at least. For Simon, well, he still didn’t show much interest, but as the dog checked him out, they showed no aggression to each other, which is unusual for Simon with boy dogs. This dog was one of the gentlest we had ever met. Even the roaming cats were of no interest to him. As Simon barked like a mad man each time a cat crossed our path, Otis did nothing but wag his tail. All good signs, we decided.
Turns out our pal Otis was the spoiled beast of his previous rescue family, but he kept taking the toys of the three year-old child and it was just too much for the family to handle. He had gone to obedience training, received every medical service imaginable, even had a DNA test to determine his breed combination, (apparently schnauzer, border collie, and cocker, but I’m not convinced). In his year and a half of life, he somehow ended up on death row at a pound and then was rescued by this animal group, adopted, then returned.
The two week trial sold me. Here was this dog with all these pluses, if it didn’t work, we could bring him back. We felt like he picked us. He was so happy to see us through that chain-linked fence, so patient as he watched Simon and wagged his tail. On the car ride home, he snuggled his new friend the entire way. Last night he slept without objection or a single noise in his crate. Today he and Simon stomped around the backyard for hours while I did some spring yard work.
And I thought I was Simon’s best friend…
I wasn’t sure if it would be hard to love another dog like I love Simon, but I think Otis will at least come close. He’s eager to please, kind, and affectionate. He loves Simon like he’s known him forever. Somehow he makes our home more complete, happier even, I guess my husband was right.
The only part we don’t agree on is his name. Alex wants to call him Odin after a pagan Norse god. I immediately took to calling him Oats and Odi for short, which for me goes more with Otis. I guess this dog will have two names, depending on which family member you ask. Although, really, we have both been calling him Odi, so I guess that’s his name. And, it does have a pretty great song to go with it, Odi, Odi, Odi, Oh! Smart boy that he is, his ears already perk up when it plays.
Alright, he does have one bad habit for us to break– he seems to think the planter box is for play… And, yes, there is a reason I did all that yard work, winter left our backyard a mess.
I wanted to write some sort of blog post for my husband’s birthday… At first I was thinking something sentimental, some story from our past. Then I decided, why not blog about homeownership. He’s working to expand his blog to include more personal touches, hopefully I helped!
My first guest-blogger just so happens to also be my wife, imagine that good fortune to get such an established blogger over here typing for me! She plans to return with more stories about homeownership and I plan to include more personal touches like these on my blog going forward.
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We bought our first home three and a half years ago, the summer before we got married. My husband had just graduated from SF State and I was an economic analyst down in Berkeley. We wanted to move back to Sacramento, our hometown, where for the rent of our 650 square-foot, one bedroom apartment on busy Shattuck Avenue, we could own a whole house with a yard and three bedrooms. We had visions of dogs, lazy backyard barbecues, and maybe even someday, children. I had visions of no more homeless people waking me up in the middle of the…
According to The Art of War for Writers, “The idea is not to try to become an exact copy of the writer you admire. Rather, you are incorporating rhythms and possibilities into your own inner writing.” The book recommends copying down memorable passages and reading them aloud to feel the cadence of the words as part of your personal writing improvement program. I love this idea.
As my dream writing self, I would borrow the soulful honesty of Cheryl Strayed and combine it with the expert narrative weaving of Audrey Niffenegger and Jeffrey Eugenides, who both bring their stories to life through the eyes of unusual, but still relatable characters. Below you’ll find some quotes from their works that capture the gifts I would most like to cultivate in my own writing. Maybe there are better examples, but I always lend out my most beloved books, so I had to rely on Goodreads.
Which authors best embody your ideal writing self? I know the goal is to be unique, but there is something to be said for slowing down to examine what it is you most enjoy about your favorite writers. I’d love to hear who you admire. And, who knows, maybe you’ll inspire me to add a few more books to that growing pile on my dresser.
Some of my favorite Cheryl Strayed words… Thanks Pinterest.
Cheryl Strayed: Words that pierce your being.
“It is not so incomprehensible as you pretend, sweet pea. Love is the feeling we have for those we care deeply about and hold in high regard. It can be light as the hug we give a friend or heavy as the sacrifices we make for our children. It can be romantic, platonic, familial, fleeting, everlasting, conditional, unconditional, imbued with sorrow, stoked by sex, sullied by abuse, amplified by kindness, twisted by betrayal, deepened by time, darkened by difficulty, leavened by generosity, nourished by humor and “loaded with promises and commitments” that we may or may not want or keep.” – Dear Sugar
“The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.” – Dear Sugar
“Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.” – Dear Sugar
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Audrey Niffenegger: Intricately woven narrative with love at its core.
“We are walking down the street holding hands. There is a playground at the end of the block, and I run to the swings and I climb on and Henry takes the one next to me facing the opposite direction. And we swing higher and higher passing each other, sometimes in synch and sometimes streaming past each other so fast that it seems we are going to collide. And we laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost or dead or far away. Right now we are here and nothing can mar our perfection or steal the joy of this perfect moment.” – Time Traveler’s Wife
“The hardest lesson is Clare’s solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated; I’ve interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreary silence of her day. Sometimes I see an expression on Clare’s face that is like a closed door. She has gone inside the room of her mind and is sitting there knitting or something. I’ve discovered that Clare likes to be alone.” – Time Traveler’s Wife
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Jeffrey Eugenides: The world seen through distinct but somehow familiar eyes.
“We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn’t fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.” – Virgin Suicides
“I was thinking how amazing it was that the world contained so many lives. Out in these streets people were embroiled in a thousand different matters, money problems, love problems, school problems. People were falling in love, getting married, going to drug rehab, learning how to ice-skate, getting bifocals, studying for exams, trying on clothes, getting their hair-cut and getting born. And in some houses people were getting old and sick and were dying, leaving others to grieve. It was happening all the time, unnoticed, and it was the thing that really mattered.” – Middlesex
The last couple months I have given myself a free pass. I’ve scribbled little notes in journals, written blog posts, but spent no time on any particular writing project, other than to send out query letters. I told myself that until my 50 queries ran their course, I would take a break. Well, 43 queries later, it’s time to write again. I have 7 more to send, and, yes, I will, but I also need to start something new.
It’s interesting where the end of a project leaves you. 43 rejections piled up on top of me. The ones that bugged me most were from the agents who asked for more. The others I could brush aside, but those who read more, really thought about my work, and then still said no, hurt. I get it. I expected it, but it still shook my writing confidence. Every writer wants to think the first book he or she writes will be successful. You write and edit and revise for a year or more, feel like a superstar for actually finishing, and then think maybe you really did it.
However, the reality is that good writing takes time, practice, repetition, and more than anything else, proliferation. I think this pyramid sums up the reality for most writers:
Credit: The Art of War for Writers
So, here I am, with a manuscript that most likely needs something, no idea what to do with it, tired of thinking about it. The solution, move on for now. I’m going to send those last 7 queries to meet my goal, (and because, of course, a little ounce of hope still exists that maybe I’m one of those authors who makes it after an inordinate number of queries…). I will come back to it again, either to revise or self-publish. I just need a little distance with some more writing under my belt until then.
This realization in itself is an accomplishment. Last weekend I felt completely stuck in what to do next. Over our family dinner on Sunday night, my relatives encouraged me to just keep writing. A journalist friend suggested I write and submit some articles to pad my resume. My husband bought Ruby Sparks for us to watch which made me smile because it captured so many little feelings of being a writer. My aunt and uncle bought me a copy of The Art of War for Writers, the inscription on the front right page telling me not to stop.
I’m so grateful to my family for finding ways to keep me inspired.
Alright, universe, you’ve made your point. Time to move forward. But then, I spent the past week agonizing over how to move forward:an article, my unfinished NaNoWriMo novel, something new altogether. Then, I realized it doesn’t matter. I should just write whatever sounds like fun. After all, as much as I’d love to be paid to write, I still have growth ahead of me, so I might as well enjoy whatever is next instead of trying to predict which project is most likely to bring me success.
Thankfully, the first third of the Art of War for Writers has also helped me regain this perspective. Sometimes, as writers, we need to hear the same advice again and again, or slightly differently. My favorite takeaways so far:
Don’t obsess over numbers or reviews. This was geared more toward published writers, but sometimes I waste time analyzing my WordPress and Facebook stats. Write instead.
Create a “writing improvement program” with: 1. Passages you love from other writers, 2. A compilation of the outside critique you receive, 3. Areas of focus and notes on how to improve.
Set a weekly word quota. Mine is now 3,000 words. Any words count, including blogs, but the hope is that at least half end up in projects. If I write 3,000 words a week, no matter what, then I’ll write 156,000 words a year, which darn well better include a book. Definitely an achievable goal.
More to come on all of this, but for now, I am just happy my motivation to keep writing has returned, thanks in large part to all of the wonderfully supportive people in my life.
If you write, I’d love to hear more inspiration– favorite books on writing, quotes, routines, tips for staying focused. What keeps you typing?
Last year, my spring break was magical. We went to Carmel, ran with the dog on the beach, dined in fancy restaurants, spied on fish at the aquarium, and ate German food with friends on a rainy evening in SF. Like I said, magical.
This year, no big trip planned. My husband has to work, and I’m left mostly to my own devices. One of the blessings of a teacher schedule is that some of my breaks are spent at home. Back when I only had three weeks off a year, every one of those vacation days was spent going somewhere. Now, I have the time to unwind.
There is, however, a catch. I have found that if I just wing it and don’t use my time wisely, I get anxious that I am squandering my valuable time off. My solution, a long to-do list, which I’ll spare you here, (because some of it is not so fun, like lesson planning and writing my last darn State of California teacher essay). Instead, I’ll just give you my favorite pieces:
Yoga. I know you’re shocked. I plan to use up those darn Groupons I keep buying and luxuriate in yoga all week. That in itself is a relaxing escape from normal life.
Read. I’m a funny reader. People give me books all the time, and instead of waiting to start a new book until I finish whatever I’m reading, I usually get impatient and add the new book to the mix, which leads to reading six books at once. I’m excited to go sit on a coffee shop patio, enjoy the week-long 70 degree forecast, and read, read, read.
Dogs. Yoga cat disappeared. She’s gone, our dog is lonely. My husband wants to get him a friend. I might give in… Or just take him to the dog park with my teacher friend.
Day-trip. If I can’t spend the week somewhere, I can at least get us out the door for the day. Thank goodness Northern California is filled with so many amazing spots. Look forward to a post about one of our favorite adventures– a Muir Beach hike and a lazy lunch on the lawn of the Pelican Inn.
Write. Oh yeah, and maybe I’ll write something. I have lost my momentum, but I hope to find it again over the next week.
I know I’m fortunate to have this time at home. I wish we lived in a society that created more time for people to stop and enjoy life. I know we create what we want for ourselves, but it is a nice thought. When I lived in Spain for the summer, I was taken aback by how everything shut down for summer festivals and holidays and siestas and quiet shop-free Sundays… I hope you get a little spring break in there somewhere too.
My sweet husband surprised me with some spring break tulips, a great start to my week off.
I am an ADHD reader. Here is the pile of books I am reading simultaneously. My goal, finish them so I can start fresh.
Life is fuller with conscious gratitude. In the months following Thanksgiving, I realized something was missing without Thankfulness Thursdays. Today, a revival.
I’m thankful to be alive. I’m thankful for coworkers who listen, laugh, and cry with me. I’m grateful for enormous clouds filled with thunder and rain, kind enough to wait until the children go home. I’m happy that winter is nearing an end, grateful for my husband to join me in 29 years of life, our five months of overlapping age when he stops teasing me. I’m ecstatic that next week is spring break, thankful for sore cheeks from smiling too much during the talent show auditions.
I’m pleased our interim testing is done so that I can stop bribing tired children with handfuls of popcorn for every five problems they complete. I’m happy for the realization that peeling a mandarin orange each morning is enough to make that one enigmatic child feel safe, loved. I’m thankful I pushed my tired self to go to hot yoga, the warmth and peace seeping deep into my bones, glad I called my dad after work, just to say hi.
Mostly I’m grateful that no matter how challenging my day or week, there are people in my life who care enough to listen, read, and offer a helping hand. Reminds me a little of these two trees at my family’s house. They stand side-by-side through storms and wind and heat, their branches intertwined.
I like cars, especially old ones. When I was a little girl, I would hold my dad’s hand as we walked through weekend car shows. We’d climb inside our favorites, I would sit at the wheel, hardly able to see a thing. I can still smell the old leather and gasoline. I was a little girl in a man’s world, my dad and brother’s. A die-cast, Porsche 9-11 Turbo Slantnose, red, sat proudly on my dresser. I assembled it on my own.
In high school, I learned to work on my 5.0 mustang, side-by-side with my husband, (of course, he was just my kid boyfriend, then). He loved cars. I wanted to prove I could do anything a man could do. My dad flew to LA to buy me that beast. I still remember the look on my senior project advisor’s face. He was an old man assigned to all the car projects. I was the only girl. I walked him out to the parking lot and showed him the ram-air I installed, how I changed the spark plugs, put in a new starter, modified the exhaust.
This weekend, an old gold Mercedes sat in front of my dad’s house when we pulled up. Not an unusual sight in our family, an unexpected vehicle with vintage flair. A new project, maybe, but not the usual variety. This one looked pretty slow. Turns out my dad volunteered to help sell the relic– nearly 40 years in the same garage. So much family history.
I was tempted to trade keys, cruise around town like a little old lady with the convertible top off, my big sunglasses, and dog in the passenger seat. I would definitely be the quirkiest teacher in the lot. The smell of that old leather almost sold me on its own. Maybe not the most sensible choice, but something I cannot explain. As I sat behind the wheel, I was transported back in time to when my aunt and late uncle were young, excited to have such a fancy new car, life somehow simpler with a tape-deck stereo. Didn’t hurt that the sun was putting on such an epic show in the clouds, time and life suspended momentarily.
If you ask anyone who eats with me on a regular basis, I am very selective. And, to be perfectly honest, I get quite a few weird looks from the people in my life when I whip out my homemade chia seed, apple cider vinegar dressing or refuse to touch the goodies in the teacher lounge. But, I’m okay with that.
I don’t strive to eat clean because it’s a fad or because I am trying to control my weight, (the most common and somewhat offensive assumption). I do so because I care about my health and notice an obvious difference in how I feel when I avoid certain things in my diet, (particularly white flour, sugar, and alcohol).
In the past, I have shared many of my favorite nutritional documentaries, (Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead, Forks Over Knives, Food Inc.), but today I just want to focus on some ideas I came across as I researched Vega One Nutritional Shakes. The powder was designed by an Iron Man athlete and is one of the most well-thought out nutritional supplements I have come across.
I’m not here to sell you on the powder, (although I do think it makes an excellent breakfast smoothie with unsweetened almond milk, a banana, and berries), instead I just want to share a few takeaways that have helped me change the way I see nutrition:
It’s not about cutting things out of your diet, it’s about adding the good stuff in. It’s so easy to obsess about what not to eat, but if you’re eating enough of the good stuff, you crave the not-so-good alternatives less and “crowd them out” of your diet. I find that when I go long enough without sugar, for example, I don’t even want it anymore, (and, I’m a sugar monster).
After a workout is the worst time to eat unhealthy food. I hear a lot of people “treat” themselves after burning calories, but your body needs good building blocks to repair muscles, not crappy ones. Makes a lot of sense.
You can find healthy ways to eat out. By the third or four day of travel, I usually feel terrible because I have a really hard time shifting my diet back to more conventional choices and admittedly often lose my self-control when I see old favorites on the menu, (like grass-fed cheeseburgers and french fries). And, when I say feel terrible, I don’t mean guilt, I mean my body actually feels incredibly rundown when I repeatedly eat not-so-healthy choices, (vacations usually end in food hangovers for me). However, this video inspired me to try a little harder. Tonight I’m off to Outback Steak House for a social commitment and I’ve already decided to experiment. I’m ordering from the sides: grilled asparagus, seasoned rice, and my splurge– sweet potato fries. Might sound control freak to some, but I’m excited. Too often when I eat at chain restaurants, I feel like crap afterward. Not tonight.
Eating healthy does not have to break your budget. This is the most common complaint, and yes, I agree, there are income levels where some health food choices are out of reach, but for most people on a budget, eating healthy just requires trade offs. My husband and I often joke about how our incredibly healthy meals (think veggie currie, quinoa, elaborate salads) cost the same as grabbing fast food, usually around $10 or less to feed both of us. When my aunt got me interested in trying the Vega One shakes, I cringed a little at the price, (about $2.33/serving if you order the big tub off Vitacost, more if you buy it at Whole Foods). But, then I decided to begin with half a serving (still nutritionally dense) for the first month. If I decide to “splurge” with a full serving next time I order, I will just have to cut the money from somewhere else– like one less meal out in a month, which is likely worth it.
As much as I do my best to remain health conscious, I’m not always perfect. Thrive Forward’s website definitely inspired me to keep working at it. Hopefully you found some inspiration somewhere in all of these thoughts, too. My goal is to feel energetic and keep my immune system strong since I am surrounded by germs all day at work. When I am consistent, I notice a huge payoff.
Happy Saturday and happy healthy eating.
I love infographics and the idea that I can get so much out of a breakfast shake.
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