For the Love of Dog

The last couple of posts have been pretty deep.  So, I'll let you cool down with something a bit lighter.

I'm sitting her with the two four-legged children.  One with her tail wrapped around her across from me.  The other is lightly snoring next to me.  It makes me wonder... do they make CPAP machines for dogs?  He he.
I can only imagine.

Sleeping Baby #1

Snoring Baby #2

I wouldn't consider myself much of a dog person.  Not really.  I'm definitely a cat lover.  Actually, I'm more of an animal lover with a specialty in cats.  That would be the best label if I absolutely need to have one.

Growing up on a farm, I grew to have an appreciation for all animals.  With goats, sheep, chickens and geese, that will happen plus give you a healthy respect for life.  But those animals can never truly be pets, at least not the kind you would expect in the average household.  Not like a dog or cat.

We had both.  I grew up with two dogs and what seemed like too many cats to keep track of.  My parents weren't crazy cat people.  The cats we had were farm cats - mousers.  They worked for their living.  Most were born on a neighbor's farm and we adopted them once the kittens were old enough to live on their own.  My brother and I got to pick out the ones we wanted and name them.

There were a few notables.  The first I can remember was Tuesday.  He was a tough old tiger-striped tom cat my parents got before I was born.  He was followed by a group of four others: Fancy, my brother's calico, Flowerbelle, my own little tiger kitten, Wizard and Garfield, the black and orange brothers.  Poor Garfield went through a series of name changes until we found the one that fit: OJ (as in the breakfast drink), Tangerine and finally Garfield, because he ate too much like his namesake created by Jim Davis.

Farm cats have a rough life.  Sure, we would provide them with food and water at the back porch, but for the most part they hunted their own meals through the day and night.  It would be no surprise to look out the window and see one of the fierce hunters trotting across the yard with anything from a mole, rabbit or bird.  By rule of nature, these poor creatures weren't the only prey.  All predators are prey to something else, no matter how fierce.

Little Flowerbelle with her squeaky mew was the first to go, most likely to a fox though we never knew.  My young heart was devastated.  She was my first little girl.  The two boys became my next loves - Fancy was my brother's through and through.  All three grew to adulthood and protected the farm from small vermin to the best of their abilities.

All three lived good lives.  Wizard was taken by a car, if I remember correctly.  Garfield and Fancy gradually moved into the house as they got older.  My mom wasn't too happy about it, but I did my best to assist their effort.  They still did their jobs and would come in for the night.  Garfield was the only one who would want to return outside for the night's hunt and eventually never made it back home.  Fancy finished her years in the comfort of the house.  By the time my brother went off to college, she would often spend the night on my bed.  I finally claimed his calico angel as my own until I moved out of the house for good.

The mousers weren't the only cats we had.  My parents had an ornery old Siamese that joined them shortly after getting married.  Madame Bovary was never the friendliest of felines.  She tolerated her housemate humans, but didn't take well to visitors.

Bo's nemesis was my grandmother.  She would always make this known at dinner.  Our dining room had hand-caned chairs.  Every time my grandmother would visit, sharp claws would swipe at her through the seat.  Thankfully for her, she never visited often.

Madame Bo finally passed around the age of 21.  She was a devilish old cat, but lived a long healthy life.

No farm is complete without a dog.  The first I remember was Nipper, a little Dalmatian named after the dog  in the RCA Records logo.

Nipper followed my brother around faithfully and was a loyal playmate in our younger years.  As we got older, he was joined by Makai.  She was a runt Great Dane put up for adoption by a breeder because she would never be a show dog.  Not only was she too small (though still a large dog), her ears were cut incorrectly, meaning they still flopped over instead of standing at attention like other show Danes.

Kai was a big baby doll of a beast.  Anyone who knows large dogs (you may know them as horses) knows they are leaners.  She was no exception.  The more she loved you, the harder she leaned on you.  

She was also a terror to small dog owners.  Anyone who didn't know better figured that our large dog was the size of a German Shepherd.  Our family loves large dogs.  My brother had Mastiffs and my uncle had Irish Wolfhounds.  Makai wasn't the first of my parents' Danes, either.  Her predecessor was a large male nearly double her size.  Needless to say, Kai was a fright to those who did not expect her.  No worries, her thunderous bark was much worse than her bite.

One unfortunate to find this out was a neighbor boy from down the street.  We were both in grade school at the time and I invited him over to play on the computer after school.  Both of my parents worked and put both dogs in the dining room until we got home from school to let them out.  I didn't do that on that day - we went straight upstairs to the computer.  We finished as soon as my mom got home.  She let the dogs out before my friend got down the stairs.  He ran out of the house screaming with a huge barking Dane on his tail!  It was a funny experience despite the fact that I got in trouble for having a friend over without my parents home and not letting the dogs out.

Both dogs were the best of friends, always chasing each other through the yard.  They would go on adventures together through the countryside.  We found this out when  they found the local deer pit - a spot out in the middle of nowhere away from population where the street cleanup teams would drop off roadkill deer to return to the earth, so to speak.  They must have loved the smell, as both came home covered in it, sporting a deer leg between the two of them.

Kai taught me a very important lesson in life - death.  Large dogs tend to live shorter lives due to their hearts which often get weaker as they get older.  Her passing was my very first up close and personal view of death.  I will spare you the details, but my brother and I were the only ones home when it happened - an experience I will never forget.

Nipper lived on for a number of years after.  When my brother went to college, the old puppy grew a little closer to me though never as close as to my brother.  I never appreciated his loyalty until I realized  something he would always do.  Every summer I would go to my grandparents' house in New York State for a week.  Every year when I would return, Nipper would spend the night in my room next to my bed.   I took him for granted, always being there. 

Dogs are loud.  Dogs slobber.  They need to be let outside or walked.  We have to leash our dogs in public and pick up their business.  They are scavengers and beggars and constantly need attention.  To me, these are the cons of owning a pooch.  But the pros are rewarding.  Dogs are loyal and loving, providing the only truly unconditional love you will ever find.  This is a fact I just didn't fully realize.

The following years included a parade of other peoples' pets.  The only pets of my own were fish.  Pretty, but not much company and rarely entertaining.  They just aren't the type to curl up next you on the couch or in bed.  So I had to quench my love of animals with the pets of my friends and those I dated.

My next real pets did not come into my life until I met my husband, Jon.

I've already talked about Morningstar.  Feel free to re-read my first post to refresh yourself on my favorite cat.  His "sister" Zippy is still with us.  Now 18 years old and deaf as a doorknob, she is Jon's longest relationship outside of his own family.  She is his drug kitty.  She was rescued and given to him to prove he could take care of a living being (and himself) after he made up his mind to quit drugs.  She is now queen of the house demanding fresh water when thirsty, screeching for breakfast at 5:00 am and dinner at 4:00 pm.  She's not much for being picked up, though I seem to be able to hold her the longest.  Her love, though, is of the hand.  When Zippy sees a hand that is not petting her, she will screech and paw at you until it completes its required job.  We love her to death,  hairballs and all.

Zippy on her favorite armrest

There were two fuzzies that spent limited time with us in the early part of our relationship.  The first, I've mentioned already - Cricket.  She was a small pretty calico with a high chirping mew like the song of the insect.  She reminded me of my Fancy.  Though she was a loved member of the family, she required more attention than we could give her.  Cricket ended up back with the family who gave her to Jon when they moved into a house that accepted all of their pets.

Dante was, well, Dante.  We rescued Dante when we wanted to get our first dog together.  We should have known better as his shelter name was Espresso.  This lovable pit mix was a demon puppy straight from the Inferno, hence his new name.  We tried training classes and a trainer that came to the house.  He had more energy than we could contain, causing us more frustration than necessary.  One day he was misbehaving more than normal and I found him attacking Morningstar.  It was the final straw.  After saving my cat, I took him back to his previous home.  We tried, but our love and effort just wasn't enough.  He was placed with an Amish farmer with plenty of land for him to run and chase rabbits.

Jon's heart was hurt, but he understood that we did all we could.  We would eventually get a dog that was better suited for our little family.

Shortly after moving to Washington, DC, we met Ani Nicole.  It was discovered that Ani was living with an old woman that could not take care of her.  The woman was senile and the dog was matted and living in her own filth.  The poor little poodle had been a breeding dog in a puppy mill.  When the place was busted, a couple gave her to the old lady as a companion.  When they discover she couldn't take care of the pup, they found her a home immediately - ours.  We took her in, cleaned and groomed her and we could see the love and gratefulness in her eyes.  She was a delicate princess, afraid of men other than us, and grating, because of the cages she spent much of her life in.  When she tired during her walks, she insisted on being carried.

The only time she became a true dog would be during visits to my parents' house.  She would perk up as soon as we entered the driveway.  As soon as the door opened, she would hop out and romp around with more energy than she would ever show.  We would walk around the pond on their property and she would run just as free as the wind.  During one of these visits, Ani stopped by the edge of the pond to investigate and perhaps get a quick drink.  We never found out her true intention as she had misjudged the slope and plopped into the water.  

Ani spent the remainder of her short life with us until she succumbed to cancer.  We assisted in her passing to ease her pain and spread her ashes around the pond she loved so much.  She'll never be forgotten.

Ani Nicole

The last, but hopefully not last, to join us is Jack.  Only a couple months after Ani's passing, Jon felt he was ready for another dog.  He had a dream of Ani running around the pond with a dog he couldn't quite see, as if she was telling him it was OK to move on.  A few days later, he stopped by the Humane League to take a look around.  Amongst all the dogs yapping for his approval, he found this little Shih Tzu mix sitting and staring at him, asking him what had taken him so long.  When he got to meet the dog in the play room, he was peed on - sealing the deal.  It was love at first sight.

Jack is named after Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood, played by John Barrowman - one of Jon's favorite actors.  They are both very cheeky and mischievous.  Jack is our little monkey.

Captain Jack Harkness

Captain Jack Harkness

He has filled our lives with loyalty and love.  I never truly understood this about a dog until Jack.  Jon would often come home after a hard day and immediately go to lay on the bed and play with Jack before even saying hello.

He also loves visiting my parents' home.  Often times we'll watch him as he runs around the pond, looking backward as if playing with another puppy.  He even stopped at the same spot to investigate only to have Ani push him in.  We know he's the best addition to our family.

Since I've developed my own health problems, this has only become clearer to me.  This little monkey is our therapy dog.  On my worst days, I will lay on the couch.  He will come right over, hop up and settle right to sleep in my lap.  I can't think of anything better than bad movies and warm puppies to take the pain of the day away.  We saved him so he could save us.  The dog just knows when he is needed.

Jack on one of my bad days.

I still love my cats.  I always will.  We are so alike in our solidarity and independence.  But I've discovered just how much I can love this little fur ball that helps us get through the day.  Dogs aren't that bad, after all.

Give in to the Truth

Place your left hand on the bible and raise your right hand.  Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

Everyone is familiar with this ceremony.  We've all seen it in person at court, in the movies and on TV.  We're expected to tell the truth under perjury of the court when we testify in a case.  Why aren't we expected to keep to the truth in our everyday life?

Sure, if we are caught lying to the court we'll be punished, maybe thrown in jail.  We are swearing before God and our peers to tell the truth.  I've never seen the wrath of God strike anyone down in the Supreme Court - or any other court for that matter.  No plague has ever swept through Congress, the Senate or the White House after anyone has been sworn into office.  Not that they are sworn to tell the truth, that might be a bit much to expect from your average politician.

We, as human beings, are not sworn into our lives.  When we're born, no one tells us to affirm that we will tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  Can you imagine?  A baby sitting on the book of our family's faith, so help me my deity?  It's unheard of.

In a way, this has happened if you happen to be religious.  Babies are baptized.  Kids and teens are confirmed into the church.  Practically every religion has a ritual for its members to pass into adulthood.  This passage commits you to your faith, to live your life in wholeness and truth...

Throughout our lives we are searching for the truth within ourselves.  Why is it that people choose not to stick to the truth in their own life?

Everyone has told a white lie.  A half truth.  Why?  So as not to hurt peoples' feelings.  Anyone will probably tell you that this is the best kind of lie to tell.  It doesn't do any harm and it spares the pain as long as it's done in the right situation.  Right?

We've all seen it.  Tell Grandma the person you live with is your friend instead of admitting you're shacking up.  Introduce people to your best friend instead of coming out of the closet.  Tell the kids it's Chicken Parmesan instead of eggplant.

Add a little tint to the white lie with your rose-colored glasses when you need to get through life's little trials.  My husband is famous for this.  I can understand, though.  Sometimes its easier to add sunshine and rainbows to life than face the storm clouds and tornadoes.

These are the forgivable ones, but the truth of the matter is that a white lie, with or without shades, is still a lie.  It's all in the name.  At least when a white lie is told, the truth doesn't hurt anyone when it comes out.  Granny might let you in on a little secret that she might not have been so virtuous when she was young.  People might be more accepting of your lifestyle than you think.  The kids might find a seed from the eggplant and tell Mom there's a slug in their chicken... Yep, that one really happened.  I lived to forgive her for it, but stayed away from chicken parm and eggplant for awhile.

When I was growing up, I wasn't necessarily the best of  children.  I was a happy child and for the most part, well-behaved.  Growing up in a small town will do that to you.  Everyone know everyone else and things get back to your parents, especially when said parents are well-known to the community and church.  It's not like I didn't try.  I had friends over when I wasn't supposed to.  I would skip my homework and say it was done.  Typical kid stuff.  When I got caught (not if - when), I'd get a spanking and had to sit at the end of the hall.  The only person that really got hurt was me.  Right?

As I got into my teens and early 20's, it continued.  I might go to see my girlfriend and say I went to my best friend's house.  I'd make up some excuse to use the car, just to get out of the house.  I'd stay out until the wee hours of the morning and say I got home earlier.  I would get drunk and say I was stone cold sober.  You get the picture.  I was only hurting myself.

In my early and mid-20's, work got involved.  The biggest one was leaving work "sick" to spend a beautiful summer day drinking, water skiing and hanging out with a small group of work colleagues.  I'm still not sure who was left to run my department.  I took a couple extended lunches to have a couple drinks, only to lie about what kept me out so long (and that I was sober, for that matter).  At bars I would tell people I was broke, just to have someone by me a drink.  I would tell people what they wanted to hear, just to get lucky.  I would lie to myself just to convince myself it was OK.  After all, it was only me I was hurting.

It all really came back to bite me when I started dating my pathological liar.

If you aren't familiar with a pathological liar or mythomaniac, let me enlighten you.  Don't get involved.  Period.  This person has been lying for so long that they often can't discern their myth from the truth.  Many times, they may be convinced that they are telling the truth - even in the face of reality.

I've mentioned him before, but I'll give you a rundown:

1. He told people I was the straight roommate so he could date around.
2. He stole from various jobs and denied it when the evidence was presented by me and/or the employers.
3. Checks were written off of my bank account.  This was denied in the face of pictures taken by bank cameras, copies of the checks with his handwriting and the fact that "I" signed the three checks spelling my own name incorrectly three different ways.
4. He had an aunt that lived in Florida - I don't know for sure if this was fact or not.  She died several times to get him out of tight situations.
5. There was a drug-filled hotel slumber party paid for with a credit card stolen from one of his bosses.  When I returned the room phone (yes, the hotel room phone with the hotel name plaque on the front - did I mentioned he was a klepto?) and saw the camera picture of him and his friend for the night, he denied it.
6. He befriended a nice couple that owned a store with an apartment to rent above it.  These poor guys not only rented him the room and didn't get paid, but got another funeral story (alas, his poor aunt, again) and gave him money for a flight to Florida for the funeral.  That was used to go to Chicago to avoid getting arrested.

Confronted by these lies, I learned my lesson.  Loud and clear.  I was hurting plenty of others when I didn't tell the truth.  I was never the only one affected.  It took years to fully regain my parents' trust in me.  They loved me, no matter what.  That was never an issue.  There was a particular phrase that went unspoken: "I love you, but I don't like you right now."  That phrase is present at one time or another in a lot of loving  relationships.

Friends on the other hand react differently.  A true friend will forgive a lie or two.  It won't last forever.  People can only take so much.  Lovers and spouses will endure a little longer, but in the end will get smart and leave.  There's always a possibility they will lie to themselves just to believe things are alright.  Those may be in more danger than they let on to others, maybe being abused or captive to a bad relationship.  A relationship built on lies is never healthy.

I consider myself lucky.  I was able to realize the truth about truth.  It can be both a weapon and a ploughshare.  Truth will nurture a relationship as easily as it can destroy a life.  It makes me curious as to why more people don't resort to the truth.

I believe in the power of truth.  I very rarely find the need to use a white lie, to the point that I get upset when I'm included in one though I know it might be necessary.  

Understand the difference between a partial truth and a half truth.  The other part of a half truth is still a lie.  A partial truth provides only the necessary information someone needs to know.

Not many people have been allowed to see the inner workings of my mind in the last 10-12 years.  Those lucky few realize what telling truths means to me.  Those that only think they know how I tick are horribly mistaken.  I'm not looking to live in a fairytale world.  My world is a savage garden of beauty and darkness.  I will gladly share it with you.  If you choose not to see me as I am, then look into your own heart and ask, "Why can't I handle the truth?"

To Be or Not To Be - Friends After Exes

It's been a hot topic on daytime TV.  It's also been discussed amongst a few friends that have recently split from their other halves, both on Facebook and physical life.

There is no good answer to this.  It really depends on who your relationship was with and if it was really worth salvaging that relationship.

I've been lucky enough to be on both sides of this fence.  Can it be called lucky?  I think it can.

If you've recently been broken up with... OK, dumped (I know how it feels)... you will most likely disagree with me.  I get it.  Any relationship for an extended period of time is going to build up feelings and a certain amount of trust.  To have either of those betrayed is one of the worst experiences I have ever had.

Don't forget that there were other people involved.  You get your heart ripped out and trod on.  It's painful.  Hopefully your ex, if they've got any humanity at all, is feeling some kind of regret.  It is not easy having to deliver the news that they are breaking your heart.  It's even worse if they've been holding it in for a while.  Add to that the fact that most times these things end in some type of fight, it is not easy for either side.

By no means am I suggesting that you need to have any pity for the dumper.  Sometimes it's nice to know that the other person is hurting, too.  Your pain is your own, but don't forget your friends.  Remember, I did say there were other people involved.

In the time of your crisis, your friends are the best medicine.  There's no better remedy for a bad breakup than a girls'/guys' night out.  With a designated driver, of course.  Go out to dinner, take a road trip, do something with people who love and care about you.  It's OK to take a nesting day wrapped up in blankets and your cat (or dog) indulging in Ben & Jerry's and a Rom-Com cry-a-thon.  Ya gotta get it out somehow! But don't forget the others that are important in your life.  They are the best to help you through any hard time.

A little over a decade ago, I had my messiest break-up.  I've had a few bad ones, but this was a doozy.  I'll set the picture:

I met this guy at work.  He was really fun-loving and loved going out.  I was looking for a good time, so we hooked up.  A couple months after we started dating, I got a promotion and had to move.  I only had a couple weeks to get moved and start my new position and I didn't want to leave him behind, so I asked if he would join me.  We moved in together and he got a job near where I worked.  We were together for a year.  During that time, he held four different jobs to my one.  I discovered that he stole from all those positions.  I found one boss's credit card and a receipt for a hotel where it was used.  I found a stash of sunglasses and even wore a pair that was given to me, only to find out as I was walking past my friend that managed The Sunglass Hut in the mall that they were stolen.  (He was fired from that job that day.)  This boy was a klepto.
His final job during our relationship was as a bartender.  During this time, I got an interesting Instant Message from someone I didn't know.  This person said he was my boyfriend's boyfriend and I was "the straight roommate".  An interesting story started to emerge as we talked.  To my understanding, there were about 10 other guys he had slept around with.  So started my emotional descent and my plot for revenge and freedom.  Somehow I was able to forgive the kleptomaniac, but not the cheater.  Love does funny things.

My first plan, well, reaction was to spend the night with Jim Beam then find solace in someone that would both care, but also kick my butt in gear.  I hopped in my car and sped to my brother's house.  He and my sister-in-law woke up to find me in a drunken stupor crying on their back porch that morning.  After sobering up and getting some sense knocked into me, I headed back home.  In the following weeks, I found out that wrote checks off of my account (spelling my name incorrectly and differently on each check), I met more of his conquests and I confronted him both by himself at a restaurant and with three of his affairs at the bar where he worked (another drunken, messy night).

He stayed elsewhere for our final month "together" and I finally moved to another place.

This was obviously not the best or healthiest of relationships.  There was a lot of fighting and, while he had checked out a long time before, the relief I felt when I finalized our breakup was filled with self-doubt and depression.  I drowned myself in work and my friends were a godsend.

Needless to say, I never wanted to see him again, cringe whenever I hear his name and won't be able to forgive him enough for friendship.  This is definitely not an ex I would recommend trying to remain friends with.  I'll admit this was an exception to most relationships, but everyone has at least one story that would rival mine.

Granted, not all relationships are this bad.  I can't say that I'm friends with any of my male exes, but I am friends with a few of my female exes.

 I've been the dumper and dumpee and share friendships with these wonderful women.  As I mentioned before, it depends on the relationship.  Of all the relationships I have had, I've been able to maintain or renew friendships with those whom were previously friends.

I dated one girl a couple separate times in high school.  We met in marching band and were both part of the best circle of friends I ever knew.  While it was rough breaking up, we figured out we were better as friends.  She's now married with kids and we've caught up a couple of times over the years.

Another young lady became friends with me at work.  Unfortunately, right out of high school, I entered a very rebellious stage and used her as an outlet for that rebellion.  I walked out of my parents' house and moved in with her family for a year.  During that time, I never spoke with or saw my parents.  When I finally realized what I had done to my own family, I blamed everyone and everything but myself.  It wasn't the cleanest ending to a relationship, yet 20 years later we've reconnected through Facebook.

Finally, a wonderful woman I met through another job started dating me.  This happened after I had come out.  Our friendship started out pretty strong with our shared interest in books.  Our relationship grew to dating, but ended when we grew apart romantically.  I can't say that our transition back to friendship was easy, but we both understood that a romantic relationship wasn't in the cards.  She did, however, help me grow as a human being and become a better man.

While I've renewed friendships with a few other exes, these three women are my best examples.  Whether you are better off being friends or you renew a friendship later in life, it is possible, though not always probable, to be friends with exes.  Luckily, people we date have a tremendous effect on our lives.  Without any of these people and my experiences with them - both good and bad - I would not be the man I am today and would not have had the journey to my current friends and love.

YOU: The Center of the Universe

I've had so much to say over the past few days.  Don't worry, I'm not running out.  I'm just tired.  I seem to do my best posting late at night and have been up until 4/4:30 in the morning for the past few days.  Due to my concentration problems linked with the rest of my issues from the past ten months, it takes a while to get my words out.  So, in the interest of getting a little bit of sleep tonight and the fact that it just hasn't been one of my best days both mentally and physically, I give you one of my favorite posts from Facebook.  I offer you a glimpse into my mind from June 6, 2014:


As many of you know, I’ve had plenty of time to myself to think over the past months. As a lot of my friends and family will tell you, even though I am a quiet person, when I open my mouth you might want to listen. Will this be important to you?

I’m not sure when I became an astronomist, but I seem to have had an epiphany of astronomical proportions. I’ll start off small:

Each of us is the center of our universe. If I’m in pain, sad, depressed, excited, happy, you name the emotion, it’s all about me. Depending on the power of the emotion, I can control the distance of anyone or anything orbiting me. Happiness and excitement will typically draw in the orbits of my friends because they want to be happy with me. This will give me more power to maintain the orbits around me and create a feeling of strength, happiness and harmony. Any negative power will drive away the orbit of others. When I start getting depressed or upset about something, worrying what people are saying or thinking about me or complaining about whatever is ailing me, anyone orbiting my world will start to drift away. As they drift off, that’s going to create a lot more pressure on myself until I get sucked into my woes.

Let’s open it up a bit. Our relationships create another type of orbit. As soon as we connect with another person, that reason becomes the center of our orbits. My friends and I orbit that friendship. My husband and I orbit our love for each other. What orbit are you sharing with another person?

That’s going to expand when you start adding acquaintances and people you may not know so well. What orbit are you sharing with someone halfway around the world? Is it your love of music, gaming, reading. Is it your job? Is it as simple as the type of pet you have?

Finally, we get to the center of the universe. All of our galaxies are revolving around something, but what? I’ll give you two possibilities to think about. The first is peace, friendship and happiness. If this is the case, we’ll all be flying around in harmony with no worry of running into anything or hurting anyone else. The second is hatred, discrimination and war. Forget orbiting, you are getting sucked into a black hole. While those on the outskirts may still be orbiting slowly into it, anyone closer to the center is going to be sucked in quickly, ramming into others and dragging the rest with them. 

So what is the center of your universe? Are you maintaining harmony in your life or are you creating your own black hole?

Judgement Day

“Every day people judge all other people. The question is whether they judge wisely.” 
― Orson Scott Card, Xenocide


Humans are funny creatures.  We, among all creatures, feel that we have the right to judge one another.  We do this every day - a snap judgement when we meet someone on the street, a reserved judgement on someone entering our lives for a longer period of time.  We judge hair, clothing, faces, body shape, words - anything we can lay our senses on.

I read an interesting article the other day by a young woman living in England.  When she was in high school, she took a course in Psychology.  For that class, she did a project in which she dressed as a Goth for a day to gauge the reactions of the people around her.  She was surprised by the reactions she was met with.  She and the Goths she was with were seated at the back of a restaurant and met with scorn by people they encountered on the street.  All snap judgements made by those they met.

A few years later, the same young lady did an experiment on a dating website where she posted a different picture of herself every day for a week.  These photos included her dressed as a Goth, a Party Girl, a Hippy, Fresh out of Bed, and Herself - all taken at the same location and in the same poses.  The comments, some of which were from the same people, varied as much as her outfits.  Having lived in many walks of life myself, I could really relate.

I have been at an amusement park with someone who was asked (rudely) to get off a ride because they were too large to fit in the seat.  The least of the comments thrown at us was "Thanks for delaying the ride!"  We walked away from the ride with my comforting being brushed off and her son with his head held high, though the poor kid was beyond anger that these strangers berated his mother.

I've been in a supermarket only to overhear a complete stranger say "You don't need to buy any more ice cream, Fat Ass."  I've felt the scorn when dressed in Gothic attire.  I've felt others' hatred or jealousy(?) from being the smart and "gifted" kid.  I've endured the nicknames and insults thrown at the fat kid.  The first punch in my first physical fight was thrown by my personal bully, jealous of my popularity and girlfriend.  I've taken labels and hatred from friend and foe alike.

I'm brave enough to say that I've been on the other side, too.  I've been the bully.  I've been rebellious.  I've been the labeller.  I've made people cry.  When with "friends", I had balls.  When drunk, I was superman.

No more.  Not intentionally.

No one can truly say their words and actions won't affect someone.  You can only be mindful of what you say and do for these are your judgement and gavel.

The beginning of this lesson for me was at my first job after high school.  It was a simple lesson.  It had nothing to do with bullying, hatred, jealousy or popularity.  It was all about judgement.

My first interview ever was a piece of cake.  I went to it after school, so I was already dressed in my school uniform.  The manager was a funny; I flashed my charm.  It was a simple stocking position in a big chain toy store.  I was in and out in no time - I was told right away I had the job.  I left only with the embarrassment that my fly was down the whole time.  I was prepared in no way for interviews for any subsequent jobs.

When I left that job for my first "real" one, I thought I had it in the bag.  My interview attire consisted of jeans, sneakers and a presentable shirt - as in not a T-shirt.  The manager that interviewed me was in a full suit and very professional looking.  I walked into his office and sat down, not pausing to shake his hand or introduce myself.  The only thing I retained from my first job interview was to turn on the charm.  This was my saving grace.

At the end of my interview, I was hired.  The manager was forthright in telling me I was hired because I interviewed well.  He almost did NOT hire me, because I was not dressed for the interview.  I proved to him that he made the right choice for not judging me on this fact.

My manager at this job became a mentor of sorts, in both the good and the bad.  He was a bad boy outside of work, always looking to get into trouble.  Because there were several of us around the same age (I was only a few years younger than him), we would hang out, go drinking and skip work.

When it came to being professional, though, a switch went on.  He coached me in customer service skills.  He helped me with my resume and taught me about the interview process.  He even got me into a management training program that proved useful to my career in later years.  Most importantly, he taught me not to make a snap judgement until I had the details.

I probably wouldn't have gotten that lesson until much later in life, if it hadn't have been for this person.  It certainly proved useful.

I can't say I haven't misstepped.  I walked into an interview wearing black nail polish and a fine suit.  I was able to squash a quick judgement by apologizing that I couldn't get it off from a Halloween costume the night before.

I've had poor judgement.  I've worked while drunk and/or high.  Believe me, people make very quick judgements against you when they see that.

I've had questionable judgement.  Two of my tattoos are on my hands for all to see.  They are very meaningful to me personally representing constant reminders to reach for my goals and keep balance in my life.  When explained, they are appreciated.  Many employers frown upon them - yet another judgement made before digging deeper.

I like to think I have improved as I've grown older.  I've shed many of the bad habits that defined me as a young man.  I still remain judgemental - as we all do - but I prefer to reserve my judgement until  I have more accurate information.  Even that is never the end, as people are ever changing.

As a prime example, I would not have started dating my husband had I not reserved judgement.  I'm thankful that is one of the first times, if not the first time, I decided to take a more mature approach.  Otherwise, he would have been another cocky guy buying me a drink and giving me his business card.  With the pain and mood I was in that night, not to mention the alcohol I was consuming, fate could have easily shifted the wrong direction with a snap judgement.  As it is, I am married to one of the most caring and loving men I have ever met.  And I still have that business card!

I am still on the defensive.  I don't always react well to others' judgement.  One such incident prompted this writing:

One of my gaming friends on Facebook posted that she was sick of men.  She had tried several dating sites and had gotten into conversations that led to her disgust of what they were truly out to get.  When revealed that sex wasn't her first interest, they insulted her and called her names.  This led to a decision that she was probably better off marrying her cat or a rock.

That obviously wasn't word for word, but you get the point.  I will however show you the comments that followed.  Names are not revealed for any of these people excepting myself out of consideration:

• Comment 1:  Tricky sounds like the better option. At least he can purr. 

  Yesterday at 1:06am · Like

  
  

  Mark Rybka-Wachhaus I agree, the cat seems the better option and much more loyal. Men are real d***s.

  Yesterday at 1:16am · Like · 2

  
  

  Comment 3:  Well I have to say a man that responds to your answer with a comment like that is not a real man in the first place look at it this way its a good way of weeding out the real men from all the pieces of s*** but if you don't have the time to do the sorting the cats not a bad option.....

  9 hrs · Like

  
  

  Mark Rybka-Wachhaus No, just means I'm very secure with who I am. I'm willing to admit my own faults and I've met plenty of men who fit the description. I have been lucky enough to find a good man of my own, but I had weed out a lot of pieces of s***.

  5 hrs · Like · 1

Comment 3 is what triggered it for me.  It can be read one of two ways.  One could pertain to the original posting regarding the comments made by the guys responding to her on the dating site.  I read it as a response to the comment I made and that I was being insulted.  Thus my response following it.  I think my friend interpreted it the same as I did as she was the one who "Liked" both of my comments.  There were no other responses, so I can only speculate.  I can say without a doubt, though, my judging days are far from gone.

I'll leave you with your own reflection and a few choice quotes on the subject.

“When you judge others, you do not define them, you define yourself” 
― Earl Nightingale

“Who are you to judge the life I live?
I know I'm not perfect
-and I don't live to be-
but before you start pointing fingers...
make sure you hands are clean!” 
― Bob Marley

“Judge tenderly, if you must. There is usually a side you have not heard, a story you know nothing about, and a battle waged that you are not having to fight.” 
― Traci Lea LaRussa

“Don't judge too harshly, for if your weaknesses were to be placed under your footsteps, most likely you would stumble and fall as well.” 
― Richelle E. Goodrich

“The easiest decision you could make is judge, it takes courage to search for the truth.” 
― Abraham Ruiz

“Don't fucking make judgments about something you know nothing about.” 
― Cecily von Ziegesar, Because I'm Worth It


“The intellectual mind judges a book after having read it.
A fool’s mind judges a book by its title.” 
― Ellen J. Barrier

“Know yourself in order to be better not to criticize and judge yourself” 
― Abdulkareem Bkar

The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection.
- Thomas Paine

You Can't Win the Lottery Unless You Play (a review)

I'm not much of a gambler.  Don't get me wrong - I enjoy going to a casino and wandering around with my husband.  Jon is the one with an affinity for the one-armed bandit.  I may drop a few quarters on a couple of slots for the heck of it, but I'm just not a card player and know better than to try to beat the odds of the roulette wheel.  

My idea of a fun day at the casino is checking out one of the restaurants, then walking around watching the Blue-hairs with their buckets of nickels alternately filling and emptying.  Well, more often the latter, but people get lucky occasionally.  That's the gamble.

I can't say I don't have a game of chance of choice.  I have a couple, as a matter of fact.  The second choice is horse racing, but when our preferred track stopped its brunch buffet, the spark of interest was gone.  My prime choice is the lottery.  Sometimes I like the state lottery - especially if it has a large payout.  We can pick our own numbers or have them picked automatically.  If you play the same numbers over and over, you may eventually win something.

My preferred poison is scratch-off tickets.

Here's my problem with the lottery: you can't win unless you play.  You can't play unless you spend some money.  Therefore, you can't win unless you pay out.  You may have noticed that scratch cards are starting to cost a pretty penny.  Sure, you can win anything from $1.00 to thousands of dollars.  Is it worth paying a dollar or two, up to $25.00 just for the chance to win?  I tend to enjoy being able to show something for the money that is spent, other than a piece of card stock with only two matching symbols.

I've found the answer to my problem in an app I discovered completely by accident.  

I'll admit, I like getting things for free.  I have played plenty of games with in-game purchases.  Almost every free app on the market has this option - this is how the companies make the money to improve the games and keep them on the market.  Plenty of other freebies are surrounded by paid ads that help fund them so we don't have to.  Remember that important point the next time you complain about the pop-ups that are so frequently cursed in every free-to-play gaming forum.  I'll pay money to a game or company that I REALLY like, otherwise I'll be the first to find the tab to earn free in-game credit.

It was in the process of earning credit in another app that I came across Lucktastic.

Lucktastic is a very straight-forward application.  This free app gives you a selection of scratch-off cards to, well, scratch off.  There are tickets giving a chance to win up to $1000 in cash.  Though you may not always win the money, every ticket is a winner.  Each cash ticket also has a bonus box with a hidden amount of tokens.  Tokens can be earned easily throughout the app, but the scratch tickets are the easiest way.  Some tickets are completely for tokens.

What are these tokens?  Every user starts off with a small pot of tokens in their bank.  These tokens can be used for several purposes.  You can do anything from "purchasing" additional tickets that reward more tokens to entering monthly giveaways for prizes ranging from gift cards to a Playstation Vita or a Kindle Fire. Those are a couple of the prizes for this month, anyway.  

There is also a section with rewards on which you can spend your tokens.  

They can simply be earned by watching ads (my preferred method), trying apps or filling out surveys and offers.

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Wait a minute!  I also mentioned cash, didn't I?  It's true.  Should you be lucky enough to win cash, Lucktastic offers a couple of trusted ways to redeem it.  If there's $5.00 or less, you can get it "instantly" through Dwolla - an app that will send the money to an account you set up with them and can be transferred to your bank/credit union account for free.  Dwolla will allow you send any amount, but 5 or less is free.  Anything above costs a whole $0.25.  Details are at dwolla.com.  Rewards of $10 or more can be sent by check and $100 or more sent by Visa Gift Card.

I know I sound like an advertisement for this app, but it's only because I really like it.  I've been using it for the past two weeks and have had at least 3 winning tickets in addition to the bonus token rewards.  I've won $5.00, 50 tokens and 250 tokens.  In addition, by playing every day I've received plenty of bonus tokens and been rewarded bonus entries into several monthly drawings.

The only negative aspect I've come across is the ads.  As I've said before, this is how the company gets the money to pass on to its winners.  I personally don't mind watching a 30-second commercial before scratching off a possible cash winner.  On the plus side, this is only for the cash rewards.

Check it out for both Android and iPhone.  You can get new tickets every morning and every evening.  I've had a lot of fun trying for a chance to win and I hope you do, too.

*I am not a representative or paid sponsor of Lucktastic, Dwolla, Android or Apple.  My opinions do not reflect those of these companies or their employees.  I just really like this app and if Lucktastic wants to pay me, I will gladly keep promoting their product. :)

When I Gained the Mark

It's not a visible scar.  I haven't been playing with pens and magic markers that have left the telltale signs of their use.  Look as hard as you like, but you won't find the physical evidence.  Most likely, you will feel it.

Most people who have known me in the past 9 years also know of Morningstar.  He came into my life around the same time my husband did.  Morningstar came into his life only a few months before that.

For a few months, a large tom cat was wandering around the fields surrounding Morningstar Markets, just outside of York, Pennsylvania.  Some of the outside vendors would often offer him food or leave a bowl out for him.  My husband, Jon enjoyed visiting the market on weekends to get fresh cheese and meats and check out the deals in the outdoor flea market.  He would usually catch a glimpse of the elusive tom lurking in the meadow.

As the seasons started to change from summer to fall, a couple of ladies who were frequently visited by the cat grew concerned about what might happen when the weather got cooler.  Jon, who can strike up a conversation with anyone, talked with these women on several occasions.  They knew he already had cats at home and asked him if he'd be interested in adopting it.  They told him how the cat had been thrown out of a passing car and was surviving on field mice and the offerings of the vendors.  He often came by their booth for food and had become friendly with them.  Once the weather changed, the outside vendors would disappear and they didn't want the cat to suffer.  Neither of the women could take him home and hoped Jon would be able to give him a place to live.  Jon's love of animals and concern for the suffering won out and he went home with a new family member in addition to his purchases.

Christened with a new name taken from the market he'd left behind, Morningstar started to explore his new home.  He had two new sisters, Zippity-Doo-Dah and Cricket, to get used to, a new landscape to explore and a newly steady food source.  Now left to his own devices without having to fight for survival, his true skittish self came out.  Morningstar was distrustful, often hiding and getting food when Jon wasn't around.  He took a while to get used to his new environment.

This went on for the following weeks until I entered the picture.  I met Jon in the fall.  Our first date was in November 2005 and I got to see Jon's house around Thanksgiving.  There had been an incident shortly before, resulting in his roommate getting kicked out.  The guy had pushed over the Christmas tree in his anger and shattered several ornaments.  I remember how concerned Jon was for the animals wandering around the house and stepping on the broken ornaments.

While all three cats took a little while to warm up to me, Zippy and Cricket were definitely the more social of the three.  Cricket loved anyone that walked through the door, though was not always social with other animals.  In typical cat fashion, Zippy would come to me on her own terms, ask for loving and move on to the next important thing in her kitty life.

Currently 18 years old, Zippy is Jon's longest four-legged relationship.  She has always been and will remain the queen of her domain.  Morningstar and all subsequent pets were and are strongly aware of this.  She is Jon's baby.

Cricket, though well-loved, later moved back in with her first family.  She had been staying with us as they were in an apartment that had a pet limit.

It wasn't until I moved in, shortly after New Year's, that Morningstar really started to come out of his shell.  It started with him coming out of hiding for an investigative sniff.  Once he got used to the fact that I wasn't going anywhere, he'd let me start touching him - not a full petting session, but a quick pat before he ran off again.  He was really a very coy suitor.

After a while, Morningstar started to curl up near me, let me pet him and finally allow me to pick him up and hold him.  I knew I had finally won when he hopped up on my recliner with me and settled in for a nap on my belly.

From that moment on, I had a large cat-shaped shadow.  As soon as I would enter the house, he would be twining through my legs.  When I sat on the couch, there would be a pat of cat butter melting in my lap.  Jon was amazed at the change in Morningstar - from always stand-offish to clingy in a matter of weeks.

By the time we moved to Washington, DC, in the fall of 2006, I had become Daddy.  The better Morningstar got to know me, the more he opened up to our little family.  Jon - Mommy - was the food-giver.  He also had a great respect for his older sister, Zippy.

Morningstar's name may have been chosen from the market he was taken from, but I knew it had another meaning.  He shared his name with a legendary being: an angel whose beauty was as bright as the Morning Star, which became one of his many names after his fall from Heaven.  Morningstar was definitely my little Lucifer.

He lived up to his name.  When on my lap, he would show his love with sharp claws kneading my leg.  Those claws would also flash out from behind a corner into the leg of anyone passing by.  Morningstar was the bane of spiders, flies, crickets and anything else smaller than him - including dogs.  Weighing in at 22 pounds, that included quite a few creatures.

Since moving south of the Mason-Dixon, we have had two dogs.  I've never been much of a dog person; Jon has that covered.  I don't hate dogs.  In fact, I've known quite a few and got along very well with most of them.  I just prefer to think of myself as an animal lover with an affinity toward cats.

Our first dog in DC was Ani, a puppy mill rescue miniature poodle.  She was a sweet pup who shared our lives until she was taken by cancer.  Morningstar respected her for the lady she was.  Even though he would occasionally sneak attack her from behind the couch, I feel he knew she was sick.  On several occasions, I caught him curled around her protectively as they slept.

Jack was the next dog to join us.  Also a rescue, this pound puppy brightened our lives after Ani passed.  Definitely not a replacement, he filled a void in our family.  This lovable Shih Tzu mix also became a fun, lively plaything for his feline brother.  More often than not, whenever Jack ran through our home he was followed by a white and grey blur.

For all of his virility, Morningstar wasn't always the tough guy he wanted everyone to believe.  The thought of rival cats terrified him.  While he could stand up to the neighboring dachshund and beagle who would visit Jack, Daddy needed to protect him from the skinny street cat who took shelter with us one stormy night.  I can still remember the deep rumbling growl and sabre-like claws digging into my arms until the poor unfortunate was sent back into the night.  I was also the chosen protector from thunder, which would send him shaking to curl up by my side.  Unfortunately, I couldn't protect him from the vacuum, which was mostly in my control and would send him streaking under the bed, and the kitty carrier, which turned him into a sorrowful, yowling, quivering mess.

When we finally moved to Greenbelt, MD, in 2010, Morningstar had become the cat he was meant to be.  Though I've had many cats while growing up on the farm, I've never had one that was as loving and loyal as a dog.  Morningstar knew the sound of the car and would meet me at the door.  If he wasn't following me around, all I had to do was click my tongue and he would come running.  Weirdo Cat would nudge open the bathroom door, just to curl up at my feet while at the toilet.  He even tried to crawl into the shower until he decided he wasn't a fan of getting wet.  If he couldn't find me, we could hear his squeaky mew as he searched, like the high-pitched voices of the over-sized gangster henchmen in the old Loony Toons cartoons.  To his last day, I was the only person that could ever hold him.

My fondest memory of my Morningstar - where he truly made his mark - was at bedtime.  When Jon and I would lie down for the night, all the animals would join us.  Each would get their treats.  Jack would be the first to join us, always being at Jon's heel and knowing he would get a couple chewies for the night.  Morningstar would follow at the shake of the kitty snack bag, squeaking and tripping us until his handful of treats was placed next to the bed.  Zippy would saunter in shortly after everyone was settled to lay next to Jon's pillow and tickle his nose with her tail through the night.

Jon and I would settle in with our books while Jack made his nest between us.  Once the dog stopped moving around, I would feel a soft landing at the foot of the bed followed by footsteps up my chest and a nose pushing under the spine of my book.  As soon as my book was moved, Morningstar would stretch his length from my groin to my neck, with his front paws tickling the whiskers on my chin.  And the deep rumble of his loving purr would begin.  That rumble would shake down through my chest and vibrate my own heart; it's sound would drown out the insects and birds of the night.

When I would finish my book for the night and the lights would go out, I would fall asleep petting my boy, lulled to sleep by his comforting vibration.  This is when I would think, to contemplate the darkness and question the meaning of life.  This is when my words would take form, my muse purring on my chest.  This is where I gained the Mark of the Morningstar.

Morningstar passed in December of 2012 due to renal failure.  We had him put down for his own comfort and to ease his journey.  I still have a Ziploc bag containing a clipping of his fur to remember him.  I occasionally hear scratching at the bathroom door when I'm lost in thought.  I can feel soft paw prints padding up my chest when I can't fall asleep.  After two years I have not forgotten and his memory will live on.

It has been said there is no love nor loyalty like that of an animal companion.  Jon loves me more unconditionally than is humanly possible, but I will never again feel love like that from my Morningstar.