Another beautiful day. The evening birds are singing - God, they must be tired, having been at it all day. I imagine they are saying, "Alleluia! Praise the Lord! It's not raining, and wow, look at all these sticks we can use to build a nest, and all these trees!" Fall has always been my favorite season, but for some reason, Spring is bringing everything together for me. Renewal! Teeming with life! The chance to use my hands to work magic - planting a garden that in the summer months will have me chopping, and yes, canning (if I can get a quick lesson from my mom), and savoring the new tastes. Okay, so maybe summer slipped in there a little bit, but it's all about Spring, isn't it? Isn't this when people fall in love? People start making babies? People start making vacation plans around this time... what to do during the summer. If I could sit out on this back deck every day, in the clean air, listening to nature, with a laptop and a cool drink in my hand, for just one hour everyday, I wouldn't need a vacation!
It seems that the stress has finally caught up with me. I've had an amazing handle on it - yes, I lost it a couple times - but, I've been good, not overly anxious, no panic attacks, nothing but a few tears now and then. I've handled work meticulously, the kids amazingly and this divorce, well, okay, I guess. But guess what? The work got busier, the kids are more tired and the divorce, the actual divorce, is just beginning to emerge its disgusting head. And what happened to me? I got a viral infection in my inner ear and it's causing vertigo. I stand, my head spins. I sit, my head spins. I lay down to bed, and yep, my head is spinning. This, of course, is without alcohol! I have spent the last four days walking around as though I just stepped off the Topple Tower Ride at an amusement park. On top of that, I noticed my neck was tightening, so I went to the gym to work off some stress. I ran, I lifted weights, I did the elliptical... and I felt good. Now? Not so good. I can hardly walk because the squats and lunges bit me back... oh, the pain of working too hard at the gym. I swear, if I could get up from this chair and march down to that gym again, I'd... shoot, I don't know what I'd do. The gym scares me, and this is only day one. I can only imagine how I'll feel tomorrow. But, I must say, my triceps, ghostly white as they are, look decent.
But back to my point. Wait. What was my point? This motion sickness medicine I am on is making me loopy, I think. Oh, yeah. Renewal. Spring! Working at the gym, planting a garden, catching a nap... I'm tired, whooo, really tired. I think I'll take a cat nap right here in this beautiful Spring weather to the tune of robins, cardinals, orioles and the occasional Mack truck speeding down the road... and wake refreshed, with less stress, and inevitably, sorer muscles. But no matter, shuffling along with painful muscles suits me right now... I need to slow down so that I can start thinking about my vegetable plants, and planning my summer vacation.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Karma?
I have learned quite a bit about myself as I've journeyed on the rough terrain of this divorce. I have also learned quite a bit about people in general, and about one person in particular. I have learned that trust is not always reciprocal, compassion is quite possibly non-existent in some people, and the golden rule does not apply in all situations. I have learned that I cannot control the emotions or mental processes of anyone but myself. I have learned that wanting happiness and getting it are two very different things - one is a beast that scratches at the heart and mind, the other is a salve for those scratches and is quite difficult to obtain and retain. The inability to control and the inability to retain are directly linked.
I have learned that life is indeed, chaotic. That the beauty and structure we see every day - the rising sun, the cascading streams of sunlight through the clouds, the winds shifting - are the only real parts that are not chaotic. It's a rather depressing thought, isn't it? I have opined that there is a reason for everything. I have believed that my entire life, but now, I don't believe it. I have learned that since life is chaotic, since bad things do happen beyond our control and beyond God's structured creation, fate and destiny are non-existent. We are all subject to our free will, and unfortunately, we are also subject to the free will of others.
Was I fated to spend the rest of my children's lives in Maryland, or am I forced to do so because of the free will of another person? Is it fate that directed him to walk away in such a cowardly, disgusting fashion, because I was supposed to spend the next fifteen years in a state that is absent of any immediate family members except my children? Is it possible to get over the regret of coming here in the first place? It is - the answer: Paige and Tony. I may never get over the regret of having such bad judgment in picking a mate to spend the rest of my life with - and finding that a heart that was always absent of hate for anyone or anything is now filled to the brim with it. Is it my emotional wreckage creating this hate? Does he deserve my hate? Absolutely. Getting back to my point, fate is not pre-determined, karma is just a phrase used to help people get by. The truth of the matter is, control is only found in our free will. Some things aren't chaotic - the migration of birds, the collection of honey by bees, the blooming of an orchid that amazingly looks like a cartoon image of a bunny rabbit, the breath-taking pink in a sunrise. Those are great things, but they have no relationship to my divorce. They exist, they are not chaotic, they are always present.
I am done relying on the assumption that everything happens for a reason, that what goes around comes around, that karma exists, and that the universe will take care of me. The fact of the matter is, it comes down to who has more money for the veteran lawyer, who has a higher degree of coldness, and my wants, my soft, idealistic wants mean nothing when it comes to the battle grounds. I am done relying on that optimism to get me through. A cold heart will suffice for now, and you know, that's the most depressing thought I've had since this all began.
I am not wallowing, I am not entirely hopeless, I am just realistic now. The chaos of other people, of this life, is out there. It is up to me, cold, calculating Carrie (yeah, right) to begin to take control, and sort through the chaos, and create structure. Losing my optimism in the process is a small price to pay for finding justice. Karma won't bring it around, but I can use my intelligence, my resources and a big fat loan from the bank, to get it.
I have learned that life is indeed, chaotic. That the beauty and structure we see every day - the rising sun, the cascading streams of sunlight through the clouds, the winds shifting - are the only real parts that are not chaotic. It's a rather depressing thought, isn't it? I have opined that there is a reason for everything. I have believed that my entire life, but now, I don't believe it. I have learned that since life is chaotic, since bad things do happen beyond our control and beyond God's structured creation, fate and destiny are non-existent. We are all subject to our free will, and unfortunately, we are also subject to the free will of others.
Was I fated to spend the rest of my children's lives in Maryland, or am I forced to do so because of the free will of another person? Is it fate that directed him to walk away in such a cowardly, disgusting fashion, because I was supposed to spend the next fifteen years in a state that is absent of any immediate family members except my children? Is it possible to get over the regret of coming here in the first place? It is - the answer: Paige and Tony. I may never get over the regret of having such bad judgment in picking a mate to spend the rest of my life with - and finding that a heart that was always absent of hate for anyone or anything is now filled to the brim with it. Is it my emotional wreckage creating this hate? Does he deserve my hate? Absolutely. Getting back to my point, fate is not pre-determined, karma is just a phrase used to help people get by. The truth of the matter is, control is only found in our free will. Some things aren't chaotic - the migration of birds, the collection of honey by bees, the blooming of an orchid that amazingly looks like a cartoon image of a bunny rabbit, the breath-taking pink in a sunrise. Those are great things, but they have no relationship to my divorce. They exist, they are not chaotic, they are always present.
I am done relying on the assumption that everything happens for a reason, that what goes around comes around, that karma exists, and that the universe will take care of me. The fact of the matter is, it comes down to who has more money for the veteran lawyer, who has a higher degree of coldness, and my wants, my soft, idealistic wants mean nothing when it comes to the battle grounds. I am done relying on that optimism to get me through. A cold heart will suffice for now, and you know, that's the most depressing thought I've had since this all began.
I am not wallowing, I am not entirely hopeless, I am just realistic now. The chaos of other people, of this life, is out there. It is up to me, cold, calculating Carrie (yeah, right) to begin to take control, and sort through the chaos, and create structure. Losing my optimism in the process is a small price to pay for finding justice. Karma won't bring it around, but I can use my intelligence, my resources and a big fat loan from the bank, to get it.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Oh Brother: To Cliff
I finished the book in eight hours, with the kids screaming around me, with the impending drive to MD on my mind and well, I couldn't put it down. It was so much better than the first read through, and so much more heartbreaking too! And funny! Damn, it was funny Cliff. He was a character, an amazing, loving streaking clown of love!
You told the story of Jeff and you told the story of Dad, and you told the story of us, and you made the Fuzzy's known...
You did well. And I thank you. I thank you with tears in my eyes, I thank you with a laugh on my lips, I thank you with a proud, proud smile on my face.
Thanks Cliff. I love you.
You told the story of Jeff and you told the story of Dad, and you told the story of us, and you made the Fuzzy's known...
You did well. And I thank you. I thank you with tears in my eyes, I thank you with a laugh on my lips, I thank you with a proud, proud smile on my face.
Thanks Cliff. I love you.
Reflections on 2010
When I reflect on 2010, I am both filled with awe and filled with sorrow. I made it to August – 8 months – and had a decent year. I began the year on a low note, missing my brother and worried about what 2010 would bring. By the time I got passed the one year anniversary of his death (March 4), I had made up my mind to begin enjoying life. And from March through July, things were, dare I say, good? The best decision I made for myself in 2010 (perhaps in my entire life) was to go to the Wildacres Writing Workshop in the mountains of North Carolina for a week. It was there that I met some incredible people, learned some incredible writing techniques and fell in love. I fell in love with the possibilities that life provided and how easy it was to harvest from life if you make the decision to do so. I was harvesting during that week, harvesting and reaping and sowing and reaping again. Life was actually pretty awesome during that week and the three or so weeks after.
I can honestly say that I began to really appreciate the people I had in my life – the staples that made every day possible- my neighbors, my old friends, my new friends and my family. Oh, how they held me up when I was wobbly! They have no idea. I need to raise a toast to them, and maybe during this week and weekend without the kids, I will. I will name them all by name and say a prayer and wish them well. The list is long, so very long, and I am so very blessed.
My dad dying dropped me to my knees. It wasn’t expected (then again, is death ever expected?). The days that followed were unreal. I made them unreal, to tell the truth. I fell into a relationship that I now see was a real means to distraction and a real comfort to my vulnerability, and now that the window has been cleared of the fog, I see that it wasn’t real or true or even that good for me in the long run. But in the weeks following dad’s death, it was perfect. I’ve come to realize that this is how life works. I doubt that I would be writing right now had I not entered into a whirlwind relationship that ended just as abruptly as it started. It got me through the pain because it’s much easier to pretend you’re high in love when the alternative is falling into the darkness of complete despair. The loneliness following his death would’ve put me in a prison again. My “fake” love freed me and I am grateful for that too.
In contemplating this truth, I found that it opened up many more truths about me too – those that brought me comfort short-term (martinis and nights out and a lot of sleep and watching tv and listening to music and playing video games and failing to live beyond getting through a day and a new drama).
2010: before and after. The line is clear. I was just coming out of the short-term distractions and getting into those beautiful lifelong changes when another tragedy kicked me in the teeth.
And it’s okay. It’s okay.
I feel like I’ve had enough pain for awhile, yet I am not so naïve to think that since I’ve had three truly terrible years, I am protected from it. Yet, I am determined to break through to the truth this year – armored with the shield of my love – for God, for myself, for my children, for my family and for all those I see, hear, touch and feel. And I refuse to break through by sitting in my house and contemplating and thinking and self-helping. I am going to break through by living; by finding a Wildacres trip in every day; by living, damn it!
Life itself: terrible and wondrous, horrific and beautiful, terrifying and buoyant, lonely and joyful, real and unreal; and the only opportunity available to truly live and love.
I can honestly say that I began to really appreciate the people I had in my life – the staples that made every day possible- my neighbors, my old friends, my new friends and my family. Oh, how they held me up when I was wobbly! They have no idea. I need to raise a toast to them, and maybe during this week and weekend without the kids, I will. I will name them all by name and say a prayer and wish them well. The list is long, so very long, and I am so very blessed.
My dad dying dropped me to my knees. It wasn’t expected (then again, is death ever expected?). The days that followed were unreal. I made them unreal, to tell the truth. I fell into a relationship that I now see was a real means to distraction and a real comfort to my vulnerability, and now that the window has been cleared of the fog, I see that it wasn’t real or true or even that good for me in the long run. But in the weeks following dad’s death, it was perfect. I’ve come to realize that this is how life works. I doubt that I would be writing right now had I not entered into a whirlwind relationship that ended just as abruptly as it started. It got me through the pain because it’s much easier to pretend you’re high in love when the alternative is falling into the darkness of complete despair. The loneliness following his death would’ve put me in a prison again. My “fake” love freed me and I am grateful for that too.
In contemplating this truth, I found that it opened up many more truths about me too – those that brought me comfort short-term (martinis and nights out and a lot of sleep and watching tv and listening to music and playing video games and failing to live beyond getting through a day and a new drama).
2010: before and after. The line is clear. I was just coming out of the short-term distractions and getting into those beautiful lifelong changes when another tragedy kicked me in the teeth.
And it’s okay. It’s okay.
I feel like I’ve had enough pain for awhile, yet I am not so naïve to think that since I’ve had three truly terrible years, I am protected from it. Yet, I am determined to break through to the truth this year – armored with the shield of my love – for God, for myself, for my children, for my family and for all those I see, hear, touch and feel. And I refuse to break through by sitting in my house and contemplating and thinking and self-helping. I am going to break through by living; by finding a Wildacres trip in every day; by living, damn it!
Life itself: terrible and wondrous, horrific and beautiful, terrifying and buoyant, lonely and joyful, real and unreal; and the only opportunity available to truly live and love.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Buffalo Hunting
This time of year, for the past three years, has been very difficult. The Christmas season is supposed to be joyous; and sadly, it hasn't been for the past three years because it seems that I am always missing a pivotal person in my life while trying to maintain a level of enthusiasm for the children. It's a tough position to be in because on the one hand, I am so excited for the kids, on the other, I am so confused about life. And death. And all the hell that happens in between.
I went through my depression over the past few weeks - trying so hard to get through each day without letting the weight of it all knock me sideways.
This is supposed to be my weekend without the kids, and fortuitously, I was able to have them this weekend rather than endure a weekend without them again. I think that has made a big difference in my attitude. Their excitement about shufflin' off to Buffalo is unbelievable. They are so very in tune with my family and with the joy that being in the presence of my family brings that I can't help but be excited about the upcoming gathering.
When I think about the people who will be so very apparently absent, I choke up. Yet, when I think about the people who will be present (I use that word intentionally), I am filled with anticipation and enthusiasm. I think that maybe this will be a new way to approach the holidays - not with sadness and dread, but with gratefulness and joy. I still have so many incredible people in my life - my relatives! - that I would pick hanging out with over anybody else. I have these incredible nieces that light up a room; I have these incredible nephews that create laughter in every instance; and the dogs - oh, how they can make us all commiserate and laugh; and of course, the wholeness, the strength, the longevity of a loving set of siblings, and a mother who can throw out one-liners like it's her job (and it has been her job!) and I look forward to it all. To all of it!
I may be without a mate, but I am not alone. I may be lonely on occasion, but I am not without support. I may be aching, but I am not isolated in my pain.
Life is happening now.
I don't want it to happen without Jeff or Dad, but it is happening.
Laughter still exists.
Love still exists.
Beyond the pain, they are there.
And joy still exists. I plan on heaping it upon my plate this holiday... heaping and heaping and heaping it upon my plate until my plate runneth over, until my cup is full, until I am spewing a drink across the table in laughter, all over a sibling. I plan on that.
I will not be disappointed.
Love.
I went through my depression over the past few weeks - trying so hard to get through each day without letting the weight of it all knock me sideways.
This is supposed to be my weekend without the kids, and fortuitously, I was able to have them this weekend rather than endure a weekend without them again. I think that has made a big difference in my attitude. Their excitement about shufflin' off to Buffalo is unbelievable. They are so very in tune with my family and with the joy that being in the presence of my family brings that I can't help but be excited about the upcoming gathering.
When I think about the people who will be so very apparently absent, I choke up. Yet, when I think about the people who will be present (I use that word intentionally), I am filled with anticipation and enthusiasm. I think that maybe this will be a new way to approach the holidays - not with sadness and dread, but with gratefulness and joy. I still have so many incredible people in my life - my relatives! - that I would pick hanging out with over anybody else. I have these incredible nieces that light up a room; I have these incredible nephews that create laughter in every instance; and the dogs - oh, how they can make us all commiserate and laugh; and of course, the wholeness, the strength, the longevity of a loving set of siblings, and a mother who can throw out one-liners like it's her job (and it has been her job!) and I look forward to it all. To all of it!
I may be without a mate, but I am not alone. I may be lonely on occasion, but I am not without support. I may be aching, but I am not isolated in my pain.
Life is happening now.
I don't want it to happen without Jeff or Dad, but it is happening.
Laughter still exists.
Love still exists.
Beyond the pain, they are there.
And joy still exists. I plan on heaping it upon my plate this holiday... heaping and heaping and heaping it upon my plate until my plate runneth over, until my cup is full, until I am spewing a drink across the table in laughter, all over a sibling. I plan on that.
I will not be disappointed.
Love.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Press Release: Thanks Yvonne
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari marks author Cliff Fazzolari’s tenth book. Notable
works include: Counting on a Miracle (honorable mention at the 2008 Best Beach Book Festival
NYC) and House of Miracles and Nobody’s Home (2009 fiction pick for the New England Book
Festival). Published in USA Today, The Buffalo News and The Atlantic Constitution.
"Counting on a Miracle should be required reading for every human being." — Dr. Marc Levitt,
Chief Surgeon, Women & Children’s Hospital of Buffalo.
Whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, Cliff’s writing is handcrafted by what touches his life and engages his
emotions. Life’s roller coaster ride, the authentic ups and downs, leave readers with a real deal author akin to Steinbeck. Fazzolari writes with passion, not prejudice. His skillful storytelling imparts important life-lessons— lessons all of us could use reminding. — Lynn Lombard, Buffalo News contributor and freelance writer
Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari is an authentic heirloom recipe
that shares the ingredients of what it takes to make life meaningful, challenging and
tasteful. This close-knit Italian family circles the kitchen table with confidence, slapstick
humor and mutual joy. Food plays a pivotal role in their lives and pride is felt when the
youngest son becomes a noted executive chef at The Gow School. But on January 27,
2009 life went terribly wrong for Jeff and his family.
Prior to that date, the Fazzolari family, known as the “Fuzzys”, was fortunate. They had a
secret that kept them above the fray: Love. Love between brothers and sisters, children
and parents, even their freaking dogs … a love that comes whole, not in individual pieces.
Together they made “Fuzzys’ Jumbut”, a recipe that throws together life, love and laughter.
But when Jeff dies, the family loses a core ingredient: the person that binds the family
together. The love isn’t enough and the pain is too much. Life isn’t the nice little package
they were living. Jeff’s death interferes with their love.
Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari will introduce you to a son, a
brother, a husband and a dedicated father that was both prankster and poignant human
being. This thoughtful, compelling and heartfelt narrative serves to heal their own family as
well as others. This is a book that celebrates and embraces life at 120 miles per hour.
When the fuel tank runs out they add the ingredient that Jeff added to all his signature
recipes: Love.
Cliff’s blog, Thoughts of a Common Man, expresses the complexity of being human without
pretense. On or off the page Cliff’s a gifted cobbler of words and wisdom. Like his late father he
values his family and friends. His first post was about a rock handed to him by his son on his 40th
birthday. Simple? Yes and no. This was a rock that symbolized perfect, wonderful and unconditional
love. — Yvonne Conza, freelance writer & Cliff’s friend for over 40 years.
In Cliff’s words: As a Dad, that rock symbolized that I was doing as my Dad did. I had made the
human connection, with my son, that most Dads want, but a lot don't achieve. Jake had been sick.
Almost died, commanded all of my love and attention, and here he was, unashamed, standing
before me, telling me that he loved me. My kid loved me in a perfect kind of way!
And despite the fact that it was just a rock from my driveway...it hammered home all that I was
trying to accomplish in life.
That rock finds its way to my hand now and again when I'm hurting. I want it in the box with me
when I take the final ride. It's love. That's what it symbolizes. The perfect love that is difficult to get,
but the pursuit of which makes the world spin.
Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari marks author Cliff Fazzolari’s tenth book. Notable
works include: Counting on a Miracle (honorable mention at the 2008 Best Beach Book Festival
NYC) and House of Miracles and Nobody’s Home (2009 fiction pick for the New England Book
Festival). Published in USA Today, The Buffalo News and The Atlantic Constitution.
"Counting on a Miracle should be required reading for every human being." — Dr. Marc Levitt,
Chief Surgeon, Women & Children’s Hospital of Buffalo.
Whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, Cliff’s writing is handcrafted by what touches his life and engages his
emotions. Life’s roller coaster ride, the authentic ups and downs, leave readers with a real deal author akin to Steinbeck. Fazzolari writes with passion, not prejudice. His skillful storytelling imparts important life-lessons— lessons all of us could use reminding. — Lynn Lombard, Buffalo News contributor and freelance writer
Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari is an authentic heirloom recipe
that shares the ingredients of what it takes to make life meaningful, challenging and
tasteful. This close-knit Italian family circles the kitchen table with confidence, slapstick
humor and mutual joy. Food plays a pivotal role in their lives and pride is felt when the
youngest son becomes a noted executive chef at The Gow School. But on January 27,
2009 life went terribly wrong for Jeff and his family.
Prior to that date, the Fazzolari family, known as the “Fuzzys”, was fortunate. They had a
secret that kept them above the fray: Love. Love between brothers and sisters, children
and parents, even their freaking dogs … a love that comes whole, not in individual pieces.
Together they made “Fuzzys’ Jumbut”, a recipe that throws together life, love and laughter.
But when Jeff dies, the family loses a core ingredient: the person that binds the family
together. The love isn’t enough and the pain is too much. Life isn’t the nice little package
they were living. Jeff’s death interferes with their love.
Oh Brother! The Life and Times of Jeff Fazzolari will introduce you to a son, a
brother, a husband and a dedicated father that was both prankster and poignant human
being. This thoughtful, compelling and heartfelt narrative serves to heal their own family as
well as others. This is a book that celebrates and embraces life at 120 miles per hour.
When the fuel tank runs out they add the ingredient that Jeff added to all his signature
recipes: Love.
Cliff’s blog, Thoughts of a Common Man, expresses the complexity of being human without
pretense. On or off the page Cliff’s a gifted cobbler of words and wisdom. Like his late father he
values his family and friends. His first post was about a rock handed to him by his son on his 40th
birthday. Simple? Yes and no. This was a rock that symbolized perfect, wonderful and unconditional
love. — Yvonne Conza, freelance writer & Cliff’s friend for over 40 years.
In Cliff’s words: As a Dad, that rock symbolized that I was doing as my Dad did. I had made the
human connection, with my son, that most Dads want, but a lot don't achieve. Jake had been sick.
Almost died, commanded all of my love and attention, and here he was, unashamed, standing
before me, telling me that he loved me. My kid loved me in a perfect kind of way!
And despite the fact that it was just a rock from my driveway...it hammered home all that I was
trying to accomplish in life.
That rock finds its way to my hand now and again when I'm hurting. I want it in the box with me
when I take the final ride. It's love. That's what it symbolizes. The perfect love that is difficult to get,
but the pursuit of which makes the world spin.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Enzo-ooooooooooo-ooooooo-ooooo!
What I enjoy most about wrapping presents isn't the joy of knowing that the person who will receive the gift will be oh so happy; it is not about getting it finally done; it is not about the anticipation of the joyous occasion. It is the cardboard tube that is left over from all the wrapping. It is the great fun I find in holding it over my shoulder, taking a stance like Jeter about to nail one, and waiting for Enzo to come galloping around the corner. Thwack! On the butt and he scatters, he soars, he leaps, he slides across the floor and around the corner and stops moving. For a few seconds, he just stops moving and then takes three tentative steps toward me. I pull the tube back over my shoulder, he runs backwards (have you ever seen a dog run backwards - it's hysterical) and I chase him with it.
This is how I spent the first ten minutes of the morning - before coffee or anything else. Cathartic.
And guess who is behaving? Could it be the dog that has eaten three of Paige's books in the past two days?Could it be the one that destroyed his dog bed and everything else in his crate? Could it be the one who puked up a baby bird that landed inches from Paige's pajamaed feet? Or is it the one that weighs 80 pounds with the mentality of a three year old child wild with disrespect and chocolate? Or maybe the one that lifted his leg on the Poinsetta plant during dinner the other night?
This is going to be a good day. This is going to be a good weekend. I have loads and loads and loads of presents to wrap. Plenty of cardboard tubes. One dog.
Me and one dog.
Who will win?
This is how I spent the first ten minutes of the morning - before coffee or anything else. Cathartic.
And guess who is behaving? Could it be the dog that has eaten three of Paige's books in the past two days?Could it be the one that destroyed his dog bed and everything else in his crate? Could it be the one who puked up a baby bird that landed inches from Paige's pajamaed feet? Or is it the one that weighs 80 pounds with the mentality of a three year old child wild with disrespect and chocolate? Or maybe the one that lifted his leg on the Poinsetta plant during dinner the other night?
This is going to be a good day. This is going to be a good weekend. I have loads and loads and loads of presents to wrap. Plenty of cardboard tubes. One dog.
Me and one dog.
Who will win?
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