life

Yellow House in the North Country: Thanksgiving

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My time off from work has all been used due to the neighbor abuse we experienced at the old house plus the move to escape that dangerous situation. There were many days that the neighbors prevented me from working. Not only did I have to use all my vacation time, but I had to take unpaid time off from work too. The harassment at work from the bad neighbors at the old house was so severe, it put my job in jeopardy. 

Thankfully, that is behind us now. We were able to leave the house where we were harassed daily and the neighbor’s attempted arson. However, there is still fallout from those events. Part of that fallout is that I had to work Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and the Saturday after Thanksgiving trying to make up time. 

Surprisingly, I did have a few invitations to Thanksgiving in our new location. I had to turn them down due to working and due to covid. N95 respirators only work to prevent covid if they are worn on your face properly. 

The neighbor right next to me – the first one to come over and introduce herself when we moved in – brought me a plate of food. I was so grateful that she was kind enough to think of me.

To be honest, I was feeling a little down about Thanksgiving. Even though we are safe in a new home, it just doesn’t feel like the holidays this year. It’s hard learning a new area after being forced out of an area I lived in and knew for 25 years. That is the reality of what happened – we were bullied and harassed out of an area we knew. Our lives were threatened. We are starting over somewhere new.

My favorite Thanksgiving movie is Pieces of April with Katie Holmes. There is a scene in the movie where she explains the meaning of Thanksgiving to her neighbors who do not speak English. To paraphrase, she explained that there was this one time when people just realized that they needed each other, and they came together due to that need. 

It was the plate of food that neighbor brought me and the kindness of another neighbor in the days after Thanksgiving that finally helped me to feel the true meaning of the holiday this year. 

When we lived 3 hours south in the old house, I used to say we would get nickel and dimed with snow – half an inch here, half an inch there. It was just enough snow to be annoying, but not enough to really plow or shovel or cause problems.

Here in the North Country, you get your money’s worth of snow and then some. To be honest, I am having culture shock with the snow up here and it is only December. I wonder if I am hardy enough to live in the North Country with the winters here. 

Yes, I’ve always said I wanted to live up here when I retired. Honestly, I had a very romanticized idea of what that would look like. I did not factor in the reality of three senior cats and being completely alone because we fled an abuse situation. 

We have been getting about 7-8 inches of snow every other day since Thanksgiving. There are constant winter weather warnings and travel advisories. The roads have been closed once already. It’s snowing right now, and when I went out to shovel, there is at least 3 feet of snow out front. I’m not exaggerating.

My weight is still low due to health issues I have been having the past year due to the neighbor abuse at the old house. I’m under 90 pounds, unintentionally. There is no way I can handle a snowblower.

For weeks, I have been calling every single ad I see for snowplowing. I have asked all the neighbors and everyone I see, from the librarian to the postmaster, for recommendations for snowplowing.

I call and leave messages. I name drop, saying “this person told me to call you.” No one calls me back. 

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, someone answered their phone. I told them I saw their ad in our local flier for snowplowing and would like an estimate. He told me, “I don’t go to that town.” You have an ad in our local flier advertising snowplowing for this town, and you don’t come here? Well, thank you for answering the phone at least. I have left dozens of messages, and no one calls me back.

Knowing I cannot handle a snowblower, I did get an electric shovel. It weighs 20 pounds. I know I can handle it. My thought was that it is like a mini show blower. If I keep up on the snow it will be fine.

How very wrong I was.

That first big snowfall on Thanksgiving, I went outside after work. I can only shovel twice a day – before work and after work. By the time I got outside after work, there was already way too much snow for the electric shovel to handle. 

The neighbor across the street saw me struggling with the electric snow shovel. He came over and used his snowblower and cleared my driveway for me. He explained that he is retired, but his wife still works, so he keeps their drive clean. He used to help the woman who lived in this house before me (she passed away). 

Now he is helping me too.

I offered to pay him. He refused. At least let me give you gas money, that machine costs money in gas. He refused. 

His kindness has helped me feel Thanksgiving in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time. As it was said in Pieces of April, there was a time when people needed each other. 

I still need to figure out something kind to do for him for helping me. Even though he is helping me with the snowblower, I am still going out twice a day to shovel (unless he beats me to it with the snowblower.)

Having his help with the snow in the driveway and front has freed me up to be sure that my back deck is shoveled. I know to keep the snow off that due to the weight of snow. So I am shoveling the back deck when the neighbor helps me with the driveway.

Words cannot express how grateful I am for the help.

Even though I had to work on the actual holiday, our first Thanksgiving in the North Country is one for the records books. I am so thankful for kind neighbors. Even if they did not help me with snow and remember me on the holiday, just the fact that we are safe here and our lives are not in danger is the greatest gift. 

We are getting more snow now. It’s only December. We have 3 feet of snow. I’m sick of it. It’s going to be a long winter. I’m struggling to get the car out. I’m struggling to get my mail. I’m struggling to get to the grocery store, the vet office, and anywhere else we need. 

Even though I am struggling with winter, I am grateful that we are safe. We are together. We have neighbors who are not actively trying to murder us (truly, that is what the old neighbors did – they tried to murder us with the arson and other physical injuries they caused). 

We are forced to learn a brand-new area because we had to escape an abuse situation. This is the hardest thing I have ever done. Yet I’m grateful we are together and safe. 

Last year I had to deal with the 20-year-old child across the street having some sort of drug induced psychosis and driving his truck into the bushes and front porch of my house. 

This year, we are in a place where neighbors bring me a plate of food and help me with snow. 

Happy Thanksgiving from the Yellow House in the North Country. 

We are hoping the Yellow House in the North Country will be a new series on the blog.

Smaller Space

/ rachelgoes262 / 4 Comments

Back in August, I had started a blog post about the forced exodus from our old house due to abusive neighbors. I wrote about the attempted arson and daily harassment we experienced that necessitated that we leave under extreme duress for temporary safe housing that I only disclosed to very few people. It made sense to write about it at the time I was living it, especially when everyone in that area (except the attorney) was normalizing the abuse we experienced. 

Reading that now, I relived what we lived through this summer. It was very traumatizing. I am not ready to talk about or post about the attempt on our lives that occurred this summer and the subsequent daily harassment we experienced by the neighbors. 

Suffice it to say, we are now in permanent housing several hours away from those horrible people. We are safe. We no longer experience daily harassment, abuse or threats. We can sleep through the night without being deliberately woken up. I can walk outside safely without being physically attacked. 

It was very hard to leave an area and a community I was part of for over 20 years. We were literally bullied out of our home we had known for decades due to two families who were engaging in various criminal activities.

Now that we are in a safe place, I am learning a completely new location This is the hardest move I have made since the 90s. 

When we initially left, I could only take the cats in the car and whatever I could fit in the trunk. We had to arrange the leaving at a safe time when I would not be physically attacked or otherwise physically prevented from leaving. A few weeks later, when I went back with a moving truck to move all my belongings out of the old house, the moving men were threatened with assault by the neighbors. It was a rough situation.

I had spent all summer downsizing and minimizing the house. I knew we would be moving to a smaller space, even though I did not know where we were going. 

When they say, you and your belongings grow and increase to match the size of the space in which you live, that saying is true. 

While I got rid of over three truckloads of stuff before the move, it was eye opening to see how much I really have now that we are living someplace that is literally half the size of the house we fled. 

At first, it was encouraging to find that all my belongings fit into a 16-foot moving truck with room to spare. I had friends who kept saying I had way too much stuff and there was no way everything would fit into a 16-foot moving truck. To my surprise and delight, they were wrong! 

All my belongings were stored in the moving truck for about 8 days before we could get into permanent housing. To be honest, I mostly forgot about what was in there. 

The cats and I were in temporary safe housing with only what had fit into the trunk of my car. It was very freeing as well as eye opening to see how little we needed on a day-to-day basis. What was most important was that the cats and I were together through the entire ordeal and that we were all safe. 

While I was elated that all my belongings fit into a 16-foot moving truck with room to spare, moving into our new home was a bit of a comedown. With half the living space, it now feels like I have way too much stuff. 

We have only been in our new home for a month. In addition to unpacking and getting settled in our new home, I am learning a new area, working full-time, attending to all our medical needs, and had to deal with the fact that Sophie was totaled in this transition. 

It’s been a lot of change and a lot of trauma.

When it snows this winter and things slow down, minimizing will be back on my radar again in full force. This house feels cluttered with all our stuff in it. It is overwhelming. Therefore, things need to be removed.

I’ve seen how little we needed when we were living the emergency those few weeks in temporary safe housing. We do not need all the stuff in the new house with us now. 

The biggest difference between the temporary safe house and our permanent home is that when we were in temporary housing, we were in an urban area. It was easy to get things there and access resources such as groceries and laundry. In our new permanent home, on-site laundry is a necessity. Other necessities we need in our permanent home that were not relevant in temporary housing include emergency supplies for winter, as we are not in an urban area close to amenities. 

If people get more things to fill a larger space, then we must conversely get rid of things to fit a smaller space. 

Our weeks in temporary housing showed me how little we need. The challenge will be curating the items in our permanent home down to what will fit here without being cluttered. 

On top of everything I am doing trying to get settled in a new area, I am also trying to take time for me. The cats and I need to heal from all the abuse we suffered at the hands of the neighbors. Jolene especially has been traumatized. She had always been a friendly, outgoing cat until the summer when the neighbors escalated. Now she is timid and fearful. We are all still mourning Jude. I feel so guilty I could not get him out of that house before he passed. We all have a lot of trauma to process as the result of the daily harassment we experienced and attempt on our lives. 

This winter expect to see a return to minimalism as we acclimate to a smaller space. I’m now looking at it with fresh eyes after our experience being in temporary housing for so long and having to flee our prior house under extreme threat and duress. I have a lot of “comfort items” that were not comforting and not needed when we were living the emergency. You don’t realize how little you need until you can only leave with a very small, space restricted amount of stuff. 

The good news is, that chapter of our life of horror is behind us. We have a new chapter ahead. While it has it’s challenges, we are all safe and no longer in physical danger. We can finally get back to our roots at Rewind Live Slow. 

A Decade of Rewind Live Slow

/ rachelgoes262 / 2 Comments

It’s been 10 years since I started this blog. Back in the day, (mid 2000s) I had a facebook. I deleted my facebook for my mental health. I have no regrets and have not looked back. Once I finished grad school, I decided I was “done” being on the internet and all the drama that goes with it.

In 2015, a coworker suggested I start a blog. She commented that stories I told at work about my life and what I experienced and noticed throughout my day were often comical, and other people may like to read. I decided I also wanted to use all my own original photography and have never used a stock photo on this site. 

I pay for my domain and hosting and try to keep things clean and ad-free for you. 

While some of my earliest posts may have been comical, I do realize that a lot of posts are more serious as I have navigated challenges in life. I try to focus on downsizing, minimalism and simple living, but life happens. We minimize our belongings to focus on the things in life that really matter – the relationships. 

From the comical post era, I will say that one of my personal favorites was the post about the time my yoga pants went to yoga. 

The cats have featured on this blog many times. I try to do a birthday and a gotcha day post for each cat. We now have two social media accounts – a twitter and a bluesky. I have made some new and treasured friends sharing my cats on social media. There have been many times over the past 5 years when the pet accounts on our social media have kept me going.

There is a lot of drama right now with these neighbor issues after we were attacked and physically injured two years ago. We are harassed daily; it prevents me from working and sleeping. There are a lot of moving parts, many of them legal, but I am trying to get us out of this situation and to a safe place. I can’t give a lot of detail right now due to safety. 

However, once it’s all done and we are in a safe place, I have stories to tell about the journey we are now on to try to get to a place of physical safety. 

A few weeks ago, there was gunfire here. 

Right now, I’m trying to post on here once a month. It is a struggle with trying to get us to a safe place to live with all the legal and other logistical parts involved. I am also having some very serious health concerns now.

I just wanted to take some time out to acknowledge that this blog has now been here for a decade. It started June 2015. I wanted to be sure I made a post for the anniversary before June 2025 passes us by.

If you are any kind of praying person, we would appreciate all the prayers and positivity you can muster right now. I’m trying to get us away from these abusive neighbors and to a safe place. Finding housing that will accept four cats is the challenge. 

I will not give up any one of my cats. They are the only family I have left. My entire purpose of buying this house in 2018 was to keep us all together. I love this house. I researched it back to when it was built and learned its stories. 

Due to violent neighbors that have already injured us and continue to threaten our safety daily, we are not safe here anymore.

So please pray we can find a place to live. 

Hopefully the next decade of Rewind Live Slow will be able to get back to more of the comical aspects of past. 

Where We Left Off

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One of the joys of life are those friendships that you have for a decade or more, maybe several decades, where the depth is so strong that no matter what happens in life or how long its been since you have spoke, you always have the ability to pick right back up with that person where you left off. Maybe its your best friend from college that you rarely see because they live in a different state. Yet every time you get together, whether its once a year or even less frequent, things just naturally pick right back up again.

These are the friends that you know you can call in the middle of the night. They are the first number you’re dialing when anything major happens – a new baby, a death, a promotion. You want them to hear your news. You want their input for major decisions. They may not see you everyday, but you still think “omg, what would they think of my hair?” when you get a new do.

These are the people that you would drop everything to help. All those sappy country music songs about hopping into your car and taking off on an hours long road trip to help someone out when they call – those kind of ties are real. They may be a rarity, but they exist.

Sometimes you do all that to help someone with the big stuff. Sometimes you drop everything to rush to their side just to silently hold their hand. Silence in person is more comforting than silence by phone. You know that this person would not have called unless they really need something. You know that since they called, you really do need to drop everything to be there.

These are the people who sometimes know you better than you know yourself.

I have the privilege of having this type of relationship with a select handful of people in my life. Perhaps one of the most treasured is someone who I have known for over 30 years. Yes, I know, I’m showing my age. I recently tried describing this relationship into the 21st century by saying it’s my “ride or die.” While there are boundaries in this relationship, I will say that those boundaries are pretty much – I will – unless I absolutely can’t (physically, financially, emotionally, etc.)

I’m not saying that the word door mat should be on your forehead and it’s not on mine. This type of relationship goes two ways.

Life takes you different places and through different situations. Yet somehow, you keep coming back to this one person. It may have been years since you have spoken, and yet when you reconnect, everything is the same.

Some of these relationships can be unhealthy. Some are healthy relationships, yet simply a casualty of geography and circumstance. There have been moments when this particular relationship has been unhealthy for me, but as we have gotten older and life circumstances have changed, it is once again healthy. Sometimes you have to figure out if its toxic or just a phase of life.

Every time we pick up where we left off, I’m ecstatic. I don’t know how long it will last. That is the unhealthy part. The part when it ends and we have to go our seperate ways breaks my heart every time. But I also know that we will come together again and pick up where we left off. That part brings me hope. I also have hope that at some point geography won’t be an issue, and we won’t have to pick up where we left off anymore because we will just be fixtures in each other’s lives again.

Years go by and people change, but at the core, we’re still the same. It’s this consistency that keeps me going. No matter the circumstance, you know the person is the same. You know that’s the same person you fell in love with or first made friends with.

We never say goodbye because it never is goodbye. You may see someone only once every few years, but you still have other ways to communicate – by phone, by letter. It could be months between correspondence and yet you always just continue the conversation.

The relationship keeps going … from where we left off …

A few months ago, my local newspaper had a poetry page. I submitted two entries to the poetry page, one short and one long. The rules for the poetry page was that it had to be original work and that it had to be poems that had never been published. The work I submitted met the requirements; I had not even posted the poems ever to this blog, so they were truly unpublished pieces.

The longer poem that I submitted and was published was one that I had written about my “ride or die” person with whom I have this “where we left off” relationship. Since it was published in the newspaper’s poetry page a few months ago, this will be the second time it’s been published. I’m just going to leave you with this piece of original poetry here:

Innocence Lost

We were 8 years old

Out on the playground.

You asked me out.

I laughed and ran away.

 

10 years later,

I’m in college

And you’re fighting a war.

It’s like we don’t

Know each other anymore.

I’m still dreaming

While every boot print you’re leaving

Takes you further away

From the boy you once were.

 

10 years after that

And I’m not surprised

At the man you’ve become.

I always knew you would

Be someone great.

Too bad the hand of fate

Took the best of you

And left it in some cave

When you were off in that war.

 

We try again. And again.

I know you’re in there,

But things you’ve lived

And things you’ve seen

Well, the Army took

More from you

Than anyone would believe.

 

If life were simple

I would go back to

8 years old

On that playground

Waiting to be found.

How to Train Your Cat: A Guide for Humans

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Jude and Simon have this system down for the past year where they have been manipulating me to feed them extra food. I know that they were doing it, but I could not figure out how to make it stop and was too tired to care.

The cats eat breakfast and dinner. Their food is measured according to the veterinarian specifications so that they stay at optimal weight and health. Jude will beg for food, but he is easily ignored. What is more challenging is that Simon acts out to try to get food. I have not been able to get him to behave. The only way I can get Simon to stop destroying whatever he is destroying is to feed him.

So when we went to the vet office for Jude’s well visit this spring, I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. Jude and Simon have been manipulating me ever since we moved into the house. I was literally at my wit’s end on what to do and how to make it stop.

Simon was chewing stereo cords. I literally thought of taking the stereo upstairs and putting it in an empty room to get him to stop. This would completely screw up my mojo. The stereo is my longest possession – I’ve had it over 20 years. I play radio or CDs all the time. I have trouble with the stairs, so to put the stereo on the second floor would be torture to me. I could not get Simon to leave the stereo alone unless I fed him.

So, yes, Jude had gained 2 pounds since we have been in the house which is totally not good for his health. When I explained the entire situation to the vet, she laughed saying that the cats have trained me. I guess they have. The cats are better at training me than I am at training them.

Have you ever tried to train a cat? It’s like nailing jello to a tree. They say dogs have owners and cats have staff. There’s some truth to that. Thank goodness we don’t have a dog. I don’t think I could train one.

I told the vet everything I had done to get Simon and Jude to stop.

The vet said that I should be able to train them within a week. She gave me some tips and said that the vet office would follow up in a few weeks to see how it was going.

I can train a cat within a week? I know people who own dogs who have to take them to obedience classes and it takes months to train a dog. You think I can train two cats within a week?

Try 4 days.

Yes, I did train them. It took four days.

I followed my vet recommendations. I put a handful of quarters in an empty pineapple can. Whenever Simon got anywhere near the stereo, I shook the can without looking at him, talking to him, or acknowledging him. I shook that can and continued reading/cooking/doing whatever I was doing.

Simon is completely fearless. Simon is not afraid of anything except thunderstorms. This cat is brave beyond belief with absolutely everything on planet earth except thunderstorms. And apparently, quarters in a pineapple can. Those are terrifying too.

Do you know how hard it is to train a cat like this without laughing hysterically? It’s like when you are trying to have a “teachable moment” with your child when they have done something absolutely hilarious, yet you have to keep a straight face so they will learn why even though what they did was funny, it was not a good idea.

So, if you want to train your cat, put a handful of quarters in a pineapple can and shake it when they misbehave.

I did that four days in a row before we finally got to the point where Simon does not dare go anywhere near the stereo.

Quarters in a pineapple can will train your cat in 4 days. Who knew?

We have the best veterinarian EVER!

Dog Gone Down

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April is turning out to be an eventful month. Did you know that when people turn 40, that automatically means you are depressed? According to my primary physician it does.

There was an article out of the UK recently that concludes the age at which people are the most unhappy in life is 44. Must be that mid-life crisis setting in. This is a follow-up to the study that was done a few years ago about the happiest age. I’ve written about it before somewhere on this blog… The happiness study concludes that the happiest age is 33. I definitely agree with that. Some pretty awesome things happened in my life when I was 33.

I do not think that just because a person turns 40 automatically means you are depressed. I was so ecstatic (honestly) to turn 40 last month. I have now officially outlived over half of the females in my family. Each decade I keep getting better. Plus, I am able to change age group for running.

My primary physician spent the bulk of my appointment a few weeks ago talking to me about mood disorders, specifically depression. They gave me the depression screening twice – once at the beginning of my appointment and once at the end. I was negative both times. I am not depressed.

This is a great time in my life. Life is not perfect. I’m lacking my dream job. But I’ve already ridden that unicorn, so things right now are pretty awesome. What do I have to be depressed about? I gave it some serious thought. I could not come up with anything.

I figured if my doctor is lecturing me about depression and I don’t feel depressed, that there must be something wrong with me. I’m 40 now, apparently I’m supposed to be depressed. What is up with all the happiness? I should be feeling down.

That lead me to create me own crisis. I’m 40 now, so, according to my doctor, it’s not normal for everything to be good.

Is it just me, or does this entire situation sound messed up?

This leads to Dog Gone Down.

I called one of my therapist friends from when I was in social work and explained the entire situation to her. I said, well, my doctor seems to think I have a mood disorder all of a sudden since I turned 40, so maybe I need therapy. She laughed. Once the laughter subsided, she screened me for depression again. Again, I scored completely negative with no symptoms. Then she asked me what I would talk about in therapy.

Well, Simon’s new trick is knocking the phone off the hook so that it rings busy. I’m trying to get money back in my savings account for house maintenance. I’m planning a half marathon for the fall. Nothing deep. My friend kept giggling and suggested maybe I need a new primary care physician, not a therapist. But to be honest, I’m pretty sure this 40 equals depression thing is pretty pervasive in the medical community here.

This weekend I took a box of towels and blankets to the animal shelter to donate. There are about three animal shelters in a 30 mile radius of me, so I try to rotate which shelter I am donating to so that I am not showing love to just one of the area animal shelters.

I dropped off the box, and, as usual when I make a donation, I walked around the shelter visiting with the animals. I have absolutely no desire to adopt another cat. I already live with two. Jude and Simon run this household, and there is no way I can handle a third boss in charge of my life. But, I enjoy showing the shelter cats some love for an hour or so when I drop something off.

Then, I walked into the dog room. I immediately turned around to walk out because it was just too LOUD. When six or seven dogs are barking at once, it is loud. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move up high. There was a dog on the end who was jumping to see who was there. It was the only dog not barking.

So, I went down to visit him. He looked really lonely. He is one of the longest dogs there. People don’t visit with him because he is so shy. He lays in the cage and just looks at people. I have spent close to 3 hours with this dog and never heard him bark once. When people visit animal shelters to adopt, it is quite common that shy or elderly animals get overlooked. This one is very shy.

And then I thought. This is it! Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe I’m depressed and I NEED A DOG!

Or, rather, a dog would be the perfect crisis to inject into my life right now to totally screw up the little utopia I have going on with my family life at home. Totally acceptable. I can tell the doctor I’m stressed because I have a dog, it will confirm her idea of mood disorder and I’ll be good to go.

This dog really did tug at my heart strings. I have been wanting a dog. If I had the house a year earlier, Simon would have been a dog and not a cat. However, since buying the house, I just figured I would wait until both Jude & Simon pass away and then get a dog. I was not thinking of getting a dog right now. But this dog was so polite. He is trained and has manners. I just fell in love.

The shelter rule is that you have to fill out an adoption application to visit with a dog. I filled one out so I could visit with him and pet him. He was so well behaved and trained that I was seriously considering adoption, but needed more time and visits. I let the shelter know I was interested.

This morning they called and said my adoption application had been approved and wanted to know when I was picking him up?

What?

I am not sure if I am ready for a dog. I need more visits and to see what he is like outside and on a leash. I have never even walked a dog on a leash before. I have walked cats on a leash plenty of times, but never a dog.

The dog is scheduled to be neutered tomorrow and will need time to recover from surgery, so I took the afternoon off to visit him again so I could see him outside and try him on the leash.

That was the worst experience of my life. I am never getting a dog. I grew up with dogs, but I have been living with cats for the past 20 years. Apparently, with a dog, the human has to be in charge. I don’t have the personality for it. In my house, my cat is in charge.

Walking a dog on a leash was the worst experience of my life. I may possibly be injured.

The shelter does not allow people to walk dogs on their own, so he was doubled leashed. I am so thankful for this rule.

I was dragged.

I think I blew out my knee again. No exaggeration. My leg from my ankle up through my hip and back hurt. My arm hurts from my wrist to my shoulder. I am really worried about my knee. It’s also the knee that had a serious injury a few years ago.

The shelter told me that this dog is the easiest one to walk in the kennel. They have an 80 year old volunteer who loves walking this dog because he is so easy to walk. Well, that’s great, but I was still dragged. If I cannot handle this dog with a shelter staff helping me, there is no way I will be able to handle him on my own.

The shelter staff tried explaining “well, he can be trained …” I get that, but at the same time, I will not be able to train him. I will be injured and none of us will be going anywhere. Plus, I was really worried about how Jude and Simon would take the sudden appearance of a dog in our lives.

So, lesson learned. The dog is gone. Well, not really. I never had the dog to begin with. He is still in the shelter. My heart still breaks for him because he is the sweetest dog. No one looks at him because he is so shy. I’m sure if an experienced dog owner could overlook the shyness, they would be able to handle him on a leash and he would be an amazing companion. For EXPERIENCED dog walkers, he is great on a leash. As a 100-pound person who has never walked a dog before, I cannot handle being dragged by a 50 pound dog.

When Kip was alive, he walked on a leash quite frequently. He loved it. Sometimes, he would take off and chase a leaf or something. Being dragged by a 14 pound cat is way different. I can handle that. I would like to leash train Jude and Simon, but they want nothing to do with it.

Don’t tell me to try for a smaller dog. I don’t want a smaller dog. I would just have a cat. I don’t think I’m meant to have a dog. It was just this one that stole my heart.

So, maybe I can be down because the dog is gone. It is very sad that such a great pet is in a shelter. Or, maybe I will continue to argue with my primary care physician that not only am I not depressed, but I am very happy because my life is pretty good right now.

When I go to sleep tonight, I have two amazing cats who love me and snuggle me in bed every night. Really, it doesn’t get much better than that.

I could tell her how stressful it is living in the house because it is so LOUD here. I miss my apartment because it was quiet. But, I don’t think that makes me depressed. I am more annoyed at the noise and unruliness of the neighborhood where the house is compared to the apartment.

Bottom line, I’ve tried dog gone down, and it just doesn’t work.

This 40-year old lives with two cats and is happy.

My Best Decade

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Today is my 40th birthday. Birthdays are my favorite holiday. They are proof I’m still here and survived another year of what life threw at me. 40 is great because I get to move up another age group in running. 40 is significant because I have now outlived my paternal grandmother, who passed away from a stroke at age 39. Each decade I’m alive keeps getting better, so here’s hoping that 40 is awesome.

Looking back on my 30s, they were pretty amazing. My 30s were definitely better than my 20s.

The three major challenges I had in my 30s were the heartache of Kip’s death, the heartache of Kitty’s death, and my stroke at age 37. There were other really bad things too, but these three were the worst.

With those notable exceptions, my 30s were (so far) my best decade.

In random, but somewhat chronological order, here are 10 things that made my 30s the best decade ever:

  1. I completed my bachelor’s degree.

It took 15 years to do so. In those 15 years, I did get an associate’s degree, live in at least 4 different states, battle homelessness, and work 3 jobs 60-70 hours per week, but I got it done. My bachelor’s degree was the only degree for which I was not valedictorian, and it was the only graduation ceremony I attended. Out of all my degrees, finishing my bachelor’s was definitely not only the most challenging, but also the most fun.

  1. I ran marathons.

More than one. I’ve ran in Philly, Boston, Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa, Scranton, and a few other cities. Each one is precious. I ran a marathon down the longest street in the world (true story). I ran my first point-to-point (city-to-city) marathon. I represented Team USA internationally. I had the opportunity to run into an Olympic Stadium (not during an actual Olympics). I’ve gotten a high five at the finish line from the Mayor of a major American city.  I’ve had limo service to my pre-race dinner as a “visiting athlete.” My medals actually mean more than my degrees.

  1. I got to see my MLB team play on home turf.

Every baseball fan should have this experience at least once in their life. It doesn’t matter how old you are, it is completely magical to be at the stadium on game day, to watch the maintenance people prep the lawn, and then finally see your heroes take the field to play the best game on Earth. If you have not yet had this experience, it should definitely be on your bucket list. Pro sports tickets are extremely expensive, but try to save to go just once. It’s one of my favorite memories of all time.

  1. I got to see my MLB team win the World Series (on TV, not in person).

This is another experience that everyone should have at least once in their life. I’ve seen road wins and I’ve seen home wins. The home win is just something everyone should be able to experience once. No one should have to die without having seen their team win the World Series.

  1. I fell in love.

You hear this all the time. In my 20s, the remark was almost flippant. In my 30s, this phrase took on meaning. I don’t mean the lightning strike love-at-first-sight moment that is a complete whirlwind and then all of a sudden fizzles. I’m talking about the kind of love where you have known a person for decades through good and bad and are 100% supportive of that person, even when they are doing things that are not necessarily great. I’m not talking about being a door mat. I’m talking about actually being someone’s partner and having the ability to love a person so much that you are always there for them even if their life choices take them away from you. The kind of love that you know that is your person and there is no one else you click with like that, who knows you so well.

  1. I finished my Master’s degree.

If my bachelor’s degree seemed an impossibility, then grad school was a pipe dream. I actually think I was in the final year of my bachelor’s when I started asking people to explain grad school to me. No one in my family had ever even gone to college and the only people I knew with graduate degrees were my professors. It was like some hidden Holy Grail that I was finally able to unlock. I am now a Jill of all trades and master of ONE!

  1. I rode the unicorn into extinction.

By this I mean that I had that elusive experience of all adulthood – I had my dream job. I had a job I loved so much that it didn’t feel like work. I just showed up to do what I wanted to do – what I had spent 20 years of my life preparing to do – and happened to get paid to do that every day. I would have been so happy to do that every single day until I died or retired. How many people in this country have the privilege of being able to say “I love what I do” and actually mean it? Or should I say, how many people can actually say “I love what I do” and are getting paid to do it at a level that meets all their living expenses. All dreams must come to an end, and the company I worked for decided to pull out of New York State. So I rode the unicorn to the end of the rainbow not to find a pot of gold like I had expected, but just an empty void that I still have not figured out how to fill. Once you’ve had your dream job, nothing else will ever live up to that experience. Especially when the job you find to replace the dream doesn’t even respect you. Now, this is extinction.

  1. I bought a house.

If my masters degree was a pipe dream, well, I’ll tell you right now that buying a home was never on my radar. At all. I have never lived in a house. I have spent a chunk of my life being homeless. I never figured a “person like me” would even own a home. I never entertained the idea or even saved for one. Owning a home was a joke. My back-up plan for housing was – well, if things go bad, I’ll just move back to Massachusetts or buy a house, insert excessive laughter literally rolling on the floor laughing here. Buying a house is one of the scariest things I have ever done in life. So far, it’s also been one of the best choices I have ever made. I kept my family together and the cats are so much happier here than they were in the apartment. Funny, I never thought they were unhappy in the apartment, it’s just a contrast to see how well they are doing in the house.

  1. Anything less than 110% is … okay?

I spent almost 25 years of my life burning the candle at both ends. I slept 4 hours a day. I worked 3 jobs to make ends meet because really, who can survive on minimum wage? I worked 60-70 hours per week while going to school full-time working on my degrees. I excelled in school. Some call me an overachiever. So, when my stroke completely knocked me down a few years ago, it is quite a shock to only operate at abut 86%. Which, by the way, is considered my “level of functioning.” I am also considered “fully recovered.” Even though the doctors consider me fully functional, it is hard for me to accept that this is all I can do now. I’m used to doing so much more. What my stroke has taught me, is that it is okay to slow down. I can rest and still get things done. I’m pretty grateful to have learned this lesson now and be at 86% than to have just worked myself into the ground – it could have been worse. Listen to your body is the greatest lesson I have learned in my 30s.

  1. Family First

Family first has been carrying me through life since Kitty, as a 4-month old kitten, first climbed up onto my shoulders at the animal shelter and would not get down when I was 19. He picked me out. I took him home. We were together until he passed away from cancer just before his 19th birthday. Every major life choice I have made has centered around keeping my family together. Through everything that has happened with work, school, running, and health, at the end of the day, I come home to my furkids. They are always here, happy to see me with unconditional love. Family first is the tenant that will carry me into my 40s. As long as we are all together, everything is okay. My primary job is keeping us all together, loving my cats and being loved by them.

Of course, none of this would be possible without God. That’s the bottom line. God has done great things in my life through my 30s. I can’t wait to see what’s next for 40. Thanks for making my 30s my best decade so far.

My life verses:

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed and broken. We are perplexed, but we don’t give up and quit. We are hunted down, but God never abandons us. We get knocked down, but we get up again and keep going. Through suffering, these bodies of ours constantly share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.” – 2 Corinthians 4:8-10 (NLT)

A Year Without Facebook

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It’s been a year since I completely deleted my facebook account, and I have no regrets. None. Aside from my medical challenges, the past year without facebook has been one of the best years of my life since before facebook was invented. My stress levels are significantly reduced, and I am actually enjoying life again.

It’s a great feeling to be able to spend time with someone and not constantly be thinking about taking a photo of something or a witty quip to make as a post. When you are not constantly documenting your life for the facebook world, you get to actually participate in and enjoy each moment. When I was on facebook, I felt like an observer to my own life. “Oh, I have to post …” Like everyone needed to know what I was doing every moment of my life. They don’t.

I do training classes where I work, and we have a no cell phone policy. When I train people about the no cell phone policy, I tell them that I believe they can do it. In a world where cell phones are practically an appendage, you can survive for 90 minutes without your phone. The internet will go on, facebook will survive, and your friendships will not end. It will be okay. Constantly checking your cell phone is a compulsion for most people. Not only have I broken my facebook habit, but my cell phone habit also.

I still have a cell phone. However, without a facebook, I use the phone for its intended use – mostly texting and *gasp talking on the phone. Yes, there are still people in this world who pick up a phone and dial numbers to make it ring to physically talk to a person on the other end instead of typing a text message. Plus, the people with whom I talk know I have a job and a life, and may not instantly reply.

In a world of instant gratification, I’m doing it old school. Sometimes people don’t answer the phone because they actually have a life. I’m too busy living mine to have a facebook or to respond right away. I will respond, but if I’m enjoying someone’s company, I’m not going to ruin the moment by being a slave to a chirping, palm-sized piece of technology.

I do not feel as though I have missed out on anything in the past year without a facebook. The only news I get is from the radio, so I managed to miss a large portion of election coverage. Even the political news I hear on the radio has been getting too much for me. I’ve been listening to my CDs and vinyl records more so that I don’t have to hear newscasts. But I’m pretty sure that if I had not deleted my facebook account last year and was online for the duration of the election season, that I would have lost my sanity by now and be in an asylum.

Most people have gotten the clue that I am no longer online and make the effort to either see me in person, write a letter (that’s when you use a pen to write on paper and put this little square on it called a stamp), call me, or text. My time now with family and friends is that much richer and precious to me. I actually have time to spend quality time with people and give them my full attention without the “ping” of social media constantly distracting me from the people who are right in front of me.

I have used my time without facebook to focus on what’s important to me. Mainly, the people in my life and the relationships I neglected not only from being online but also all the years I spent as a professional college student who was working multiple jobs. I may be paycheck to paycheck, but my year without facebook has made me richer in so many ways.

Now, I have the time to pay attention to my body and my health as I still struggle to recover from being in the hospital last fall. The past year without facebook has shown me that I need to pay attention to what is truly important, and one of those items is my health. Deleting my facebook has helped me retain my sanity in a tumultuous election year, and is now affording me the time to focus on my physical health as well.

I’m looking forward to entering year two without a facebook account. I can only imagine that life will continue to move in a positive direction, as I am able to spend more time with people I love and focus on things like health. So here is to a year without facebook, and looking forward to many more.

I can Adult (sort of)

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Back in the 90s, MTV brought us one of the trailblazers in the reality TV movement: The Real World, with all of is spin-offs such as Boston, LA, Miami, and San Francisco to name a few. I just googled, and they are currently readying to start season 31. Phew. That’s a lot of drama, lies, sex, and cheating.

I finally finished grad school this past Monday. Yes, I did it! I defended and lived to tell the tale. I have taught preschool for over 11 years and have no problem standing in front of a room full of 3 year olds singing the “Baby Bumblebee” song, yet when it came to a 13 minute presentation to a room of only 6 people, I totally forgot to breathe when I was talking and almost passed out. But, I did make it, and they will be mailing me the oddly shaped piece of paper with the pretty writing on it in a few weeks.

I have now entered The Real World.

I have been in the Real World for a while now. I’m in my mid-30s after all. Yet, when you are juggling full-time school with full-time work, somehow people expect you to fall apart and marvel at your ability to keep it together. I think once you officially enter The Real World where you are only working full-time and trying to adult that the opposite is true: people expect you to keep it together and wonder what is wrong with you when you don’t.

In the past few days, I am in total awe of my own ability to keep it together. Weird, I know. I am noticing that certain things have happened in the past few days would have caused me to have complete meltdown if I was still in school. When you are overbooked and trying to juggle too many things, sometimes even the most innocuous incident can be the tipping point that pushes you to lose your mind. I am able to handle crisis situations much more calmly these past few days than I have in the past. There is hope for me yet. I can Adult.

Sort of.

It still feels fake. I have all these degrees and fancy credentials, which scream to the world, “look at me! I know something!” Really, I don’t. Yesterday, I could not even figure out how to use a scanner machine. No amount of education in the world will ever replace common sense.

Even though I may have the ability to Adult in the Real World, I still feel stuck in this student mentality that says that I am only getting through this moment so that I can continue with and finish school and move onto something better. Except, now I really am done with school, and everything has come to a dead halt. It’s like riding a galloping horse that suddenly decides to stop and completely throws you off, ass over ankles.

I’m just a little scared. I have no idea what I’m doing or what to do with myself.

Education is this cozy little cocoon that cradles you in the Ivory Tower of academia. Now, that ‘m out, I have to do it on my own and that is completely frightening. One of the things I have realized that came with being a student for the past 20 years is that I quite regularly received an allowance twice a year. Every semester, the student loan money would release and help me to get caught up on everything I either neglected or was not simply able to deal with in the whirlwind that was school and employment in low-wage jobs for long hours.

Uncle Sam has been my sugar daddy (in the form of student loans), and now I’m cut off. Not only do I have no one to bail me out, but also I have 20 years worth of allowance to pay back. Being an adult is kind of hard. I don’t live in the Real World of the TV series that is full of parties, drama, and relationships. I’m in the Real World of work, bills, and student loan debt.

Reality is scary. To conjure another 90s media reference, Reality Bites.

So while these past few days has shown me that I am capable of acting like an adult, it has also shown me that I bumble. I am far from perfect. One thing I do know is that being an adult is a lot easier when you are not trying to be in school full-time on top of all your other Real World obligations. Life is so much easier to handle when you slow down and have less on your plate.

While I fondly remember watching the Real World in my dorm room in the 90s (love him or hate him, you gotta remember Puck!), I am so glad that my life is not full of the drama of the TV series. I may be in the Real World, but in this world, I can Adult (sort of),

It really helps to adult when you rewind real slow.