Burlap & Satin

I'm just not sure what to say lately. What do you think I should say? Do share.

If you've ever wanted to see a perfect example of me and J. as a couple and what in the hell we talk about on a regular basis, head over to the photoblog. Yep, it's videos. And no, not those kind of videos.

Although after it's over, you might wish they had been.

Crank your speakers, head on over, and enjoy.

I still haven't had my wedding gown cleaned. Problem is they all want to put it in a little box with a tiny cold window and seal it for all time never to be touched again. I don't want this for my gown. I want to be able to have private moments with it in my closet, run my hands over all that intricate beading, remember how absolutely beautiful I felt on that day, remember my husband's hands running down the bodice while he whispered simply, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

This gown will not be passed on to anyone, I don't want to trash it, I don't want to use it for anything else, I don't want to tarnish the memories by wearing it again. I want to keep it as mine always because I'm incredibly selfish that way. I want to hang it elegantly so that I can always smile when I see it, even on the darkest of days. It's not only about the memories or the way I felt in it, it's because I have a genuine love and admiration for this gown. Still, I can say, "I. love. my. dress."

But I also want it to stay beautiful and not tarnish over time. I have to confront the fact that our house is not conducive to a beautifully preserved gown. We have virtually no closets, we're always fighting water or extreme heat, and any place where I could possibly hang it only has a 7 foot ceiling when my gown is 8-and-a-half feet long and couldn't hang properly.

It's just hard for me, I guess. Ever since the wedding, it seems I've gone incredibly dormant. I had a job that I didn't love but kept me feeling productive and social, now I'm home all day and even though I'm still productive, I'm also very isolated. I had long beautiful nails for the first time in my life, now they are back to the nubs, bloody and chewed. I had a new home that needed tons of work, but it was a home and all that work was in the future "after the wedding." Now, we're in the thick of it and it seems like the work will never end. I had a sex drive and energy and the promise of a wedded life on birth control, now I'm exhausted with nothing left at the end of the day and the pills are void because the drive is non-existent anyway.

I can't say this past year has been a bad one. I walked away from empty friendships and forged ahead to create new ones with stronger more positive people. We got Bogey, who was massive amounts more than we had ever bargained for and tested the end of every limit, but who opened my heart and brightened me in ways I didn't know possible. We made our house only half ugly, which considering it's only been a year since we moved in, I'd say that's a damn fine accomplishment.

I just wish I could see everything better. I wish I could see the positive more, I wish I could remember what vitality and happiness felt like. I wish I could feel happy about calling a place and having my gown preserved and moving on. I wish it didn't feel like I was closing a chapter of life and happiness and embarking on something numb and overwhelming. Most of all, I wish I could have a day without constantly feeling the need to wish.

Feeling inspired by Leah's beautiful artwork yesterday, and the process of facing inner monsters, I began to wonder what my own inner critic would look like sitting inside of me. I had a vision of a nasty soul-sucking mouth swallowing all that is good and sitting at the base of my throat, absorbing all input. Then I imagined my heart, my soul, and my spirit filling with wild flame and burning it out of me, overpowering its negativity by creating something overwhelming and beautiful, allowing me to feel peace and vitality simultaneously.

Then I created this.

"You Have Underestimated My Fire" is 11x14 and marker on watercolor paper.

Closeup One
Closeup Two
Closeup Three
Closeup Four
Closeup Five

It's the first time I've created any artwork - that wasn't part of home decor - in months. I can't say exactly why but I'm feeling incredibly driven and artistic lately. I think it stems from the fact that I've finally decided on some type of career path for myself. I want to create art, to make things that will allow me to express myself... but I've also always wanted to work with animals. I've decided that I can no longer keep dividing myself by trying to choose between the two. (Meaning the one the pays the bills and the one that doesn't. Sure, there's animal-themed artwork out there, but again it doesn't immediately pay the bills.) Rather, I'm going to try to do both and see where it lands me. You can't just be an artist without some sort of supplementary income, so that's where my quest for a non-medical animal job comes in. I've also come to the realization that working for other people, punching a clock, sitting in an office, working on someone else's schedule - those are things that just make me miserable. I'm a horrible employee, not because I'm a bad person or because I don't have anything to offer, but mostly because I'm so unbelievably independent that I have no respect for other people's rules. I've always envisioned working for myself and I honestly believe I was made this independent and strong-willed so that I could do something different, be something inspiring, give back.

I have some avenues I'm planning to explore, some calls to make, some areas to research. But to be able to have picked a place to channel my energy? That's pretty damn amazing and so far, I'm really loving it.

Sorry, but I got tired of bold-ing stuff and quit halfway through. My motivation, it is fierce.
Pass along, ignore, read, yadda yadda.

What is your name? Staz
How old are you? 30
When is your birthday? July 29th
Are you looking forward to it? Don't know.
Why? Hadn't really thought about it yet, I like being 30.
Are you happy? Let's say 93% happiness ratio.
What makes you happiest? Getting away with the husband, my animals.
Are you afraid of something? A few things.
Do you live alone, or with someone else? With someone.
Who? Husband and furries.
Do you have any pets? Several.
What is your favorite cartoon? Get Fuzzy, Aquateen Hunger Force, Home Movies.
Have you ever hit a deer? Almost. His name was Psycho Deer and he bucked the living shit out of my car, I guess as a thank you for NOT hitting him?
Do you drink? Nope.
Do you prefer beer or liquor? Um, I don't drink, remember?
What is your favorite non-alcoholic drink? Iced Tea.
What kind of cell phone do you have? Samsung M520, it's snazzy.
Do you like it? Yeah, just wish the camera and camcorder were better.
What is the funniest word you ever heard? flibbertyjibbit
Do you hate it when people call you "dear"? Not as much as "honey"
To whom have you sent the most text messages? Husband.
What did you do for new year's eve? Twilight Zone Marathon.
were there lots of pictures? Ironically, yes.
What is your favorite movie? The Shawshank Redemption.
What is your favorite song? Nope, can't decide.
what concerts do you want to see in 2008? Don't know.
Do you have any tattoos? Nope.
What is your favorite place to chill out? Right here on the computer.
What is your favorite song to play on guitar hero? I don't do video games.
Do you work out? Not nearly as much as I should.
Do you wear any jewelry? Wedding set, watch, that's it.
What is your favorite memory of the past couple of years? Graduation was a near perfect day, wedding was a chaotic blur.
What is your goal for the year? Lose some weight, gain some happiness.
What do you think about when you first wake up? "How do I feel today?"
Do you shower daily? Nope.
....alone? If Husband is home, he'll often join me.
Have you ever eaten sushi? Yuck.
Did you like it? Um, again, yuck.
List three things you can't live without: Animals, photography, music.
What is your best physical feature? Hair, maybe my smile.
What is your middle name? Staz?
Do you get choked up during dramatic movies? If it's really good.
What is your biggest pet peeve? People that break their necks to cut out in front of you and then go 2 miles an hour. Pisses. me. off.
Have you ever liked someone that all of your friends hate? I'm sure.
Is there anything that you regret? Yeah.
Do you want children? Nope.
How many? Uh, zero?
Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket? Yes.
What is your favorite number? 11 and 19.
What is your favorite sports team? Redwings, Bengals.
What is your most over-used phrase? "Bogey, hush!"
What do you not say enough? I love you.
You and your other half:
Did you get over your ex, or are you over him/her? Way over.
Are you currently with someone? Yep.
Do you love him/her? Yep.
Who said "I love you" first? He did.
Where? In my apartment.
Would you date your ex again? Hahahahahahahaaaaaaa
What is your longest relationship? Current one.
What is your most significant relationship? Current one.
What is the most romantic thing a significant other can do? Be there. Always.
Do you like pet names? Yes, but some we just use to screw with each other.
Do you have any? Sweetie, schmoopie, pookums, dumplin. I'll let you guess which one is real.
Is there anything that you won't tolerate in a relationship? Abuse.
Do you believe in living together before engagement/marriage? Yes.
Where did you meet your significant other? Old school internet, back when it was just the crazy "world wide web."
Have you ever broken up? With him, no. With others, yes.
Have you ever had your heart broken? Oh yeah.
Have you ever broken someone's heart? I hope so. They were all evil.
What is your significant other's birthday? July 26th.
What is your anniversary? June 22nd.
Does this person know you better than anyone else? Second only to myself.
Is this person younger than you? Nope, I like 'em older.
Where was your first date? Jillian's on Y2K, they dropped a giant cheese coney at midnight and he was utterly confused.
Would you marry this person? You know, I think I would.
Are you happy with your sex life? No comment.
who is "Your" band? Don't really have a band. We've seen a lot of Tori shows together.
What is "Your" song? David Wilcox - All My Life.
Do you think you'll be together for a long time? Hope so.
Do you lay in bed and cuddle a lot? Sometimes, if he's still awake when I go to bed.
Where was the last place you went together? Arby's, oooooh!
Do you do a lot of surveys? Not too much.
Did you like this one? Eh.

So uh, we had an earthquake last night. I have a vague sleepy memory of hearing our nightstands and lamps shaking and feeling ticked off because I thought the cats were playing King of the Mountain on our bed frame at 5:30am. Then I remember waking up slightly and looking at J., who was sitting up and looking around in confusion. We both realized quickly it wasn't the cats and said in sleepy unison, "What the hell is that?"

J. responded in amused bewilderment, "I think it's an earthquake."
I laughed at him, rolled my eyes, turned off my lamp, went back to sleep. "It's a plane that got too close or something. There's no earthquakes in Kentucky."

Apparently there are. 5.2 on the Richter Scale and now I can say I am a survivor of Earthquake 08. Unfortunately, this morning I awoke to find my poor sock dog, collapsed from the stress.

Bogey is one year old today.

If you'd have told me a year ago that I would be utterly changed because of something so small, I would have laughed. I was planning a wedding I'd waited nearly two years for, stuck in a job I absolutely hated, living in a new fixer upper home that seemed to drain us every day, and I'd just lost a fifteen year friendship (and my maid of honor) in a truly nasty and undignified manner. Everything was in upheaval. My entire life was about getting to wedding day, getting to June 22nd, getting to the honeymoon, surviving, existing. I would make all the important decisions later. I would be happy... later.

The wedding came, the wedding went, the honeymoon was filled with stress and strep throat, but started to become fun after lots of antihistamines and rest. We stopped at the only internet cafe on Mackinac Island where I had received an email from BREW. One puppy left and we were approved for adoption, did we want him? I told them we were still on our honeymoon and would think about it and email them when we got home. They understood and gave us first dibs.

At the end of our honeymoon, we stopped at J's sister's house for a day in Northern Michigan. Watching Gypsy interact with their new puppy convinced me. She was lonely, she was bored, she was resigned to always being alone. But she always lit up around puppies, loved them, loved having someone to play with. Her life with us was good, but it wasn't really full - at least not for a pack-motivated social beagle like Gyppers.

We hemmed, we hawed, we stared at the picture in the email again and I waited for J. to tell me yay or nay. Eventually he looked at the picture, looked at me, nodded reluctantly and said, "Yeah." So I sent the email and told them we wanted the last puppy. We headed home from our honeymoon the next day and back to daily life.

Arrangements were made, supplies were bought and we waited. One week later, the very next weekend, we left at 5am and drove three hours to Middle-of-Nowhere, Ohio to adopt our newest addition. We signed papers on the trunk of my car in a Bob Evans parking lot, we met puppy's mother (a petite beagle who was headed to her new home in Toledo), and handed over a very big check. Then there we were, alone with a new puppy, new responsibility and never-ending cuteness. We drove home amazed at his size and energy and tried to figure out what we would call him.

Gypsy loved him, I loved him, J. thought he was "very cute." J wasn't entirely sold on the idea of a puppy and even though he told me he was okay with it, I'm married to the man and I knew he wasn't. But as is typical with J., it takes time for him to adjust to change and I was hopeful this was something else he would eventually warm up to.

I, on the other hand, was becoming absolutely smitten with our newest puppy. My heart would grow three sizes whenever him and Gypsy would play, when he would smother me with kisses in the morning, when he would learn something new. His confidence was amazing to me and he was so social I didn't know how to handle it. Gypsy had baggage when we got her, she was afraid of so many things and needed lots of gentleness and patience. But Bogey Orson Deuce Bosley Harpo Bogey was nothing like her. He lived on your attention and eye contact, he quivered with excitement when you said his name, he lived to be awake, loved to be alive. Soon enough, I found that I did too.

I felt like a new mother and soon found it too damn difficult to leave him home in a crate all day. Sure, he got a mid-day break but it was only 30 minutes out of an eight hour day. Anyone will tell you that's cruel for a ten-week old puppy. I had planned on leaving my job a lot sooner than this, but I had become stuck. I was feeling locked into a job I hated and the wedding had become such a central focus that what I wanted for myself was on the back burner... until Bogey, that is. Every day when I had to walk out the front door and listen to him scream, my heart would just break into a million pieces and tears would well up in my eyes. I couldn't do this anymore. Here I was, sitting at a desk giving all my time to a thankless job that no one even noticed much less appreciated, while one of my most favorite beings in the world was stuck at home in a crate denied any contact with the only people he knew.

It's at this point that some people consider giving up a dog or tying him out in the backyard or letting him run loose in the house just to get in trouble later. Me, I couldn't justify it. My animals are my children and I just love them too damned much. I couldn't do it to him. Sure, I could throw him in doggy daycare, but he's my damned dog. Why else did I get a puppy if not to help him learn and grow and mature? J. and I talked about it, I hashed it out again and again and again and finally, when my boss returned from his ten day vacation, I handed in my letter of resignation.

The first full weekday that I had at home completely justified my decision. The dogs watched J. leave for work and then stared at me with trepidation and anxiety. It hurt me to see how much they dreaded me leaving for the day, it hurt me even more to realize I hadn't seen it before. It took nearly two weeks before the dogs realized I was home for good. Their demeanor changed entirely. Gypsy was happier and more relaxed, Bogey had learned five basic commands and was fully housebroken within a month. The biggest change of all, however, was me. I was happier, more relaxed, I wasn't angry on Sundays, I was more active, and I learned how to play again. Bogey was a comedian and lived to make me smile. I laughed a lot. Something I hadn't done in a long, long time.

We worked on the house, had dogs, spent evenings in the backyard, enjoyed domestic life. Then... Bogey hit adolescence. I've spent most of my life training dogs and studying animal behavior. People that know me will tell you how laughable my patience is, but that when it comes to animals, I am the most patient and tolerant person in the world. For the most part, they're right. I have an openness and kindness with them that I just don't seem to have with people. I don't know why, it's just always been that way. With Bogey however, I can honestly tell you that my patience and tolerance were pushed to every limit and beyond. His adolescence tested me, tested the other animals, tested J., tested us. He was like no other beagle I had ever had. I had grown up with stubborn scent hounds and everything I'd ever tried didn't work with him. I couldn't figure it out. I was exhausted from trying to keep him busy, hoarse from screaming to get his attention, and mentally spent every single day. I had a million books on dog behavior and not a damn one of them had a scenario that described him. He was a barking destructive terror, I had quit my job to work with him and it didn't matter because I couldn't even get him to listen to me. J. was especially fed up and blurted out in a massive argument one day, "Everything was fine and just when it starts to calm down, you had to go and bring this fucking chaos into our life."

This hit me like a slap in the face. Even though J. has apologized for that remark a million times since and I have accepted his apology, it isn't forgotten and it still stings. In that moment, I realized Bogey had no allies in this house, just me. His bad behavior had burned all bridges and gained him only enemies. But I still loved and adored him, so if he was going to get help, it was going to have to be through me.

I poured through internet forums, veterinary handbooks, animal behavior studies, everything I could get my hands on. I googled any and every term comparable to "hyperactive dog" you can imagine. It was obvious from day one Bogey wasn't 100% beagle. His size was too big, his energy was too wild, his ears were too long and his eyes weren't right, plus the rescue organization only knew his mother, not the father. Everyone had opinions, but no one knew exactly what he was. Then one day, as I was researching various types of hounds online - and as if on cue - I heard him outside baying. In a space of five minutes he went from a typical beagle puppy "Aroo! Aroo!" to a long, slow and deep, "ArrrrOOOOOoooOOOOooooOOOOOO!!" My eyes widened, my jaw dropped, my fingers froze over the keys. Now that was a distinctive bark. Good god, is he a coonhound?! Quickly I did a google image search for "coonhound puppy" and damn near died.

Sure, his markings are all beagle just like his mother, but the eyes! The ears! The head! They were too similar to be coincidence. So then I researched coonhound behavior and it was like the Heavens opened up and sang to me.

"Coonhounds are very high energy dogs.... They are bored easily... Some will also become 'boredom barkers'... They also are very people-oriented, and like to be doing something for you... A Coonhound is bred to bark. Coonhounds are loud, loud, LOUD.... They like to be talked to .... They are content to lie at your feet. (You may trip on them frequently.) ... They are paradoxical; they will put up with a good deal of pain, if they are doing something they want to do, but are also very sensitive... The common methods of training are not right for Coonhounds."

Bullets upon bullets outlining coonhound behavior and Bogey fit every single one. I was elated, but at the same time worried. I read tale after tale of professional trainers that had refused to work with coonhounds because they are so different and difficult to train. Most people might have been overwhelmed by such information, but I am just as stubborn and contrary as my scent hounds and so wasn't overwhelmed as much as I was pissed off and indignant. How dare you say my dog isn't trainable because of his genes? Watch me, buddy. Just watch me.

So we worked and worked and worked. I dove head first into learning about coonhounds, joined coonhound forums and basically learned all I could learn about this often misunderstood and underestimated breed. I had to change up my entire training method, the methods I'd used for years, decades even. None of them worked and I had to really challenge myself to find new ways to relate to my dog. But I did and I didn't lose my patience. Rather, I gained patience because I had a new understanding for his needs and what he was trying to tell me.

Within a week, Bogey's behavior was radically different. He wasn't perfect by any means, but for the first time in months, he listened. He didn't bark his head off at the slightest movement and even when he did, he would stop when I asked him to. It was as though he was thankful to finally be understood, relieved that someone was communicating with him effectively. The joy in his step was palpable. He wasn't in trouble constantly and he was free to be a dog again. Gypsy actually enjoyed playing with him, the cats no longer ran from him and - the best part of all for me - J. began to really love coming home to him. Bogey began to idolize his "daddy" and J. began to work with him and teach him tricks I hadn't yet tried.

Over the past few months, Bogey's puppy energy has dissipated just ever so slightly. He's starting to look and act more like a dog and less like a crazed out-of-control puppy. He still has issues to overcome, but he also has tons more self-control and confidence than he had six months ago. I know all that isn't from natural genetics or maturity. I know it's from environment. I can proudly say that he's driven me to Hell and back, but that I pushed myself and made it a fruitful journey. Yes, I quit my job and we live on one income and things have been more difficult financially. However, this past year has really allowed me to reflect and be honest with myself about what I'm here to do and why I haven't been doing it in the first place. It allowed me to realize that sometimes I really am good at things and I honestly do have a gift, even if I've just been too afraid to use it. I'm exploring options and have decided to become a professional animal trainer. Even if I make pennies a day, it's a skill I always have and always continue to love doing. Even on the worst days, I still love it and to deny that about myself is just not worth the inner struggle anymore. Yes, I love art and I will always continue to make and pursue art, and maybe you'll see my stuff in a gallery someday, but my heart is with the animals. It always has been, it always will be. Animals are my life.

I'm sure it seems silly to have written this much about the birthday of a dog. But it's because of Bogey that I've finally found a peace with myself, finally decided what it is I need to do with my life, and rather than just contemplating change, enacted it within my own being. He was the catalyst, the catharsis, the push I needed to finally decide I like myself enough to not give up on my dreams.

So Happy Birthday and thank you, Bogz. This one's for you, big boy. You've given me my life back and I'm going to spend the rest of yours repaying you. Arrroooo to you, too.

Now put that down and get away from the trash can. Please? Good boy.

This world is too full of negative things. Enjoy some cuteness and love over at the photolog. And have a happy Friday.

I've been in love with Nick Park and all the other people at Aardman Animations for years. But I really, really love it when they surprise me with something like this and make me laugh so hard I can't breathe.

I'll never see Printmaking the same way again.

I've been spending lots of time on Facebook lately and I've even created a Myspace page as well. So if any of you would like to say hello to me on those sites, feel free to email me with your info or leave it in the comments. I'll look you up, we'll be bestest friends. ;-)

Fever? Check.
Sinus pressure? Check.
Body aches and pains? Check.
Runny nose? Check.
Stuffy nose? Check.
Sneezing? Check.
Sore throat? Check.
Cough? Check.

Book to read? Nope.
Dogsitter? Nope.

Damn. Off to bed with me then. Hopefully I'll spend the night in Coma Land. Wish me luck, patience... and tissues. Lots and lots of tissues.