Advent, Books, Christmas, My New Reality, reverb10

Cutting myself some slack — #reverb10, Reading, and Christmas, too.

Working on all these #reverb10 posts I have come to the conclusion that all my answers boil down to three things.

1) I Haz a Sad (or Three)

2) My kids, my friends and my church family have been awesomely supportive, and I love them.

3) Despite all the sadness, my faith feels deep and God's presence palpable.

So unless something really different comes up in the questions, I think I may be done with these prompts. 

I also want to make note that my attempts at reading actual books have been mostly in FAIL mode for the past three months, so I am wiping the slate nearly clean, keeping the poetry Mary Beth sent to me (thanks!) and starting with one new book, which I actually began reading this morning. See the sidebar for the title. I don't seem to want to read *anything* on my Kindle right now, including "The Rainbow," with which I am ending my struggle. It's as read as it will ever be. There are lots of titles on my Kindle, so I'll take another look at it after Christmas.

Lastly, LP and I made a community decision to leave the ornaments in the boxes, except for putting the folk art angel on top of the tree, which already has lights and a few candy canes. I may pick up another box of the latter to add later in the week. We've let it go so long that full decorating would knock off a lot of needles, and honestly, it feels too hard to face the emotional freight of looking at loved ornaments this year. We're grieving. They'll keep for 2011. 

Tree 001

Bearnaise Sauce Dogs, Grief, My New Reality

Too soon

Berner wag Kind people are thinking of us when they learn of dogs who need a loving home. One was a Bernese, the other a Saint Bernard. (Seriously? As if a Bernese weren't a big enough dog for two little girls, no matter how mighty we are in spirit.) We would love another Bernese when the time is right, and I am grateful to be part of a breed club with an outstanding rescue program and to know the people who screen and foster those dogs. People who love a particular breed will understand how the one you know so well is particularly winsome and suits you better than any other ever could and leave a gap, in this case very large, that can only be filled with one silhouette.

There are a lot of ways it's too soon, and others in which it feels like too big a gap already. We ought to be fixing a dog's dinner at a certain time, or his breakfast, or refilling her water dish. 

It turns out that the walking schedule of an older dog who thought 20 minutes or so around Greyberry Woods in the morning and another 20 around the neighborhood in the afternoon was perfect was also perfect for the little joints in my feet affected by Rheumatoid Arthritis. 30 minutes at a time is just bearable. 35 minutes at once is a little too much. 

But it's too soon. We have other adjustments to make, LP and I, and I have things to figure out, like a new, one wage-earner budget. 

I really hope Molly and Sam aren't the only two dogs ever to be part of my life, but I can't say the way is clear. Not yet.  It's just too soon.