It’s been…eh, no sense actually counting…a long time since my last post. I created my pretty blog with its beautiful words and loved the quote from Poe. I dreamed of all the words I would use to fill its pages.
Then we got another dog. I feel as though this has been my excuse for everything but only because it’s valid. Incorporating Fred into our routine over a year ago was really tough. But as trying as it has been to have a second dog, we’re experts now.
I think that’s half the problem. We love them “too much.” We joke that our lives revolve around our dogs but truthfully, we like it that way. When the four of us are curled up and snug in the bed, safe from the world and its chaos, I realize how worth it they are and how happy I am.
Don’t get me wrong; there are still “rough” days. Days when their play gets a little too rough and my nerves go through the roof, or when they have knocked into me one too many times and I just want to lie down. (Fred’s head is like a bowling ball to the knee. Or shin.)
In the midst of adapting to the new routine, I have neglected my writing. I still post on GoodBlogs because I love the community, feedback and the chance to earn some money. But it’s not enough. The swirling thoughts in my head need to have their outlet but sometimes they have the worst timing. I grow frustrated with myself, wishing I could drop everything at once and run to my laptop or pick up my notebook.
But then there are times I surprise myself. Before Angel joined our pack I never thought I could walk the two dogs at the same time. Within the first few days I was doing so. It was never for long, usually just around the block or for potty breaks, but I was doing it!
Today, I took them both on an hour walk, completely by myself. I grabbed my iPod, thankful it was charged, and remembered a day last week when I needed it and it was dead. So dead it wouldn’t even turn on, and when it did, the date was reset to January 14, 2000.
Even my iPod was frustrated! My trusty companion, a huge part of my exercise routine, and it had practically committed suicide. I grabbed it this morning, strapped on my teeny-tiny-fanny-pack-thing (they aren’t as nerdy if they’re teeny-tiny) and got the dogs ready.
Our walk was fantastic. They were well-behaved even when we encountered other dogs. We met a small boy who gave them pats on the head, asked for their names and thanked me for letting him pet them. I swear, in between their slobbery kisses, they smiled at him.
An hour later we arrived home, sweating, panting and happy. The dogs were happy because they love the outside more than anything (except food, belly rubs, treats, toys…etc…). I was happy because I did something I didn’t think I could do.
Just like when I started this whole writing thing again. When there are lapses, I don’t need to panic, because I’ve come too far to let myself down. I read some of my previous ramblings and saw this sentence; “The words were there before and they will always come again. The words were always faithful, even when I was not.”
The words will be back, despite always feeling like I am most inspired when furthest from a pen and paper. Life has its phases but always settles down, and the fatigue and anxiety will fade.
That bruise on my shin will heal, just the like the ones on my knees. I’ll remember that this crazy life is the best inspiration a writer could ask for. Plus, my “Fred arm” is getting some serious competition from my “Angel arm.” It’s all about balance, right Mysti?
Even our pets are learning about balance. Angel may have ripped the title of “Houdini” away from Fred, but she no longer tries as hard to escape. We still lock down her crate as if it’s a federal prison and she still gnaws off the zip ties we painstakingly apply. One day, she’ll really know that we aren’t going to abandon her or abuse her.
In the meantime, we’ll keep Angel’s crate looking like this picture, and I’ll just smile because there is always something to write about.