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Dealing with various changes

First, I mentioned earlier that T left for what we assume will turn into 4 months. This is a long time, especially home alone with 2 toddlers, 4 dogs, etc. I don’t think we’ve been apart for longer than a month since we met back in 1997 (wow). Various trips, weekends away, occasionally the week long dog show, but rarely more than 10 hours pass when we don’t see each other. It’s intimidating to do this alone, to think about doing this alone for the next 3.5 months. I know women who chose to parent alone, and those that didn’t chose but circumstances have made them single parents. I am in awe of their patience and, let’s just be honest, that their kids are still alive, thriving even. Come 7pm I would really love to check out. It’s that 6:30-8pm slot that I would gladly pass on to someone else. We’ve all had it with each other, and bed time can’t come soon enough for any of us. I would really like to insert something fun into this chunk of time, something to get us through without yelling and tears.

We moved. Our house was small and the walls were creeping ever closer. It was time, but still, change is hard. Moving sucks some serious hairy balls, but it’s done and now the unpacking is all that’s left. The owner of our previous house seemed wonderful, up to the moment we declared (how dare we!!) that we were leaving. We gave double the required notice. He still turned into a monster and only money would appease him. T just wanted to be Done with him, and gave in, and the man literally got away with double the amount of money he was owed. We returned his house to Better than it was when we moved in, and yet he just.wouldn’t.stop. with the nitpicking. We repainted every surface of the house, but not the ceilings, as those had not been painted prior to us moving in, and I thought the line needed to be drawn. He insisted on us paying for someone else to do this. We paid a cleaning company to come in before we moved in and he Insisted that we have one come when we were done, at our expense. The one piece of carpet, running from the basement to the ground floor, had a few stains on it from before we moved in. With dogs and toddlers, I didn’t insist it be perfect. He, however insisted that it be replaced, at our expense. Zero things were considered “normal wear and tear”. ZERO. We paid for the lawn to be re-done where the dog kennel had been, even though upon moving in he told us exactly where it would be OK to put it. I could go on for pages and pages and pages of this nonsense. It’s done, over with, and out of our lives. All because we didn’t want to buy his tiny house with its miniscule kitchen. Unbelievable how much he got away with. Can you tell I’m still not over this??

On a happier note: OUR NEW HOUSE!! I adore it. I especially adore its location on a Horse Farm. It’s still unreal to me that I get to look out of the huge kitchen (hah, seriously, the previous kitchen was tiny. Gally-esque) and see horses. Baby horses even. It’s amazing. The house itself is large and charming. The barns are a few steps away. The dogs are so happy. Of course I’ve found something to be unhappy about with this situation, but there’s not much I can do about it until T comes home. It’s kind of like living in this very nice fish bowl where all the things you want to play with and touch are just on the other side of the glass. The boys are not allowed in the barns (I know, it’s not safe around large draft horses) and this means I can’t be there either, unless I hire a babysitter or T is home. Not.Cool.

P’s daughter came for a week long visit from France. I haven’t seen her since her mother died, but she seemed to really be doing OK. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but she’s coping. She looks so much like P, and her mannerisms are so similar they literally stopped me in my tracks. I had to leave the room so she wouldn’t see me cry after she made a facial expression that IS her mother. You’re missing it!! How can you not be here for this?? I can’t imagine how hard it was for her girls to live with their mom as sick as she was, and I dislike even thinking the word “relief” when it comes to her being gone, but there you have it.

 

I get to wake up and right outside my back door, is this guy. How awesome is that?!?

Hudson

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Back to Counting…Ugh

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It really is the only way I lose weight. I just hate the process.

Also, some big changes around here. Counting the days until T comes home, he left two weeks ago for a large commercial painting job in North Carolina. It’s a great opportunity for him financially, well, for us, but it’s really hard having him gone. We moved, he left. Guess who still isn’t unpacked?? Sigh.

I need to get some things down on “paper” and empty my head a little, but I’m struggling for the words. I’m fried. Nothing seems like it’s in the right place, and I need some order to my day.

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I’m so mad at you.

 

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I don’t really know how to express how angry and hurt and disappointed I am that I have to think about you in the past tense. There won’t be any more of anything with you. And that is just the most defeating and depressing part of dealing with your death. That you CHOSE this for us, this pain and helplessness. I can’t imagine how bad things must have been, to get to this point, you KNEW that you had people that loved you. And if you didn’t, well, that’s not our fault. I expressed it in bucket fulls each time I saw you, and I know that your life was filled with people that did the same.

I think I’ve been dwelling on this recently because one of your passions in life was running, and I’m seriously nervous about adding this to an already full plate. Your obsession with being thin was over the top, but I know it was part of whatever was broken. I trust that I won’t go to those extremes, it’s just not me, but to have to think about you every time I put on my running shoes makes me sad. I wish I could Skype you and tell you I was starting to prep for my first 5K in August, and I vividly imagine the delight and excitement you’d express in that accent that was uniquely yours. You’d take the idea and run with it (haha) and send me meal plans, all in metric weights, and a schedule to follow. I’d get emails with reminders and inspirational quotes, so over the top, but meant lovingly and with the best intentions. You didn’t do anything halfway, that’s for sure. I miss you. And I’m so mad at you. But I miss you just the same.

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Green Addition

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Per the advice of H over at Learning to Run, I added this green stuff to my daily routine. At some point, usually in the morning, the boys request a smoothie, so I make theirs, and then one for me, adding this stuff in. It makes everything green but the flavor is fine, I don’t mind it. A few strawberries, a few blueberries, a half a banana and a light n fit yogurt, and it’s yummy.

I had a weigh in and measurement yesterday at nutrition class (week 3) and it was less painful than I thought. The weight loss was as expected, but the inches around my waist surprised me. It was only down an inch, and a lot of my pants don’t fit any more, so I’m wondering if it was correct. The assistant that they have doing a lot of the weigh in stuff isn’t my favorite, she’s kind of condescending and annoying. The other ladies are great, so it balances out. Everyone in the group had a weight loss to celebrate, so that was also nice. There’s a guy that just goes on and on and interrupts the class every 5 minutes, but he clearly needs to get some stuff out, so it’s tolerable.

I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday and got a skinny mocha. Turns out I do not like skinny mochas. I was under the assumption that I did, because the last time I ordered one, it tasted great, and I asked the barista if it was, indeed, a skinny mocha. She assured me it was. It was not, because I watched the guy make it yesterday, and he used the sugar free syrup and the fat free milk, and it was nothing like the supposed skinny mocha that wasn’t really skinny. Sigh. I was really hoping I could have one of those once in a while and enjoy it for 130 calories instead of the nearly 400 the regular ones are. I can’t even count how many venti cafe mochas with toffee nut I’ve drunk over the past three years. One a week? That’s a TON of calories. I really like them. The Skinny version suuuucks. I nearly cried in the car over the loss of the tasty skinny mocha. OK, one more time, I’m going to type skinny mocha. 🙂

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Missing Food

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I promise a Westminster Post heavy with pictures and details. This is just summing up my feelings this morning oh so well.

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Covered Up

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I was supposed to leave this morning, and be halfway to NYC by now…but instead, we’re under two feet plus of snow. I can’t complain too much, or too loudly, because this white stuff really is money falling from the sky for us. When things are this slow, plowing money gets us through. It’s been a rough winter, and this will help a lot.

When I called to reschedule my bus ticket to Sunday, and “the system” was down at Ride C&J, the woman on the phone kindly offered to call me back on Monday to reschedule. Nice. When I explained that I would like to be there before Monday, hence rescheduling to Sunday…she seemed perplexed. I offered to call back later, as I’m sure it was snow madness creeping into her brain.

The dog of the hour is tucked in and comfy warm in her hotel room, waiting for the rest of her cheering section to arrive. I can’t wait to get on the road, once they’re clear of snow and ice.

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Is This Her Year?

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I am so nervous. We actually have a real chance, and because I know this, I am freaking out just a little on the inside. Ginger is one of those complete packages that you hope for in a breeding program; she’s the real deal.

It’s kind of funny that I’m staring at the styrofoam box she arrived in. Well, half of her. All the way from Illinois, a tube of sperm came overnight express on a Saturday (wow, is that ever expensive) and within an hour, Luci was all spermed up. 63 days later, we had our first litter of Spinone, and being the obsessive (Hi, Heather) breeders that we are, we kept two out of 9.

Through a series of events, much too many to write about in a single post, Ginger lives with her best friend and confidant, and that person is not me. I still technically own her, and will be planning, whelping and raising any litter she may have, but she’s their dog. I’m just along for the awesome ride. We’re a team. Team Ginger. She’s sexy and she knows it….Look at that Body…she works OOOUUUT.

I leave for NYC on Saturday to join Team Ginger at the Pennsylvania Hotel for 5 days of dog obsession. It’s THE show of the season. I can’t say it out loud, it’s bad luck. It’s the big one, on TV, held at Madison Square Garden. Even though we usually have a dog entered every year, this is different…I have butterflies swarming in my stomach and it’s Thursday. I hope that’s a good sign.

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