Rain.

It was raining today. Big fat drops of rain. Windy too. Yes, I realize that I live in Seattle. And yeah, I did grow up here—rain should be my best friend. Here is the thing, we have had this surprisingly dry fall and winter. Pleasant, lots of my favorite days where the sky was clear but it was chilly. Perfect weather for down coats and wool scarves. Perfect weather for owning a dog and long ambling walks.

We all knew the rain would return. Like a habit, it came knocking on my window this morning. This wasn’t the kind of weather I wanted to face. But my dog is persistent. He just stares at me, incessantly, and wags his tail. You try and sleep with an 80 pound stinky hound dog smiling at you with adorable “walk me” eyes.

So I dressed myself from head to toe in rain gear—I’m PRETTY sure I become androgenous with my rain gear, but whatevs… that shit is practical. And like the good dog owner that I am, we did our usual hour walk. He was soaked, I was soaked—but we were both happy. Enjoying the fresh air, the lack of squirrels and the time to be with my thoughts. I think that I am a better person because of my daily morning walks. It gives me time to mull over whatever is going on in my life—and usually allows the rational part to overcome the cray cray part… which is a REAL good thing, let me tell you.

I have recently enrolled in a 6 week small group yoga class with my dream teacher. Her voice is ethereal  (I LOVE FINDING A REASON TO USE THIS WORD), her teaching style is soothing, yet difficult… she is a dream. The first session was today. It is held in this tiny little space a few minutes from my house. With paper thin windows, the sounds of rain and traffic permeated the practice.

During our introductions, Maria asked what we all wanted to work on. This is where I usually tell my sob story of throwing out my back (truth… I’m an old lady), and how I need to work on my core. Imagine my own surprise when I opened my mouth and admitted to being too critical of myself. As the words tumbled out of me, I realized how much truth is behind that. I always think that the way I’m holding the pose isn’t good enough… that the teacher MUST be thinking, “shoot, this girl SUCKS at yoga.” I am constantly berating myself.

Where in the hell did this come from? I suppose I could sit and psychoanalyze the shit out of myself—but that would lead to more break downs as I began to peel back the layers.

All I know is that I have now acknowledged it. I have sent it out to the world—I have exposed the vulnerability to my teacher. With all of those first steps, I will begin to heal. Hopefully, these six weeks I will stop pushing, trying, aching to be better and something other then myself.

It is amazing how many self discoveries you make, especially when you think you have your shit figured out.

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Dogs and Their Ability to Tone Your Behind

Remember how I said that I’m fanatical about Christmas? Well take that passion, that joy, that pure LOVE and multiply it by one billion, and you have my love for dogs.

Yeah Yeah, EVERYONE loves dogs, I’m nothing special. Oh wait, I am. I creep people out on a regular basis as I approach them with a huge smile and say, “hey cute stuff.”

Get over yourself, I’m talking to that fur covered, adorable brute you are attached to.

My friends get embarrassed as I veer off to ogle and drool over any dog that is in my line of vision.

Besides being the best things that have ever happened to me, they also happen to keep me in shape. Everyday, regardless of the weather, emotional breakdowns or physical ailments I walk at least three miles. Call it mother’s guilt, but I cannot go a day without getting my boy exercised.

And because I am crazy (see last post), I also walk 3-4 other dogs daily… I am not sure of how long this will actually last, seeing as I have my days planned out to the minute. (you think I’m exaggerating? I give myself ten minute windows of free time– 10 MINUTES)

BUT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

So here you go, a run down of the current dogs in my life. I like to associate them with cliché anthropomorphized stereotypes. Deal with it.

Meet my pup, Zeppelin:He would be a southern boy. He wouldn’t be the brightest crayon in the box, but by golly, isn’t he a looker? He would have a deep southern drawl, probably wear overalls, and drive a tractor (obviously). As a dog, he prefers to be inside sleeping (see picture). He snores, he drools, he sometimes falls down when he runs too fast… ah. True love.

Meet Murphy:

There is only one way to describe what Murphy would be like as a human. Woody Allen. Murphy is twitchy, and neurotic. He chases shadows. Sneezes make him nervous. Spindly, glasses wearing Woody Allen. That is Murphy to a t.

Meet Rainier:

Your heart melted. I can tell. I sense it dripping onto your keyboard. This little man is a new arrival in my life (dog walker on the side). If he were to be a human, he would be everything you love wrapped in a fuzzy fur coat. Shit, let’s be real, this little guy would be sunshine, rainbows and unicorns wrapped in the body of Ryan Gosling. I can’t even stereotype a puppy… it seems wrong.

Meet Chloe:

Chloe is crazy. (no offense Jen) If Chloe were a human, she would be a nail-biting, bathrobe wearing, chain-smoking lunatic. Chloe is nervous, and her nervousness results in a abhorrence of men, busses, and things that make noises… You get the picture. After a few lunge/bites at male friends, Chloe and I have a private relationship– just Chloe and me. Avoiding people, places and things. We have a great time.

If I were to win the lottery, here is what I would do. I would buy a tract of land. I would build a beautiful craftsman log cabin, and I would adopt approximately 15 dogs. 

Moral of this story: if you want an ass of champions, to find unconditional love, have the best snuggle session of your life and never feel the need to be sad again, get yourself a dog.