Grover and John John

I haven't seen this in a long time. Classic and adorable.

Chewy, my babies, and my room

In the old Victorian house where I live, there's a northeast bedroom that used to be my room. From the time I was eleven years old and waiting to enter the seventh grade, through three children and two divorces, from the time I stood only 4'5" tall, until only a few years ago, it was my haven.

First, it was painted blue -- my choice because blue was my sister's favorite color, and it was my way of sharing it with her. Eventually, I went with green, my own favorite color. Then, a few years ago, I relinquished the room. I don't know why. I moved into the slightly smaller southeastern room next to it. We had painted it an odd mauvish pink to match a bedspread and sheet set I had gotten for my daughter Cathie, who actually ending up living with her dad instead. But that room was a catch-all for stuff that didn't have a home downstairs, as well as a place for my first computer. One summer, while I was still working at WKU Campus Child Care, I slept in there a lot. I think the sounds of the crickets at night and the pool filter outside through the open windows was soothing to me. I was writing a lot at the time. Are you surprised that I was writing the great American novel? I'd been working on it since the age of thirteen.

But I think the most breathtaking thing about the pink room was the sunrise. When daylight hit those pink walls, the room was aglow. It was magic. In a house with 11- and 12-foot ceilings and several north-facing windows, it was filled with light. It was amazing.

Maybe that's why I wanted to be in there. There are other reasons which I frequently ponder, but no one can tell me if my answers are correct. I do not know.


Today -- well, it's early AM on Friday, as I finish writing this, so that's yesterday -- I was working on my shops, twittering, modding the CP board. My computer desk is located in the green room now. 
Chewy had been making little worried noises, over on the bed Cathie had temporarily left here, on the other side of my monitor. Those flea allergies -- even one bite could cause grief. I decided I needed to give her another bath soon, although she looked better than she had in months. Cathie had clipped her shaggy hair and given her a bath a week or so before.

"Chewy's a good baby," I said softly, and she wagged her stumpy spaniel tail at the sound of my voice. Chewy has been developing cataracts, something I hadn't expected for her age. She is the fourth cocker we have owned -- no, the fifth, since we owned one when I was a baby -- but this was my first encounter with cataracts in my dogs.

About 3:30, I heard Cathie's voice calling upstairs to me, with a note of alarm in her voice.
"Mom!"

I responded, but I went to the stairway, knowing she wouldn't hear me otherwise. Sometimes I think my voice is "invisible," except to E.J.

"Chewy's dead!" Cathie shouted. I knew it couldn't be true. She'd just been there a bit earlier. I hadn't even heard her leave the room. I rushed downstairs. Barefoot, I went outside to see her across the little one-lane steet from our driveway. Chewy was lying in the grass next to the pavement, still warm, but not breathing. I lifted her head, felt her silken chocolate curls beneath my fingers, and didn't want to believe she was gone. I wanted to hold her and comfort her.

Dusty is our cute little Shih Tzu/Peke mix, mostly white with buff-colored points, who can be seen in my shop here: Too Cute for the Dog House. And Winky is the handsome Basset/Beagle mix who posed for this design: Love You Forever. I just hadn't ever gotten around to doing a drawing of Chewy.

As nearly as we can put together, Mom had gone outside to look for Dusty, and Chewy had gone along to take care of her business (so to speak). Mom didn't notice her go out. Then Chewy followed Dusty, who has a bad habit of squeezing out from under our ancient chain link fence. Dusty can see fairly well, though. Chewy could not. A neighbor woman saw an old man driving through hit Chewy, then get out to see if she was okay. He moved her out of the road, but didn't ask around to find her owner.

I guess I should be glad it wasn't one of the children who live in our neighborhood, like my grandson. But I can't find anything about this situation to make me feel glad.

Paul and I spent over an hour digging a hole in a grassy area of the back yard where we buried her beneath the tall trees. I wept intermittently.
I would be going about doing things the rest of the evening and suddenly tear up again. There has been too much sadness and death in the world lately -- much of which touched me -- without its coming into my own personal life.

Now I'm sitting at the desk in the green room, typing at the keyboard, expecting to feel the soft furriness of my little brown shadow rub against my bare feet, thinking I might be required to fuss at her for accidentally turning off the power strip. But that isn't going to happen tonight. I came across her fleecy little doggie bed out in the hall just a while ago, and I haven't yet stopped crying since. Maybe after I post this, I'll try to go to bed. I have to work at 1:30 Friday afternoon. And maybe in a few days or weeks, I'll try to draw a picture to remember her by.

I wish I could have stopped her.

Don't Forget

While I'm thinking about it, Demi Lovato's video "Don't Forget," currently getting lots of play on the Disney Channel, will always remind me of New Moon. I read that Demi has expressed a willingness to record music for the movie. I wondered if she was thinking about Bella and Edward when she co-wrote this.
This is the full version. The one I'm accustomed to watching is much shorter.

Catching Up

Hi again. It's Lorilei.

Yeah, I know, I haven't written. I really meant to, but I've been so busy, out having fun.
Yes, I know. I'm a terrible liar.
So, what have I been doing? Let's see....

I've read the first two books in the Twilight Saga. Yes, I enjoy them, though I still prefer Harry Potter. But that's apples & oranges, to me, because no other books are HP, any more than they are Jane Austen.
Doesn't matter. I can't wait to read Eclipse. I just can't figure out how it will all end. I believe in love, but I think the unabated obsession from New Moon is just downright unhealthy. Yeah, I know what I'm talkin' 'bout, Willis. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. It still didn't stop me from crying for Bella. I'm a terribly empathetic person.

But, good golly Miss Molly, that chick is a magnet for pain, grief, and all kinds of bad news. And isn't there enough drama here? Sheesh, Simpson County could be the Forks of the midsouth. I just can't decide which are the werewolves and which are the vampires around these parts.

For a while, my daughter Cathie was trying to be a kind person, and to head off future repercussions with EJ, by setting up supervised visitation with He Who Must Not Be Named.

Yes, there's more. But the divorce is final, and EJ doesn't have to go for visits. Now the rest of the drama in my life can assume its usual place. Like the issues with my son and his former roommate. Ah, yes. They were introduced by Cathie's ex-DH. She was obsessed with DH after she slept with him, while Cathie was deployed, and DH decided to foist her off on someone else. But that's a story for another entry... or two....

BTW, much of this story has been edited out. I'm saving the storyline for my upcoming Great American Novel. But, seriously, the names have been omitted to protect the innocent.  And other interested parties. And because I was tired of my blog being a place I didn't like to go anymore. So, as of January 2, 2013, this sucker is edited.

Untitled, for now

I know, this looks like it could be a post from my other blog (http://lorilei-tees.com/), but this design just seems so appropriate for my life at the moment.
A lot has happened in my life since this post last March, and much of it has not been for the better.
The one constant has been that my grandson EJ is the light of our lives. He is so very precious to us, I would never give him up or wish him away.
There was an EPO (Emergency Protection Order) against my daughter's future ex as of March, 2008, first in Sumner County, Tennessee, then in Simpson County, Kentucky.
The terminology has apparently changed so this is now called a DVO (Domestic Violence Order). It disallows him from possessing weapons or ammunition, and it restricts him as far as physical proximity to Cathie and other family members. He resigned from the police force rather than be fired, after the local judge made the order official in our commonwealth.

Unfortunately, the DVO will most likely expire in March of this year, and then he will think he can do anything he wants. Mainly because he has already thought this for a long time, and the legal restrictions placed on him have hampered him very little in the last ten months.
Cathie lost the best job she'd ever had when she took an honorable discharge from the army. She was due to be shipped to Iraq for the third time, and custody of EJ would have reverted to the pother parent. That was just unacceptable. A female officer Cathie worked with had warned Cathie to get out of the army and protect her right to be a mother, since she had gone through a similar situation. The woman had lost her own son and daughter to her ex-husband while she was deployed in the Middle East; her ex had charged her with abandonment.
Cathie is a strong and sometimes stubborn young woman. She is a natural leader. She did not want to back down and submit to intimidation, but I have seen the fear in her when he is near. Ever since he found out she had filed her 2007 taxes separately and he would not be getting all the return, when he called her to threaten and yell at her, she has lived with the fear that he'd eventually go over the line and try to hurt her.

He once lost his temper with her (while they were still together) and tried to hit her, but he missed. Frankly, I think in a fair wrestling match, she could kick his @$$, but he doesn't believe in fair fights any more than he believes in the truth.