In which I throw a hissy fit.

It's hard for me to admit something is wrong. I like having people think that I have my life together, so I struggled with the concept of this post. In the end, I started this to show people what life is actually like for someone who doesn't get to do the normal things that people take from granted. And granted, there are some parts of my life that people would gladly switch out for their problems. But this is my life, and what's mine is mine, and what's yours is yours. Like it or not.

If you haven't heard, moving is stressful. Packing some your stuff, giving some (in our case most) of stuff away, and selling the rest. I've lived in this house for sixteen years, since I was seven. And tonight is the last night I will ever spend in it. It's very strange. The movers come tomorrow, and of course tonight is the time I choose to throw a fit. I like being in control. In fact, I would do everything in my life myself if I could. But there are just things that I can't do. Some things I can't do are normal, like I don't know how to re-key the locks in the new house so we called a locksmith. Some things... aren't so normal. I can't lift any of my own boxes. I have to rest constantly. If I go up the stairs or stand up too quickly I can't breathe. Those things are a little harder to give up. I should be able to do them. It's something I haven't been able to deal with and something I'm not sure I'll ever be able to deal with. I'm not well adjusted apparently.
But in the end, a little sleep solves a lot of problems. And while it's not likely that I'll get a lot, maybe I'll get just what I need.

Right? Right!? NO.

So it is now Wednesday, April 16th. (Fun fact, in french, and probably other languages, days of the week and months are not capitalized because they are not unique items. Other fun fact, I really like odd facts.) So I should be in my new house right? As you can tell from the title of this post I am not.  Basically blah blah blah buyer, longer escrow, penalty fees. That made sense right? I will actually tell you if you're interested, but I'm not expecting anyone to ask. So it is actually tomorrow that we close escrow, which has actually been nice because of the more relaxed packing schedule. Also I had a chance to celebrate Scooter's 12th birthday. If you're thinking that Scooter is a really weird name for a kid, he's actually my dog and yes I'm that weird person who celebrates my dog's birthday and this run-on sentence is really getting out of hand. But yes, I made pupcakes and gave him a candle on his. I did try to take a picture with him and his lit candle, but he apparently hates fire. Even after I blew it out he very reluctantly took a cute picture. I would upload it but my camera cord is packed, much like everything else in this house. But he was in love with his pupcake. Ate it in one bite. Hannah was similarly enthused. Jasmine.... not so much. She liked the peanut butter frosting, but was meh on the cake. Probably because it had vegetables in it. Who are these dogs you ask? Ask no longer. This is the post in which I introduce them.

First off, Scooter.

He's my awkward cutie-patootie. Scooter is a Golden/ Basset mix, and while you can't tell from this photo, he looks like a giant corgi. Regular dog body with short legs. I met him while I was volunteering at a local no-kill dog rescue. He came to the rescue when he was young, around two. He was adopted and lived with that family for about eight years when they decided to move out of state and not take him with them. Luckily the rescue always takes back their dogs. I was started volunteering at the rescue after I lost my dog Farrah, and at first wasn't ready for a new dog. But I knew a few weeks in that it was only a matter of time before he came home with me. He's now a usually sweet, occasionally grumpy dog who kinda doesn't like younger men.

Next, Hannah.

She's the baby of the family at two years old. The top picture is the one that my aunt saw online, called my mom and told her that she had to adopt this puppy otherwise she was going to and my uncle didn't want another dog. They have two dogs, both pushing 100 pounds by the way. Anyway, We went to the rescue where she was registered to look at their dogs and by some chance we mentioned to the women behind the desk that we would like to see Hannah and she said, "Well she's fostered, but her foster mom is just leaving and maybe she'll let you see her." So. Stinkin'. Cute. She was three months old and fifteen pounds and was a very cuddly puppy. Long story short. The foster mom loved us and the next week we had a new puppy. Of course now she is a 75 pound Great Dane/Pit Bull mix who wants to sleep on your lap most of the day and then plays like mad for a half an hour.

And last but not least, Jasmine.

Jasmine was our second foster dog. She was adopted as a puppy from the same rescue as Scooter. They had her for five years. When we first saw her she was skin and bones. She was basically repo'd from her adoptive family after they stopped feeding her. The parents lost their jobs and then had a baby and Jasmine was last on the list to be fed. We decided to adopt her after seeing how well she played with Hannah (because you gotta admit that a two year old and a twelve year old are not really compatible) and how well she fit into the family. She's a quiet girl whose main pleasures in life are pets, tennis balls (she's obsessive), and walks. Oh and she's a German Shepherd/Pit bull mix.

Honorable mention, Shadow.

He was our first foster. He was a wonderful boy, but overwhelmed Hannah. In the end, I think she was almost glad to see him go. He is currently living in a wonderful house with three children. 

If you are in the position to foster a dog, please consider it! It's wonderfully rewarding, and it makes the dogs SO much more adoptable.

But anyway, I'll probably see you all again on Easter, the day AFTER we finish moving.

A new life

The last few weeks have been hard. My family is in the process of moving, which is great, but you know, packing. I currently live in a split level house (which basically means there are technically two stories, but there are about four different levels to the house. So here, I can get winded trying to get lunch. We're moving to a single level house, so maybe I can get something to eat without feeling 100 years old. Also, currently we live onto of a HUGE hill. Which means I can't even walk my dogs. So, we pack. That also means I'm really tired and stressed which means I'm not sleeping, my tachycardia is going insane, and so is my pain. At the same time, I feel guilty that I don't feel good. I feel guilty that I can't stay up til all hours to pack or even to help. It's almost midnight right now, and while I'm in bed, writing this, my mother who has to get up at 6:30 to go to work is still up, packing and washing dishes. It's seven days until we close escrow and we move. I can only hope that it will all be better soon.