I Was Not Paid to Write This

I love my cozy, downtown pharmacy, the Medicine Shoppe. Even the name is wonderful and fancy... shoppe. You don't really hear the extra "pe", but you feel it and it is decadent. I have gone there as long as I can remember, and probably before that. 

There is something fascinating about wandering through the aisles and looking at cures for all sorts of horrible ailments you hope you will never experience, like the extreme poison ivy treatment with the poor boy on the box who is all swollen up like Aunt Marge in "Prisoner of Azkaban," except you feel bad for this boy. And it gives a fuzzy, nostalgic feeling when you look at medical treatments you used in the past, like wax for braces  and disgusting cough syrups that are "berry flavored." Bullshit. There are interesting devices everywhere that you don't really need, but really want to play with, like eyedroppers and stress-relief balls... and some you don't. Like the snot sucker they have to clear your baby's sinuses. I kid you not!

But I really, really like the people there, and well, I don't know if they particularly like me, but you better believe they all know me! I'm in there all. The. Time. And I'm the girl who once had them print out (ALMOST) a ream of paper with all my medical history over the past ten years. And once a month when I have to have my blood taken for my Clozaril, they have to fight and fax back and forth all over the medical world to get my prescription filled. But they do and they never complain!

But my favorite part? POINTS!!!!! The Medicine Shoppe has a rewards system! YESSSSSSSS

And, DAMMIT to I take advantage of that! You get the points when you purchase prescriptions there, and boy do I have a lot of those. Plus! My sister and my dad always let me steal their points. These points can then be used to purchase non-prescription items from the pharmacy. Like the snot sucker! 

And you know what? There are loyalty levels! Everybody starts at the bronze level and, if you don't spend the points and keep collecting, you can go up to the silver level. After that, gold! I think it's just my nature, but I HOARD these points. Picture me on a gigantic pile of golden and silver Med Shoppe points, caressing them, letting them slip through my fingers, stroking them and muttering, "Mine, mine, mine, mine..."

My loved ones tend to laugh and roll their eyes at my hoarding, but the joke is on them! If I keep carrying on this way, I'll have enough to buy everyone's Christmas gifts, though the options are somewhat limited! So now, you'll have to think about it and let me know what you want... vitamins? Crutches? Anti-diarrheals? A Neti-Pot? Snot-sucker!

The world is your oyster, my friend.

I wonder if there is a level beyond the gold... diamond? Platinum? Oh the possibilities! 

Sarah

A Day in the Life of OCD

Hi! My name is Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, OCD for short, and I'm a beloved member of the Mental Illness family. Today I want to talk about my good friend, Sarah. Sarah (and this is really quite common) suffers from both me (my friendship), and another member of my family- Schizoaffective Disorder in Sarah's case.

Sarah hates me. But I really, really like Sarah. I like playing with her head.

In case you don't know, I'll tell you a little about myself! I like to make my --let's call them friends-- worry. Worry, worry, worry. It's great! I can make the silliest, stupidest things bother my friends. Or I can make my friends constantly worry about big, awful things they have no control over. I like to lie to my friends and make their worries even worse. I lie and tell them by doing one specific action, I can avert crisis. I whisper and remind and poke and prod and hurt.

All of my friends see me differently. I rub off on different friends in different ways. I am wonderfully complex, and I like to make my friends disregard logic entirely, and listen only to me.

I would like to share my day with you! Mine and Sarah's- we're pretty intertwined! Especially because lately Sarah's been going through some med changes, and I've grown stronger. I settle over her like a fever, making her toss and turn and sweat and worry. My favorite thing to do is show her pictures! Pictures make her hate me even more.

It's what I do! And love it.


8:30 am: Sarah's alarms go off. All four! She sleepily turns them off- digital bedside clock, clock across the room, analog bedside clock, cell phone clock. Then I make her check the cell phone clock again.
8:45 am: I make her check the clock again. She has gotten dressed and is almost ready to go. Cue the worrying! First, we go outside to check on the dogs. Water in the bowl? Where is Otis? Where is Mose? Do they look okay? IS there water in their bowl? Enough? Where is Otis? There she is. Okay. I take her over to the refrigerator. I make her open the fridge and lean down, quickly scanning every shelf. One of her biggest fears (my favorites) is that one of her cats will somehow hop into the fridge and get itself stuck in there. She straightens up. I whisper in her ear that she might have missed it. So she bends down and checks again.
Next, I follow her to the stove. She checks each knob, to make sure they are all completely off. CHECK THE CLOCK SARAH. Time to leave. Except...what if a cat hopped in the fridge as she was closing it? Check fridge, check clock, check stove-- just in case she bumped one of the knobs. She counts the cats as she leaves. 1, 2, 3... wait. Again. 1, 2, 3. Hang on, did she count Amy twice? 1, 2, 3. Check clock! Shoot, running behind.
Jog over to the front door that leads to the porch. I make her wonder if one of the cats got on the front porch. It would be AWFUL if one got stuck out there all day, wouldn't it, Sarah? Huh, huh? CHECK. No cats, gotta leave. I watch as she carefully locks and heads to the car. Giggling to myself, I wait til she has started the car and is about to back out. I run my fingers around her hair. Did you really lock up, Sarah? I ply her with my fake sincerity. You might not have locked it up right, Sarah! Wouldn't that be inviting problems? She gets out of her car to check again.
9:30 am: Sarah has been at work for half an hour now, and she has been worrying this whole time. Ohhhh, I love it! Now is when I start to show her pictures. She checks a customer out and hands them their change. Insert photo of cat in fridge, freezing, meowing horrifically. I make her stomach lurch. Her baby cats! "Have a nice day!" she tells the customer, trying to shake the image from her head.
Family and coworkers come and go, cheerful and chatty. Sarah is too, except... Now I show her a picture of one of her oven knobs, now twisted on and filling the house with toxic gas. I show her the gas creeping through the rooms, getting sucked into the lungs of Sarah's animals, killing them. ALL BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T CHECK RIGHT
10:15 am: Sarah has been released on break and she drives home as fast as she can without breaking the speed limit. She goes through the door (locked), into the porch (no cats), into the house (gas off) and to the fridge (no cats!). She sighs with relief. But, ohhhh I start to laugh! This is one of my favorite parts. She has gone outside to check that her dogs are still there-- Otis? Mose? and do they have water?-- and heads back inside... except! Was the back door shut all the way? Did the cats get out? I make her count cats. Twice. Then... I start whispering. Oh, my whispers! Maybe Sarah miscounted. When she got here to check the fridge, maybe one cat hopped in! Better check. Oh, damn, what about the stove? Check. I chuckle. Who's late going back to work! But first she better lock up. Twice.
12:45 pm: Sarah's having a delicious lunch with her dad and sister. When she is with them, relaxed and happy, it makes my job harder. But I still try. They ask her about her me-related panic that has been so bad these past few days. I guffaw a little as she tries in vain to describe it well. Her struggle pleases me. She and I both know that logically, there is NO NEED to worry like I make her. This morning before she left, she hadn't used the fridge OR the stove. Logically there was no way the cats could be in the fridge, or any way the stove could be on. But "logically" doesn't mean a thing to me. I am Miss-Illogical, and I feed off Sarah's panic and confusion. I have grown heavy of late, with so much to feed on. Oh, Sarah hates me. But I do love her.
3:00 pm: Sarah has called her doctor and left a message concerning med changes.This makes me displeased, and a tad anxious. Sarah has great doctors, and great family, and I sense my time is numbered.
3:30 pm: Sarah is now by herself at work. It has been pouring outside, and business has been quite slow this afternoon. PERFECT for overthinking things. I remind her that she left her beloved dogs outside... never mind she left the porch open so they could get out of the rain. I show her a picture of Otis out in the rain, soaked to the bone and freezing. Never mind that Otis is too smart for this. It's Mose, the idiot dog, that will be dripping water all afternoon!
5:45 pm: Sarah has made it home, and no one is any worse for the wear. Except Mose, who is somewhat damp. You'd think now would finally be a time that I allow Sarah to relax, but you'd be wrong. It's nights like these that I really get her thinking about deep stuff. Scary stuff. Like losing Otis... Someday Otis will be gone, and Sarah will have to live without her and deal with life without her bestest friend in the world and---
"SHUT UP!!!!" Sarah says. "I still have Otis, and that's enough out of you!! Soon I'll be feeling better and YOU will be under control. So just shut up. Your days ARE numbered."

I am grumpy. She is right.


Awfully yours, OCD



______________________________________________________

Sorry if this was a weird one, guys! Just what's on my mind. I got to talk with my mom tonight and that made me feel good! :) Emmy and I are going to visit her sometime soon. Can't wait! And thank you for reading this. I don't mean to whine. Writing is just how I process things

Not Cool at School

I'm willing to bet that if you are currently enrolled in school, you have probably just started class, or are about to! I remember the absolute panic I would feel back when I was a student right before school began... just total and complete terror. The one good thing about a new school year was getting new school supplies! In Middle-School and High School and college that meant fresh, crisp new notebooks and pens full of ink, with binders that were clean and bright, missing the ink stains and scribbled on band names that would later festoon them. Or better yet, wayyyyyy back in the day, SPANKING NEW CRAYONS! Generally the 24 pack was perfectly adequate, but some lucky kids got the 48, or even 96 packs, with built in crayon sharpener.

Anyway, in honor of school starting, I thought I'd share a list of school memories... some nice, some funny, some weird! And in no particular order.

• While I don't remember a whole lot about Pre-K, one incident sticks out clearly in my mind. I even remember the names of my classmates, but I won't share them here.
  One school day, we were all sitting at our tables, working diligently, when there was a commotion! At a table across the room, a girl suddenly stood up, her awesome sneakers lighting up and flashing red as she moved. She was clearly addressing a boy sitting at her same table, but she was speaking loudly so the whole room could hear. She hoisted one arm high above her head and used her other hand to point.
  "THIS!!" she squawked, "This is your armpit!" There were murmurs.
  You never know what you'll learn at school!
  
• Back in 2nd grade, I developed a passion for collecting... lead! Pencil lead! And everybody knew it. Whenever a kid in my class would sharpen their pencils too far and the top bit of pencil lead would pop off, they would bring it to me! Same with mechanical pencil lead that was too short to use. I had a grubby little tin that I kept it all in. What can I say? It was a hobby. I'm sure in the end it got thrown out by people more practical than myself, but it was really nice while it lasted. People selflessly donating their lead... just plain nice.
  
• 6th grade was the first time we got to choose electives, and it was kind of exciting. I'm a reader so when I saw "Mythology" as a course I could take, I was excited to do so. It ended up being sort of traumatic, honestly. I was one of a few 6th graders in that class, the majority being older boys who, well, just weren't that into Mythology, if you can believe it! They were loud and mouthy and I was just a shy wimp. The boys liked to argue with the teacher, and when she left the room, they liked to throw books at each other. Books. Like, hard-cover textbooks.
  
• In 3rd grade (and I'm not trying to brag!) I was significantly ahead of some of my classmates, so I had a fair bit of free time I used to read. I'm really not sure why exactly, but I picked up a copy of "Where the Red Fern Grows" to read. BIG mistake. If you're not familiar with it, it is about a boy and his two hunting dogs. I am, of course, an animal lover, not to mention a pretty emotional person, and I will tell you: EVERY TIME I read the end of that book, I end up sobbing. Like, tears streaming down my face and my nose running and just boo-hooing, because (spoiler alert!!) the dogs die horribly. But that first time, I was in a class full of students! I couldn't just break down! So I compensated by reading a paragraph of the ending at a time, then getting up to do something, like sharpen my pencil for no reason, or getting a drink of water. It took forever that way, but I managed to avoid most of the overwhelming response.
  
• In my sophomore science class, we talked a lot about nature and the environment and ecosystems and the like. One day in class our teacher was talking about deer, and how bucks sometimes die because their antlers get locked together when they fight, how one will eventually die, and end up hauling the other buck around until it dies. Heavy stuff! We all got kind of quiet, until I broke the silence:
  "Talk about your dead weight!"
  The whole class laughed, except one of my guy friends, who was sitting next to me with a totally blank expression. I looked at him, and he blinked.
  "That was the corniest thing I've ever heard you say."
  I couldn't argue!
  
• This same friend caused me some grief way back in 8th grade. We were HUUUUUUGE Children of Bodom fans and we practiced writing their name in their chosen font. One day while I was at my locker, he whipped out a Sharpie and wrote the logo right on the inside of my locker door, the black marker in screaming contrast with the bright yellow of the locker. I spent the rest of the year paranoid a teacher would see and I'd be in big trouble. Finally, on the last day of Midschool, I wheedled a couple of alcohol wipes from the school nurse and managed to wipe it (mostly) off.
  
• As we all know, sometimes movies are shown in class. Usually instructive, or of a book we as a class have just read, or sometimes just a kids movie for a day off. Like I said, "usually." In Freshman year, our English teacher had all of her classes watch her favorite movie! Bet you can't guess it...
  BRAVEHEART!!
  Like, bloody, awesomely awful BRAVHEART. I was in her advanced class so we wrote about it, but some of the teacher's other classes had the assignment of drawing a scene from the movie. She later hung these drawings up in the back of her classroom. There were some interesting ones..
  
• In my 5th grade year, I was given for Christmas a nice digital watch that showed the seconds, and at school, I quickly figured out exactly where my watch was compared to the school's clocks. So I knew exactly when the bells would ring! Other kids found out about this magical talent of mine, and it was popular. They could ask me, "How long 'til the bell?" And I could tell them exactly: "Two minutes, 14 seconds!"
  I specifically remember one day in our classroom; we were all lined up at the door, waiting for the lunch bell. I started counting down out loud.
  "15, 14, 13, 12..."
  A couple other kids joined in.
  "11, 10, 9, 8..."
  Almost the whole class started.
  "7, 6, 5, 4..."
  Even the teacher started!
  "3, 2, 1, BING!!!"
  It was sort of that epic thing that you only see in movies. It has stayed with me all this time.
  
• For some reason, I specifically remember several happenings in my Senior English class.
  One, I remember the class debating on the proper way to write "MySpace," which shows how long ago this was. Our teacher knocked some points off for how one of my classmates wrote it: myspace? MySpace" Myspace?
  Two, we were reading "Macbeth" aloud, and our teacher was assigning parts to people, he muttered, "Oh! Lord!" and we all looked at him, puzzled. He laughed a little..
  "No, I need some people to play the part of "Lords", not Lord like Jesus."
  Three, one day I was sitting in class, and I got this crazy craving for Ramen noodles. I have craved them ever since.
  
• In 8th grade Math, along with homework and tests, a small percentage of our grade was neatness and cleanliness of our Math binders. The teacher collected them every Month or two to grade. One such grading period, I didn't get my binder back! I was about to ask, when she started class. She held up a binder. It was dirty as dirty could be, the back cover was almost ripped off, and it was covered in band names. It was mine, and she was using it in EACH and EVERY class as an example of "What a binder should NOT look like." To this day, I'm not sure if I'm embarrassed, or proud. 

Forgive me for how long this is, I kept thinking of more! Plus, I haven't blogged in a while, and I owe it to you!

Happy School, everyone!

Sarah

For Chester.

If you know much about me at all, you'll know I am a suicide attempt survivor. And it BOTHERS me when I hear about someone committing suicide, whether or not I know them.

Today the world found out the Chester Bennington, lead vocalist for Linkin Park, was found dead from an apparent suicide.

I used to listen to A LOT of Linkin Park, and I still love them. Their album Meteora was released in 2003, back when I started to feel really really depressed and I could relate to a lot of the songs and lyrics. Powerful songs! People might scoff because it's so famous, but one of my favorite songs is "Numb", and I used to listen to it over and over because it's so GOOD!

I remember in the computer lab back in mid school, logging on to VH1.com (pre-Youtube AND most iPODs!) and listening to Linkin Park songs on headphones while doing keyboarding work. They were the first band I listened to that had a little bit of screaming in their vocals, and they opened me up to a WORLD of music I had never heard. I remember having Linkin Park t-shirts and feeling kind of badass wearing them.

In my head, I visualize depression and suicidal intent as this dark, sticky, greedy unstoppable mass that crawls and seeps and oozes and permeates and suffocates all the goodness in the world. It's dark because it bleeds all the light and color from a person's life. It's sticky because it's so powerful and hard to get out of, once you get in it. It sucks you in as deep as it can, and even if you get out, there will probably be a bit that clings to you for the rest of your days, reminding you. And it's greedy, because it desires and steals all the happiness and joy in your life, and it won't stop until it has succeeded, or even til it's stolen your life itself.

Well, you know what? I described depression as "unstoppable", but it actually isn't always. It is just so goddamn HARD to beat. But I beat it! I beat it because I asked for help. People helped me. Meds helped me. You cannot be afraid to ask! It doesn't make you weak or stupid.

And I know from experience that in that deep, deep sadness, it can be easy to forget how much you mean to other people. Sometimes it feels like you might be doing a favor to your loved ones. But take Chester as an example. He took his life and the whole world is hurting, most of them people who never even met him. So just think how much YOU mean to your loved ones.

Of course, I also know firsthand that when you hurt that incredibly bad, and you desire relief that much, that sometimes you don't care about your loved ones.

But PLEASE, take it from me, life gets so much better, if you can just hang in there and get help. 

Ask friends, ask family, ask a doctor, call 911 if you need to! We need to beat this AWFUL MONSTER, depression, once and for all! It needs to stop.

Sarah

60 MINUTES (plus!) TIL BEDTIME

It is BLOG NIGHT! And seeing that I have no interesting ideas to blog about, I will blog about what is on my mind.. getting ready for bed! A countdown of sorts.. my habitual behaviors! Fascinating stuff, I assure you.

60 minutes+:  Put Mose on his porch, because he cannot yet be trusted to be left unsupervised inside the house... I have lost too many valuable possesssions that way, not to mention the time he ate a huge pack of chocolate-chip cookies that gave me AWFUL stress for the following 36 hours. Shower, apply copious amounts of colored-hair-specific product, release Mose from his prison.
60 minutes: Take pills. I used to have a HUMONGOUS pill box that I filled weekly, but now I just count the pills out everyday. And I have lots of company! The spot behind my pill cubby and beside my microwave makes an ideal spot for Sheldon to spy. Check time.

57 minutes: After his oh-so-helpful hint, I make sure my cats' food dish is full of Friskies Indoor Delights. Between the three of them, I go through a lot of food. Check time.
56 minutes: If not all of my cats have shown up to eat, I automatically check the refrigerator. It's actually one of my worst OCD habits! I am what they call "a checker" and I have this irrational fear that one of my cats will somehow get stuck inside and freeze to death/suffocate, so multiple times a day I have to make sure. Even if I know it's impossible. Check! Check.
53 minutes: Speaking of checking, now's a great time to check the front door is locked! And the porch light is turned off.
50 minutes: "WHO WANTS A PILL AND A HOTDOG??" is what I call to Otis and Mose, and boy, do they know and like those words. Technically, only Otey gets a pill (arthritis) but they split a hot dog, and then I let them outside for a few. Check time.
46 minutes: Now I like to watch a little old, familiar TV, like episodes of "Frasier" and "Home Improvement". It's calming and puts me in a positive mood. Check time.
43 minutes: At this point,  I am typically bombarded with cat-attention, and if I'm not, I check the fridge.
42 minutes: No cats in fridge: success! Now I finish watching the episode of television, while drinking lots of water. Check time.
27 minutes: Oh, that Niles Crane! Turn off TV, head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Check time.
25 minutes: Head outside, mouth full of toothpaste, call for my pups.
23 minutes: Rinse last bit of toothpaste out, put Mosey to bed with a full bowl of water and a Milkbone! "Who's my good boy?!" Time?
20 minutes: Give Miss Tiss her Milkbone and say, "Let's go to bed!" So she stiffly walks into our bedroom and gets her front paws up on the mattress. She holds the pose, then looks over her shoulder at me, waiting. I hoist her bottom end onto the bed, where she turns in a few dozen circles. After she finally plops down, I like to lie beside her and stroke her ears. I kiss her nose and tell her how beautiful she is, and she agrees. What time is it?
13 minutes: I go ahead and plug in my cellphone to it's charger, and set that alarm, and then two separate clock alarms for the same time.
11 minutes: Time to check! Refrigerator, front porch light, front porch lock, TV's off, as are all unnecessary lights. Mose is secure on the back porch. How are we doing on time?
9 minutes: Use bathroom once more, turning all lights off behind me. One more fridge check.
5 minutes: Double check that all alarms are set correctly, scoot Otis off my side of the bed.
4 minutes: Turn on my oxygen, put my cannula on properly. Listen to the soothing humming.
2 minutes: Either open a book or work on my own project, for just a few minutes...!
Negative 26 minutes: Ooops!

BED TIME!! Maybe next week I'll have something more substantial to write about... ;)

Sarah

Deer: Our Natural Predator

Is there a stronger, older conflict in all of humanity than... MAN VS. DEER? I think not!

What, you don't agree? Think I'm making this stuff up?? I'll bet you're a city dweller! Big town folk. You think of deer as:

Don't you??!! I thought so. Allow me to show you the true face of deer in this chilling and unaltered, un-doctored sighting!!

Oooooughhh! Gives you the goosebumps, doesn't it? I want to take your on a trip.. a cautionary tale about a woman named... Abigail.

One bright, breezy afternoon in May, Abigail took a trip to her local ACE Hardware store. Business was booming, and Abby initially had a hard time finding a good parking spot! But she did... and a REAL parking spot. Not like those people who park in front of the Rental Yard gates, blocking traffic! The "DO NOT PARK" signs may be faded away, people, but really! Common sense!--But I digress. Abby opened her car door and a rush of oven-temperature heat poured into the vehicle. She grabbed her bag, slammed the door shut behind her, and trudged across the sweltering parking lot towards.. the GREENHOUSE! There was an awning over several racks full of plants, but the shade did nothing to take away from the gorgeous trays of petunias and marigolds and coleus and pansies and begonias. The Greenhouse was overfilling with vegetables and herbs and accent plants. ANOTHER, smaller greenhouse was spilling out rose bushes and hanging baskets and peonies and clematis and all manner of Perennial plants. Abs had her choice! She grabbed an expertly folded cardboard box and wandered around the two greenhouses and past them to the shrubs in the rental yard. The heat made her hair stick to the back of her neck and she tried not to think of swimming pools and glasses of ice-cold Dr. Pepper. But! In the end, she rounded up THREE humongous boxes off plants of all kinds. As she payed for the nursery stock, it struck Abby how ALIVE her plants seemed, almost like adopting a fish or a turtle. Back at home, she donned a dorky but practical hat to save her skin from the burning sun, and crawled around on her hands and knees, planting and weeding and watering. After hours of labor, she finally stood and massaged her aching back as she surveyed her hard work. It really was fabulous! Every color of the rainbow, even the blue color that is so hard to find! The plants, Abigail thought, looked even healthier and happier now that they had been planted and tended to and... loved.

As Abby lay in bed that night, she thought nice, colorful, beautiful thoughts. You know, if she pulled up some more weeds, she could fit some more of those spike plants...! And planing future planting and purchasing, she drifted off to sleep.

It is often when we are at our happiest that tragedy really strikes.

When Abigail woke up the next morning, she was greeted by a grisly, sickening scene. SOMETHING had ripped through her gardens, massacring the armies of petunias, so painstakingly planted in neat rows. It had torn the tops off her marigolds, then disturbingly spat them back out. Some of the flowers had been yanked out to the point of seeing their little baby roots. The gorgeous, blooming rose bush she had purchased was stripped clean of blooms and leaves, just a dead, empty plant.

It turned Abby's heart to ice. She slumped down into her destroyed garden and put her face in her hands, feeling sick and close to tears. THEN!! She noticed the sick, destructive CREEPS had left her a gift.. a chilling reminder that she would never be really alone, that she could never have the garden she dreamed of...

A PILE OF DEER DROPPINGS!!

Oh! Let me tell you, this is not an uncommon occurrence here. The deer who live here live WITHOUT fear! They see our gardens as buffets and they think of our hard work in the garden as we think of food preparation. And believing they won't come into town is a BIG FAT LIE! Saying, "Well, I don't live out in the mountains so I must be safe" is WRONG WRONG WRONG!

And they are so vicious! People say there are plants deer won't eat, but they are mistaken! Even if they do stumble across a plant they don't like, they will rip it out of the ground anyway and spit it out.

Yes, there are deer-repelling products (sold at ACE!) that advertise the ability to keep the vermin at bay, and I've also heard of some other methods: put wind-propelled spinners in your garden or shave off bits of Irish Spring soap! But that is only so effective.


Now that I have, regrettably, shattered your calm, I want to try to reassure you.

You must see it as a circle-of-life deal! If you are a venison fan, think of it is: they eat our flowers, we eat them. Or: they eat our plants, but we use their feces as fertilizer! (I CANNOT ACTUALLY APPROVE OR RECOMMEND THIS! It is thus far pretty untested.. I did a little research and apparently the deer poo is very high in nitrogen.. so there you go)

AND! When you are planting, just picture this:

Also! Consider indoor plants.

Happy Planting!

Sarah

I Believe in DOGS

I'll just come right out with it and say: I am not religious. AT ALL. I am a complete and utter heathen. 

And it's not from lack of exposure and failure to try! Growing up, I went to church pretty often (though I usually brought a book for during the sermon) and attended Sunday School semi-regularly (mostly it was arts and crafts and really bad Christian rap songs about the books of the Bible) and I was even dragged to Vacation Bible School despite throwing hissy fits every year. (Sorry, Mom!)

I remember being very little and saying prayers before I fell asleep. 'Course, it was ME, so instead of asking God to simply "Bless my friends and family. Amen." I asked God, "Please bless Mom and Dad and Emmy and Granny and Grandma and Grandpa and and Whiskers and Julie and Holly and Pebbles and Earl and Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Bruce and George and Cameron and Aunt Helen and Uncle Andy and Matthew and Aunt Sonja and Uncle Jeff and Danny and Brian and---"
I went on to mention all of my friends and my teachers and my doctors and animals that we drove by in the car everyday that my family nicknamed. I think most of the time I fell asleep before finishing!

So I really didn't mind that early church part of my life!... except, looking back, the things I liked weren't religious at all! I liked playing in the bell choir (I was middle C and D man!) and doing crafts and even then I found fire a little fascinating so being the acolyte was kinda cool. I liked seeing my family there.

I just don't... believe. And being that most of my family are good Presbyterians and also kind enough to read my blogs, I really don't want to offend anybody! It's just.. after all these years I know who I am and I know what I believe. And I absolutely don't have a problem that other people do believe in God and find him important! I just don't.

Like I said... HEATHEN! Blasphemous. Irreverent! Despicable.

Now I know some people think it's awful, because without reading the Bible and following the 10 Commandments, how could people know how to behave?

Well, speaking for myself, even if I had never seen or heard the 10 Commandments in my life, I was still born into a family of good, caring, trustworthy people who instilled that manner of behavior in me. Not to mention, I was born with a GARGANTUAN amount of naturally occurring guilt that results in my inability to misbehave without painfully regretting it for the next few weeks.

Now, I think we've all heard the saying, "If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything," which may be aimed at sacrilegious, profane people such as myself who don't believe.

You know what? I couldn't agree more! And so we come to the point of this blog!

You know what I stand for? Dogs. I BELIEVE IN DOGS!! And cats! And birds and chickens and horses and donkeys and de-stunk skunks, and ohhhhhh! I'm starting to sound like how I used to pray at night.

I believe in these animals with their unconditional love, and their ability and knack for finding us when we most desperately need them.

I believe these animals are so much more full of love and life than a lot of humans are, and we can learn from their optimism and open happiness.

I believe they are purely good, even the naughty ones like Mose, who CHEW AND CHEW AND CHEW on your prized possessions. He may be annoying, but he will never be mean or spiteful... something a lot of people could learn.

I believe animals save us just as much, if not a TON MORE, than we save them.

I believe they poke themselves into our lives like Otis' wet little nose nudges me in the morning to wake me up.

I believe they have a lot to teach us, and I believe we should listen.


Happy Wordsday Thursday, guys!

Sarah