First thing first... We have a winner! I have to tell you I love giving stuff away... If at least 50 of you keep commenting each week we can go almost a year before you all have one and are sick of seeing canvases
all the time :) Until then, this is fun!
So, here is this week's winner, via random.org:
AuBien: I have a house for sale right now. It's been on the market for 7 months. We've had MANY showings and only positive feedback on the house. And not one offer to buy it.
We have many of our children's toys and home "clutter" boxed and stored at in-laws to make the house seem less cluttered. We have changed our decor to neutral so as to appeal to more people so as not to distract from looking at the HOUSE instead of our decor. We have to keep the place almost spotless all the time because the market is SO competitive right now. We have our house listed WELL below it's actual value because we know we can't sell it at actual value in this market.
I'm struggling with letting go of the idea that I'm ready for it to sell so it's time for it to sell. God's timing is not my timing. And letting go of my timing is not as simple as I would like.
And when I read your posts I feel like I have no right to be selfish about this or anything else. I know I need to let go of that also and it is easier to be convicted than it is to change my thinking.
Thank you for sharing your gift and thank you for the chance to win a canvas!
Congratulations! Email me at email@example.com with your mailing address and I'll get your canvas in the mail.
BTW: Did you guys see in the comments that my brother Hoody thought for a minute I was going to give away my car? Cracked.Me.Up.
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I think we've covered that my dog might have a few issues. The fact that he's on antidepressants to keep him from biting everyone that comes within a 2 ft. radius of me should probably be the first clue. The fact that I've wondered if the Dog Whisperer and Super Nanny would do a crossover show just to help him might be another.
But, while I might pull my hair out once in awhile, the fact that this pup was absolutely, undeniably and inexplicably created just for me... the fact that he sometimes knows before I do when I'm physically having a harder time... is why he's still blissfully happy despite the fact that he has an insatiable desire to mark in my kitchen.
That, and the fact that he's so damn cute.
My vet decided a few years ago that my sweet and ornery pup is very in tune to the fact that I've gotten sicker over the years. Nothing proves this more than when I have migraines. Often if a migraine lasts for more than 2 days, Riley starts throwing up along with me in what I assume is some show of sympathy or solidarity.
To take it a step further, his power of observation goes up exponentially the actual day a migraine is going to hit.
He was so unsettled on Friday, which is not like him. He'd jump on the couch and get comfy only to start whining and jump back down to find another spot to rest. He'd sit on my lap, jump off of my lap ... and whine. I couldn't figure out what he wanted, what the problem was, what was hurting him.
Then I started getting a bit of a nagging headache. But the weather was warmer and my energy was better than it had been, so I was sure it was fine. But the headache was there... and I felt a little nauseous. I tried the sliding glass door, which was finally unfrozen, and breathing that fresh air without incident for the first time in eight months gave me the jolt I needed. Headache or no, I was fine.
Oh, but that pup knew better. We went to bed and the right side of my head felt like it was going to explode or implode... or both. And the rest of the night was spent trying to make myself get up to get my meds. Trying to roll over, trying to sit up, but knowing if I do my head is going to rocket off my neck and go through the ceiling or, better yet, I'll throw up. So we just laid there. And every once in awhile he'd leave the spot where he was curled up next to me and sniff around my head and lick my temple. The dog who never licks my face was trying to tell me he knew exactly where it hurt and that he'd really like to help.
That move right there forgives a lot of idiosyncrasies. That move makes him the best dog to ever walk the earth.
So, sometime around noon the next day I forced myself to get up. I ate what I could and I took my meds, and while we laid on the couch he continued to whine at me... until 45 minutes later, when the meds finally hit my system. When it still felt like my head was pulsing on the pillow but the sound of the throbbing finally stopped echoing in my ears, my sweet pup laid his head down and fell fast asleep. Every two hours when I'd sit up to take another pill he'd sit up, wait patiently, and then curl up next to me to sleep away the day.
The temperature had changed drastically, and that is when my migraines inevitably hit. And as I tried my hardest not to let myself anticipate the coming months, remembering back to last spring when the temperatures constantly changed and thunderstorms constantly rolled through and my body felt like it was a crash test dummy experiment gone wrong, my dog reminded me that I don't have to do a moment of it alone.
He's a genius, that dog. An empathetic, sympathetic, telepathic, loving little genius who makes me sane even when I'm really not.
Thank God for dogs. Or, more accurately, thank God for my dog. But please don't refer to him as such should you ever come visit... I don't want to burst Riley's bubble and make him think he's anything less than the human he is so determined to be.