Dogs

Since I was 13 years old, a piece of my heart has belonged to a chocolate lab. First, there was Hershey. She was a birthday present for my brother and me. I vividly remember the day we got her, right down to the white sweater and jeans I was wearing. It was a lazy Saturday, in late May. We were just hanging around the house, chatting with my visiting grandmother. Out of nowhere my parents announced that it was time to go pick out our new dog. Confused, my brother and I said, “What?” A few moments later it sunk in and we started screaming with delight. I was running circles around the house, shouting “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” It was the best moment of my adolescent life.
When I started dating my (now) husband, he jokingly asked, “If you had to chose between me and Hershey, who would you chose?” That was such an unfair question. She had been my best, most loyal friend from sixth grade through college. She loved me no matter what and I had known him for a few months. So, when my husband had to deliver the heartbreaking news that my 15 year old Hershey had died, he understood my pain. Even now, as I write this, I cry.
Any animal lover understands the important role of a beloved family pet. Not having a dog in my life left a void. My new husband and I decided to quickly fill it. We lived in a great condo – only problem was the no pet policy. So, we decided to cash in on the great housing market, upgrade to a row house with a small yard and adopt a chocolate lab named Riley. (My father refers to our house as the world’s most expensive dog house.) She was our first baby. We loved this dog so much, that we cut a trip to California a day short just to get home to see her. As much as I loved this dog, there was no denying the bond between her and my husband. He had longed for a dog his whole life.
I hope I am conveying how special this dog is to us. Reason being is, 15 months ago, she went blind in one eye and had it removed. She had a rare hereditary form of glaucoma. My husband was diligent about administering her daily medicine and taking her to the eye doctor every 6 weeks. It was a labor of love. There was no stopping the dog with one eye - She still leaped off the dock and raced to fetch a ball.
We though she was beating the odds, but last week she lost sight in her other eye and had to have emergency surgery to remove it. My husband was out of town when it happened, so I had to make the tough decision by myself. As strange as it may sound, I think this awful experience brought us closer together and help me discover a new inner strength.
The resilience and spirit of Riley is astounding. I think animals come into our lives to support us, love us and teach us lessons. For Riley, there is no more light, but she still wakes each day with the same love and joy for life.
For her, I am thankful.

For those of you who "don't understand this"

If you are confused about this blog, I will clarify for you.
Blog Title - "Clan Folly" - It’s a play on our family name. Folly is defined as 1.)the state or quality of being foolish; lack of understanding or sense. 2.) a foolish action, practice, idea ect; absurdity. This definition should speak for it's self. Clan is defined as 1.) a group of families or households 2.) a group of people of common decent.
Blog Purpose - amuse, reminisce, break up the monotony of everyday life.
Blog Disclaimer - Identities will be protected, so please refrain from using actual names. If you choose not to be a character in the blog - too bad. Each member of the Clan Folly is integral in our story.

"What's for dinner?"

Ah... the eternal question, "What's for dinner?" I dread this question. Cooking a delicious meal is joyful under the right circumstances and I am a pretty good cook, if I do say so. But, there are too few hours in a day, my kitchen is too small, and I am just plain exhausted at the end of the day. All I want to do is slip into sweats and play “pretend kitchen” with my 2-year old.
Being a working mother, I have a hard enough time getting something on the table. I don't need people calling and quizzing me on the menu. But, for some reason, my family is obsessed with everything meals. And if we are not together, we call each other - multiple times a day. Each and every phone call will inevitable include that taboo question. We could be sitting down to a lovely dinner and sure enough we will be talking about a past or present meal. And everyone - I mean EVERYONE - will have a comment. (Well, maybe my Uncle is the exception. He is probably rolling his eyes, wondering why on Earth he is sitting at this table.)
As I said, everyone needs to put in their 2 cents. This ritual of breaking bread also serves as a forum to discuss topics ranging from "Superior Deli Meats" to "Acceptable Cheesecake Crust Thickness."What's wrong with us? Are we unable to make simple dinner conversation or lunch chit-chat? Don't get me wrong - I am as guilty as the next relative. Plus, this pastime is quite amusing.

By the way, I have no idea what I am serving for dinner tonight, so suggestions are welcome.

"Never put anything smaller than your elbow into your ear"

Most people would relieve an ear itch with a Q-tip or their finger. My father is not most people. He is always sticking his glasses' ear piece or car keys in his ear. Many moons ago, when I was 10 or so, I remember my mom telling me that dad had to go to the hospital. Those words are terrifying to a child. Turns out he only had a paper clip stuck in his ear.
The glasses and keys were not cutting it, so he used a handy little office supply that could be bent to the perfect angle to get to those hard to reach ear itches. Who knew a paper clip was so versatile.
Now that I think of it, when I was in third grade, I had a strange rendezvous with a paper clip. I was so envious of my metal mouth friends that I straightened out a paper clip and wrapped it around my teeth. (Grass is always greener, right?) I am surprised my teacher did not call Child Welfare or something.
I digress. Where was I... My dad was in his office, with a paper clip protruding from his head. That little sucker was holing on for dear life. His only choice was to go the emergency room. Walking out of the office, he had head tilted to the side and his hand propped against his temple, trying to get past his secretary, with her none-the-wiser.
Dad, I hope there was no permanent damage, but I would say it was worth it, for this priceless story.

"Tip of the Iceberg"

I know everyone thinks their family is weird, but I think I have a legitimate claim. Between my father's outlandish comments and mother's make believe world, I feel like a co-star in the latest hit reality show. Mix in a few cousins, dogs, and family friends and we are talking about an Emmy winning series or a call to Social Services

There are so many stories to tell, I don't even know where to begin...

"Hold It!"

Summer, c. 1987

Around dusk, we were headed north on 95. A bunch of us were piled into the brown shaggin' wagon, with wood panelling, on our way home from an amusement park. My dad was driving, I was in the back seat, probably sitting on someones lap, with no seat belt on, and my little brother and cousin managed to get the good seats in the "way back".

I am sure my dad was racing to get home to through back a few ice cold beers, after a day filled with funnel cake, tilt-a-whirls, and everything else magical. Thirty minuets into the car ride, my brother announces that he "has to go potty". My dad replied"Hold it" till we found a place to stop.

That answer was not good enough. My brother was insistent that he would not be able to make it until the next stop. Frustrated, my dad said "If you can't hold it until we find a bathroom, go in your pants." (Don't feel too bad, the kid was probably 7 year old.)

Less than 5 minuets later, the car was brimming with a horrendous odor. Gasping, we each stumbled to find the nearest (manual) window crank, while shouting "What is that small???"

Quietly, without shame or regret, my brother said, "Dad, told me if I couldn't hold it to go in my pants."

Thank goodness his JAMS had a net inside.

"It seems that everyone has a blog these days, so I figure I should write one too. Why not? Everyone's got a story to tell."

I keep writing things and deleting them, hoping something relevant or humorous will appear on the screen. Hasn't happened so far...

(I think my title is longer than my entry. Maybe I don't have a story to tell??)