Consumed by Consumption
Addiction is an awful thing. It’s something that seems to be a topic on the news a lot lately, and it’s unfortunate that it takes tragedies for it to be spoken about so much and discussed so openly.
Image via Wikipedia
Unless you were completely unplugged this weekend and disconnected from society, you know that Amy Winehouse was found dead in her London apartment. A talented young woman dead at just the age of 27. A woman who publicly struggled with addiction, and who, ironically, was perhaps most well-known for her hit song “Rehab“.
Twitter was a-fire with the news of her passing. Comments on Facebook were plenty, some honoring the young talent and expressing sympathies, others sharing their feelings of disgust of a life wasted. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course. My opinion, no life is ever a waste. Every human being is worth something.
Addiction affects not only the addict but their family unit and those closest to them. This morning the news flashed footage of Winehouse’s parents arriving at her London flat. I feel for them. Some people might argue that they should have done more for their daughter; they should have forced her to into sobriety. The fact is a person can’t be forced; only when someone is ready to be sober can they begin their personal journey toward a better way of life.
Also in the news, the upcoming HBO documentary, “There’s Something Wrong With Aunt Diane” a look at the infamous and horrifying 2009 crash on New York State’s Taconic Parkway in which Diane Schuler drove in the wrong direction ending in the deaths of eight people including Schuler, her own daughter, her three nieces and three gentlemen who were in the vehicle she crashed into head-on. Tests showed she had been driving with marijuana and the equivalent of 10 shots of alcohol in her body.
In a Today Show segment this morning covering the death of Winehouse and a dialogue on addiction, it was stated that last year in the US 100,000 people died alcohol-related deaths. That’s just alcohol. Imagine what the number for substance abuse-related deaths as a whole must be.
I imagine that the Winehouse family must be going through a lot of emotions. Sadness and grief for a loved one lost. Anger for what Amy did and didn’t do and for what they feel they perhaps should have or could have done. Those feelings of anger are probably something they’re all too familiar with. Feelings they’ve most likely tried to deal with throughout Amy’s life as an addict.
I am by no means an expert on addiction or alcoholism, but I have known and loved people who have struggled with these demons. Watching someone you love disappearing before you is awful, and, I think, harder on the people watching because they are completely aware of everything happening as the addict is living in a world of denial. Your heart breaks repeatedly and your stomach twists and contorts in ways you never thought it could, leaving you with a constant, nagging pain because you know you can’t do anything to help them until they are ready to help themselves; until they are ready to step out of the comfortable state of denial and into the much more complicated world of reality. It’s amazing how alcohol and drugs can consume your life, especially when you’re not the one consuming them.
I wish peace for the Winehouse family and for those who loved her. I wish peace for the families affected by the Taconic crash. I wish peace for anyone affected by addiction. Moments of tragedy give us the opportunity to learn, to discuss, to share. No life is a waste, but if we don’t take something from these moments of sadness, of mourning we will have wasted a chance to make a difference. A chance to perhaps stop at least one more potential tragedy from happening in the future.
Related articles
- Amy Winehouse: What Your Reaction to Her Death Means to Me (dangerouslee.biz)
- Russell Brand Pens ‘To Amy’ (divamission.wordpress.com)
- VIDEO: Amy Winehouse ‘leaves a gaping hole’ (bbc.co.uk)
- A Pathway to Peace (Cupcakes & Cat Food)
The only thing on earth (via Doggerel)
Loved this post and had to share. Wonderful blog for all you dog lovers out there to check out!
via Doggerel
The Piddling Puggle
The Piddling Puggle
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been having a new challenge with that cute little ‘ol puggle of mine. Yes, the one and only Walker Texas Ranger AKA Chuck Norris.
About two months ago he began having seizures; watching my dog have a seizure and not being able to do anything to help him is one of the most awful experiences I’ve ever had. I didn’t know what was happening. He became stiff, paws out straight, tongue hanging, drooling buckets. He shook and his eyes bulged. He looked so scared and helpless. I was scared and helpless and a mess. So off to the vet we went …
An exam, blood test, prescription for phenobarbitol twice a day and about $200 later we were off to a brighter, seizure-free future. Giving Walker a pill twice a day is easy; stick it inside a Snausage and he gobbles it up. Much easier than giving a pill to the cats, who tend to be more wary. So, phenobarbitol – great. Only about $11 a month. No problemo. I can handle that. One of the side effects of the medication however is increased thirst and with that … increased urination. But my boy could go for 12 hours without having to be walked. He’d be fine. Or maybe not.
Of all the spots he could pick in the entire house … he picked to pee up against the stove. The stove! Why the stove?!? And when I say he pees, I mean he PPPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS! The worst part is that the pee travels and spreads onto the floor and soaks into the base of the kitchen cabinet beside the stove. This. Is. Not. Good.
So, I began walking him four to five times a day. Like clockwork he wakes me up at 6:45 a.m. We walk. I shower, get ready for work. We walk. I come home from work, and we walk. We walk again around 8pm. We play. We walk again around 11:00 p.m., and then we sleep. Until the piddling puggle’s internal clock or in this case his bladder wakes him up and he cries to wake me up so we can walk and start over again.
All that walking, and still, at times, he pees. Same spot. I rig wee wee pads on top of garbage bags, but it still doesn’t seem to be enough coverage for the puddles of pee this puggle leaves. While desperately seeking solutions through Google searches and posing the question to friends on Facebook (a great resource!), a poem came to mind that my now 93-year-old Uncle Steve recites to entertain family and friends. Amidst all the frustration the rhyme about a little piddling pup named Rex made me smile:
A farmer’s dog came into town,
His Christian name was Rex,
A noble pedigree had he,
Unusual was his text.
And as he trotted down the street
`Twas beautiful to see,
His work on every corner-
His work on every treeHe watered every gateway too,
And never missed a post.
For piddling was his specialty,
And piddling was his boast
The City Curs looked on, amazed
With deep and jealous rage,
To see a simple country dog
The piddler of the age.Then all the dogs from everywhere
Were summoned with a yell,
To sniff the country stranger o’er
And judge him by the smell.
Some thought that he a king might be,
Beneath his tail a rose,
So every dog drew near to him
And sniffed him up their nose.They smelled him over one by one,
They smelled him two by two,
And noble Rex, in high disdain,
Stood still till they were through.
Then just to show the whole Shebang,
He didn’t give a damn,
He trotted in a grocery store,
And piddled on a ham.He piddled in a mackeral keg-
He piddled on the floor,
And when the grocer kicked him out
He piddled through the door.
Behind him all the city dogs,
Lined up with instinct true,
To start a piddling carnival,
And see the stranger through.They showed him every piddling post,
They had in all the town,
And started in with many a wink,
To piddle the stranger down.
They sent for champion piddlers
Who were always on the go,
Who sometimes did a piddling stunt
Or gave a piddle show.They sprung these on him suddenly
When midway through the town,
Rex only smiled and polished off
The ablest white or brown.
For Rex was with them every trick,
With vigor and with vim.
A thousand piddles more or less
Were all the same to him.So he was wetting merrily,
With hind leg kicking high,
When most were hoisting legs in bluff,
And piddling mighty dry.
On and on, Rex sought new grounds,
By piles and scraps and rust.
Till every city dog went dry,
And piddled only dustBut on and on went noble Rex,
As wet as any rill,
And all the champion city pups
were piddled to a standstill.
Then Rex did free-hand piddling,
With fancy flirts and flits,
Like “double dip” and “gimlet twist”,
And all those latest hits.And all the time this country dog,
Did never wink or grin,
But piddled blithely out of town,
As he had piddled in.The city dogs, a conversation held,
To ask, “What did defeat us?”
But no one ever put them wise
That Rex had diabetes!
Of course, being a hypochondriac and an overreacting fur people Mama, I am ignoring the last line referring to diabetes. That’s all I need! We’re off to the vet tomorrow for another $100+ visit to see what we can do to help the pup AND me! If that doesn’t work out maybe I can turn him into a champion piddler and teach him the “double dip” and “gimlet twist”. Then someday the adventures of my piddling puggle will become famous and end up paying for all of these challenging adventures. Hey, a girl can dream.
Life is never dull with Walker Texas Ranger!
Related articles
- To “Piddle” or Not to Piddle??? (babyjill7.wordpress.com)
- Tale of A Furry Savior (cupcakesandcatfood.com)
- When a Pug and a Beagle Fall in Love, It’s a Puggle – WSJ.com (policyabcs.wordpress.com)
- Cuteness ATTACK. Mostly pugs. & Puppies. (sugarpeep.wordpress.com)
A Letter to Summer
Dear Summer:
Chub rub and profuse sweating aside, which I realize are personal issues, could you maybe go a little easier on us? By nature I know you’re hot. I know you know you’re hot, and maybe that works with some of the ladies, but it’s not a turn on for this girl. I’m just not that into you.
Image via Wikimedia. Photo by Alistair Murdoch
Don’t get me wrong, you have your good points. Your sunshiny ways are great, but maybe you could lose the humidity? I mean really, what’s the point of humidity other than to weigh heavy on and annoy the hell out of everyone. Not to mention the horrific bad hair days it causes. It forces us to reluctantly turn on the air conditioning, which increases our energy bills, and when it’s combined in full force with your powerful heat, sometimes our power sources get knocked out of commission because of the over abundant need to keep cool. Are you proud of that? Or perhaps you’re in cahoots with the energy providers, hmm?
Being so “hot” I’m sure you have your pick, but I’d like to suggest that perhaps you and Winter consider getting together. She’s a cool chick; granted she has her issues as well, but I think you’d be a great match. You both tend to go to extremes, at different ends of the spectrum, and you might balance each other out, which would be a win-win for all of us. After all, you know what they say … opposites attract!
I hope you don’t take my letter the wrong way. I just couldn’t hold back any longer. It had to be said. I want to be friends, I really do. I want to love and enjoy the days that you’re around. With a little compromise and better communication, I think we have the potential to get along just fine.
Truly,
allyson
Related articles
- Chub Rub: Friend or Foe? (healthkicker.com)
- On hottest days, cranking the AC…down a notch?! (nj.com)
- A hot summer of short heat waves (philly.com)
- A Ghastly Humid Day in the DMV (thinksoul25.com)
- It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity…really? (run4joy59.wordpress.com)
Tale of A Furry Savior
Life catches up with you when you’re not looking. Actually, when you’re avoiding it, it hits you like a mack truck; life’s way of saying “snap out it already!”
About three months ago I adopted a puggle named Walker. My brother-in-law’s friend needed to find his dog a new home because one of his children was allergic to the furry little guy. At the time, my boyfriend and I were hesitant to take on another fur person with two cats already running the home, but we were committed to help find the pup a loving home.
A couple of weeks later … Walker became part of our family. Our search for a new home for Walker didn’t work out as we had hoped, but 
it seemed to have worked out as it was meant to be. While I had been thinking about adopting a dog for some time, I was hesitant. Even though my heart had plenty of love to give, my head, and some wise friends, were keeping me in check reminding me of the costs associated with the new addition. Though there were two of us to care for the possible three fur people in the home, I had an off feeling nagging at me, in the pit of my stomach. But when it came down to the reality of Walker going to a pound, I just couldn’t bear it.
That off feeling? It was the air horn of the mack truck in the distance trying to warn me; trying to wake me up from the denial I had allowed myself to sink into like quicksand. I knew deep down that it was highly likely that there would eventually end up only being one person in the household to care for the animals; though I didn’t want to admit it, yet, the relationship I was in had to come to an end.
Love is blind; or maybe hope is. Perhaps, as we get older, okay … as I get older … I see what I want to see; what I hope to see and what I hope to be. Maybe age has nothing to do with it and it’s just the person. Me. Whatever the case, wherever my mind, heart, soul was … I’m awake now, thanks to the mack truck. A little foggy and sore from the big hit of reality, but awake nonetheless. If only I had listened to that intuition, that air horn in the distance.
Now, here I am. Single, mother of three fur people (don’t jump on that all at once you eligible bachelors out there; I know it’s hard to resist!); busy scooping a litter box, cleaning up cat puke and dog pee, picking up dog poop in baggies that I carry in a little red fire hydrant attached to a matching red leash, refereeing furry fights. And dealing with myself. The real me. The one that I was ignoring for quite some time. The one that I let go emotionally, physically.
Let me add to the above description … I am a single, 35-year-old, overweight (again) mother of three fur people. Searching to find my get-up-and-go that got-up-and went. If found, please email allyson@cupcakesandcatfood.com.
If my Mama were here, she’d say “pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and start all over again.” But I just wanna cry and scream “but I don’t wanna!” Sometimes I just want to sleep or become a television zombie (thanks reality tv!).
If I knew then what I know now or if I had at least listened to that air horn in the distance, I probably wouldn’t have Walker in my life, and in a way I think he is what is saving me … from myself. So, I may lie around in a boob tube zombie
state, but the furry guy reminds me that he needs me; forces me to get off my tuckus and take him out into the fresh air for a walk. Because of him I’ve met more neighbors (something about a cute pup gets people talking) and had more conversations than I would have had otherwise. Sure, I’ve spent more on vet bills, and dog training and pet food, but he keeps me going. He makes me discover new things like dog parks and the number of fire hydrants and telephone poles on my block. Walker Texas Ranger AKA Chuck Norris was somehow meant for me; to save me.
‘The Voice’ Inside Me
I’m sitting on my couch watching The Voice and I find myself in a moment of pure happiness … contentment, even. I just enjoyed a couple of slices of FREE pizza, left over from lunch at work, and a glass of a smooth, buttery Chardonnay while getting lost in the music and the beauty of the voices interpreting the notes and lyrics.
Lately I have found myself wondering”Allyson”, I call myself Allyson in moments of seriousness, “Allyson, what do you like? What do you enjoy doing?” And I can’t seem to answer. Well … I like eating pizza and drinking good wine and listening to good music and bobbing my head (AKA sofa dancing) to said music and smiling because it has touched me, and to an extent, has brought me to life in that moment. I enjoy being in my home, the home I have worked hard to have and that is an ever evolving project. I like FREE things and the challenge of getting them.
Image via Wikipedia
I like Stevie Nicks, who performed “Landslide” on The Voice tonight with one of the finalists. I like her because her music reminds me of my sisters. I like the song “Landslide” because it reminds me of my father; during his final days in the hospital I mad a CD for him and that was one of the songs I put on it. He loved his music; could listen to it for hours.
Image via Wikipedia
I like Pat Monahan from Train who sang the song “Drops of Jupiter” on the show tonight as well with another finalist. I love seeing him live; I love his voice and the passion that oozes out of him when he performs. I have always liked the song “Drops of Jupiter” but fell in love with it even more after hearing him explain, at a live show, his inspiration for writing the song: his mother, who had passed away.
I like pizza. I like good food. I was brought up on good food by a good Italian mama. And … c’mon, who doesn’t like pizza?
Image via Wikipedia
I like good wine. I like learning about it. I like exploring it. I like Pinot Noir and Riesling and a smooth, buttery, Chardonnay, like I had tonight, which I learned about from a former manager of mine.
I am more aware of the things that I enjoy than I thought I was. It’s just that I don’t often slow down enough to realize what they are and actually soak up the happiness, the joy, the emotions that come in those moments. Small moments in time, but huge moments in the story of my life.
So, “Allyson, what else do you like? What else do you enjoy?” I don’t know right at this moment, but I am going to enjoy realizing and discovering all the things and smells and sounds that move me and ignite my soul in this crazy and unpredictable life of mine.
Related articles
- 15 wines under $15 (pbpulse.com)
- ‘The Voice’ Finale: Stevie Nicks, Pat Monahan & Ryan Tedder to Perform (aoltv.com)
- Grape varieties: Pinot Noir (winebookclub.org)
- Sometimes It’s A Bitch (markmywordssite.com)
- What is Chardonnay Day all about? (douglasgreen.wordpress.com)
Monday Mutterings
This dreary Monday cannot seem to go by fast enough. What better way to wake up the brain during an afternoon lull than with some “Unconscious Mutterings” …
- International :: Travel, Adventure
- Witnesses :: Onlookers, Proof
- Rising :: Star, Bread, Temperature, Blood Pressure
- Two years ago :: Sooooooo different, Lighter in body & soul
- Sausage :: Links, Hot, Sweet, Peppers, Italian Feast, Mama
- Physically :: Unfit, Exhausted, Blech
- Approached :: Asked, Tried to Convince, Walked on Eggshells
- Mole :: Spy, Snitch, Austin Powers, GuacaMOLE MOLE MOLE
- Collar :: Dog, Shirt, Book ‘em Dan-o
- Encased :: Closed in, Covered, Shellac
This is the day …
At the risk of sounding like a holy roller, with all my recent talk of spirituality and religion, I have to say … “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.” And what a day it is! Later on this evening I will attend an event to honor my lovely Aunt and Uncle for their volunteer efforts and commitment to community and a good friend has just gotten the wonderful news that she is cancer free.
My aunt and uncle have volunteered time helping the Salvation Army for as long as I can remember. When my sweet Mama was alive, she and my aunt, her sister whom we lovingly call “Auntie”, gave their time helping at the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen, cooking and serving. During the holidays my Mama would help with interviewing families to see what their needs were and what the
children would like most for Christmas. Auntie and her handsome hubby, Uncle Steve, would and still do spend long days and nights through the holiday season counting the money donated through the kettle program.
Auntie is 83 and Uncle Steve is 93. I repeat – 83 and 93! And they are still helping; still giving of themselves for the sake of others. I can only hope to live a life of charity like they have. They make the world a better place.
My good friend Sue got the word today that she is cancer free! Having gotten the opposite of words more times than any one person should have to hear them, it was a hip-hip-hooray-cocktails-and-cake-are-in-order moment when she shared the news. You can read more about it, in her own words, on her fabulous blog.
So the first thing that came to mind when I realized what a wonderful day it was were the words that my Mama and Auntie used to sing, “this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.” Every day really is a gift, but I am especially grateful for days like these; days filled with positive news that should be shared and shouted out for the world (or at least just the readers of this blog) to hear.
Although today is a joy-filled one for me, there are many people out there who are suffering and struggling; perhaps through the harsh news of a cancer diagnosis, or the loss of a loved one, or the loss of a job with worries of providing for their family. The good news is that we can help others. By each of us doing our small part we can make a big difference. Maybe you have time, maybe you have financial resources, whatever it is that you have to give, pick a cause and go for it. You’ll be filled with joy when you do!
I Say, You Say … Lists for Inspiration
I found this fun, ongoing meme called “Unconscious Mutterings“. A new list of
words is posted every week for an ongoing exercise in free association. Apparently, over time, this technique is supposed to help recover repressed thoughts and feelings that one can then work through to gain a better sense of self. But, I thought I’d try it as just another random way for me to get the words out of my head and onto the blog on a more regular base. Perhaps another source of inspiration? And hey, I could always use some self discovery. We shall see.
I’ve decided to tackle two lists to start with – daring, I know. It’s just the way I roll …
- Code :: Secret, Numbers
- Brothers :: Sisters, Family
- Immigration :: Ellis Island, Legal Issues
- Heavy :: Overweight, Stress
- Bracket :: Hanging something up, Some sports mumbo jumbo
- Murder :: Mystery, Law & Order
- Neighbor :: Yard, Mr. Rogers
- Collar :: Dog
- Onslaught :: Mob scene
- Eyebrows :: Bushy, Wax
- Trumpet :: Taps, Lips, Spit
- Love :: Warmth, Complicated, Heart
- Routine :: Everyday
- Infringe :: In the way
- Misgivings :: Hmmmmmmm (Raised eyebrow)
- Establish :: Foundation
- Stupefy :: Duh
- Constipate :: Turtle, Back-up
- Conjure :: Magic, Create
- Miscellaneous :: A little bit ‘o this – A little bit ‘o that
Go on … give it a whirl. You know you want to!
A Pathway to Peace
Lately I find that I constantly have the Prayer of St. Francis running through my head, and perhaps, my soul. It’s a prayer that
reminds me of my parents, and I have been thinking of them a lot lately. The prayer in song was a part of my mother’s funeral mass; I remember it well, because it was the moment when I “lost it”. I can’t recall if it was sung at my father’s mass, that seems like so long ago, and such a blur.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love with all my soul.For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen
I believe that my parents, truly tried to live life like this prayer. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that we had a statue of St. Francis in the back yard, and my parents always enjoyed visiting Graymoor, the home of the Franciscan Sisters and Friars of the Atonement. I remember my sweet Mama always giving me advice and consoling me with phrases like: “’tis better to give than to receive”, “just imagine what must be so wrong in that person’s life to make them act that way. you should feel bad for them”, “if someone asks you to borrow a quarter and you have one to give, you should, and ask them not to pay you back, but to pass it on to the next person who needs it”.
I’m sure that at the time that these words of wisdom were shared with me, my reaction probably included eye rolling and a sigh of “ohhhh mom”. But how blessed am I to have been taught such lessons? Lessons that would come to comfort me at times when I need it most, and to have been raised by parents who truly wanted peace, for everyone.
I know I’ve written before about a desire to connect with and find my faith, my own spiritual path. While my parents were devout Catholics, I have struggled to connect with the Church as of late. I think one thing that I have discovered is, that in my soul, I am drawn to live a life committed to finding and sharing a pathway to peace; much like the ways of St. Francis and my beautiful, loving parents.
Related articles
- A Prayer of Service and Reminder to Praise Him (danielnm.wordpress.com)
- Tomb of St. Francis back in the pink (cbc.ca)
- It just takes a measure of faith (barefootpreachr.org)
