Winston

Last fall my doctor told me that I needed to get a dog.

Well, that's not exactly how it went. That was the phrasing I used when I approached Eric about adding another animal to our already cramped apartment.

I had been seeing a few mental health professionals trying to get back on my feet and ready to return to work after my miscarriage in the summer. My psychiatrist suggested the usual- getting out of bed, taking a shower and doing my hair every day, keeping a journal, and taking walks. I told him about feeling unsafe walking around my neighborhood after dark, and with my return to work, I would not be home during daylight hours.That's when he asked if I had a dog. He said I might want to think about getting one.

"Dr. Duk says I need a dog."I told Eric as soon as I returned from my appointment.

He was rightfully suspicious that I had taken this recommendation to think about possibly getting a dog and blown it way out of context.

Eric had quite a few logical reasons not to get a dog. We had a tiny apartment, we had two cats that might not respond well to a dog, especially a large one, we had limited time, even more limited money, and we had a dog named Bella who ended up living with Eric's mom because it just made more sense that way.

I had no logical reasons. I just knew I had to have a dog. Plus my doctor said I should so that totally made it a good idea.

A few weeks later I was visiting my mom and we decided to go look at some dogs. Her friend operates an animal rescue and she had been keeping an eye out for the perfect dog for me. When we arrived a group of dogs came up to the car.

There he was, standing patiently in.the back of the group. He had the head torso of a large dog, but was curiously close the ground with tiny legs that bowed out. He looked ridiculous, like somebody just stuck random pieces of a dog together with no rhyme or reason, and called it a day.

I knew instantly that I had to have him.

Later I learned that he was a mix between a shepard and a basset hound and his name was Winston. I showed Eric the pictures I snapped on our visit, and three weeks later, Winston was home.

That was eight months ago, and I can't imagine our little home without  him.

Life preserves

When I started this blog I wanted to share the sweet and beautiful things in my life. And it turns out, my life is full of these things, but along with the sweet comes the bitter.

Over the past year, Eric and I have been dealt some blows.
We ended up having to leave the city we love and move in with my mother to make ends meet. Eric didn't get accepted into the radiologic technology program for 2012. We lost family members, a very dear family friend, and our first pregnancy- twins.

I didn't get out of my pajamas during the month of August. I barely got out of bed, barely spoke without bursting into tears, barely lived.

In September I tried to quiet my mind from the questions, the what-ifs, and the realization that the reality of my future was going to be wildly different than the dream I expected to come true.

During this time I went on a creative binge. First, I cleaned my house from top to bottom, doing all of the little things one puts off, like organizing the tupperware.  Anything to not think of how sad I was. I made lamps, three of them, in fact. I made mini watermelon cupcakes, macaroons, wrapping paper, tags, and paintings.

Most of all, I made preserves.

As summer fruit came into season, I canned everything I could get my hands on. Standing over that hot stove for hours was my therapy. It was a way to pass the time when time seemed to have no meaning to me anymore. By the time Autumn came I had over 50 jars of preserved fruit. Each one containing all of my love and grief, ready to be given away to friends and family during the coming holidays. I can't say that making preserves healed my broken heart or cured my grief, but when I saw the jewel toned jars lining my shelves I was able to see a glimmer of hope in them. I could see the sweetness and beauty was not gone from my life forever.

Yesterday marked the start of my summer canning. This year is different. My life is different, better in most ways. It's still nice to see the jars lined up though. My reminder that life can be lovely.

Hello world.

So my foray into formal blogging went about as I expected. A flurry of exciting activity followed by deep neglect.

When I began this blog I had so much to say, so much to show people. I think I still do. But I know a bigger part of it was wanting a lifestyle without the work. I am smart, capable, crafty. I should be the Pioneer Woman, or Nicole from Making it Lovely. I have ideas and great communication. Shouldn't I just type a few sentences, post a few photos and magically have a book deal?

Maybe in another life. Because in this one, the world is over saturated with people like me, who really like to hear themselves talk. And that's okay. I may not ever get a book deal from my blog. I may never get sponsored posts or tons of followers, but I will get the satisfaction of putting my fingers on the keyboard and thoughts out of my brain. Here they are, in all of their glory, for all the internet to see.