Softie or Just a Sucker?

Love and compassion may be a gift, however; if one has too much can take you apart, one piece at a time.

The latest piece was chipped off when I read about "KYE" the Oklahoma Police (canine) that defended his partner and in return was stabbed to death.

Please don't tell me it is just a dog, this won't help.

I am still wallowing in pain just thinking about it.  On June 14th, I had to put down my beloved Great Pyrenees, "Pepe."  Pepe spent 11.5 years as my constant companion, confidante, He was at my side for surgeries, a separation, when my children left for college.  He asked nothing but a bowl of dry food in return, and a hug or two during the day.

I still mourn the loss.

Right before Pepe went to the "Bridge" I welcomed a two-month old Newfoundland puppy, "Magie Noire" to the household.

While Pepe loved her, she is a handful.  besides downing a bottle of -amoxicillin and on another occasion, Gloucosomine-  She  destroyed my coffee table, blinds and has turned white walls black. My carpets were replaced with laminate, as there wasn't an inch that hadn't been christened!

She will be a year on September 14th, and she is still a terror.

I guess I can actually Blame a bit of the drain on her, can't I?

As a child, my mother accused me of dragging in every stray cat and dog home for dinner.  Earlier on, I can remember a playmate coming over to the house for just a piece of sugar and bread. it seems I am a magnet to the homeless and hurting souls with whom I come in contact.

I probably am guilty of living in the past, feeling a bit too sorry for myself at times.  Which is why I have neglected my blog for almost a year.  I can't force myself to produce or act if the inspiration or motivation isn't there.

I am not sure if compassion drains you or makes you.  I am not convinced it is a gift.  Maybe i have been too self-centered.  To focused on the "me" instead of reaching out to help others.  It is just that I get so drained, I can't act.

Medication doesn't help all that much.  I think I have addressed and dressed down every issue to get back on tract.

My twitter followers (though a humble group) have been cut in half.

Know this: I am working to gain my ground back, and am looking forward to good things for 2015.

Is it really almost time for Christmas again? Oh this is my most vulnerable time of the year.

I will have to stop myself for looking for love in all the wrong places.

My God! His Haircut Even Trumped the Beatles

What if he had lived...I will always remember the day our beloved President was shot.  I know where I was, at the end of my childhood as an innocent and naive twelve-year-old.  I grew up in Miami Beach, Florida.  This is a second home to millions of Cuban-Americans.  On that horrible day, tears streamed down their faces in the halls at Nautilus Jr. High School.  Nothing could be changed, it was a permanent scar etched in our hearts forever.

This week, I sat motionless in from of my television set, feeling emply and lost looking at the images of a man that was so far ahead of his time.  My God! even his haircut trumped the Beatles!  He was a first on so many levels; he fought for human rights, women's rights, and countless other issues.

We couldn't afford to loose a man like John Fitzgerald Kennedy.  But we did.  I don't feel we have actually lost him when I look at those fresh images of himself and Jacqueline.  They looked so happy, so young, so eager to face life head-on.

I think back on the Kennedy history. It is not lore that tragedy has struck this family.  It has been said that the Kennedy's were risk takers, but; it is no accident that so many Kennedy's lost their lives at the prime of their lives. 

Was it a curse? or just dumb luck? 

We might never know.  I just can't stop thinking of all the senseless tragedies this family incurred.

I can't tune out the images and reflecting on this man; what he was, how much more he would have become, had he lived.

It just wasen't meant to be.  It just wasen't meant to be. I say to myself.  I feel cheated, and angry but can't reconcile the truth:

There are monsters among us that are determined to take away the great people in this world.

Still I feel privileged to be able to look back on the cherished two years he was with us:

"The rain may never fall till after sundown.
By eight, the morning fog must disappear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot.'

The Law of Gravity


It was Christmas time, filled with glee and the promise of a new year; I always want to contact friends, especially those that I haven't seen in a long time.
I imagine what they look like if I haven't been in touch. How they've aged, if they are heavy or thin, healthy or ill, what hands' life has dealt them.  It fills my heart with joy to hear their voices, because whether or not they have aged 'gracefully', they remain the same to me. 
A close and long-time friend told me she had lunched with a mutual friend. "Denise, you would never recognize Dean, he is all bent over." Yes, I was saddened to hear this about my dear friend Dean, but you know what? When I spoke to him at Christmas, he was the same, funny man I remember in his youth. Still witty, charming and fun. Nothing had changed, we could pick up on the phone where we left off 37 years ago. 
I am not convinced one can actually age 'gracefully'. 
There is no doubt this is my personal goal, but I can't control the gene factor. For example, how to control a sagging neck, or how many smile lines will etch my face. Whenever I catch myself being vain, (pulling on my neck to make it smooth), I always stop myself and think:

Geez, how lucky I am to feel wonderful and have my health. Yes, I know it is a cliche, but so true. 
I live in an apartment complex with Section 8 people, some critically ill - most younger than I - with chronic illnesses. One neighbor confided: "You know, when I was diagnosed with MS, I found out at work. I remember getting up from my office chair and walking out." 
Apparently, so shocked and saddened by this horrible news she made her exit and never returned. 
As far as aging 'gracefully', is it overrated? 
I suppose if I were independently wealthy, I might have the nip and tuck done here and there. We can never control other issues. For example, what about my hands? Anybody can look at hands and usually tell the person's age. You can't hide it for long. Those lucky enough to have completely smooth and youthful hands may be stricken with arthritis. 
Americans' are the vainest of all countries. No country in the world puts such a huge premium on weight and appearances. Could this account for all the depression, anxiety and neurosis we have? 
While I don't want to look like 20 miles of back country road, I am going to make an honest effort and look at myself in the mirror and repeat my new mantra: 
"The old gray mare ain't what she used to be" but she ain't bad looking at all!