the doggy “brother”

He’s turning eight soon. We know this, because when we bought him from the breeder, he came with a birth certificate. It listed his mom and dad, and date of birth. He was born one day after Sonja’s birthday, and I took that as a sign; that and the fact that when we went to pick out a puppy, he was the only one out of the litter that stood still to observe us.

There has been so many wonderful moments with him, and some we actually manage to catch on camera. He’s really cute when he wakes up from his five hour morning nap, too.

i am having an outside day

An amazingly beautiful day.

Strolling along the bike path.

Reminding my niece to stop at the street and look both ways.

Finding treasures.

Looking up. How can it be that blue?

to grandpa’s house we go

There’s always something to roll in at grandpa’s.

new star, new memories

So, yes, the dog ate the Christmas star.  I’ll admit that I almost cried.  These sort of things have been known to temporarily shatter my Christmas calm, because I really enjoy the memories that come out with the traditions every year.  The very first thing we put on the top of our Christmas tree 14 years ago was a picture of Sonja on Santa’s lap.  I figured that was close enough to an angel to please tradition.  It continued until 2007 and we were sent a 3-D star Julekort from our cousins in Denmark.  That topped the tree until this year. 

I was in a bit of a dilemma.  I mean, sure, I could probably pick up a star for the top of the tree at any store, but it would just be a replacement and not have any significant anything to thrill me when I put it on the tree.  I was sure that every time I saw it, I would think, “Thanks, dog, for eating the other star.  Not.”

I had to take a trip back to MCC to pick up more kit bags, and since they run Ten Thousand Villages, I thought I would just do a quick browse while right there.  And yes, they had a tree star, a tin one made in India, and it is now on the top of the tree.  And every time I see it, I will remember the year that Elena decided to go all Christmas elf on me, and I will remember the MCC kit Christmas. 

That’s more than memorable enough for me!

fear not

I wanted to assure everyone that things have not been boring around here.  Don’t worry.  Just in case you were in the least concerned that there is a current dearth of events, happenings and outings, I am here to let you all know that that has not been the case.  I am not bored.  Repeat.  NOT.

Dec. 1:  The Christmas tree was delivered.

Dec. 2:  The ever-so-slightly-miniature kransekage was iced after I discovered that I forgot to make a couple of the layers.

Dec. 3:  Managed to trip twice at work.  Fell into a Christmas tree both times.  They are surprisingly cushy.  Went to the Danish Christmas dinner only slightly bruised.

Dec. 4:  Went carolling with the girls and the Sunday School.  We were pulled around town on a flat bed trailer with hay bales.  Awesome fun time!  Cold, too!

Dec. 5:  (A.M.)  Spent most of the morning Christmas shopping in my bathrobe.  Came to the realization that for most of the presents, I would have to get dressed and leave the house.  (P.M.) Dog ate the Christmas tree star.  It was not on the tree at the time.

Dec. 6:  That’s tomorrow!

lost under the pile

I have a love/hate relationship with organizing. 

I love how great it is after everything is reorganized.

I hate the mess that getting organized makes.  (And where to put all the displaced stuff that I don’t want to throw out but have no place to store?)

I could pull out my hair at how quickly it all becomes disorganized again.

Ugggh.

I think somebody needs to go for a walk right now.  I’ll take the dog with me.

he’s gonna be awesome

I’m not speaking from experience right now, but I think I’m onto something.  I had an epiphany last night, realizing that our dog is going to live (more than likely, according to the vet) until Sonja is 21.  That’s 7 additional dog filled years. 

2006-ish, before the Olympus Pen

And I realized something else, as Sonja and her friends start their teen and dating years, with the highs and the lows and the first broken hearts; that really, she’s got the best buffer anyone could ask for.  She’s got mom and dad, and our advice and sympathy, of course, but she’s also got a warm, sloppy, drooly basset ear to cry into, instead of a soggy pillow.  Really, he’s going to be awesome. 

A friend’s reaction to her daughter’s recent heart-break is what triggered this train of thought.  Heaven knows I love my girls, but I also know that I can’t predict the future, I can’t know where decisions will take them, and I can’t live their lives for them.  Heartbreak is a part of life.  Sympathy, empathy and love are a part of it, too. 

Including boyfriends and the sloppy, drooly basset.