I just deleted all my old posts

 I clicked the little box that chooses all my blog posts and I hit the trash can icon. 

I guess it's a way of saying that my life has a need to be refreshed. It's been refreshing and going through a heckuva lot of changes since my husband died almost 3 years ago and I started mourning him. It hit a huge milestone on the freeway of change when I started a full-time job in a profession I thought I'd turned my back on.  I'm now the news director for a radio station in Annapolis, Maryland. I find myself saying out loud to people "I love my job." 

I looked into the job because they had a need and I had the skills. It was as simple as that. My skills were sitting there, in the back of my mind, just waiting for the opportunity to be awakened. Unlike when I was fresh out of college, those skills are seasoned by experience, time, and being willing to learn from others. I have benefited from my relationships, some closer than others, with journalists, commentators, writers, and newsmakers.

Some might ask if you love your job so much why did you not stay with your profession. One might think that would be easy to answer. There is a simple answer. For the uninitiated in the art of love, preserving relationships, and sacrificing for the sake of others, it's hard to understand. But, what if I told you that my heart knows that I did what I needed to do for the sake of another's soul and that I'm okay with my decisions? 

I can hardly believe it myself.

If I am anything or nothing, at least I'm honest. Some say I go with G-d. Maybe that's true? 

Talk amongst yourselves.  

 

News from my sister--there isn't any...and other musings.

No news means it's not over yet.
My last post was about feelings of sympathy for my oldest sister who has been visiting a comatose friend in the hospital. Nothing new to report. My sister deals with her pain in what seems like a solitary-fashion to me.

Meantime, my parents visited a dear, decades old friend of theirs who has Alzheimer's.

Yup--my family has had less than fun times.

Some of my friends are having less than fun times as well. Just heard that a friend has been out of touch since December because she's been dealing with "elder care." Another got sick and had to be quarantined away from her husband with M.S.

Time is a warped thing. You grow up thinking about what things, events, milestones in life that are important. But, like a sand castle, easily toppled by a charging child, a gentle wave, or a gust of wind--those things just sort of disappear. They can be money, career, ambition, or dreams. So, with the naive dreams of a gal who should know better I write--can't we all just get along?

I'm getting so tired of the Presidential political poopy-poo. I'm getting so disappointed that real things that can assuage the anxieties of so many aren't getting discussed. I'm getting sad about the foreclosed homes on my block and directly across the street from my house.

I want to hear young children laughing and playing, not crying because they have to move.

Gosh. How I do adore those closest to me. So, I feel for them. I wish them all the gentleness of younger, healthier times -- times that are more exciting than they realize. I wish them the times that I hope they can one day look back upon and wistfully dream about.

The stuff you think you'll only experience by watching a TV drama

My oldest sister is visiting a friend, one she's known since Junior high, who is now in a drug-induced coma, in a Long Island hospital this morning. She's not going to come out of this coma. This is part of her dying. I know how close my sister and this woman are. They double dated together, cut class together, shopped, shared their life's pleasures and worries, everything friends do.

How do you say so long to a friend like that?

This was a person who shared in the delight in learning about your life's triumph's and shed tears with you when you sobbed about the disappointments. You didn't just invite them to your wedding, you made them part of your ceremony. If they got pregnant before you did, or got their period before you did, or knew of a doctor that you should go to, they were there. They were just there.

I don't know how not to cry when thinking about the tears my sister is swallowing so that she can drive on the Northern State or the Long Island Expressway to visit her friend, and walk through the hospital door. I don't kow what kind of anguish she is in when nobody is around. But, I think I feel that anguish now.

It just is.

Dr. Phil--just go away.

You heard the latest about Dr. Phil and some alleged "rouge" members of his staff bailing out a 17 year old girl-bashing teen. The staff were "reprimanded." Sure. I believe that. They were yelled at for getting caught!

Watch the FX TV show Dirt? If you do you see that the tabloid-zine depicted actually encourages staff, from writers, photographers and gophers, to do whatever it takes, to get a good story, photo, what-have-you to sell copies. (Just as long as the expense account doesn't suffer TOO much from it. But, they do buy lavish gifts to bribe sources and spend more money than most of us do for groceries.)

Well, don't tell me that Dr. Phil, who seems like a real control freak to me, didn't know that his producers would stoop to bailing out a teenager in order to get her on the air. Producers have to fling some "dirt" sometimes to get good guests. I've even heard (ok, overheard) some cable news outlet producers discuss what it would take to get celebrities to show up for events, that were OFF camera, in order to make their hosts happy.

Well, blame the lack of ethical-fortitude on supply-side economics. If the hosts, audiences, and networks suits didn't want the type of guests that we all gawk at, like the proverbial traffic accident, "rogue" producers wouldn't still be on the payroll at the Dr. Phil Show.

I'm just sick of the man. I didn't quite get what made self-made billionaires, Harpo, go gah-gah over him. I didn't think he offered anything that my own father didn't already offer. But, my dad has a less than charming (but very charming and warm to me) Brooklyn, NY accent, and Dr. Phil sounds like a cartoon character. I guess we tend to gawk at him too.

Why I don't blog much....

My friend, Chickaboomer, of Chickaboomer blog fame posted an entry on how blogging may be dangersous to ones health. The New York Times wrote an article on it that you can find here:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/technology/06sweat.html?ei=5065&en=1c3f36a3531123cb&ex=1208059200&partner=MYWAY&pagewanted=print
I started working out of a home office, in part, because I wanted to be less stressed. But most bloggers, who get paid for their writing, do it from home offices, and the article details the death by stress, or by unhealthy living habits that can develop when a person works from home.
Chickaboomer took some time off. I don't post much when I'm busy writing for clients.

The Internet has inspired new ways for people to keep tabs on one another. There's a Twitter account linked up to this blog. If I was so inclined, I could have text messaged to Twitter, an hour ago, that I took my 14 year old dog walking with a kid who is off from school today. Her parents work. She's hanging out with her grandparents and uncles who live across the street from me. She's got nothing to do other than to play video games, watch TV and hang out with my husband and me and our four dogs. Reading books isn't tops on her list. Well, she is in third grade. She might not have developed the reading skills to be able to get absorbed in the types of books that are as exciting as video-gaming to the hard rock-n-roll of the 70s and 80s; or shooting bad guys out of her anamorphic alter-ego. The good news is that she doesn't have the broadband access that will allow her to get hooked in the alter-worlds of social clubs on the Internet, including reading Twitter or blog posts.

I've often pondered in my writing here whether I would have anything worthy to muse about when compared to all the other blogs out there. Now I know I shouldn't worry so much about that. The volume of my posts don't earn me any money. My paid clients couldn't care less about my inner thoughts. I write for my own pleasure, mostly, and as a release of creative forms of thinking--or an outlet for my free-thoughts; those not tide to work that I'm (hopefully!) paid to perform.

How about you?

Just testing this clipart.

I've been searching on the web for some art that would go with my website...to give it a little animation when I post new stuff. How do you like the star?

Garnet got his license for 3 more years.

It is with great pleasure that I announce that the honorable Garnet the IV has had his federally sanctioned assistance dog license extended for three more years.

Garnet is the second assistance dog that my husband, Chuck Rich, has been blessed to have been teamed with by the fabulous folks at Canine Companions for Independence.

Last week Chuck and I attended a workshop for puppy raisers in our region that includes Virginia, Maryland and Washington, D.C.. There were easily 20 dogs, ranging in age from 12 weeks to at least 4 years old. I'm so proud of my "Mr. G" He didn't get all goofy and silly at the sight and smell of these puppies. He was in full uniform and was very disciplined.

Ok, he did sniff and touched muzzle-ever so briefly-with a rather petite hearing-assistance dog, a very pretty yellow law mix named Maya. She's a great working dog and her person, Kara, is very much in love with her. Kara also told her story. Maya has that same look of self-assurance and "I'll take care of you, friend" in her eyes that Garnet has. No wonder they touched muzzle!

The whole idea of our being at the workshop was to inspire the puppy raisers that no matter how hard the training may seem at this time, no matter how hard it will be to give that puppy back and turn-in to CCI, they should feel very, very proud of the role the played in raising the CCI dog.

Chuck and I both spoke to the puppy raisers and while we were there the CCI staff assessed how well Chuck and Garnet worked together. The result: Mr. G and my "Mr. R" have had their federal license renewed for three more years, which is the longest extension you get before you have to be tested again.

I started to choke up at the end of my presentation. You see, it would be very easy for my Mr R to not venture out in the world as much as he does. And, I don't know what it's going to be like to grow old with a man who is paralyzed from mid-chest and down. (I often misspell parplegic so correct my spelling if I got it wrong.) But, this dog is strong enough to help him move around, by pulling him in his chair. And, he cannot wait to get up and carry stuff for us. He loves working. He wakes up in the morning in a great mood, and reassures me whenever I spot him looking at me or being my "watch dog." Now, that's what he does for me. What he does for Chuck, Chuck will have to write about one day.

I've always been a dog person, ever since I was young. If you go to the Rich Dogs blog on blogger.com you'll find some of the posts I've written about my connection to my pet dogs. (Yes, Garnet lives with three other dogs and is part of a dynasty of great dogs that have graced our lives. And,I mean it. They've all graced our lives.)

I've got anxieties about the future that Garnet, and his predecessor, Greg, have helped calm. I wish everybody would look at a dog in a work vest the same way I do. They are my heroes and my best friends. I respect them. In return, they give me so much more.

CCI Dogs

Went to a puppy training presentation today in Columbia, MD with my husband Chuck, and his faithful helper dog, Garnet IV. I'm so proud of my husband and his k-9 partner.
More on this tomorrow.