It's never to early to flirt

I was on the bus this morning, running off of six hours of sleep as usual, when I realized I was wanting to make googly eyes at this cute guy in aviator sunglasses.

Then I thought "Elise, it's too early to flirt." But then it occurred to me, we never really turn the flirting off. Morning, noon and night, even in our dreams, we are constantly interacting with those guys in aviator glasses, or at least wishing we were.

We never turn it off. And maybe that's what gets us through the day, a healthy dose of sultry gazes and flashy grins. Too bad we rarely ever approach, but just flirt from afar.

So boy in aviator sunglasses, I will continue to gaze at you from my seat four rows back no matter how early the bus ride. As for the guy that just sat next to me wearing two too many bottle of cologne, it's just too damn early.

Smoke Signals

One of the simplest yet purest joys in life is the love shared between man and his best friend. (Yes ladies, this goes for you as well.)

I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't have some furry friend running around, laying at my feet or cuddling up to me in bed. Perhaps that's part of the reason I thought I wanted to be a vet. Animals are a huge part of my life. But they are so much more than animals, they become a part of the family. 

And so when one passes, it's like losing a sibling or a child.

We had an original little pack of pets who were around for most of my childhood.

Whiskers was the first. Followed by her daughter Soukie, Bowie, Smoke, Bear and Patches. 

They all lived fairly long lives, with Whiskers living to about 16. 

But one by one, they started to pass away, leaving only a memory. It was almost like they were all a packaged deal, and it just wasn't right if they all weren't together. 

Bowie was my mom's dog. When he passed it was exceptionally hard. He was the last living link to my life with my mom. He really was the best dog. 

Eventually it came down to Smoke and Bear. The final two. 

I remember I named Smoke when he was just a baby because his eyes looked all smokey. He was a lover and a cuddler, always wanting to come inside when it was cold. 

He was my first kitten.

Smoke passed away just recently, leaving behind a bit more empty space in our hearts and a few more tears to shed. 

Unfortunately I wasn't there for his final moments. But I will always remember little Smoke and his bedroom eyes.

This is an account of Smoke from my Dad. He asked that I share. 

Be sure to have your tissues near by. It's a tear jerker. 

I had to have Smoke put down the other day.  He was my cat.  He was 13.  I had had him since he was a kitten.  He had been quite a scrapper in his prime, although he was always affectionate.  He would never miss the opportunity to rub up against me and purr out his emotions whenever I was outside.  He would always be waiting for me in the driveway when I would return from my evening walk with my chow mix Bear.  He’d walk back to the house with me, expecting his required daily dose of my affection.

But he developed cancer of the jaw some months ago.  When the vet diagnosed it, he told me that Smoke wouldn’t have a lot of time.  His chin kept growing, stretching the skin, I suppose, to the point where it was always raw.  Over the last few weeks I noticed that he was eating less and less from the plastic food bowl that he had always used.  I would notice him jockeying around the bowl trying to get a better vantage point for getting at his food, so I replaced his bowl with a small flat ceramic dish from my kitchen with a gay little illustration of bunnies with the inscription “Happy Rabbit Family On A Picnic.”  I thought he might more easily be able to negotiate his food into his mouth from a flat surface.  I would mound up his food to make it as easy to get to as possible.  It helped for a time, but he continued to eat less and less, and I noticed that he would end up pushing a good portion of his food off one side of the dish in his struggle to get the food into his mouth.

With each day he appeared thinner and more haggard.  He finally stopped eating entirely.  At meal time he would be waiting and mewing, and rubbing against my legs as he always did, but he wouldn’t touch his food, hungry as he was, because he could no longer move his mouth properly.  His tongue and his teeth were being contorted by the abnormal growth of the underlying bone. I couldn’t let him go on like that.  He was slowly wasting away.

When I carried him into the vet’s office, one of his assistants, seeing the emotional mess that I was,  quickly ushered me into a little examination room directly off the waiting room that I had never been in before.  The thought occurred to me that this must be the killing room.  Smoke quietly purred on my lap, and occasionally looked up at me, as I gently stroked him, and I wondered if he had any inkling of how little life he had left.  After several minutes the vet and his assistant came in and the vet, upon seeing Smoke’s distorted jaw, remarked “Oh, I can see right away, it’s his time.”  He told me that he would give Smoke an injection that might sting a little, and that in four to five minutes, he would fall into a “deep slumber”.  They placed him on the stainless steel examination table and administered the shot without so much as a flinch from Smoke.  They gave him back to me, and, as he quietly laid on my lap, with tears streaming down my face, the life slowly and peacefully flowed out of him.  After a few minutes he gave a slight little gasp that accompanies the transition from life to death.  I kept trying to close his eyes, but they refused, staring blankly, wide eyed.  I placed him on the exam table, and I waited for the vet to return while Smoke continued to stare at me through unseeing eyes.

When the vet’s assistant returned she asked me if I would like a little box to put him in, and I told her yes.  She took him into the adjacent room, and, after several minutes, she returned with a small cardboard box that still had the UPS label on it addressed to the vet.  The box was neatly taped shut, and it struck me as rather too small to hold the body of my little friend.  I thanked her, and, as I left, she gave me an assuring pat and told me that she was sorry.

As I drove home with my little parcel on the floor next to me, I thought about how we all end up in the same place.  In a little box.  I anguished over the decision that I had had to make over his life or death, and I considered how pointless and insignificant are our grievances and jealousies, our imagined slights and resentments, our grasping and lusting and envying with which we waste so much of our energy, emotion, and precious time. Death can have such a clarifying quality.  It can so sharpen perception and perspective.  Follow your passion.  Live life to its fullest.  Don’t sweat the small stuff.  Love, and hopefully, find love.  We have so little time.

I buried Smoke in the little patch of ground behind my house which has become the little unmarked cemetery for the many dogs and cats that have shared my home over the years. I’m left with just Bear.  He’s a digger.  I’m always having to repair areas of the yard that he’s dug up.  He’s an escape artist too.  I have two acres of fenced ground for him to run around on, yet he runs out of the front gate every chance he gets.  He’s a pain in the butt, but he’s a good dog. 

He’s about ten years old now.  I wonder how much life he has left.  I wonder how much life I have left.  I hate to think about his death.  When he dies, I don’t think I’ll have another pet.  It’s too painful when it’s their time.

-------------------------

I have my babies now, Dakota, Lily and Mistofelees. Occasionally it will hit me that one day they too will pass, and I start to cry. But we can't live life that way. So I cuddle up to Lily at night, snuggle with Bug on his pillow, and let Misto sit on top of my computer while I type, no matter how in the way he is. And I cherish every moment.

If you have never experienced the love of a pet, you haven't experienced unconditional love. It's the purest form of love you may ever know.

So here's to our friends, family and loved ones, furry or not. May we always remember what is important and not take anything for granted. Life is precious, sweet and so, so short. If you leave nothing else behind on this earth, leave behind love. It's all that really matters. 

Rest In Peace Smoke.

I'll be watching for your smoke signals. 

Mad About Mad Men

My newest obsession is a little ol' television show you may have heard of, MAD MEN.

I don't know if it's the costumes, 

the era, 

the sex appeal,

or just the men.

But there's just something about the show that keeps pulling me in.

It became available on Netflix instant view and I'd heard good things, so I decided to give it a try. I am now almost done with Season 2! 

For those of you who don't know, the show focuses on the advertising men of Sterling Cooper, located in NYC on Madison Avenue, hence, Mad Men. It is centered around 

Donald Draper

The head of the Creative Department at Sterling Cooper. He has a buried past, a cocky attitude, is a total womanizer, and a total hottie.

Betty Draper

The desperate housewife of Draper, she goes from unhappy to miserable in the first few seasons and finds out some unsettling secrets about Don. They appear to be the perfect couple, but there's much more than meets the eye.

Peggy Olson

Peggy starts out as Draper's secretary, but her creativity soon becomes apparent and she starts to make her way up in the company as the first female copy writer of Sterling Cooper. 

Roger Sterling

A partner of Sterling Cooper, Roger's getting older but his sex drive definitely hasn't called it quits. He's a drinker, a womanizer, and of course an absolute dream.

 Peter Campbell

Pete is head of accounts and desperately wants Draper's job. He's a newlywed, with a baby-desperate wife, and will climb over anyone and anything to get what he wants. 

Joan Holloway

Joan is the head secretary of the office. She is the epitome of sex appeal and catches the eye of every man she encounters. She is a total "marilyn". 

The show revolves around alcohol, 

advertisement, 

relationships, 

and sex.

Lots and lots of sex...

So if you like drama, awesome sets and costumes, sex appeal, and a look into the past, I recommend you give MAD MEN a shot. 

You definitely won't regret it... unless of course you have something against hot older men and voluptuous babes. 

Happy Viewing!

xoxo

The Women

"There is in every true woman's heart, a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity" - Washington Irving 

Women are beautiful and mysterious things. They are sensitive but strong, humble but prideful, quick to anger but quick to forgive. Women are "sparks of heavenly fire." But what makes a woman, a woman? 

Society tries to define a woman by her looks. Every magazine cover shows us what we should find alluring, what we should find beautiful. The perfect woman is a size 0 and likes long walks on the beach. 

But is it really about how a woman looks? Is it about the size of her waist or the color of her eyes?

Brown eyes may be beautiful, blue eyes may be too. But it's what she sees with those eyes that really makes a woman. 

A woman can see beauty in everything. A woman looks at the world and sees it filled with opportunity, a land just waiting to be conquered. She sees the hurtles and struggles ahead, but she sees how to get past them. She sees the possibilities, the possibilities which are limitless. 

She sees in her friends and in her family a beauty which they do not see in themselves. 

She brings out the best in those around her. But she does not embellish her own achievements. 

She is humble and graceful, willing to help anyone who asks. And stretching out a hand to those too proud to ask for it. 

She lives for others, but does not forget herself.  

When a woman walks, she carries herself with pride but also with elegance and grace. 

She walks but almost dances, making everyone a part of her ballet. 

When she speaks, it's with fluidity and is almost like a song, making everyone want to sing.

 When she smiles, the whole room lights up, casting a shine on everyone around her. 

When she enters a room, all eyes turn to her, her grace and beauty making every head turn. 

A woman is sure in herself. She is confident and sexy. But not because she's cocky, but because she knows who and what she is and knows the path which she is walking down. 

A woman listens but doesn't judge. She gives advice but doesn't push it. She wipes away the tears when the times are tough. She forgives but doesn't forget. 

A true woman is a diamond, a rare gem buried in a pile of rocks. 

So if you are lucky enough to find yourself acquainted with such a woman, treasure her, learn from her, love her. 

I have my women, my gems,  my rocks. 

We may not all be as close as we once were. We may not live in the same city, go to the same school, or even share the same interests. But at one point, you made my life beautiful. You made my life bright, made me dance, made me sing, made me smile. 

So this post is dedicated to you ladies. You who have held my hair, dried my tears, made me laugh, and showed me all of what a woman is, what a woman can be.

So to my fellow women, don't take your ladies for granted. True women and friends are few and far between. 

Stop trying to make life a competition. Look around you. See the beauty that lies within your grasp, the happiness you can give and the friendship you can gain. 

These are my women. 

Who are yours?

xoxo

Defining Your Future

There are decisions in life that won't always be easy to make. And perhaps the most important decision, which we are, in my opinion, required to make way too early, is what you will do with the rest of your life. 

Your career. 

It's something that haunts us until we escape the realm of college, and even then we may not have escaped it fully. 

From the time we can talk, our parents, aunts, uncles, friends of parents and even strangers have been drilling the same question into our malleable brains,

"What do you want to be when you grow up??" 

I think that is half of the problem. "What do you want to be?"

From the beginning we are making our careers define us.

I am a doctor. I am a photographer. I am a student. Does that really define who you are? 

So let's say that it does. How do you even go about deciding how to define yourself? 

Our parents tell us that we can be whatever we want. We could be an astronaut if our heart so desired! Hell! We could all be heart surgeons if we want it badly enough! Right?

Ehh.... not so much. 

Well, correction. Sometimes people do achieve the impossible, but the results... well that's another post entirely.

We are kind of set up for failure right from the beginning.  We really believe that we can achieve anything. But then you arrive at your grand university and find that you really don't match up with others in certain classes and find yourself being weeded out by intro courses. 

But wait! You were so skilled in high school! "My mommy told me I can do anything!" But some of us just aren't skilled enough in the areas required for becoming an astronaut or a brain surgeon. 

And so, those childhood dreams go right out the window. 

And we are back to square one. 

So by this point you may have wasted a few semesters or maybe even a few years before you realize your chosen major really isn't for you. Hopefully you have really only been taking the pre-reqs and can use them towards your next major. But how do you even go about deciding what that should be?

You have had one mindset for so long, a picture of what your future will look like. And now you have to repaint. 

So, how do you go about deciding what is the best for you? 

Let me say from experience, that you have to do what makes you happy. Cliche? Probably. But it's the best advice I can give from one struggling student to another. 

I have changed my major about four times now. I wanted to be a veterinarian from about the time I was being asked "what I wanted to be". I loved animals! So what better career than a vet!

So I came to the grand ol' University of Florida where they told me that Pre-Vet wasn't actually a major, but I could pick "anything I wanted to" (there's that evil lie again) and still do pre-reqs for vet. 

Being the creative person that I am, I decided to go with Photography in the college of Art. 

BIG MISTAKE! 

I'm not saying that it's impossible, but it's definitely not probable for a working student who actually wants to have a life. 

So after failing chemistry one too many times, I decided that I needed to just focus on the pre-vet and cut out all of the art courses. 

Long story short, I went from Photography to Undecided and finally to Animal Sciences. And then I finally realized that it wasn't because of the art courses that I had failed miserably. I was just incompetent when it came to math and sciences. 

So, I looked deep into my magic mirror and asked "Oh magic mirror, what will make me happy?"

And after really asking myself what I can truly see myself doing in the years to come, I decided on Photojournalism. (Ironic that I started and ended with Photo eh?)

And here I am today. And guess what? I am happy! Still struggling (Reporting's a total drag), but happy nonetheless. 

So confused freshman and sophomores (I'm hoping there aren't any juniors and seniors), I guess what I'm trying to say is look into yourself and ask yourself what YOU want to do. Who YOU want to be. 

Don't worry about what your parents want or what your grandparents want. 

Your parents want you to be a lawyer but you really want to delve into theater? Go for it. It is YOUR life. YOU define it. Not your career and not your parents. 

So as you go into this new year, keep in mind that what you may have planned for your future may not actually be the plan at all. Be open to change, and most importantly, be open to happiness. 

Happy Studying!

xoxo