Tag: Houston

Blog + Dog, In My Own Words, Lifestyle

On Anxiety: Getting Lost in the Woods

RaeAnna

If this isn’t your first time here, you’ve probably noticed I have anxiety. That would be because I talk about it A LOT. It’s a huge part of my life and dictates a good portion of how I live and my internal musings. Lately, anxiety has been dousing me with an extra helping or twelve, and it has really been affecting everything from sleep to productivity to mostly sleep.

Beau looking back at me… Neither of us knew where we were or where we were going.

I’ve never been a big sleeper. Part of that comes from my natural circadian rhythm: I just don’t need tons of sleep to feel peppy, focused, and productive. The other part is my eternal FOMO. I have had a fear of missing out since I was an infant, which is long before that term entered the patois. My parents will be the first to say that I would not sleep if there was even an inkling of something happening. I remember being about three years old, hopping out of bed during my nap to have a listen at the door because I wanted to know what was happening: Mom was watching a soap opera, but damnit I was not going to miss out on what was going on in Susan’s third husband’s love child’s second marriage (I just made that up, but I’m sure that’s come up at least thrice). The longer I sleep the more I miss out on: time to work, time to play, time to be awake and do nothing but at least I won’t miss anything while I’m awake doing nothing. 

As much as I don’t want to sleep, I do, in fact, need it. Anxiety keeps me up more than anything else. This isn’t new. I remember being eight and having a borderline anxiety attack (although I did not have the words for it then) about growing up and having to file taxes and also decide what my major in college would be. I ONLY HAD ELEVEN YEARS TO FIGURE IT OUT. Yeah, I was a weirdo then. Nothing has changed. As an adult, my anxieties are a bit more grounded in reality, but in eight year old me’s defense, those are real things to worry about… Just maybe not at eight years old.

Three weeks ago, I was in the midst of an anxiety spiral over some very real problems. Some of which have since been solved, yay! I couldn’t stop. It started on Sunday and reached its zenith Tuesday night. I hadn’t slept much, which was fine. I was nowhere near a psychotic episode, although anxiety said differently. Tuesday night, I did not sleep a wink. Not one bit. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, stewing. I eventually did a bunch of reading, writing, working, and then in a desperate attempt to dumb my mind, hopped on TikTok. Beau was snuggled between my legs, content with the consistent inconsistency of her mother at nighttime. 

Beau’s got this. She led the way. The way to nowhere helpful.

By 5:30 am, I had sufficiently given sleep my every effort and failed. The only failure I have been able to accept with out personal devastation. With the energy of a sleep deprived human—it’s actually quite a lot; after years of sleep deprivation, I am one of the most energetic and positive exhausted people in the history of the world—I literally skipped into my closet, put on running clothes, dressed Beau in her running gear (aka harness), woke up Dylan, let the puppies out/fed them, and ran out the door. 

Exercise is one of my least favorite activities. I loathe it, but it is something I do with regularity because it is incredibly good for our bodies, brains, emotions, and overall health. COVID halted that, but I’m trying to slowly work myself back into life. 

Running is at the tippy top of exercise I hate, which is exactly the reason I turn to it when I’m dealing with inordinate amounts of stress and anxiety. It takes equal parts determination and pain to start and keep going, making it the perfect mental distraction. Beau has come to look forward to times of high anxiety because she gets lots of walkies. 

My neighborhood has tons of walking trails and parks. Beau isn’t the easiest dog in the world to walk. She wants to sniff all the things, chase any bird/leaf/squirrel, and zig zap like it’s an Olympic sport, but I like getting the alone time with my OG (Original Girl). She knows the drill, we head out the door straight for the walking track just down the road. We did one lap before a walk on the woodsy trail. 

I decided to confuse Beau and do something different: Head onto the dirt trails deeper into the woods. The Iowa girl in me loves exploring nature. Living in Houston, there is a stark lack of hills and woods, though we have amazing parks and walking trails. My neighborhood has some unexplored woods, and this was the day to dive in. 

Beau lead the way. She loves getting to zig zag without Mommy holding her back. Every fork in the path, Beau chose the direction. I was doing a good job tracking each turn… at first. For, maybe, the first two or three forks. A gazillion forks in… I was starting to think there was a potential of being lost. An hour and ten minutes into our walk-run, I decided it was time to turn around. As we made our way home, after several turns… I realized we were lost. For realsies lost. I knew where I was adjacent to my house, but getting there via trail or off trail was a completely different story. 

At one point, I found a nice little, green sign nailed to a tree at one of many, many forks, denoting the paths: Rabbitt Pun and Creekside. I let Beau choose Creekside because I truly had no idea which one to take… or if we’d even seen that on our adventure in. We followed the path choosing another fork. Next thing I knew, I was back at the intersection of Rabbitt Pun and Creekside. Frustrated, I took Rabbit Pun. Obviously Beau’s career as a Sherpa in Nepal is looking quite grim. After choosing another two forks, we were ONCE AGAIN facing Rabbitt Pun and Creekside. I looked at Beau, who looked at me, who looked at the sign. My future as a Sherpa in Nepal is just as grim. 

My anxiety had found a new and far more tangible outlet. We were officially lost in the woods. 

In a desperate attempt to navigate homeward, I pulled up Google maps. Not helpful. It gave me directions from the nearest road. From the nearest road, it was a two and a half mile walk… According to Google we were about a mile, as the crow flies, from that road. My blue dot showed me standing in the middle of green space. 

Luckily, there were beautiful scenes to see.

Off we went, once more on Rabbitt Pun. It felt like the right choice. About twenty minutes later, with no familiar physical indicator, we ran into a man and his two dogs. Beau was excited for company, and I was excited for directions. 

We managed to find our way out of the woods… Nowhere near where we entered them, but out we were. What was going to be an hour walk turned into a two hour and forty-five minute walk, nine mile walk. Not at all a fast pace, but there was a lot of confused twirling in the woods. 

Beau was thoroughly exhausted and over the moon with joy. I was tired and running late to work at Amanda’s shop, luckily, she didn’t care. My anxiety had found a realistic outlet. Between the utter lack of sleep and long walk, I was able to sleep later that night. 

Anxiety’s a bitch. I’ve found my ways of coping with it. 

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

Books, Fiction

Forging Friendships in The Rose Code by Kate Quinn

RaeAnna
Reading The Rose Code by Kate Quinn in my friend’s rose bush. | Dress | Watch |

Worth A Read Yes
Length 621
Quick Review Three young women from drastically different backgrounds converge on Bletchley Park in 1940 and meet the consequences head on in the days leading up to Princess Elizabeth’s wedding in 1947. 

Kate Quinn does an exceptional job at creating three complex and intriguing women in her heroines: Osla, Mab, and Beth. The Rose Code is lovely historical fiction featuring fictionalized versions of real people and composites of real people. Full of friendship, intrigue, loyalty, war, love, and searching for meaning, Quinn creates the captivating world of 1940’s Bletchley Park, England to dive into. 

When there is more than one protagonist, I find myself identifying with one over the others and dredging through the others’ narratives until it finally comes back round to the one I like best. Quinn focuses on three women from drastically different backgrounds with an amazing ability to make them all equally likeable, disagreeable, moving, and interesting. I enjoyed each one’s narrative, and found myself rooting for all of them to “win”. Osla is a smart debutante from high society. Mab is a tall working girl from London. Beth is a good Christian daughter. They all struggle with the role society has dictated for them in the midst of being a woman during war time. 

Women were an integral part of the war effort in every country and culture. From the U.S. to Britain to Algeria to Russia to Japan, women played key roles. These women were forced back into their boxes after the war without a thank you or much acknowledgement for their commitment, secrecy, and love of country. Quinn challenges the idea that men were the only ones to fight in the war and earn wounds. Women may not have fought on the front lines [depends on the country and how much you dig into history], but they were an integral part of the fight. Britain’s intelligence would have collapsed without women’s efforts; “Bletchley Park and it’s outstations had four women to every man…” The Rose Code does not just stop at the role they played at the time; Quinne discusses at length, throughout the entirety of the novel, the erasure of women from history and common knowledge. She tackles it head on particularly in the segment 

“Where were all those women now? How many men who had fought in the war now sat reading their morning newspapers without realizing the woman sitting across from them at the breakfast table had fought, too? Maybe the ladies of BP hadn’t faced bullets or bombs, but they’d fought—oh, yes, they’d fought. And now they were dismissed as housewives, schoolteachers, silly debs and they just bit their tongues and hid their wounds.”

Osla, Mab, and Beth may be the focus of the novel, but they represent the countless women in Britain, Europe, and around the world who put their lives on hold and at risk to fight for their countries in the only way they were allowed. Without reward, thanks, or even recognition, these women worked tirelessly. 

The Rose Code by Kate Quinn

Quinn attempts to tackle the inequality of history in a variety of ways. Though her historical novel is hefty, there’s not enough room to adequately deconstruct all the inequities women and people of color faced. Racial inequality and racism are put under scrutiny through the book club’s reading of Gone with the Wind and the Egyptian-Maltese-Arab character of Harry Zarb. A look into the dark space that is an asylum. Beth is committed. Rather than being mentally unstable, she has knowledge. Throughout history, when a woman was difficult, intelligent, or an heiress, they were locked away in asylums, drugged into a state of mental decay. Quinn also explores the way these imprisoned women were exploited sexually. I’m glad she doesn’t leave these issues out of the novel, but they could have been explored deeper and more meaningfully. 

I love Osla, Mab, and Beth. I see myself in each one of them for different reasons. Osla is judged solely on her appearance. Mab had to work hard for everything she has. I identified most completely with Beth: the good, Christian daughter, who stands up for herself against her domineering mother after being told she is dim the entirety of her life as her doormat of a father stood by. This bit lit me up inside: 

“I’m your father. I have the right—” 
“No, you don’t.” Beth looked him in the eye. “You didn’t stop her throwing me out. You never defended me. You never told me I was clever, even though I can do the Sunday crossword ten times faster than you. You never told me I was anything.”

It is the story of so many women and girls. It’s the story of my own adolescence told in a tiny nutshell. 

The Rose Code is Quinn’s way of critiquing modern society through the use of historical fiction. The world has come a long way since war time 1940s, but in so many ways, it hasn’t progressed all that much. We still hold the same work done by men on a pedestal while reducing women’s to nothing more than “fluff”, “If you were a man and you wrote funny pieces about daily life, they called it satire. If you were a woman and you wrote funny pieces about daily life, they called it fluff.” On the surface it may seem like a social critique of the past, but the society and standards Osla, Mab, and Beth live in are still far too au courant. 

Memorable Quotes
“It sounded very poetic: “What lies at the center of a rose?” but it wasn’t the poetry that entranced Beth, or the scent. It was the pattern.”
“The men shifted at the word brassiere, and Osla nearly rolled her eyes. Point out a security leak and they shrugged; mention a woman’s underclothes and everyone got in a wax.”
“How much she hated being a woman sometimes: forever underpaid and underestimated and betrayed by your own body.”

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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Title: The Rose Code
Author: Kate Quinn
Publisher: WilliamMorrow
Copyright: 2021
ISBN: 9780062943477

In My Own Words, Lifestyle

COVID Came For Us; We Almost Didn’t Make It

RaeAnna
Getting my first Pfizer vaccination.
Getting my second Pfizer vaccine.

It’s been four months almost to the day since we found out we had COVID. By we, I mean Dylan and I. 

Over the last four months, I have been silent. I haven’t publicly spoken or written about our COVID experience at the beginning of this year. There has been so much guilt in my heart and soul about having COVID. I am still struggling with that guilt, but as a writer, I can’t stay silent not while this pandemic rages on. I feel shame over having COVID. Like I need to keep it a secret and not talk about it, but I’m not an ostrich. My head does not belong in the sand, and I’ve never been one to shy away from telling the truths, my truths before.  People are still complaining about wearing masks, fighting the harsh reality, saying it’s a conspiracy, claiming the vaccine is dangerous. 

I am an immunocompromised human. Dylan is a disabled veteran. We were quarantining for our own health and the health of all humans. In our home, we believe in science and the reality of this pandemic. 

Since the announcement of quarantine over a year ago, we have been social distancing like absolute champs. We stayed the fuck home. I stopped traveling. We started having our groceries delivered. We didn’t go out to eat. We hardly saw friends or left the house, except when completely necessary. We have worn masks and stayed away. We’ve sanitized and cleaned. 

So many people did not believe in the seriousness of COVID until if affected them personally. We did not need to be affected personally to know the severity of COVID. Though we did have several friends who contracted it and recovered. They were fortunate to have uncomfortable but manageable symptoms. 

We did everything we could to stay safe, but COVID came for us. 

COVID still invaded our home, and we were met with the full force of it. Dylan and I had been so extremely careful, and yet it entered our home and almost took his life—and mine, but I’m ignoring the severity of my own situation. There’s nothing more, really, we could have done to prevent getting COVID, but I’m still struggling with guilt over contracting it. I have talked about it so infrequently that very few people in my personal life even knew about it at the time or even now. We didn’t advertise it. We were more concerned about surviving it because we both had fairly extreme cases. Only our very closest friends and family knew what we were going through.

On December 26, 2020, Dylan went to Chicago to visit his family. By December 28, he was admitted to the hospital with a positive COVID test and pneumonia. He didn’t have enough breath to call and tell me himself, so I found out over the phone from his mom once he’d been admitted. It was devastating. My partner of the last five years was in the hospital on the other side of the country fighting for his life, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. 

Blake, one of the closest people in my life, had come over to spend time with me and hang out with the dogs while Dylan was gone. He was there when I got the phone call. I felt horrible because I had put him in danger without meaning to. We went for COVID tests the next day. I had a sickening feeling that I would absolutely be positive for it because I had developed a bad cough the day before. On New Year’s Eve, I found out I had COVID and Blake did not. We knew it would be two weeks of quarantine before Dylan could even think about coming home, before I could leave the house, before Blake could leave the house. We were trapped in a new way. I was trapped sick in my house with someone I loved. I was trapped by fear that the one person I depended on to be okay might not survive. 

Everyday, I struggled to breathe. My oxygen levels kept getting lower and lower and lower, yet I refused to go to the hospital because of the dogs. Blake is probably the only reason I did not die, but it was not good. (Don’t do what I do, kids. Go to the doctor.) 

Everyday, I waited for texts from Dylan to know he was okay, he was still alive, he was still breathing on his own. 

Everyday, I hoped to hear news that Dylan was responding well to treatment and could go home soon to finish his recovery.

Every few days, I heard from his nurses or doctors to find out how he was doing. The news was hopeful but never good. 

He ended up staying in the hospital for almost three weeks. When he was finally released, he had to stay in Chicago for almost three more weeks, two of which he was dependent on oxygen. He visited specialists repeatedly, waiting on the all clear to come home. Dylan was all alone on the other side of the country with his family and doctors, but I worried constantly. I was at home with Blake, who did everything from cook to clean to take care of the dogs to helping me get dressed to checking on me in the middle of the night. 

By the time Dylan came home, he had been gone for almost six weeks. He was better but not back to normal. I had not been completely honest with him about my own health because I did not want him to worry as he fought for his life. He was shocked by how sick I still was, but we made it through. We spent the next two months slowly working back into normalcy. 

If we’re being honest, and I am, we are both still on the mend. Neither of us have full lung functionality. We still get tired and winded much easier than we used to. We are both grateful to be alive, to have survived. 

Dylan and I are both completely vaccinated. The moment we were allowed to, we signed up. He had Moderna. I had Pfizer. He reacted with a sore arm and slight aches and pains. My reaction was slightly bigger with a sore arm, aches, pains, and a low-grade temperature. The second dose was easier for me than the first. 

I was vaccinated through UTMB Health at their outdoor League City location. I signed up through their website: https://www.utmb.edu/covid-19/vaccine/ back in February. It took me a week and a half to get an appointment. Now that vaccinatio are open to everyone, I’m sure it looks a little different as far as the sign up process. I arrived at the site. I never once had to get in my car. It took about half an hour to snake through the park, sign in, read the information, and get my vaccination. I then proceeded to the parking lot, where I waited fifteen minutes to make sure I didn’t have any reaction. I was on my way. This was the process for my first dose and three weeks later for my second dose.

Dylan was vaccinated through Harris County in Waller at their outdoor location. His process was exactly the same with a shorter snake time because it was a smaller site, serving less people. It was fast and easy.

We are vaccinated. We still stay home more than we did in the before times. We wear masks when we go out. We sit outdoors when we go to restaurants. We believe in science. We believe in COVID. We believe in vaccines. We believe in doing our part. This isn’t over, but we have and will do whatever we can to make COVID a part of history. 

Books, Reading Lists

Books to Read This Spring 2021

RaeAnna
Spring Reading List. Peep Beau relaxing in the background

One of the things I posted about in my 11… Ways I’m Forgiving Myself post was all the books I’d read and never reviewed. There are a whole lot. So I’m dividing them up into four different posts. Here is the first one. After this, hopefully—big hopefully—I will be much better about not getting behind on the book reviews. One or two is understandable, but I’m 48 books behind on the reviewing.

Oh well, it happens. I’ve forgiven myself. Now, I’m rounding them up. Here are some books that I read. Some are really good. Some are really not. Some are in between. Some I took pictures with. Some I did not. Pictures are included when necessary. Otherwise, you’ve got a brief review of each! Yay. I was productive today.

When the restaurant and your outfit matches the book.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey
Worth A Read Eh || Length 368

Quick Review When Wes gains custody of his niece he has to grow up, but Bethany is already a grown up, trying to prove something to her family. There’s an age difference, a personality difference, and a lifestyle difference, but none of that stops these two from lusting after each other and falling in love. The writing is not great, but there are some fun quippy moments. It’s definitely a good summer, beach read. No thought necessary for this formulaic romance.  
Memorable Quote
“When it came to being annoying, drunk men were right up there with telemarketers and thirty-second advertisements in the middle of an internet video.”

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No Offense by Meg Cabot
Worth A Read Eh || Length 352

Quick Review Molly is a librarian in a small Florida Keys town, who attracts the attention of the native Sheriff. I found Molly irritating and John, the Sheriff, unbelievable stupid. There’s a mystery. There’s love. I was bored. I really did not love this book, but then again, I’m a hard critic when it comes to boring romances. 
Memorable Quote
“…the three words she most loved hearing in all the world—the three words she was pretty certain every librarian, or at least lover of knowledge, adored more than any other in the human language: You were right.”

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Unfinished by Priyanka Chopra Jonas
Worth A Read Yes || Length 256

Quick Review She’s an incredible beauty and an even bigger talent. Having taken India by storm, she managed to conquer prime time American television in a way no other Southeast Asian had before. I have a great love for Bollywood movies and knew of her long before she came to the U.S. I have been thrilled to watch her career as she paves new roads for diversity. Her undeniable spirit, vivacity, and talent comes through on every page as she opens up about her personal struggles, successes, and things in between.
Memorable Quote
“My parents had taught me that confidence is not a permanent state of being, a piece of wisdom I still believe.”

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Dog’s Best Friend by Simon Garfield
Worth A Read Yes || Length 320

Quick Review An incredibly sweet look at the relationship humans have forged with dogs over the centuries. From art and science to breeding and connection, dogs have played a pivotal role in human history. Today, they play a pivotal role in many of our lives. (I know they have in mine.) Well researched and movingly written, I highly suggest it for anyone who has a dog or has loved a dog. Also the footnotes are incredible. 
Memorable Quote
“A dog binds us to the world like nothing else: to a history of all the dogs that have gone before, to a wider community that welcomes their presence and demands our selfless attention. This too is their purpose, why they are here with us and us with them.”

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Miss Benson’s Beetle by Rachel Joyce
Worth A Read Yes || Length 352

Quick Review An elderly Miss Benson heads to the other side of the world with a ditsy assistant to find an undiscovered beetle. With twists, turns, intrigue, and a lot of oopsies, these two make memories and find adventures. This turned out to be a really sweet book about two women fighting for and finding a place in the world.  
Memorable Quote 
“Hunger is the ultimate expression of hope…”

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A Dog Named Beautiful by Rob Kugler
Worth A Read Yes || Length 304

Quick Review Like many people, Kugler turned to a puppy when life was tough. For him, it was returning from war. A Marine, he worked hard to find his place in the world, but his dog, Bella, brought meaning into his life. When she was diagnosed with a terminal illness, he wanted to give life back to her, and they took to the road. It’s a moving story told without much nuance, but when you’re telling the story of a cute dog… who needs nuance. 
Memorable Quote
“This moment matters, and it’s a moment I will not let slip by.”

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Getting my pose on.

The Brilliant Life of Eudora Honeysett by Annie Lyons
Worth A Read Yes || Length 384 

Quick Review An exploration of connection, age, and living in the moment through the eyes of a crotchety old woman with a literal death wish. It’s a sweet book. Really a wonderful book to distract and engage during quarantine. Equal parts frustrating and exhilarating. Annie Lyons creates connection and joy between two lost humans as far apart in age as possible. 
Memorable Quote
“Death is an inevitable preoccupation for a woman of Eudoras years, but she can’t recall a time when it wasn’t lurking in the background.”

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Greenlights in McConaughey’s Austin, Texas overlooking the Pennybacker Bridge (aka 360 Bridge)

Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey
Worth A Read Yes || Length 304

Quick Review He’s one of the most recognizable celebrities in the world, and he’s here to tell his story in his words. A beautiful look at his life littered with his writings and tidbits of wisdom. Born and raised in Texas, he tells it how it is in a charming southern way. His distinctive voice comes through on every page. 
Memorable Quote
“When we know what we want to do, knowing when to do it is the hard part.”

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It’s Not All Downhill From Here by Terry McMillan
Worth A Read Yes || Length 355

Quick Review I think the world needs more novels about women enjoying life after thirty-five. It’s a love story but not the romantic kind. McMillan highlights the importance of leaning into female relationships, putting oneself first, and living through grief. I love it.
Memorable Quote
“I still love him more than my Twizzlers!”

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Fin & Lady by Cathleen Schine
Worth A Read Yes || Length 277

Quick Review As an older sister, I love reading books about sibling relationships; though mine bears no resemblance to that of Fin and Lady’s. It’s a great story about family, responsibility, growing up, understanding, and life. The dialogue is amazingly quippy. Perfect book to take on vacation. 
Memorable Quote
“…and secrets, he already understood, were generally associated with shame.”

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Enjoying some beach time even though the book was subpar.

The Jetsetters by Amanda Eyre Ward
Worth A Read No || Length 352

Quick Review Diving into the ties and traumas that bind a family together. It’s an attempt to explore mother-daughter and sibling relationships but falls very short. It does an even worse job examining trauma and sexual assault. I was a big not fan. What looks like a light, beach read by the cover is a bummer. 
Memorable Quote
“You couldn’t be naked with another person and remain perfectly together.”

Buy on Amazon | Buy on Book Depository

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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11..., Lifestyle

11… Ways I’m Forgiving Myself

RaeAnna

I can’t believe a third of the year has already passed us by. I was really hoping to make some positive changes in my life within 2021’s first few months. Unfortunately, I have been struggling to even come up with a modicum of productivity. 

Just out here looking for forgiveness…. | Black Dress |

I am going to lay a lot of that blame at COVID’s figurative feet. Not just COVID existing in the world. I haven’t talked about it on this platform yet, but COVID entered my home right after Christmas. My partner ended up in the hospital for three weeks and on oxygen for another three. I really struggled to make it through the worst parts of it myself. More than three months later, we’re both dealing with the aftermath of COVID. Breathing is still difficult. I get fatigued so easily. Life has slowed down significantly as we recover. I am not able to go-go-go the way I like to or am used to. So a lot of things fell by the wayside. Pretty much anything that has not been an absolute necessity has gone untended, and even some of the necessities. So fuck you, COVID, my year could have been better without you!

There has been more and more talk of self-care in the world. Self-care looks different from person to person. I’m really the last person to talk about it because I’m really bad at doing it myself. So this is not a post about that. But in my effort to be kinder to myself and try to reduce some of my mental load and anxieties, I’m going to extend eleven forgivenesses from me to me in an effort of self-care and self-preservation. 

I’m also forgiving myself for not posting this last week/yesterday like I had planned on… because I ran out of time and the physical ability to get it done the day after Easter/yesterday I decided to clean the entire house/the dogs/disinfect dog boxes, which is a chore.

Sending myself flowers as an apology to me. (from Amanda Bee’s because duh)
  1. I forgive myself for the stack of books I’ve read and not reviewed. This sounds trivial, but a huge part of …on the B.L. is book reviews. I started out as a book blogger, and though I don’t identify solely as a book blogger, it’s still an integral part of my platform and life. I quite literally majored in reading real good. Having been depressed, anxiety riddled, and ill for the last year, I’ve done a lot of reading and very little reviewing. So I forgive myself for not reviewing. I couldn’t do it. I did not have the mental bandwidth to write more than I absolutely had to. So instead of writing all the backlog reviews, I’m going to write reviews for the ones I really want to write reviews for. I will do a big post about all the ones I’ve read and am not reviewing; partially because I really like some of the pictures taken. Going forward, I will try—try being the operative word—to write about all the books I’m reading. 
  2. I forgive myself for getting COVID. I have a lot of guilt about this. Dylan and I have been so extremely careful, and yet it entered our home and almost took his life—and mine but I’m ignoring the severity of my own situation. I feel shame over having COVID. Like I need to keep it a secret and not talk about it. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I do. 
  3. I forgive myself for ordering out. I love cooking, but I have found no joy in it the past  several months. So I have found myself ordering in a lot. Like a lot a lot. Like too much. I take solace in the fact I’m supporting small businesses who are struggling to survive through COVID.
  4. I forgive myself for not exercising. I can blame COVID for this one. I had been in a really good habit of exercising [semi]frequently, but then COVID hit my lungs. I’m still having a hard time getting up and going, so exercise has gone by the wayside for now.
  5. I forgive myself for having a short fuse. My fuse has been short for a whole BUNCH of reasons. I wish I had more patience right now, but I don’t. At this point, my patience is being reserved for the dogs. The people who have to deal with my fuse, or lack thereof, understand and are being incredibly understanding. But the dogs don’t have the same ability to understand mommy’s shortcomings and humanity, so I give them all my patience because I’m not going to make them neurotic with my frustrations.   
  6. I forgive myself for not writing. I write for a living both as a freelance writer and for this blog. I love it. I really love my job, and I feel incredibly lucky to get paid to do something that interests and stimulates me every day. But the things I want to dive into and explore more on the blog take a lot of emotional exploration and inevitably lead to breakdowns and breakthroughs, and I love that, but it’s hard. In a year where I’ve raised and gave away puppies while going through a pandemic… I haven’t been able to go there. So, I am forgiving myself for that because it does me no good to dwell on what I haven’t accomplished. 
  7. I forgive myself for not socializing the puppies more. After buying a house, the need to socialize the puppies at the dog park decreased because I have a backyard. They don’t need to play at the dog park the way Beau did when she was an only dog living in an apartment. They have tons of playmates and the space to be rambunctious ding dongs. I still feel bad that they haven’t had that experience but a) we’ve been staying in because of COVID b) socializing five dogs—four puppies—is a lot of work and I didn’t have it in me. 
  8. I forgive myself for not working as much. This isn’t completely my fault, but I could’ve done more to work more. The pandemic hit my work load hard because my clients were hit hard. So the work dwindled. In a way, that was a blessing; it gave me time to raise puppies, rest, and not work when I had COVID. 
  9. I forgive myself for not sending Thank You cards last year on my birthday. I ALWAYS send Thank You cards when I get presents. My 29th birthday landed in the beginning of a pandemic but also in the middle of raising thirteen very needy puppies. I had no time…. And it fell by the wayside. I’m trying not to feel bad about that. 
  10. I forgive myself for being a lesser friend. I try to be a good friend. I try to show up, stay in touch, reach out, send notes, get together, and all those good things. In 2020 and 2021, so far, I have been a lesser friend. I feel bad, but I couldn’t be there for people the way I like to be. 
  11. I forgive myself for putting myself, my happiness, my mental health first. I’m not used to putting me first. And I’m terrible at asking other people to make me a priority, treat me well, give and not just take, and more. I’m not good at demanding the respect I deserve. No one taught me that. So at 29, I’m trying to be better about only accepting and keeping people in my life who are good for me. 

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

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Blog + Dog, In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Happy National Puppy Day from A Pack Mom

RaeAnna
Cuddling with three puppies and their mama. The others are somewhere doing something. I’m very attentive, I know.

Yesterday was National Puppy Day, and I missed it. Well, I watched everyone else post pictures about their puppies. I was lazy and didn’t. 

The thing is, every day is puppy day in my house. Not only do I have four actual puppies, I have two older girls too. It’s a zoo. It’s chaos. It’s a furtacular event always. There is never a moment, big or small, that does not have something to do with the dogs. I can attribute that to their being enormous, multitudinous, and very attached to me. I go nowhere alone ever, and I love it. 

Even as I write this, I have one asleep on each foot, two are upside down tug-o-warring, one is asleep in their box for naughty reasons, and a sixth is standing up on my wingback chair staring out the window in case of God knows what. That means there are five very big dogs in my small office. It’s wonderful. This is not a complaint. This is a brag. My office is better than your office. 

A year ago, I had a home filled with Beau, the original rescue, Tess, the stray mama, and thirteen three week old puppies. I was determined to keep zero of the puppies. Life and a man had a completely opposing world view of what would happen, and I lost. Fast forward through the poop, tears, puppy breath, teething, potty training to today: I am a homeowner with a house full of six much bigger than expected dogs. 

I would love to tell you this life is easy. It is not. 

Having six dogs sounds amazing, and it is. Having six dogs sounds hard, and it is. Having six dogs sounds a little crazy, and it most certainly is. It was a choice and a commitment. It was a commitment to them and a commitment to Dylan, my pawtner in parenting. We made a commitment to each of our dogs to love, respect, raise, and maintain them until their last breaths, no take backsies. We made a commitment to one another that no matter what transpires between us, we will raise them together; we will not separate them; we will not keep them from the one another; we will share expenses; we will carry the burden; we will lean on the other when things are hard; and we will always create rules and boundaries together for them, no take backsies. Adopting one dog four years ago (wow) connected us in a more concrete way, making it more complicated if things went to go awry. Adding five more rescues to that equation… well, much, much, much more of a concrete connection. Worth it, but a challenge. 

There are more than just the challenges of having six dogs. We did it in a COVID world where both our incomes and lives have been impacted very, very much. Tess was incredibly sick and pregnant when I picked her up off the street. Getting her healthy was expensive and heartbreaking. The puppies have some special needs, which makes it expensive and a bit complicated at times. (No complaint. I knew what I was getting into.) The reality is: VETS ARE EXPENSIVE. Their health is non-negotiable. We went without so they could be taken care of. We took on debt to take them to the ER. We buy their dog food first before our groceries. COVID made things much tighter, but it’s worth it. 

On top of it, a rescue already existed in this home. Beau was the first priority. We made a decision to foster Tess and the puppies. We knew we wanted to keep Tess, but if the rescue in Beau couldn’t handle being in a multiple dog household, we would have made the very hard decision to find Tess and all the puppies their furever homes. Turns out Beau LOVED Tess immediately. They were inseparable and best buds from the beginning. They do everything together and literally hug every morning when they wake up. Beau also loves the puppies. It was an adjustment, but they adore her and she loves to play with them. But she still had to figure out how to be top dog, get attention, and cope with the fact she was no longer the sun, moon, and universe in two people’s worlds. She had to learn to share: time, food, love, attention, bed. Just kidding, she never learned how to share bed; she’s the only one that always sleeps in bed. Some of her neurosis were exacerbated at first, but with love, time, and extra attention, she’s back to her normal neurotic self. 

Is it a breeze now? Fuck no. 

It’s still hard. They’re still young. They’re still growing and learning and making mistakes and getting on each others’ nerves. Most days are amazing, but there are some days I cry. Being a dog parent to one is hard. Being a dog parent to six is still hard. Struggle is a part of taking care of and living with another being, human or not. The happiness outweighs all the negatives, but it’s work. 

It. Is. A. Lot. Of. Work. 

It takes a lot of work just to afford to maintain them and keep them healthy. It takes a lot of emotional work to stay calm in the chaos because I’m not going to fuck up my dogs’ emotional wellbeing with an inability to handle the fact they’re just being puppies. I do my best. Sometimes I fail. That’s okay. They love me anyways. They know they’re safe. They’re in the only home they’ve ever known with the only parents they’ve ever known being loved in the only way they’ve ever known: unconditionally, patiently, enthusiastically, and constantly.

My six dogs have been the catalyst for DRASTIC life changes over the last year, and I’m okay with that. Everything is for the better even when it has hurt like hell. They are and will be my number one priority until the day they die. I took on this responsibility, and no matter how hard it was, is, or will be, I chose to make their lives the very best I can. 

If you ever find yourself in my home, know that you are watching six pieces of my heart and the very best of me walk around our home.

In honor of trying to be the very best pawrent I can be. I’m including six inspiration posters I created from things I’ve said to my dogs in my very best high pitched and happy-even-though-my-world-is-chaos-and-stressful dog parent voice:

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna, Beau, Tessa, 
Knight, Duke, Makeda, + Bear