Dog Injury! Pet Worry!

Six year old dog Scout has been limping pretty badly since Friday, when he played Frisbee on Swedish Embassy lawn by Georgetown Harbor. Took him to vet today...soft tissue injury, left front leg was diagnosed...No walks, no runs, no fun for 14 days, poor baby. He's on pain meds and anti-inflammatories. A neighbor gave me a dog movie for my dog from her dog, to help him through. The mailman heard from someone up the street that Scout was injured, and brought him a raw bone that he got from a butcher on his route a couple of blocks away.

Scout is a second chance dog, friendly and fearless, and pretty cute. It bothers me that Scout is so good. If only he'd do something bad, but he never does...too much of a people-pleaser, too good natured, easy-going, always follows house rules. I want him to not care a hoot, be rebellious. If he were a kid in school, he'd be one of the brown nosers that no one can stand, with such good grades that you swear he's gotta be cheating.

If it were not for Scout, would have gone starkers during extremely acrimonious, and protracted divorce. Had never had a dog before Scout. When I started divorce process, my mom, back home on the other coast, said I had to get a dog, no matter what. She got a cat when my dad died, which helped her through, even though she tripped on her cat, and fractured her ankle. Found Scout through a shelter ad; my mom paid for everything he needed, including his vet bills, neutering, and infections he was found to have, my mom's divorce present to me. Not to be cynical, but it relieved my mom of having to give me emotional support, but in the long run, Scout has given me more...Yes, the unconditional love, and the responsibility we have for them, in return. My mom was right: getting a divorce? Get a dog!

No matter how crummy you feel, you still have to walk your dog, and who knows who you might meet when you walk your dog. A couple of years ago, post-divorce, house was sold, and child and I moved to a totally new 'hood where we are now. Met amazing new, wonderful friends through Scout, almost immediately. I will shut up about dogs in a minute. ... It's tough when they're sick or in pain. They can have expenses that you didn't count on. ... Any cost-benefit analysis would still come out in favor of dogs, no matter what.

In this horrible recession, you might consider all the dog expenses that go along with ownership. Affordable vet care is obtainable in DC. Washington Animal Rescue League, on Oglethorpe Street, NE offers greatly discounted vet care for dogs and cats to DC, and Prince Georges County residents. Go to their web site for vet appointment hours, directions: www.warl.org

See photo of my friend Kay's new maltese puppy Shimu. (Kay is half owner of Harbour Cafe, where you can get a hearty breakfast for less than $5.) Sometimes she brings her pup to work, where he stays in a nearby dog-friendly office building, and she visits him during breaks. She has tried Washington Animal Rescue League dog clinic on weekend, and gives it high marks, except for long wait. Kay's puppy has upped her post-divorce resilience, like my dog has done for me.

See our vet Dr. Morgan's dog Buddy above in top photo. Buddy is also a rescue, who serves as Georgetown Vetenary Clinic waiting room concierge.

Family Estrangements

In my thirties, I became mostly estranged from my family; no one major row over Thanksgiving turkey, but rather, an accumulation of "stuff," resulting in me being excluded from family. My mother started bribing me with large monetary presents to not go home at Christmas, when siblings, their spouses, kids and other relatives gathered, and invitations to family coming of age ceremonies, graduations, weddings, reunions regularly got lost in the mail.

I became a family legend—the bad, ornery woman among a badelynge of nice, polite normals. As the oldest kid in the(extended) family, I am remembered by many as the so-called wild radical. I ironed my long hair, wore mini dresses, overdid colorful eye make-up and hair streaks, and was perhaps too vocal about political and social issues of the 70s, and declared self agnostic at 17.…Once my dad, and several neighbors saw me on television at an anti-war rally, when I was theoretically in college, far away from Washington, and the Pentagon. It could have been me, but I was a Woodstock no-show.

Even after I settled down to being an ever-toiling-overtime-without using-comp-time-pearls-and gray-skirts worker bee, my family never changed their idea of me. The family legend of me grew over the years; some fantastical words and deeds were attributed to me that I wish I had done and said. But. You know I'm pretty shy, and quiet and never bothered to refute myself to the famdamily. Every family member no-call, no-showed my DC wedding; they didn’t like my ex-husband. When I divorced, they lorded their prescient powers over me.

When child was growing up, I missed so much not having family around to celebrate child’s milestones, fuss over child, and cheer child on. No birthday cards, or presents from aunts, uncles, cousins, ever, like I used to receive and cherish, when I was growing up. Occasionally, I sent cards, and gifts to child addressed from various relatives, until child got hip; then I’d always say I couldn’t take time off from work to visit grandpa and grandma, or that we could afford to travel to see only the paternal grandparents, not both.

At various points in the past twenty years, I have pretended to new friends that I was an only child, or that siblings died in a plane crash. Only lately, since the Tori-Candy Spelling feud has made family estrangement seem normal, if anything Spelling can be considered normal, have I been able to say without flinching, that my siblings and I are estranged. Nevertheless, the longing for family inclusiveness achingly persists, like an elephant sitting on my heart. What would I say to my siblings after all these years? I forgive them, plus I almost voted Republican in a DC election once.

My dad and I were not talking at all when he died suddenly on a golf course, some 5 years before my mom. After my mom died, and I didn’t attend her funeral on the other coast, because child was pretty ill and in the hospital when she died, I sent numerous cards, letters to siblings over a two-year period, asking to get in touch, hoping we’d meet again, let it go, but they never contacted me. Nevertheless, I kept on, sappy me, with the college graduation invites, photos, writing as if sibs were responsive.

Last night, the next door neighbors had a noisy party, and I couldn’t sleep. My estranged siblings and other family members were on my mind. Found self for hours Googling and Facebooking various family members, searching for news of them. Couldn't stop doing it. Found several photos of sister, who married a millionaire and has received numerous awards for her charitable work. Gleeful to see that, in her photos, even in her well-cut expensive suits, sister looks obese. Found her daughters, my two nieces, on Facebook. Found news of brother’s business, and his childrens’ photos on Facebook. Isn’t it pathetic to have to find any family news on Facebook!

Although I have some wonderful, and dear friends whom I cherish, and respect, in the end, it’s still the longing for the blood family, the shared genes, the shared childhood memories, shared history. Still the longing… Most families have a degree of intolerance, and perhaps the majority of siblings don’t get on...In our family, my sibs' shunning was extremely hurtful. I cannot describe the pain. How do families ever mend estrangements? What is it about families that make us more accepting and tolerant of friends, but not each other?

Understanding our Moms

M’dears, you have a reading assignment: Deborah Tannen’s You’re Wearing That? (Random House, 2006)about mother-child miscommunication. Dr.Tannen, Georgetown linguistics professor, is best known for You Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation.

Two weeks ago, during the first of four days of graduation celebrations at Georgetown U, I lost it, crying about my mom. Senior Convo was first event, a bookend to the gowning ceremony, where, the Sunday before they began their Georgetown lives, new students processioned through campus, and in a happy ceremony in the old gym, donned their academic robes, officially becoming scholars in the Georgetown community. Senior Convo summarized their time at GU, since they were gowned. Sitting in the bleachers in the old gym again, I caught a whiff of the perfume my mom used to wear--White Shoulders--and started crying for her.

When my mom died, unexpectedly, during child’s first month at Georgetown, she and I were not exactly on speaking terms but we were trying for rapprochement. I had written her a long letter a month before, and was working up to calling her. Although my mom lived 2,000 miles away, she might as well have lived next door. My mom had a way of criticizing me, from the trivial, like me wearing too much eye liner, or hair too long, and how she thought I didn’t look good in black (favorite color) or the serious, as when I divorced my ex—she did not believe in divorce—that I would ever meet anyone else, and I would die alone, and look how she and my father endured the bad and the good. Whenever I would call her, or when she called me, mom lectured me about something that made me feel not good enough about myself, or my parenting skills. I knew she said these things because she loved me, and wanted the best for me. Still...So I seldom called her, and felt bad about that too.

My sibs and extended family will still not forgive me for not attending my mom’s funeral. The day my mom died, child had, suddenly, been admitted to Georgetown Hospital, seriously ill, facing surgery, ultimately requiring child to take medical leave for the rest of semester to recover. The ex was traveling with his future wife; whether or not he received my frantic messages on his cell phone or not was irrelevant. I raced back and forth between work and hospital, and home, once in a while to feed the dog, worried, exhausted. Never mind my mom's death and funeral.

Senior Convo provided, in a weird way, an occasion to mourn my mom. During the time between my mom's death and child's graduation, I never made time to grieve about my mom. Had been caught up in post-divorce survival, and pushed my mom's death to the back of the closet, until I could deal with missing her. As the president, deans, various students and professors gave their takes on the class of 2009, I boo-hood, kind of about child moving on, but really about my mom....

The woman sitting next to me, who was crying harder than I was, offered me tissue, and I told her I wished my mom could be here, and she said she wished her mom could have been here too. We started talking about our moms, and their unique way they had to hurt us. Did any of us ever measure up to our mom's expectations? She told me about Deborah Tannen’s book, "You're wearing that?" It helped her make peace with her mom's constant criticisms. Miscommunication between moms and their children can be even more challenging than between women and men.

Tannen wrote in her book, “Women are healed by, or ache for, satisfying conversations with their mothers and grown daughters [or sons], in some cases…to break out of cycles of misunderstanding that can turn more amiable conversations into painful or angry ones in the blink of an eye.” For the past two weeks, been reading and thinking about Tannen’s book…finally understanding my mom…her criticisms that hurt to the bone, and forgiving her (kind of; am still working on this). You’re Wearing That? was a revelation. If only the book came out, before my mom died, she and I would have had a better time with each other. If you and your mom have these communication pratfalls, and I bet you do, get Tannen. You'll feel better, honestly.

The kid in the photo of this entry is the May 2009 Georgetown grad, who grew up in the blink of an eye.

Feeling Good About Being Naked

Don't know about you, my dears, but as I get older negatives about my body...are getting worse and more, and no amount of rowing or bicycling will do a thing...Like no one ever told me that the bush thins and will probably disappear...My friend Debby mentioned merkins...Will our pubes sag like our boobs? All these physical things to worry about, besides good and bad cholesterol, body fat index, avoiding arthritis, heart disease! Well, you know, when we exercise at this age, the body doesn't tighten like it used to...muscles kind of push out the fat, like a push up bra...and the upper arms...I mean..the muscles are there, but... ... .It was enough, Nora Ephron...her book about hating her neck...I hate my neck, too.

Are you going to do any cosmetic surgery stuff? I am not. Retin-A, yes; beyond that, no. Striving for acceptance of the age stuff. Yes, right.

Recently, my friend Greg, a sensitive guy who has been happily living with Jennifer for more than 20 years, emailed me an article he saw on CNN.com, "Why Women Should Feel Good Naked." The original article, "The Nude Attitude," from O Magazine, was an interview with therapist Laure Redmond, who wrote a book "Feel Good Naked." Here's the link to article.

http://www.oprah.com/article/omagazine/200707_omag_nude_attitude.



In the article, Redmond said she had a body epiphany when she saw Tina Turner perform in the 1980s...When Tina stopped dancing, Redmond saw that Tina's legs were substantial, but the way she moved them, turned them into an art.

She wrote, "...women who feel good naked approach life with that same spirit of boldness, that same use-it-or-lose-it zest. And by the way, that spirit is very sexy. I know a professor in his 50s who's been single much of his adult life and who's had relationships—or at least relations—with many women, some in their early 20s. At a dinner party recently, he told me that sex with a woman over 40 is way more pleasurable and satisfying than sex with a younger woman—because a woman with the joie de vivre that comes from having a bank of life experiences is a much bigger turn-on than a youthful body...."

We all knew that all along...but...Ok, so no more moaning about drooping boobs, chins, wrinkled necks...