They Come Out That Way | The Kayla Chronicles

They come out that way.

I first realized this was true years ago when my mom adopted a shelter puppy, Heidi. Heidi, a Basenji mix, defined challenging. She was cute and fuzzy with big batlike ears but also very difficult to train, extremely high on the energy scale, and she pretty much destroyed everything she came into contact with. My mom took her to puppy school, repaired things, gave her lots of love...did everything she could think of.

Finally, completely desperate, she gave her to my ex-husband, Matthew, who took her everywhere with him, in his little white convertible Miata, and Heidi turned into a great dog. But it took having an owner who could be with her ALL the time.

Before Heidi, I really thought that dogs were dogs and that I had it all down as far as raising them went. My dog at the time, KD, was a doll. Sure, she was a little obsessive (okay, a lot obsessive) but she was also smart and wanted to please me, so she did what I asked most of the time. We called her our magic dog and she was our first baby.

KD

In case I wasn't convinced by Heidi, fate brought me Kayla. Ah, beautiful little Kayla, with the big brown eyes and the floppy ears and the softest fur. At the time, I was volunteering regularly at the county animal shelter. Another volunteer called me and said, "Can you come get Kayla? She's just been returned for the fourth time and I'm hiding her so they won't euthanize her...come quickly." I hopped in my car and drove right down, plopped her on my lap, and brought her home.

Kayla

Well, shucks. My dog education had truly begun. Turns out this little eight pound puppy had been returned for biting people's faces. Now, she didn't really BITE, as in drawing blood, but she certainly nipped. ALL THE TIME. She also could scale five foot fences, dig under just about anything, and claw a door jam to shreds in about ten minutes. In addition, she proceeded to dominate every other puppy at puppy school by jumping on their necks and wrestling them to the ground. Spunky, our Kayla.

The original plan was that we'd foster her and then find an appropriate home. Once I realized that with all of her issues she really wasn't going to be adoptable anytime soon, I talked Ron into letting her stay with us. Fourteen years later, she's still here.

We did finally solve the biting problem (a squirt of water from a spray bottle stopped her when nothing else did), the digging problem (chicken wire and cinder blocks under all of our fences) and the Houdini problem (six foot fences everywhere and metal plates on all the door jams.) But then, just when we thought we could exhale, Kayla brought another challenge into our lives.

She ate rocks.

Yes, correct, rocks. I'm not sure if you've ever had a dog eat a rock, but it can cause a lethal intestinal blockage. Which means if you don't catch it in time for the vet to give them a nasty potion to make them vomit it up, surgery. Cut that sucker out. Which we did. Four times. At $1200 each time.

The fourth surgery, we decided, was the last. There just wasn't any more budget for rock removals. So I SCOURED our back yard for every little rock I could find. I loaded buckets of them and then covered everything with a very thick layer of bark, just in case. Thank God, there were no more rock eating incidents, and she outgrew that problem.

Then, puppy school over, we enrolled in regular dog school. My little dominant puppy had turned into an easily distractible, slightly dog aggressive, adolescent terror. Naively, I thought it would be a good idea to take a break from dog school and let her mature a little. Unfortunately, by the time I took her back, she had a full out case of dog aggression and couldn't even be in class with other dogs.

A handful, this one.

Over the years, Kayla has mellowed. She still freaks out if we're gone too long, and until very recently, stopped only because of a lack of confidence due to her old age, she would attack other dogs if given half a chance. She also could always get the best of Gracie. One of her favorite ruses was to act like there was something super fantastic outside, and get Gracie to follow her. Then she'd sneak back in and take whatever it was she wanted, usually Gracie's food!  But she also learned along the way to give the world's softest kisses, to snuggle up against my legs for naps on the sofa, to walk nicely on the leash (okay, mostly...) and to be a loving part of our family.

Kayla & Grace

What I'm coming around to is that she really did just come out this way. The good and the bad. You roll the dice when you adopt a pet, and you best go into it prepared that it might just be more difficult than you imagined.

And if this reminds anyone of parenthood, well, yes, that too. Absolutely.

Ah, but the love. That love trumps all.

Kayla, 2005

Little Snippets of Happy

This blog started as an idea to remind myself of the little things that make a well lived life. And sometimes, they are purposely very little. Like today...

A solo trip to Nordstrom, my fave turkey, cranberry and havarti sandwich, a perfect new pair of jeans, and these pretty things captured by my camera instead of purchased!

Thoughts of summer...this would be a perfect Hawaii swimshirt, if I happened to be going to Hawaii, which I'm not. But anytime you can imagine summer, it's a good thing.

 Our family room turned into a Barbie house, with Kayla in the middle of the kitchen.

Winter playgrounds.

My purple bike.

 Camellias blooming.

An abundance of lemons to share with friends.

 Vintage inspired tea towels, all in a row.

Happiness reminders in random places...this one on a baby onesie in Target. I do miss buying baby clothes.

Be happy, wherever you are.

Why Stop At Ten? TWELVE Personal Commandments

One of my favorite books, the and one that inspired me to start this blog, is Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project. If you haven't yet read it, DO. She has a terrific blog by the same name, which I also highly recommend. She writes a little something everyday, and it's a great quick check in for taking care of yourself. 

One of my favorite things she suggests in her book is writing your own Twelve Personal Commandments. These aren't meant to be a to do list, or resolutions, but instead overarching themes that you want to live your life by. Here are Gretchen's...with links to explanations on her blog about each one if you'd like to explore deeper.

• Be Gretchen.
• Let it go.
• Act the way I want to feel.
• Do it now.
• Be polite and be fair.
• Enjoy the process.
• Spend out.
• Identify the problem.
• Lighten up.
• Do what ought to be done.
• No calculation.
• There is only love.

On the blogpost where she writes about this subject, lots of people have chimed in on comments with their own lists, including me. They are fun to read, and inspiring too. I think it's a great exercise for figuring out, and remembering, what is important to you.

So, on that note, here is my list.

• Be here now.
• Live in Gratitude.
• Breathe.
• Everything is a miracle.
• Work hard. Be kind.
• Choose happiness.
• Show up. Do the work. Don't be attached to the results.
• Be authentic.
• Eat healthy. Move.
• Hug my girl.
• Open my heart.

I'd love to see all of your lists in the comment section. I am so inspired by women who are trying to make their lives better, to add meaning and depth, to grow and create. To be good mamas and wives and artists and businesspeople and friends. So, please, do share! We'll all benefit from your wisdom:)

Pinning and Pasting

On the top shelf of my closet sits a row of sketchbooks. Except they aren't filled with drawings or sketches, they're brimming with magazine photos. My version of scrapbooks. I've kept a journal since I was seven, and the scrapbooks followed when I grew up and couldn't bear to part with all of the beautiful images in the stack of magazines I accumulate each month.

My first incarnation of this hobby was the wall behind my bed in my 5th floor walkup apartment in Paris...covered floor to ceiling with fashion and beauty and lust. I loved that wall. I loved that room and that time too. Now, I see similar walls all the time in young girls rooms, but I don't think it was quite as typical then.

Somewhere along the way I switched to the sketchbooks. The biggest ones I could find. It is somehow completely satisfying and relaxing to sit with my sharp scissors and my glue stick and a stack of magazines. Another small way to feel creative without really having to possess any artistic talent! I can trace my life in those books. There's the one filled with engagement rings and dresses and wedding favors. Another with page after page of adorable nurseries and babies. Now there are lots of beautiful locations...homes, beaches, gardens...and clothes. Quotations, and once in awhile an essay I pull from online that I can't stand to forget.

There's one on the Tsunami in Japan, called Watching the World Become Water by Deborah Schoeberlein. And then, the new one by Lisa Belkin, The Names of Newtown. Words that make pictures. But mostly, just photos.

Amber has mentioned a few times at Cast that she doesn't get Pinterest. But I do. It's my scrapbooks, online. I choose people to follow whose eye I like, and then I get to collect all those beautiful photos. It's fun, but I still prefer my scrapbooks. I like the physicalness of them, the real magazines, the slice of the scissor, the smell of the glue sticks. The satisfaction of leafing through the pages afterwards.

And, mostly, I like them better because that shelf will be there, with all those spiral bindings filled with memories in a neat row, when we've all forgotten about Pinterest. And I'll still be happily cutting and pasting. Like kindergarden. Like life.

A Letter To My Girl

To my sweet girl,

I know you are nervous about applying to the Performing Arts School and I completely understand the fear of getting so excited about something and then being disappointed when it doesn't happen.

But if I know anything, I know this. You must take risks in this life. You must be brave. You absolutely have to go after what you want.

Keep your mind focused on the best future you can imagine. Picture yourself walking the hallways of your new school, putting on your skinny jeans and cute hoodie (no uniforms!) and going from class to class when the bells ring. Picture wonderful teachers who inspire you to learn and great new friends who appreciate what a warm and caring person you are.

See yourself in drama class, going through the exercises with a group of kids who are like you, who want to perform and create and grow. Feel yourself in the dance studio, hear the music, feel your body stretching and moving. Smell the paints in art class, feel the chalk under your fingernails, touch the blank canvases in your mind. Visualize yourself laughing with friends, eating in the cafeteria, getting your books from your locker. Imagine all the new things you'll learn about math, all the fun new books you'll be introduced to...maybe they'll even be as good as "A Dog's Life"! Think how it will feel to be excited about school, to look forward to going each day. To know that you have a home and a community of people where you belong.

And now, when you can see all of that strong and true, write it down. Write your application essay with a big smile on your face and a warm glow in your heart. Write your heart out little one, in that writer's voice that is all yours. That voice filled with humor and honesty and love. That voice that shows the world what a wonderful and kind hearted girl you are.

And then, once you've done your work, let's seal the application envelope and let it go. Because Chloe, all we can do in this life is show up, do our best work, and then leave the rest up to the universe, to God, to fate. Your job is done at that point.

Go to sleep that night with the wonderful feeling that you have done your best. Say a little prayer and hope for something fantastic. And know that the future might just be even better than you can imagine.

My girl, that school will be lucky to have you. I cannot wait to see what you become.

I love you Chloe, and I believe in you. You will always have my heart.

Mommy

Sometimes You Just Gotta Fail

Okay, I give up. Tonight an inspired post is just not going to happen.

I've started four of them, and they all pretty much suck.

Sometimes, you just gotta be okay with failure. Today, this 6th day of my 30 Day Blogging Challenge, epic fail.

I think it was just too long of a day at work and my brain must be past its useful life.

But hey, I posted anyway.

And I've gotta earn cool mama points for using both "suck" and "epic fail" in one short post...

And, when all else fails, throw in a cute dog photo.

Here's to tomorrow!

The Best American Essays, 2006. Yep, 2006.

Had some nice chunks of time to read this last week, and one of the books I savored was The Best American Essays, 2006. Yes, a little late on my part, but it was a serious bargain, scooped up from a remainder table for $2.99, and wonderful too.

If you haven't ever read a volume from this collection, I so recommend that you do. Each anthology has a different guest editor, and consequently a very different feel to the book. This 2006 edition was edited by Lauren Slater, who tells a wonderful story in the introduction about finding her voice and genre as a writer after reading the 1988 version of this very series. It's a nice glimpse into a writer's world.

Many of the essays this time revolve around death somehow. The most powerful, to me, is one by Marjorie Williams that first ran in Vanity Fair in 2005 titled A Matter of Life and Death. Diagnosed with Stage 4B liver cancer (there is no stage 5, and no 4C either) in her early 40s, while mothering two young children, she wrote an unfinished memoir. This essay was assembled after her death from that manuscript. The piece is hauntingly beautiful and such a stunning show of grace, courage, and hope. Just gorgeous.

Another piece that slayed me was George by Sam Pickering. It's the story of a love affair between an older man and his dog, a man who's heart is broken open in the words he writes. A man of a certain generation who has learned to keep his emotions inside, to the point where his wife accuses him of not grieving the loss of their dog. But oh, does he write it. A love letter, brilliant in its simplicity and plainspokenness.

Reading about loss always gives me that heart stopping appreciation for my life. You consistently hear that people wish they had realized what was most important before the diagnosis, before the horrible news, before a loved one was lost forever. To me, this is a way into that space, without having to live it myself.

My grandmother, who is now ninety-eight, recently wrote me in one of her letters that
"I just don't think life is worth living without a good book to read." Ah, Gram, I agree with all of my being.

This book was such a satisfying read, one to truly savor. Such a gift to my heart. I hope it may be one for yours too.