I am a bad blogger. I don't blog about my REAL life.
I blog about my dogs to escape my real life.
Who wants to hear about my life? Really?
I could tell you about my son who was diagnosed with schizophrenia and what it is like to live inside a vacuum of chaos, turmoil, anxiety, domestic violence and voices. But that would be depressing...
I could tell you what it is like to live with step children and all the joy that accompanies that particular pleasure. Or how my children treat their step father? Trust me, 'The Brady Bunch' LIED! It is a warped unrealistic trip down step-insane-family lane.
I could share the joy of what it is like to have your adult daughter move back home and behave like an ungrateful, snotty & manipulative 12 y/o. But if I throw her out - bad things will happen and I will be blamed.
I want to experience the Empty Nest Syndrome. Please?
Here is a question: What would you do if you found your teenagers are bombed and your adult daughter drove them home under the influence - in a car without insurance? How do you discipline that particular activity? Beating them is apparently illegal and much harder when they are bigger than you. Unless you wait till they fall asleep...
Wait...will they allow me to train dogs in prison?
I could blog about my birthday that was on Wednesday. The birthday that my husband completely forgot and thinks "I am sorry" makes up for it? He will regret that particular omission in his memory - especially after he sees the result of my passive/aggressive acting out on our bank account.
Can we say "self destructive"?
I could share with you the fun of searching for a job in this economy. I am now facing going back into a career that left me burnt out, broken and sad in order to pay the bills.
Or I could tell you about the trial I entered Beth in on Monday.
I could explain that I am seriously freaking out, scared and anxious about this. I typically do not write about this stuff because if it is a train-wreck then I have to blog about that too.
Now that would be REALLY DEPRESSING!
I am so afraid it will be a train-wreck.
One thing about this sport is that it offers a myriad of ways to humiliate yourself.
Beth is good, I am an idiot and obviously suck as a parent - what makes me think I will be any better as a handler?
We have been working really hard. I was hopeful...until today. While working on penning I could see clearly that Beth isn't listening to a darn thing I am saying. She is watching my body language and my stick. When I put my stick out to help with the sheep - she flanks the other direction and pops them out of the pen. Every. Single. Time.
Now returning you to your regularly scheduled programming.
I love looking at pictures of happy dogs
Happy dogs make me smile
This is why I blog about my dogs
They remind me that some things are right in this world
My dogs help me get my perspective back.
Life really isn't so bad
I just need to think positive
Find my happy place - close my eyes, and imagine the sound of the surf, my dogs sitting by my side.
Feel the sun warming my cheeks. Embrace the peace, let it ooze into my pores and find its way to the deepest recesses of my beleaguered brain.
I was feeling so much better after looking at these happy smiling dog pictures. Right up until my son came to apologize.
He gave me a big hug, said "I am sorry Mom....I love you"
I understand why some animals kill and eat their young.
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