The concept is sort of like trial and error and even though I find the process frustrating and time consuming, I suppose it’s a necessary part of life. I was talking with someone recently who said, “You’d think with all the people who’ve come before us and made all the same mistakes we’ve made (or are making), that we’d be a little more ahead of the game.”

And I agree with her, except for the fact that I think life is something we each have to figure out for ourselves. And I think that is how it’s designed. Otherwise, it’d be so boring, and we’d be robots walking around just waiting to take our last breath.

The universe is asking me to figure some stuff out these days and sometimes it seems like a pretty big load. But, I know one thing for sure. My life is not one where I quiet my passion. It is not one where I smooth out the edges of my emotion. It might mean more hurt, higher highs, and lower lows. But, I’ve figured this much out and I’m getting my white paint out, and am headed back to the drawing board.

I buy into this concept and find myself happily giving first in lots of cases. However, how long can one go on giving without getting before they throw in the towel or start feeling resentful.

The key here for me is that while we should, and hopefully are willing to give first (and sometimes not even get anything in return), it is a critical step to get something in return-whether it be something material or more spiritual in nature.

Ocho and I got out early and hit the beach. When we arrived at the beach there were already so tracks of another early riser and his pooch. We spent about a half an hour quietly walking up and down the beach. Ocho loves to roll around in the snow and always seems perplexed by all the new smells, or perhaps the absence of all the old smells.

A few of his buddies arrived a little later and they were all in rare form as they celebrated their first snow. I could almost hear Ocho saying. “Hey look guys! All this white stuff is back. Hooray! Come run with me!”

These days I am finding great relief in physical experiences that rock me out of my overall sadness/slump/whatever you call it. Like walking outside and being punched in the cheeks by a below 30 degree wind. Running on the treadmill until it feels like my legs can’t go another step. Putting my body in a plank position and holding it until every muscle is screaming to relax.

I know other people medicate themselves either with anti-depressants or other substances or people, and I pass no judgment if that is what people need to do. However, for me, I need to feel everything I am feeling with the hopes that I’ll get through this time faster and more whole.

I continue to be physically healthy and am making conscious decisions to keep myself moving forward. Working, working out, taking Ocho to the dog beach, dinners with friends, therapy.

I feel like I am very much in limbo. There is much that needs to happen over the coming months, but I do not yet see the path. I’m not sure it’s even possible to see the whole path because I am not control of what’s coming next. A friend gave me the advice to take one step at a time and that is what I am trying to do.

When I look back on this time in my life, I am banking on what I hope is this realistic thought, “That was such a hard time, but as I look back on it, it really did go quickly. And I made it through.”

I took Ocho for a walk and ended up loosing my house key (and gym pass) because Ocho ate a hole through my pocket last week (thanks, pup).  So really, it was my fault for forgetting about the hole, but jeez, can’t a girl catch a break.

I retraced my steps and never found the key. Enter the rock. Yep, I smashed the window and was able to get in. Sidebar: it’s alarming how easy it was to break into my house. So off to the gym where I had to ask for a new keyring pass, and $5 later they supplied it. However, I FORGOT TO PICK IT UP when I left the gym, so I’ve got to go back in a little while to pick it up. Ugh.

While on the treadmill, a client, whose project budget dissolved a few weeks ago called to tell me she has budget again and the project is back on. Great, except I have two other projects in the hopper as a solution to loosing her project. But, not a bad problem to have, I know, and I already have solutions forming.

Got home, called a contractor friend who is coming to look at the window tonight, and cleaned up the glass. As I cleaned up the glass, I noticed what a wreck the house is and called to see if the cleaning service could come today (crazy to think they could get me in Thanksgiving week, but thought I’d try). They said they could come at 1:30, and they showed up at 11:45. Great. The problem with the timing is that my sheets were in the washer, so I’ve got to make the bed later. Rats.

But, in the end, I’ve got two new projects coming in so I can’t complain. Goal today is to get all my paperwork organized so I can attack these new projects with grace and effectiveness!

Here’s a little background on the decision. When we first brought him home, he showed signs of aggressive behavior. We had a few incidents of biting (mostly other dogs, but it’s his first reaction when he feels backed into the corner)–enough that I decided we’d not take him to the beach anymore. Fast forward a few months and it just became clearer and clearer that Evanston and a condo without a yard were not the best circumstances for him.

I cried for the last 30 miles or so and couldn’t believe how fast those miles sped under the tires. When we pulled up, he saw Rosie and when crazy. He clearly recognized her (she was his handler for two years in the show ring), and was really happy to see her. He cried a little as we walked away from the van, but I’m sure Eric and I are crying more than him. We’ll be checking in on his progress as Rosie works with him to get his aggression under control.

Ocho seems to be doing okay, although I think he’s been looking for Marco a couple of times tonight. Right now he is curled up sleeping in his regular, favorite spot, so that’s good.

2009 is turning out to be a year of hard decisions and saying good-bye. This time last year, I’d have never predicted this. All I can say is, buy stock in Kleenex.

We ended the weekend with a little bonding time in Lafayette with Maya and Beres. What cuties!

These days are bittersweet days.

It might be because we are sailing with old sails, but I think there is also something wrong with the rig. We’re gonna work on it and try to get things ready for Nationals in October. Today should be good as it’s 15 to 20 knots of wind. Can’t wait! Here’s a shot of me sitting on the boom on our downwind leg.

The weekend began when we picked up Christa, a former camper of mine, at Union Station. She flew in from Seattle and hitched a ride to camp with us. In deference to Eric, Christa and I resisted the urge to sing camp songs the whole way to the camp gate. Although Eric revealed he was ready with his ear phones should any such activity transpired (smart man).

Once we arrived, it was a whirl of hugs and smiles. It’d only been a few weeks since I’d been to camp as I was on the reunion planning committee (due to the omission of the word “no” from my vocabulary), so it wasn’t so much about walking around to see what’s changed. For me, it was all about finding people to reconnect with. It was kind of like an Easter egg hunt.

It was so fun to see Geoff because he was the entire reason I was at Eberhart. When I was in high school, I worked at the Bloomington YMCA with Geoff and he recommended me to the camp directors at the time. Geoff married Dana, who was the waterfront director my first summer at camp.

Many women (!) who were my campers nineteen years ago were there with their own kids and husbands. And there were many, many fellow counselors. In fact, there just a few people who couldn’t make it that I really wished were there.

I think my favorite moment at camp was the traditional last-night-of-camp initiation campfire. It was filled with the quiet moments of reflection, stories, songs, and ashes on the forehead. And the grand finale was a huge fireworks display while we all hung out on the island and made s’mores.

As always it was hard to leave on Sunday and going to work on Monday was almost unbearable. The only solace is that I’ll be headed back in just a few weeks to volunteer for a week.

I feel like such a kid again, waiting to leave for camp this morning. It is going to be a weekend of hugs, laughter, singing camp songs, playing games, and all around silliness

While I was in Seattle all I could think about was getting back to my boys for cuddles (canine and human). Thank goodness I don’t travel bunches and bunches.