family | BulgingButtons

November 7, 2015
by BulgingButtons 2 Comments

This Dog

This dog saved us. My son and I were reeling from life’s twists and turns, and we were trying to figure out how to be a family of two. I was also trying to figure out how to be a mother to a son who couldn’t always be with me. It was gut wrenching and stressful, but we forged ahead, what choice did we have? We were there for each other, but we were still hurting our own separate hurts.

Then it happened. We met this dog. I wanted an older dog, one who already had some training and wasn’t as high energy. House training and chewing and all the puppy stuff seemed totally overwhelming, so no puppies for us. It seemed like a good plan. We also needed a dog that was cat friendly.

We went to a local rescue organization and we walked the rows. Several animals were too large or too small or not cat friendly. Then there were those that were listed as high energy, so we took a pass on them, too. Finally, at the end of the row there was this dog.

She was adorable. She was listed as moderate energy and unknown with cats. We took her out in the play yard where she was interested in us, but not overly so. We took her into the cat area, where she was very curious, but not aggressive. We took a look at her intake sheet and learned that she was only 8 moths old and had already been returned by another family. Before that, the rescue had pulled her from the county shelter where she was slated to be euthanized. She was healthy and beautiful, how could that be?

We adopted her and she peed in the car on the way home. She also barked the whole way. Loudly. My friend met us at home, and off to the pet store we went, purchasing about $200 worth of supplies. That was on top of her (not cheap) adoption fee. Then, on top of all of that, I signed us up for obedience classes. This dog was going to need to bond with us, and what better way than through classes?

We took this dog home, and found out very quickly that she was insane. Barking, jumping, cat chasing, you name it. The mantra, “she’s only a puppy” went through my head all the time. Patience was the key to working with this dog. We took walk after walk after walk to burn off energy. Over time she became easier to live with. We kept going to training, and we found ourselves enjoying her company more and more.

Funny thing about her arrival, she showed up at a time of upheaval and stress. She created more of both, but by doing that she took the focus off the problem of the demolition of my marriage and family. She became the most urgent stressor, and therefor the one that we gave our energy to. I think that helped us heal more quickly.

This dog has been a wonderful dog. She has outgrown most of her crazy, although she is still cat insane (the kitties have found a nice new home together, and we are now a cat free household). This dog is sweet and loyal and loving. This dog is the reason I walked for miles and miles when my divorce was making me crazy, helping me to clear my head and exercise my body. This dog is a love and a joy, and I’m so glad we have her.

November 6, 2015
by BulgingButtons 2 Comments

Cold Snap

Buffalo, New York is famous for the Blizzard of ’77, a huge January storm that practically shut down the city for several days. I remember how eerie it was to accompany my father to visit his hospital patients, driving through deserted streets as a result of the driving ban. Physicians visiting patients were exempt.

Although I was only ten years old, I was starting to develop a case of cabin fever, so I begged to go with him. Before we pulled out of the driveway, my father loaded the car with blankets and a box of Bit-o-Honey candy bars, just in case. It was by no means the first time that city was hit with nasty winter weather, though.

In the winter of 1975, a freak ice storm wrecked havoc on our community, damaging power lines and cutting off heat to thousands of homes. On our street, the odd numbered houses lost power while the even numbers stayed connected. It was not a good week to live at number 199.

Not my street, but you get the idea.

The first night was the worst. Everything outside was in a deep freeze, and the temperature in our Depression-era house kept plunging. All winter long, our golden retriever Pucci slept on my bed protecting me from the chill of the uninsulated outside wall. With the power out, however, even Pucci’s heat couldn’t keep me warm. Not only did I have my Oma’s featherbed from Germany on top of my Hudson Bay blanket, I was wearing long underwear and a ski jacket, along with down mittens and a green and gold striped woolen cap to bed. Oh, and a nightgown and socks, three pairs to be exact. I looked something like a cross between a deranged Pippi Longstocking and a nine-year-old bag lady lost in the Arctic.

Somehow we got through the night, but the situation in the morning wasn’t much better. Cereal, milk, and fruit were fine for breakfast, but there was no power for cooking, and driving anywhere was out of the question.

My father made a fire in the living room, but it really didn’t give off that much heat, unless you were sitting practically on the hearth. I soon grew restless, and I imagine I drove my mother nuts. She made a quick call, then threw some things in a bag for me and took my mittened hand as we slipped and slid across the street and down the block to my classmate’s warm house. She left me there for three days, until our power was restored.

I guess my older brother handled the cold better, because he got to stay home with my parents, but at least I was warm. Still, I was relieved to finally go home and sleep in my own bed, minus my ridiculous ski attire

October 22, 2015
by BulgingButtons 3 Comments

Bar Mitzvah Dancing – Salsa Meets Horah

I had the wonderful privilege of celebrating my nephew’s Bar Mitzvah with him last weekend, and it was a ball. Oh sure, there were a few tense moments as I muddled through the Hebrew blessing during the actual service, but he did great, and after all, he was the one everyone was there to see, so no worries.

I love a good Bar Mitzvah. Extended family members and close family friends from all over the place come together to celebrate this milestone, and we do it with gusto. There are luncheons, dinners, and brunches thrown for these events, and of course there are parties.

My brother and his wife went through this wonderful celebration a little over a year ago with their daughter. They are pros by now. Their son’s events were every bit as enjoyable, but different and unique to him and his preferences. For example, the kid doesn’t eat real food. Somehow he has survived all these years on scrambled eggs, grilled cheese, white rice, and air. At the luncheon there was an entire table devoted to “his” foods, which proved to be surprisingly popular with many of the guests.

The big event, aside from the actual ceremony, was the evening party, and oh what a party! The kids started off in the ballroom of the venue, but we adults gathered in the lakeside bar to enjoy cocktails and a beautiful sunset. We joined the kids later for a fabulous dinner followed by dancing, and more cocktails. Open bar, you say? Yes, please.

There was traditional Jewish dancing, including a rousing Horah where my son joined the men in lifting celebrants high overhead as they sat in a chair. Even my mother was hoisted to the sky, gripping the chair for dear life! Then there was the real dancing. My sister-in-law is Puerto Rican, and the girl can dance! She does a smooth Salsa, and she’s managed to teach my brother. I have two left feet, but when they married they gave me a crash course, so I could dance at their wedding. Apparently my feet remembered, because when I was escorted onto the dance floor (by her equally smooth brother) I didn’t crush any toes.

I loved getting up to dance, it reminded me of my college years, when dancing was a part of every weekend party. Of course, as I said, I’m not a real dancer, but honestly nobody cares as long as you’re moving and having fun. My mother learned that long ago. She’s been doing the same little locomotive arm movements for as long as I can remember, but she loves to dance! I won’t reveal her age (because she would be mortified, as if people believe her when she says she’s 29) but she’s been dancing a long time. I want to get up and dance when I’m her age. I want to be invited to celebrations, and I want to shake it to whatever that generation’s Ke$ha and Pitt Bull have to offer. I owe it to my family and future generations.