January 6, 2013

2013 - A Year to Savor

A friend has picked out one word to focus on for each of the last few years.  This time, I decided to follow her example.  My word for the year?  Savor.

It's a good word for me.  To begin with, I've been carrying a fair amount of resentment because of  the dog attack in June, during which my life partner got between me and a pit bull that had lunged into our back yard. The pit bull went to live with Jesus a few moments later; and I took Michael to the doctor shortly thereafter. That Tuesday a return visit to the doctor ended with hospitalization, massive antibiotics, massive painkillers, and, on Wednesday, plastic surgery to clean out the infection, which by then was sending red streaks up and down his arms. Five days in the hospital and nine weeks out of work wiped out all of the year's vacation time, personal time, etc., which is no doubt the reason my resentment escalated in December. I'm accustomed to being surrounded by dozens of friends and family over the holidays, but I wasn't going to leave Michael alone; and Michael had no options for taking time from work.

That brings us again to savor, which, it seems, to me, is the antonym of resent. I'm willing to let the dead past bury its dead; and to let the pit bull rest in peace, having learned that, as vicious as pit  bulls are, cocker spaniels are notorious for attacking pretty little two-year-old girls. (Per a nurse we met, they always go for the face).

Cocker spaniels, I'll admit, commit less damage, but the essential problem is owners who don't believe that any dog, including their own sweet precious dog, can turn in an instant and therefore must be constantly overseen.


The pit bull changed the complexion of 2012 in other ways.You know that thousand-yard stare that military personnel, police officers, and firefighters can display? The dog had a 2-thousand-yard stare when it turned to me. Nobody was home behind its eyes. The dog was a throw-back He'd tasted blood, and I was next. Rather, I would have been next, but Michael is former military, has a concealed carry permit, and had a loaded pistol in his pocket.  Of vital importance, he knew how to read trajectories and angles. Therefore the dog died instantaneously, mid-leap, from one shot into the brain through the mouth, and I was safe.

It was a summer of panic attacks for me and concern that somebody would retaliate by killing my Labrador mix in a drive-by shooting. I also  spent hours in hospitals during which I constantly called Michael "Fred" -- the name of my late husband, who died in 2000 after a lengthy illness. (PTSD shows up in lots of guises.)

On a lighter note, in September I was far enough removed from giving up cigarettes (5 years) that I thought I could withstand the modest deprivation of a diet. I've lost 17 pounds, using a miracle method I developed ALL BY MYSELF but will now share with you. Here is is:

    no ice cream
    no eating between meals
    after putting your meal on your plate, scrape half of it onto another plate to eat the next day.
    in a restaurant, ask for a go-box when your meal is served, put half the meal in it, take it home with you, and don't eat it until the next day.

That's pretty much it. I also did join a wonderful site called Bitch Yourself Thin where there's an emergency distraction button and people in charge with smart moves and bright ideas to keep you motivated. Love them a lot. They don't pay me to say that, unfortunately.

I haven't been blogging because not eating takes up a lot of time. Further, I've come to suspect that blogging, while useful, does not equal writing. I can blog with one eye shut and my brain sent out to the cleaners, which is the opposite of real writing.

Finally, google is demanding money if I want to publish more photos;. and personally I think they monopolize too much of the world's money already.

All of this is to say I'm going to be out of pocket for a while, giving my time to understanding what it means to savor each day; and to notice what is to be savored in each day; and how much.  Wishing you the best for 2013.

1 comment:

Lisa Creech Bledsoe said...

Oh, my. What a terrible, horrible thing to have happen to you and your compadre. I'm so sorry to hear about the dog attack; it brings back all that old fear and misery I'd stuffed away after Isaac (at age 4) was mauled. It can be absolutely devastating, I know; I'm so grateful to know that Michael was able to protect you, and that both of you are recovering and whole, if scarred.

I'm also glad to hear that you're investing time and energy into renewed healthy living -- and writing! In the end, the Word prevails, doesn't it? Much, much love to you...

Headed over to try and find your new FB page...