Tuesday, August 28, 2007

O is for . . .

Today makes 2 months since my dear sweet Oreo left his earthly cat life. And what a 2 months it has been. Still hard to fathom he's not returning, and I still make daily additions to the river of tears I have cried. Strange things do it. Shopping near the supplement aisle still draws me in with that feeling of hope that I would find a cure, an elixir that might save him. The baby food aisle is another one. Those meals were all he could/would eat towards the end. Anything black and white - it can be a car, someone's jacket, a painting - I see it and his presence comes shining out of it. Songs. We had a special one toward the end that I would play (by the Be Good Tanya's) - called the Littlest Birds. Here you can hear it and see the video. If you scroll down on this page and click The Littlest Birds, that's the song. I can't quite hear it yet. I used to sing it to him and it made him do 'happy tail.' Another song is the music on the iPhone commerical which they play constantly every night on TV!! It's by Orba Squara and it's called Perfect Timing. It just brings back a flood of memories and feelings.

But, as others who have lost beloved pets, we move on. Alicia at Posey Gets Cozy who just lost her dear black and white dog Audrey says, "one foot in front of the other." She has a wonderful way of expressing her loss and it has helped me. We have to make diligent efforts to get on with life. My heart says crawl in bed and sleep, but my mind knows that won't help matters. I do still think I'll see my Oreo again one day if there's something after this. I hope there is. This letter O is so special and close to my heart.

N is for . . .

Saying NO. Sometimes to make life simpler, you just have to say no. Often times in my line of work as a marketing consultant (mostly writer) (and I know this is true for my friend at Foziewisp) there are clients who take full advantage of the fact that you will go the extra mile. Only that mile turns into a trek across the Sahara desert. ..and back. And then often there is no thanks at the end of the trek. These are good clients to fire. So, what do we say the next time they call? Um. NO!

I feel compelled to add a note that these clients are none of my wonderful ones whom I also consider friends. These are the altogether different ones in the small, short-lived, pesky category.

Image from: Thomas Hawk's Digital Connection

M is for . . .

Here she is in all her leggy glory. My Mom was born in Cologne, Germany in 1926. My grandmother named her Liselotte, which she quickly changed to Joanne when she was 17. She was a hat model for a bit and as you can see here the girl could strike a pose. My granny's name was Wilhelmine Hubertina Slavic. Quite the trio of names if I may say so.

M is also for marks woman. Me, here, with my little .22 complete with scope for good target practice. We are/were a family of guns. Not me, but my Dad had a collection and my brother does still. I'm pretty much anti-gun/anti-hunting, but here I am: little girl with gun!

This picture is of My brother. Good excuse to use the "M" for that. What a sweet face. And dig that groovy cardigan.

And how about mini-skirt? Don't you just love this little get-up? White knee socks and all! I wonder if this was something I picked out. I don't remember. But I do remember rockin' the knee socks at any opportunity. This blog has clearly taken a turn. It is now the Pictures of Robin as a kid Blog.

L is for . . .

Labrador Retriever. Ours, Saylor, is such a great dog. She is now totally on the mend after her bouts with tumors. We are very hopeful she is 100% again and going to live a nice long life. No more animal tragedies please. This old heart may just stop ticking.

Another pair of adorable labs, Butters and Bebe (of Southpark fame) belong to my work colleague and friend, Dirk, and his wife Ashley. How cute are they? That's Bebe on the right all puppy-like and snorgled in next to Butter's who probably wasn't positive, at first, why they needed another one!

L is also for . . . lymph nodes. I was all in a tizzy yesterday after discovering what I thought were swollen lymph nodes above my collar bones. Wrong. Here's the punch line. The doctor said it's subcutaneous fat. Neck fat was never so welcomed. I had a new lease on life upon leaving the doctor's office.

And, L is for . . . letter writing. Almost a lost art, but such a wonderful thing. I try to send hand-written notes and cards when I can. I don't write nearly enough of them I know, but it's something to put on that goal sheet when all the other stuff on that sheet is done. Through the years my Dad, Mom, and Grandmother wrote me tons of letters. I saved them all. Addition to goal sheet: organize and place all letters in nice box.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

K is for . . .

Cath Kidston. I have appreciated her style and fabric for what seems like decades, and finally on a trip to London I was able to visit one of her shops. Pure heaven. Amazing fabrics - all so light and bright and cheerful.
Ms. K also has a lot of cute clothing, accessories, and house stuff. I love this purse.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

J is for . . .

Justice for all the abused and tortured dogs that fell under the control of Michael Vick and his ignorant cronies. All I can say to those prosecutors is sick'em. I hope he gets to feel some of the pain he inflicted. I know sometimes people do not learn from harsh retribution, but today I am feeling particularly Italian. It's just that animals have little to no voice. If the people who understand and value their worth don't stand up for them, they are left to suffer. I consider it my duty. There are lots of petitions floating around to voice your opinion regarding old Vick. I would encourage everyone to take a few minutes to do so. One can be found here - scroll down to see it.

Monday, August 20, 2007

I is for . . .

Inspi(red) toes. I had all but sworn off pedicures (one too many scary news exposes on the horrors of the dirty spa bowl), until I looked at my heels and thought hoof rather than foot. My neighbor Jeff goes and gets pedicures - he calls it "getting his pigs done." This was a similar thing. They needed it! So, I pick a nice dark red and sit down to have the pedicure done. This woman made such quick work of my pedicure that as I dinked around with my phone programming numbers and she so quickly applied the color, I was surprised to see the finished application was not the color I picked! More of a stripper orangey-pink. I decided not to make a fuss and paid and left. At least I'm back to having feet!

Another favorite "I" is Indian, as in Calcutta and Bombay and curry and cumin. I could eat Indian food at least once a week, if not more. One favorite place here in San Diego is Sarati Farsan. Totally vegetarian and so daaah-licious. They play Indian music videos in the restaurant as you dine. Very fun and casual.

I is also for in back of - as in the cute wallpaper that was in back of a couple layers of paint in the bathroom we just re-did. Someone must have applied this in the 40s when the house was built. I really like it.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

H is for . . .

Hialeah! It is the place of my birth and an area of Miami. Specifically, I was birthed at Hialeah Hospital. So here I am gettin' some air on my swing set in the backyard of our house. I remember I would get going so high that one leg of the swing set would come off the ground! Xtreme sports!

Also, just for reference, in 1959 when I was born, it was during the Cuban embargo and we had many Cuban neighbors. I remember Pablo and his family who lived next door. They came to the US via a 90-mile raft trip. No lie - on a raft that they built. Pretty amazing how many Cubans (~2 million) actually made that trip (not all on rafts!?) to find a safe haven in the US.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

G is for . . .

. . . Gladioli. In Florida, glads, as they are called, grow in fields and are inexpensive and abundant. I always had them in my house. They come in so many great colors. Here, some pink ones were set out to gussy up the house to welcome my friend Lori, and her boyfriend Wayne, this past week. They were also a big favorite of Smiths fans, a band I still love.

Monday, August 13, 2007

F is for . . .

Fort Myers, Florida. When I was 12, we moved to Fort Myers from Miami. We lived on Ricardo Avenue, which was off McGregor Boulevard, a historic street lined by palm trees. Towards downtown, off McGregor, was the Edison Home. It is a beautiful old estate, and today a woman I know, Pam, feeds a whole family of feral cats who make the Edison Home their home. I love that, because old Tom probably wouldn't like it considering his not-so-humane antics with cats, not to mention elephants. Fort Myers is on the west coast of Florida, and is a really nice place to live. My brother, sis-in-law, niece, stepmother, and a bunch of friends still live there. I don't visit near enough. This is a vintage pic of McGregor Boulevard. Other than good paving, it still looks pretty much like this.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

E is for . . .

Everything about him I just adore...still...and always will. It has been just over a month since my dearest Oreo passed away and I continue to feel the flood of love that he has left in my heart. I had a few moments of thinking I would venture into Kitty Motherhood again, but realized it is simply too soon. I love this picture of Oreo and Saylor chillin' on the rug. Schweeet!

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

D is for . . .

* Domino - my childhood dog. (I'm totally copying my buddy at Foziewisp!) Anyway, there was a litter of puppies down the street and for my 5th birthday my Mom got me a darling black puppy. He was a poodle, and after his first clip we were surprised to see that underneath his puppy coat was a new coat in silver! We used to get him completely "done up" with bows and painted nails. Here he's in his summer "puppy clip" which I liked best.

* Daisy - the name I think Saylor's name should be. J. named her Saylor because he sails and windsurfs. But, to me, she's a Daisy! I call her that sometimes for the heck of it and I think she likes it. But she wags her tail at almost anything! She is absolutely darling. Just look at her here sweetly looking at the Christmas tree.

* Demolition - There seems to be no end to our home renovations. I know I shouldn't complain because it is nice to be able to improve things, but . . . for instance today we created more drywall dust than an Arizona sand storm. It seems that for most projects, before we can make it better, we must rip out the old and decrepit. Husby J. believes that a man should not just be judged by what he builds, but by what he tears down. He also believes that doing the demo yourself allows you to save a few bucks. He is Scottish, and these folks know how to make a dollar s t r e t c h. Following are a few highlights from three of our demolition projects - first the kitchen, next the bathroom, and lastly the front of the house!

Monday, August 06, 2007

C is for Cone Zone

Our dear dog, Saylor, just had some surgery and is sanctioned to her cone - lest she should again remove her staples. (First time was at the vet's while in her crate supposedly too drowsy from anesthesia.) When we picked her up, we were told she is not to be trusted and to keep a close watch! This past Saturday we thought, oh, we'll just let her out for a second. About 2 minutes later we walked out to find her skillfully removing staples. Eek! She now LIVES in the Cone Zone, and has been dubbed Mrs. Conzonio. Sorry girl, but you must heal! This picture finds her chillin' on the couch with Dad, watching a little telly.

B is for Bhagwan

Whilst in San Fran, in Berkeley, I noticed this fellow walking with his cool orange turban. Unfortunately, I only got his back as he crossed the street. The big kahuna of bhagwans apparently is Bhagwan Swaminarayan who was born on December 31, 1801 CE. I am fascinated by religion, particularly the way some of them attract members even with such crazy (to me, at least) principles. For instance, the Opus Dei and their mortification rituals. Yikes! And to any Opus Dei's out there whom I may have offended, I offer apologies and, well, band-aids.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

A is for Already Behind

I am excited about this Letter-a-Day theme started by Bella Dia. Let's see if I can keep up! I am somewhat wussing out on A. But there's a reason: I have been writing (for work) all weekend and my brain is so full of wireless technology and records management topics that I am drained of creativity. But hey, this can only get better! :-) Actually I have a great B planned. But you'll have to wait until tomorrow! Good night!

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

San Francisco: Part Four - Dogs!

What can I say? I love animals. And when there aren't cats around to be photographed, well, there are the friendly faces of dogs! First up: Gus. Gus was sitting outside a shop in Berkeley and we came up to pet and talk with him. J. read his tag and that's how we knew he was Gus. About an hour later, walking on another block, we came upon Gus and his owner walking. I looked down at Gus as they were passing us and said in a normal tone of voice, "Hi Gus." The guy walking him looked at me funny as if to say, "How the heck do you know Gus?" I giggled to myself. Gus is a player. Oh yeah. His owner doesn't know everything he does! Also, even though Gus may look somewhat geriatric, he is a spry little guy.

Next up: Chief. We met Chief and his owner at Crissy Field near the marina. Crissy Field is where all the windsurfers sail and the day we were there it was packed with people, windsurfers, and dogs! Chief is a total lover boy. Chasing the ball into the ocean, digging deep holes on the beach, and generally having a great time. He was certainly entertaining us. We talked briefly with his owner, telling him how cute Chief was, and he said, "Yep, and he gets away with murder!" I'm sure of that.

Following Chief is pooch number three, with a lovely black and white coat. I love all things black and white. Can't imagine why.
This is like a dog fashion show!

And lastly, a blurry picture of Smoke, the schipperke. Smoke was minding the store at Castle in the Air in Berkeley on Fourth Street. He sat there quietly, darker than the darkest ink, staring up with adorable, sparkling brown eyes. We bent down to pet him and he melted into a bundle of gratefulness. What a dear, sweet doggy. Excuse the blurry picture, but Smoke had to be included here.