pawprints in the snow

i write a lot about clothes and fashion and crap i can't afford, so much so that i sometimes hang my head in shame for the seemingly wasteful vanity i feel i sometimes exude. i don't mean to come off that way. i just love clothes too much. i am a clothes whore. the only reason i throw clothes out (aka, donate them) is so i can make room in my (way too small) closet for new clothes. this week i was going to drop more money (that i don't have) on clothes (that i don't need - but when has it ever been about needing clothes with me? although i do currently need black pants and patterned camis. ugh, anyway....) but i'll have to wait with that purchase that would have admittedly made me very happy. but happiness is not this adorable cashmere sweater (in baby blue) or this beautiful kate spade birdcage necklace (that i saw in person in soho last month and so i can indeed vouch for its adorableness. yes, i did just drop a soho reference. i'm a dork like that.).


happiness is this face, healthy and happy, snuggling next to me. it wasn't a happy ending for me two years ago, coming home from the vet without the dog i had only had for two weeks. but i never felt my love for animals more than when i was deep in despair for the doggie i had lost.

i love his smell. i love his smile. i love it when he does the beagle wiggle in excitement. i love his little snores as he floats in doggy dreamland. i love that face, those adorable ears softer than velvet, that spotted belly that turns pink when he snuggles deeper in the blankets. i love that it took the worse to make me realize how lucky we are, this beagle and me, to have found each other and take this road together.

the cat i never had

pros of owning my own home: my rules, my stuff (everywhere), my choices about where my stuff goes and what my rules are.

cons: shit goes wrong. and mom won't fix it.

i just need to wake up every morning and say to myself "what today?" today's particular problem: i have a mouse in my house. it's not cute because it rhymes; it's disgusting, especially when i found its poo all over my pantry.

so i'm debating something that i've been wanting since i was six: a cat. the whole mouse problem would just be a side perk to having a cat. it would really be me fulfilling a lifelong dream, plus i get to save another animal, and that's the best thing of all.

what do you think?

i freak over fleas

i was rubbing my dog's white belly when i saw it, a tiny black speck, barely noticeable, moving, roaming for something. i squished its little body in between my fingernails and started freaking out - my adorable, lovable puppy had fleas.

i started freaking out, looking up all sorts of home remedies for flea medications until i could get to the vet. i washed all my sheets, sprayed my home with germ-be-gone (just to make myself feel better), and badgered the boy to shell out $60 for three months' of medicine, instead of paying less than half that for the store-bought version, because then we wouldn't know its ingredients if hamlet had an allergic reaction. i lovingly bathed my puppy in dishwashing soap (only the natural version) while whispering to him in my special hamish voice. i wished i could comb over every inch of his precious fur to get every one of those fucking fleas off of him. i found myself angry at those tiny bugs for invading my precious baby.

it was somewhere between this freak-out and the one i had at my mom's where i checked the back door five times to make sure it was locked so hamlet couldn't escape because my mom lives by a very busy road that i realized i was completely obsessed with the possibility of something happening to my dog.

my second thought was fuck. if i'm this worried about my dog, how the hell am i going to be a mom?

i come from a long line of over-bundle-uppers in the winter and extra medication when sick. worrying is as easy as guilt in my family; the two are close friends. how else do i know that i love someone? i tease them and i worry about them - the tried-and-true test of love. i see the horrible scenarios in my mind over and over, every little thing that could go wrong, every awful event that could happen. i freak out over fleas. how did i babysit as a preteen? why the hell did those stupid parents trust me with their children? i'm going to be that mother who hooks a webcam up to her baby's crib and uses a child leash when in public and calls the pediatrician over every red mark. i'm so messed up, i'm worrying about my tendency to be overly worried. how do parents let this stuff go?

i have a feeling it's a more "you learn to live with it" concept. which sucks almost as much as the worrying to me.