Wading through the Fog

To borrow a phrase from my Aunt Cess, I am an "out there" person. I come by it honestly. My mother has a shade of this and my dad's side of the family is filled with them. I'm not as "out there" as some of my cousins but I'm in the race.

Other relatives and friends seem to be wading through the fog. It makes me sad.

My cousin Scott sent me photos of his recent trip to Bolivia. My cousin John is still a baby in my mind and he's running a company. My cousin Sarah recently had her fourth child (four!) and is managing a business while her husband travels. My cousin Cathy just married on the beach and is running her own business.

The way I see it is this: You can choose the fog or you can choose to be "out there." My choice is obvious.

Burying It and Digging it Up

Our maniac dog is obsessed with taking a bone or a treat and burying it. The backyard is her favorite but she also likes to hide things in a sofa or household plants. I have tried to explain to her that she is the only dog here and it's safe to leave it out. She's not buying it.

The husband thinks I adopted a dog with my personality. We do have some similar traits:

She's very vocal. She hates to hear "No."
She's affectionate. Probably more than necessary.
She loves music. Lying under the piano and playing her squeaky ball is big fun.
She's loyal.
She likes to bend the rules.

I'm also good at burying things. I bury them inside to fester. I convince myself that I have moved on. But sometimes someone will push me to the wall. I dig it up.