If there are no dogs in heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went - Will Rogers
There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face - Ben Williams
A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself - Josh Billings
The average dog is nicer than the average person - Andy Rooney
I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult - Rita Rudner
My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can. That's almost $21.00 in dog money - Joe Weinstein
Even consider what our dogs must think of us? I mean, here we come back from a grocery store with the most amazing haul - chicken, pork, half a cow. They must think we're the greatest hunters on earth! - Anne Tyler
You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, "wow you're right I would have never thought of that" - Dave Barry
If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then give him only two of them - Phil Pastoret
My goal in life to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Parenting the Parents
So it's been almost a year since mom died and things just keep going down hill here. I feel like I have become a parent to my own father. Maybe's he's just depressed, but since around December he has become impossible to live with. Refuses to talk, is grumpy, snappish, demanding, won't clean up or pick up after himself. I am beginning to feel like I live with a teenager. I am truly at my wits end here. Even thinking about leaving makes me feel guilty for leaving him alone, but am not sure I can do this much longer. My brother is even less of a help, every time I ask for advice, just mumbles "I don't know"
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Poet Unknown
There is no thing that dying, dies forever:
Nothing is so forespent
But it may somehow finally recapture
That first content,
Wrought of the frail and protoplasmic splendor
Of element.
There is no song, once sung, made still forever:
Never such hush profound
But somewhere in the fibers of creation
Under the ground
And over the light of stars in the summer heavens
Makes cosmic sound.
There is no love, once told, that dies completely:
Never such love has grown
But scatters seed producing in its likeness
From zone to zone:
Shaping the destiny of men and angels
In worlds unknown.
Nothing is so forespent
But it may somehow finally recapture
That first content,
Wrought of the frail and protoplasmic splendor
Of element.
There is no song, once sung, made still forever:
Never such hush profound
But somewhere in the fibers of creation
Under the ground
And over the light of stars in the summer heavens
Makes cosmic sound.
There is no love, once told, that dies completely:
Never such love has grown
But scatters seed producing in its likeness
From zone to zone:
Shaping the destiny of men and angels
In worlds unknown.
Countee Cullen Poem
"Live like the wind," he said, "unfettered,
And love me while you can;
And when you will, and can be bettered,
Go to the better man.
"For you'll grow weary, maybe, sleeping
So long a time with me;
Like this there'll be no cause for weeping;
The wind is always free.
"Go when you please," he would be saying,
His mouth hard on her own;
That's why she stayed and loved the staying,
Contented to the bone.
And love me while you can;
And when you will, and can be bettered,
Go to the better man.
"For you'll grow weary, maybe, sleeping
So long a time with me;
Like this there'll be no cause for weeping;
The wind is always free.
"Go when you please," he would be saying,
His mouth hard on her own;
That's why she stayed and loved the staying,
Contented to the bone.
Robert Service Poem
I know a garden where the lilies gleam,
And one who lingers in the sunshine there;
She is than white-stoled lily far more fair,
And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!
I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
And one who toiles and toils with tireless pen,
Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary - then
He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.
And ah, it's strange; for, desolate and dim,
Between these two there rolls an ocean wide;
Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in the garret there with him.
And one who lingers in the sunshine there;
She is than white-stoled lily far more fair,
And oh, her eyes are heaven-lit with dream!
I know a garret, cold and dark and drear,
And one who toiles and toils with tireless pen,
Until his brave, sad eyes grow weary - then
He seeks the stars, pale, silent as a seer.
And ah, it's strange; for, desolate and dim,
Between these two there rolls an ocean wide;
Yet he is in the garden by her side
And she is in the garret there with him.
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