Marjorie Writes…

Everyday Musings of an Extraordinary Woman

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Life is Too Short

I spent a couple hours this afternoon with some former co-workers from my college newspaper days. It was great to see them, catch up with what was going on in our lives, talk about our kids and our memories from between 25 and 30 years ago. However, there was an underlying sadness. We came together to celebrate the life of one of our own, whose life was cut short by cancer the day after Christmas.

While there were only a few of us there from our group, it was a good sized gathering from different facets of her life. I remember her as always having a huge smile and a great spirit.

The greater group of alumni from our newspaper usually gets together every few years. And even though we’re not all able to make it each time, we all usually make our best efforts as those times were special to all of us. I remember them well, and I remember clearly whom I was back in those days, back when I thought we would change the world, or at least report on those who did.

This was also a reminder about how I’ve meant to ask a couple former classmates to let me bring my daughter to their workplace as she wants to be a journalist too, and I’d love to be able to give her the experience to see what it’s really like, even just as a peek.

Sadly, it seems far too frequent that one of our own is gone from the group forever, lost to the eternity of death. As one of my friends said today, it feels like we’re far too young to keep losing our college friends.

Today is a reminder to my University of Houston Daily Cougar alumni friends that it’s time again to get together, before we lose another person. It’s a reminder how short life is and how unfair it can be.

Never miss a chance to tell those you care about how you feel. We are never guaranteed tomorrow, and we often don’t have the opportunity of knowing in advance when we will lose someone. Don’t leave things unsaid. Live life to the fullest. All cliche ideas, yet also all very necessary to remember.


#notmydaughter Revisited

So if you read my last post, you know my daughter was sexually harassed in school this past week. It started Monday, continued Wednesday, and I reported it Thursday morning. I went in to talk to her principal, told him the story, and was pretty reassured by his response. One of my greatest concerns was whether she would have to face a backlash for reporting it. He told me that was considered retribution, which is a felony, and would not be tolerated. I had no clue that was the case, but it definitely made me feel better.

When I went in to speak with the principal, I wanted to see them talk to the student and his parents and let them know this was unacceptable behavior. And hopefully see if he could be moved into a different class time (esp since he just transferred into that class this semester, a matter of weeks ago). I was told this would be referred to the police. That gave me pause, for as wrong as what he did was, I also know it was only words and I would hate to affect his future, in terms of college. The principal said he was already in trouble (legal) and maybe this would be what he needed to make a change. As I was leaving his office, I heard him telling the assistant to call my daughter in.

She let me know after she went in, and he had her fill out an incident report after he listened to her version of events. She gave him the name of the witness, and talked to the police officer, who also asked her if she had the same lunch period as the boy. She didn’t know. He hadn’t been on her radar – she’d talked to him a few times before this past week, in the class he was now in, about the work.

Today my daughter would have had class with him again. Instead, she left school early (not because of him) to go to her favorite weekend activity – her beloved USY kallah weekend. I swear, she lives for these weekends. I’m so glad it just happened to come after this past week! I reached out, by email, to the principal, this afternoon, to ask if the boy had been transferred out of her class, as she wanted to make sure. He called me himself and told me it had been done, and that the boy had been warned, by the police officer, that if he talks to her or has his friends talk to her, she is to let them know immediately. The principal told the boy if that were to happen, the police would be going to the district attorney to have charges filed.

I asked my daughter yesterday evening how she was doing. She said she’s pretty good. With a flip of her long hair, she said, after all, it’s just words so it’s easy to brush off. Still, I had her talk to the CIS counselor in the school this morning so if she has any trouble later, the counselor would have the background to move forward in getting help.

I think she’ll be fine. Thankfully, although they were disturbing words, and left her feeling threatened at the time, as my daughter said, they were just words. She felt strongly about reporting it just because it was so disturbing and she did feel so threatened. That left me thinking. I’m not as worried about her having long-term psychological effects after this experience. Well, after the harassment. The reporting will hopefully leave her feeling empowered and strong.

Now, after-effects of the harassment? Sadly, while most boys/men are respectful even while pursuing you, not all are. I hate to say that she has to learn that at some point, but it’s true. Before you blast me, I’m being completely realistic, not pessimistic, and definitely not engaging in any kind of male bashing. I just know what really goes on in this world. I think her attitude about words being able to be shrugged off will work well for her in the future.

I only hope the boy involved learned a lesson about talking to girls. And respect. And that his “rapey” dialog doesn’t lead to actual rape because someone shut him down before he got to that. Although his comment about liking to “take girls’ virginity” worries me. I hope they were all consensual



I haven’t written and posted anything in here in years. I have been motivated to a few times, last when the synagogue in Pittsburgh was attacked, but life got in the way. Tonight I could no more ignore my need to write than I could forsake my children.

I am so grateful tonight that the open, honest relationship I have worked so hard to cultivate with my children, now both teens, is still open enough with my almost 17-year-old daughter that she could come to me with an important issue.

Not 6 months ago I had a serious discussion with her about reporting sexual assault, if it should ever occur. I still pray it never does. However, tonight she told me that twice this week a boy in her science class sexually harassed her. From what I understand, when it happened Monday she blew it off. When it happened again today, it rattled her. Badly.

Tomorrow morning I will be starting my day at her high school, planning to speak with her principal.  My daughter and I had a long talk about what happened, and whether she would report it. She wants to, she understands the importance of reporting sexual misconduct, in this case harassment. I told her I would support whatever decision she made, whether to report it or not.

How is it that today, in 2019, this is still even a concern? How is it that the lessons of the past are so ingrained in me that my biggest concern about her reporting something that left her shaken and feeling threatened and unsafe, was that if she faced retribution it could be more damaging to her psyche than the harassment itself?

I trust in her school, in her counselor and principal and teachers, that they will have her back, as I know her friends and community and I will. I plan to keep my cool when I go into the school tomorrow but if I find out afterward there is any retribution, I will go all mama bear on them.

I fully understand that no matter how far we think we’ve come as a society, some boys are just boys ruled by their hormones and lack of respect. But that’s still not acceptable. It’s bad enough it happens in dating situations, but for it to happen in a classroom, twice, is beyond unacceptable. In what universe is it remotely acceptable for a senior boy in high school to tell a junior girl he wants to fuck her? To repeatedly ask her why she’s still a virgin and to tell her at least he’ll still be nice to her afterwards? And how in the hell can other students not say anything when he says he likes to take girls’ virginities? How is that even something that can not have other kids chiming in, coming to her defense? Again, this is 2019, not 1989. We’ve had the #metoo movement and the #timesup movement. We watched, as a nation, as a victim of sexual assault which occurred during my teenage years was repeatedly verbally attacked, harassed, and threatened for coming forward about that attack. We were outraged and swore that wouldn’t happen again. And that was what prompted the discussion with my daughter 6 months ago.

At that time, my inclination was to tell her if it ever happened to her, not to report it, because she would be victimized again, verbally, as a result. But instead, I told her the importance of reporting it, if not for herself, than for the next girl. In part, in hopes that by reporting it there wouldn’t be a next girl for that boy to assault.

And tonight, I sit here hoping that lesson, now hitting so close to home, is not the wrong one. I pray and trust that those in power in her school will do the right thing, not only in dealing with what happened already, but in protecting her from any fallout.

Tonight I sit with tears in my eyes that my very grown up 16-year-old, who is still so very young, is having to deal with this, when she should be more worried about her college English class or her next pre-cal test, not whether she should report sexual harassment from one of the boys who sits at her table in science class.

The #metoo movement should have given way already to the #notmydaughter movement (no, not yet a real thing) in the hopes of stressing that we’ve had enough and aren’t going to allow this culture to continue to affect our next generation. They’re the ones who will be shaping the future. They’re the ones who already worry about safety in school from mass shootings. This should not be happening.

Hold your babies close. Even if they’re now taller than you. Empower them with the knowledge that doing the right thing is always the right thing to do, although it’s often by far not the easiest thing to do. Teach them to stick up for themselves, as she did today. I can’t tell you how proud I am of her for standing up for herself and not backing down. It makes my heart swell with pride even as it’s breaking that she had to stand up for herself in the first place.

Keep the lines of communication open. We as parents must always be a safe place for our kids to come when they aren’t feeling safe. And teach your kids to stand up for themselves and others. There will always be bad eggs out there, but if enough of our kids are standing up against what’s wrong, the future will right itself.

Message Received, Universe!

It all started a week or so ago. First one old friend, then another, both men I completely respect and trust, told me they’d loved me for years. These are guys who are both super-intelligent and very thoughtful, and both have been good friends to me in my life, the kind of people you never forget, even if you lose touch with them.

So it made me feel pretty good, I mean, who wouldn’t? Now, for the past couple of years, I’ve been struggling professionally. Prior to that I closed the business that had been mine for ten years, that had been my father’s before me. The economy was too much to overcome. So after taking a couple of months off to relax for the first time since I’d had kids and started running my own business, I started looking for work. I took on freelance jobs, doing well at what I did. But between the economy and the flakiness of freelance work, it’s been a struggle. After two years of freelancing, direct sales, odd jobs, etc, I’m ready for a full-time, benefits and regular time off job. But with the economy still being what it is, and being in an area that is employment-challenged unless you work in the service industry (which would be fine if it were not for the issue of nights and weekends and childcare), it’s hard. So I’ve been struggling.

Two years of struggling, coming off of two years of a tumultuous, heart-breaking, abusive marriage, can seriously affect your self-esteem/confidence/self-worth. Mine had taken a beating, and while I still have always believed in myself and had faith that I would land on my feet and things would work out, it’s still been tough, emotionally.

Then comes this morning. I met a new friend for breakfast after getting the kids off to school. We are working together on a project and wanted to meet to talk about it. Of course, most of the hours we spent together were chatting and getting to know each other, as we didn’t really know each other before today. One of the first things she said to me was, “You were married to John XYZ, right?” Immediately, as is my custom now, I say yes, I was married to him for 2 1/2 months before I kicked him out. Well, it turns out she knew him when he was a nice guy, when I met him. Then she said, “He loved you so much.” I almost started crying. You see, all I ever hear now is how could you have married him, what kind of idiot are you that you married a guy like that. But when I met him, he wasn’t like that. He was nice and fun and funny. He was smart and made me feel good about myself. I started seeing him, thinking he was just going to be a fun summer romance. But he quickly became my best friend, and I was his. He treated me better than any guy had ever treated me (overall, for the most part, not all of the time, he also hurt me sometimes, not physically, but hurt me nonetheless).

So when my new friend talked to him years ago, after he’d been in a bad car accident, he apparently had sung my praises, saying I had saved his life. And she said he loved me completely. I needed that. I needed so badly to hear that from someone, but I didn’t know I needed to hear that. You see, things deteriorated between us and he became very emotionally abusive. He had a lot of demons and was an alcoholic – drunk 24/7, literally. Somewhere in there I went from being his best friend and the love of his life to someone he didn’t fully trust anymore because of his own issues. And he took it out on me. And in the blindness of my love for him, I continued to believe I could save him and still married him, although I knew by that time that I shouldn’t.

Since then, I’ve questioned whether he ever loved me. Whether the early caring and love and friendship and passion had just been a ploy to win my confidence and my love. And I was told that by so very many people, including law enforcement, that he had used me, had been trying to get at the inheritance he thought was so big, which really wasn’t. I knew his finances, he trusted me with them. His net worth far outweighed mine at that point, before the bad choices he made contributed to all of his problems.

As a result, I’ve been reluctant to trust my heart anymore, to enter into any relationships for fear of being used, or abused, or played a fool, or hurt. The one man I was interested in since him didn’t share my affection, which was fine. I had decided I would stay single until my kids were grown, it was easier that way. But that one simple sentence, spoken with such belief, “He loved you so much,” seemed to open my heart along with my tear ducts.

So it hit me as I was driving home from breakfast that this was another in a string of messages from the universe. And now I’ve heard it loud and clear. Watch out life, here I come!

Live, love, laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!

Wow. Just Wow.

Before another long, late-night conversation with an old friend last night, I knew what the topic was going to be for my next blog post. I had been giving it a lot of thought for a day or two. I hate to use the word perceptions again, since I already have one post from last summer about perceptions, but there’s really no other word  I could substitute with the same meaning. Now I actually have two separate posts to write about perceptions, which I hate, but again, there is no other word that works.

So I’m going to start with the second post. This is because right now, it’s all I can think about. I have to try to work it out in my head to get around it, because it’s like the elephant in the room. I need it gone so I can think clearly again.

Ok, so imagine you’re in your mid-forties. Your first true love was when you were seventeen. And the love was so strong it has always stayed with you, though of course it has dulled with time. You know, like it’s supposed to – it’s always going to be part of your heart and part of your story, part of what makes you who you are.

So one night you’re talking with an old friend, who was the best friend of your first love. And he’s one of your best friends in your life, and potentially more. And as you’re rehashing this ancient, failed romance, as you do from time to time (mostly because you always learn new kernels of information which put things in perspective and make you think differently, which is a very interesting and wondrous thing.

Now, when you were dating this first love of your life, you were a high school senior. He was twenty and in the army. You met him and his friends through the friend you’re talking to, whom you met when you were out with friends from school (and he’s your age). So you’re talking to your old friend, who starts to point out things that you had accepted as normal way back when, but which don’t seem normal when they’re pointed out (at first, because of the fact that they are pointed out, which makes them stand out). And there are more of them. And then your friend mentions PTSD. And you ask the innocent question about why they would have PTSD since they were stationed stateside and unless there was awful hazing taking place, it wouldn’t make sense. Now, you know all about PTSD and what causes it and what it causes, because you happen to have it from two separate traumatic incidents in your own life – you’ve been battling it for half of your life now.

So then other things are pointed out that should have been red flags for you back then (in fact, your old friend asks didn’t it seem weird to you, didn’t we seem different after we came back) but being seventeen and naive and trusting and in love you had accepted what had been told to you at the time, and never questioned your beliefs.

Being modern, you Google the dates and OMG. Your world flips upside down because suddenly what never really made sense now may have other reasons. Ok, your world doesn’t really flip upside down, but half of your brain does just because this is THAT BIG. So after you stop Googling you send a message with a couple of links to said friend. And when he responds the next afternoon, he tells you he loves you, but you have to delete those messages. The NSA wouldn’t like the mentions made and the connections drawn. There was a reason these guys you trusted completely didn’t tell you the truth way back when. So you ask more questions and are told to ask the guy you were once in love with. Which you can’t. You just don’t have the nerve.

Now after spending half the day pondering this, you know you have to put it to rest and let it go. You have a lot to do in the next few weeks and you can’t be dwelling on how such a crucial part of your history may have just been re-written in several ways. Well, ok, not really your history, but the reasons behind WHY that part of your history ended the way it did.

Sorry I can’t be more clear on any of this, but when my friend mentioned the NSA, I didn’t want to take any more chances. Who knows, maybe some day I will be able to sit down and find out the back story in more detail. Until then I will try my best not to spend any more time pondering this…after all, now I have all of you wondering what the heck I’m talking about, so there is no need for me to dwell on this further.

After all, as I used to tell my grandmother regularly, if I have someone else worrying about something (or wondering, in this case), there’s no need for me to worry (or wonder).

Live, love, laugh….it makes it all worthwhile!

Going to Sleep Now

I don’t think insomnia will be a problem tonight. If it is, I’ll be very surprised and will probably go off the deep end. Yea, don’t think that’s going to happen.

Tonight’s blog post will probably be rambling, it’s somewhat of an exercise to see what happens when I try to write coherently when I can barely see straight. I was just messaging with a friend and tried to write vascilate no vascillate no vacillate. And then I got really excited when I got it straight, even with the help of Interesting.

Anyhow, I finally reached the conclusion that I haven’t gone to sleep because I’ve been running all day, all week. Even though we got in late tonight, this is my little bit of MY time today. And tonight, I need MY time. Even though I really need sleep. The good news is that I should sleep really well tonight. And tomorrow is Saturday, no sports, no activities planned, so I can actually sleep late. (We’ll see how well my kids comply, but they are usually pretty good about not waking me up too early. Not that I usually sleep too late.

Ok, I think I reached giddy and passed it. Hope this doesn’t interfere with that great sleep I’m anticipating. I am really looking forward to falling asleep. You know that amazing feeling when you’re just falling asleep, your body is melting into the bed, your mind and body are drifting off and you’re just so relaxed.

Remind me tomorrow to write about what my original topic was going to be – perceptions of self….

On that note, I think I’m going to try to get some sleep before I completely miss my window. Sorry for the ramble and any incoherence that this may contain.

Live, love, laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!


It’s 2:10am here. I should be sleeping. I tried to fall asleep. You can tell that worked well, didn’t it? After being blessed with the ability to fall right to sleep when I was tired for most of my adult life, I suffer from bouts of insomnia.

For some reason, this week, this is my third night of not sleeping well. The first night I couldn’t fall asleep, and ended up chatting with an old, dear friend via Facebook and then phone, literally all night. When I woke my kids for school, I was still on the phone. I ended up sleeping for a few hours when they were in school. The chatting didn’t keep me up – I was on my phone messaging with him before we finally ended up talking on the phone around 5 in the morning. If I had been sleepy, I would have fallen asleep and not responded to his messages.

The next night, I wasn’t messaging with anyone, or talking on the phone. I tried to fall asleep and couldn’t. I got up and wrote two blog posts, Pursue Me ( about the guy I’d been talking to the night before, and Memories (, self-explanatory. And then I tried to go to sleep. Didn’t work. I spent most of the night trying to sleep and couldn’t fall asleep until after 6 am, getting up at 7:15. Last night, I actually slept. Tonight, I’m obviously up again.

The worst is, it’s not like I am worried about anything in particular. My mind isn’t racing while I’m not sleeping. It’s drifting off, but I guess my body is failing to comply with my desire to go to sleep.

This is so frustrating because it really impacts my productivity the next day. And I have a lot to do tomorrow in preparation for my vendor event, as well as a freelance project I’m working on, job searches, job applications, phone calls I need to make, etc. You know, the usual.

Thankfully, I don’t experience insomnia all the time. I usually still just fall asleep once I lie down if I’m tired. That’s part of why I usually stay up late – I know that I will fall right asleep when my body is ready to go to sleep.  I’m hoping that will happen shortly after I finish and publish this!

Do you suffer from insomnia? What helps you finally fall asleep? Some nights I think I should get up and clean, but I’m always afraid that will just wake me up even more. What do you think? Would that make me tired enough to go to sleep? What do you do? I’d love to hear from you!

Live, Love, Laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!


Recently, two old friends posted pictures of me on Facebook from my senior year of high school. And they were two friends who were friends with each other, and I actually met one through the other. Both have been very important in the story of 17This was the first picture. I don’t know what we were doing or where we were. I do know that the picture, while not inspiring memories of one specific event, evoked a plethora of memories last night and today, along with the realization that my daughter looks so much more like me than I realized. And that I wished I had appreciated the head of hair I was blessed with when I was younger!

The other picture, posted today, brought back even more memories, partially inspired by the surroundings:

meat17Now I don’t know what kind of statues the military has, but I won’t name the location of the barracks that was taken in, nor whose room it was. I’m pretty sure that after 25 or so years, the statute of limitations has run out on the fact that I was drinking at 17 there.  I don’t think I drank all of the beers on that desk, though. But I won’t swear to it either. Nor can I say I can remember exactly which night that was, as it wasn’t the only evening spent there.

It’s amazing the memories that can be brought up by seeing a picture of yourself from so many years ago. Specifically, a casual, non-posed one where you are relaxed and enjoying life.

I do know that year was a very important one for me, not only because it was my senior year of high school. It was an incredible year, which I was fortunate enough to recognize shortly thereafter. I was young, confident, happy. In so many ways I was so very innocent, even though if you’d asked me then, I would never have agreed with you. But knowing what I know now about life and the world in general, I was so very, blissfully innocent, and happy.

Funny, it just hit me that I know I had my share of teen angst that year, as we have all had. Yet when I look back, I don’t remember it unless I think really hard, and then it’s just so softened. At the time I’m sure it was more serious to me.

Old friends, good friends, pictures and memories. Keep them all close to your heart and you’ll always find a reason to smile.

Live, Love, Laugh…it makes it all worthwhile!

I Voted Today – Did You?

I voted today.  Sigh. I voted because although I believe it is a privilege and a right that we are lucky to have, I also believe it is our civic duty to vote. So I did my civic duty and cast my ballot.

I remember clearly the first time I ever voted. I was living in the Commonwealth of Virginia, a senior in high school, and I was only 17. Virginia allowed those who would be of legal age during the general election to vote in the primary election, even if they weren’t yet 18.

Back then, I was very politically active. So politically active that I would drag my teenage butt out of bed way too early on Saturday mornings to attend the Democratic breakfasts every week. I would have breakfast, socialize and talk with other democrats, and have way too much coffee. Then I would often go home and want to take a nap. But I went every week, and I loved it.

Back then, I volunteered on political campaigns, too. And I LOVED it.

But I digress. My point was, back then I believed in our political system, believed that the people we were electing (or working to elect) made a difference, stood up for our best interests, etc. I believed that we could make a difference, that our votes counted, that our voices counted.

I believed in the America so many people around the world admired and respected. (And yes, I believed that they felt that way.)

That fall, of 1988, having mailed in my absentee ballot the month before, I sat eagerly glued to my tv, watching the returns of the elections. Those of you who are still political junkies (as I was back then) know it’s like watching the super bowl on television, it is that riveting.

One year, after voting in the primaries at the end of the day, and finding out I had been 1 of less than 100 people voting in my precinct, I went back to the newspaper office (in college – The Houston Cougar) and writing an editorial thanking those who had not voted for making my vote count, and telling them they had no right to complain now.

This year, after casting my ballot, I experienced none of that excitement or pride that I had always loved. I felt disgusted. And frustrated. And depressed. Yes, depressed, because that ballot symbolizes freedom to so much of the world, it symbolizes a political system that works. And I no longer believe that system does work.

I have little faith in either the incumbents or the candidates. Whereas once I believed those who served, served us, I now believe they serve their own interests and those of the lobbyists and big industries who supported their campaigns. Even when I was deeply involved in politics, after college when I was worked for a political consulting company and then working on campaigns as staff, I still believed that at least when people started out in politics or those in lower offices still had our best interests at heart. And I guess part of me still believes that to an extent, or at least desperately wants to believe, that is true. But for the most part, watching what is going on in our great nation makes me sad because I no longer see this country as the country I once kept my faith in and trusted.

The America I see on the news, the political system in Washington that has become more of a joke than a system that works, is barely visible to me anymore. And yet I see more small people making big differences, I see chains of small actions making big impacts on people, and that gives me faith. Maybe one day the people will get involved and the powers that be will be composed of the people who care and want to make a difference, and then this country and this world will be a better place.

I still have a lot of years ahead of me – I can’t give up faith yet.

Boys Will Be Boys and Dogs Will Be Dogs

You know how a lot of people bury their deceased pets in their backyards? Yea, well that will never happen in my backyard again.

Earlier this summer, Broney, my son’s hamster, died. He insisted on a burial rather than my preference of a disposal of the body. So I wrapped it in a store bag, put it in an empty cell phone box, and dug a hole. We said a few words and put the box in the hole, covered it with dirt, and put a big rock on top of it to mark its spot. Oh, and to keep our dogs, who like to dig, from digging it up. My son got a Sharpie marker and wrote Broney the hamster RIP on top of the rock.

So today my son had one of his friends over. They’re generally inside and out and I don’t worry about them much – they’re good kids. Anyhow, they came in, everyone ate dinner, and I went into my room to use my laptop. A little while later my daughter comes in holding her nose. She says there is a really bad smell in the living room. Now, I have sinus issues and can never smell anything, good or bad. So I go out there to find 3 kids holding their noses. I ask what happened, since a smell that bad in the living room wouldn’t just come from nowhere out of the blue when it was fine all day.

Since I’m at a loss to find the source of the smell, I have the 3 kids “following their noses” to find the source of the stench. Meanwhile, I’m moving things around, looking under and behind everything, half afraid of what I’ll find. The kids are going around with air freshener spraying everywhere. We couldn’t find anything. They went outside to play for a little while and get some fresh air.

When they came back in, they told me it’s the dogs that stink. They had gone into the backyard and were playing with them and determined they were the cause. Apparently the living room no longer had the offending odor, thanks to their liberal use of the air sprays.

So then it comes out that my son had dug up his hamster to show his friend. Apparently he wasn’t very efficient at re-burying it, just basically putting the plastic bag on the dirt and putting the rock on top. Which, of course, allowed the dogs to get the hamster. While we couldn’t find the hamster at that point, the dogs needed to be bathed. I tried the little one first. With the hose outside set on shower, and baby shampoo (not having any dog shampoo in the house). She got away 3 times.

Finally, I carried her into my bathroom, turned on the shower, put her in the shower stall and shut the door. A moment later I stepped in, still wearing a tank top and yoga pants. I kept her calm and thoroughly washed her. Twice. Then came the fun part rinsing her. Acrobatics (on her part) ensued.  Finally, I dried her off and let her out.

Since my kids had said it was just the little one that stunk, I changed into dry clothes. About half hour later, shortly before I was going to take his friend home, they said the momma dog stunk too. So that had to wait until we got home. At which point, I lathered, rinsed and repeated with momma dog.  Then we gave them both dentastix to freshen their breath.

And then I got back into the shower, wanting to make sure that I didn’t smell like decomposing hamster dirty dog. And then I got the kids to bed, and finally got to sit back down. Ahhh.

Tomorrow we have a busy day of putting the house back together since we did such a good job of tearing it apart looking for the offensive stench. I’m sure that will be another story.

Moral of this story: next pet we have that dies will not be buried in our backyard. However, I feel pretty confident that my son did learn his lesson about not digging up animal remains.

Live, laugh, love….it makes it all worthwhile.

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