When I Was 17...

I had a good laugh the other day.  I was thinking about what I thought my life now would be like when I was younger.  I had it all figured out.  After graduating from The Ohio State University Honors College, I would accept a position as a lobbyist for a major non-profit organization like The American Red Cross.  I could live in San Diego and fly to D.C.  I'd have weekend trips with my girlfriends in New York, and my amazing husband (who I met in college, just like my parents did) would watch our big [awesome] dog when I was away on business - and someday, if I continued to make more money than he did even though he would be successful in his own right, we are a power couple after all then he could stay home with our kids.  Or maybe I'd banked so much money pre-munchkins, I stayed home with them, became president of the PTA and volunteered a lot.  Once the kids were all in college, I'd be running a non-profit full time wearing Chanel suits and Manolos.  Piece. Of. Cake.

I am still a bit unclear as to how exactly I went from there to here.  To me, it's important that I am not complacent and continue to strive for something better, but be happy in the meantime.  I just need to determine what that looks like.

I was passenger in a serious car accident my senior year of high school, sustained a traumatic brain injury, and had to sit out and repeat my senior year.  During that time I had this incredible positive attitude that I feel I've been lacking a bit of lately.  I used to write daily in my "Grateful Book."  (Which I felt was very appropriately a tie-dyed little journal.)  Good days: I had a lot to write.  Bad days:  I am alive.  I have opposable thumbs.

I've been thinking a lot about leaving my job and volunteering somewhere.  Habitat for Humanity actually has projects in Fiji.  I figure, when else am I ever going to get to Fiji?  Haiti is still reeling from the hurricane.  I just want to feel more fulfilled, get the passion back in my life, feel that sense of gratitude again.

To be fair, it's not as though my life is gloom and doom - far from it.  Oh no!  My wallet's too small for my fifties, my diamond shoes are too tight!  I have a lot to be thankful for today.

• House - My 100 year old little gem that I gutted and renovated picked out stuff and wrote the check.
• Car - My darling S.S. Awesome and its 338,000 + miles...thank God it turns on and it's paid off.
• Family - Close by, but not too close - we certainly put the fun in dysfunction and I love them for it.
• Friends - Quite fortunate to have such a high quality VIP list.
• J.O.B. - Albeit mind-numbingly under stimulating with shit pay, still employed.
• Dog - Kicks ass.

[There's a movie called 28 Days with Sandra Bullock (it's a comedy about rehab) and they talk about how if you can keep a plant alive for so long, then you can get a pet, if you can keep a pet alive for so long, then you can have a relationship.  I couldn't care less about plants, but I have managed to keep my dog alive and happy.  That has to count for something.]

Giorgio as a baby - he's ferocious

My precious rat terrier, Giorgio, will be four years old this month.  I've had him since he was seven weeks old and he has a huge, hilarious personality and is my constant source of joy.  My little dude tips the scales at a whopping 12 pounds, but dominates my brother's 75 pound German Shepherd mix.  Never in a million years did I think that I would own, let alone adore a small dog.  I have always had a soft spot for dobermans and pit bulls, and I wanted a big dog that wasn't yappy.

Right now, I am a small dog owner.  I never imagined that would be the case, but there are bonuses I hadn't anticipated:  he's portable, doesn't leave big puddles of water when he drinks, and it's much easier to pick up after him.  And someday, if I still want to, I can adopt a big dog brother or sister for him, and wear Chanel suits and Manolos.