Our Little Worm Eater

Say hello to our little worm eater.....

Yup! This sweet little girl? She's a worm eater! Charming isn't it? Missy has lived with us for almost 12 years, and this worm eating thingy just surfaced about 6 months ago. It's one step up from her cat poop eating habit, but not by much.

At first, Missy would eat the occasional dried up worm she found while we were out in the neighborhood walking. Lately, she has become OBSESSED with eating every dead worm she finds. I imagine for Missy that taking a walk is like an all-you-can-eat buffet.  Four times a day.

Thank goodness (for her and me) she does not eat live worms. At this point, she seems to only have a taste for dried-up crusty worms. And if they have been run over by a car and are smushed to the pavement?  That is not a deterrent to this gal. She will get down and gnaw on it to get it loose. Missy doesn't mind working a little bit for her worm. 

I had a long talk with our vet Dr. Vaughn about this. I was worried about the health risks of her eating worms. I was also worried that maybe there was something else going on that triggered this behavior all of a sudden - some health issue. Dr. Vaughn, whom I believe loves Missy just as much as we do, assured me that this little habit of Missy's, disgusting as it is, is really harmless and not uncommon in dogs.   

He said he talked to the other Vets at the office, and did some research, and as long as they are the earth worms she is eating, there is really no harm. He told me that he had two suggestions, but he knew I wouldn't like either.  One was to try a "behavior" medication - something like Prozac. Pass. The other was to put a muzzle on her when we walk. Definitely a pass. 

So, that is where we are at now. We share our house with a worm eater. Bless her little heart! 💓  

Repost: "Listen to my Heart" 1/14/2014

This morning I received an email from "Legacy" reminding me of my friend Leslie Lepre's passing.  April 17th will be 9 years since Leslie's death. I think of her often because she was a kind and sweet friend. I also think about her struggles and the pain she was feeling leading up to that day. What I have learned since is to listen to what is being said, as well as not being said. Bless you Leslie and rest in sweet eternal peace. 

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While going through some emails this week, I came across some emails from my friend Leslie.  The good thing about being a 'saver' is that I have these wonderful treasures from my friend.  This is also what makes it a sad thing. The 17th of April will be one year since Leslie died and I miss her.

Leslie and I had very similar interests and taste, so it is not rare for me to be reminded of her and miss our friendship.  But as I read her words now, I find that I have so many different and deeper emotions than last year. 

I met Leslie through email when we both worked at ESPN.  Our work correspondence very quickly developed into a friendship when we realized we were both mad about chocolate.  Like crazy mad about chocolate.  Soon we found that we had a lot more than chocolate in common and we would talk, write and visit often.

Leslie loved to hear stories about Ginger. If she wasn't giving me chocolate, she was giving me treats to bring home to Ginger.  One of the emails I came across was one that was written after we had lost Ginger in 2011 very suddenly to cancer.  Leslie wrote to tell me she was heartbroken not only because she loved Ginger, but because she knew how much I loved Ginger.  That's the kind of friend she was.  She was always so thoughtful and cognizant of other people's needs and feelings.

Over the past few years, we weren't in contact quite as often.  We would reach out to the other whenever we had read a good book or found an awesome vintage website.  Those were two of our most common interests and we always shared new information with the other.

Leslie had a kind and gentle heart. She was also a very private person.  She held her pain and sadness very tightly and silently.  I knew she often felt overwhelmed, but I never pushed her to tell me more than she was comfortable telling me.

I should have pushed. 

Our friendship was built on what I now know were 'safe' topics. She would want to know all about the treasures I've found in South Carolina, and she'd share with me her Connecticut finds.  I would ask her about the clothes the women were wearing on "Mad Men" and she would suggest books for me to put on my list to read next.  She never shared with me her struggles and I never asked.  I didn't know to ask.

Now I know.  Now I know that what some people keep in their heart is sometimes so painful that they are simply unable or afraid to share.

If I had the chance again, I would make sure she knew how awesome she is.  How kind and gentle and sweet.  But most importantly, I would tell her that I believe in her. That she is stronger than she realizes, and she should never, ever doubt that. 

A Slow Return

Five weeks ago, I started a little not-really-necessary project in my studio. 

I like to sew, and because I am incapable of throwing anything away, I save the fabric scraps - usually cutting them into strips. I use the strips for a lot of different things: wrapping packets of cards and tying little bags of cookies when I give them away, braiding them into heavier strips, anchoring stray cords, securing plants in the house and yard, etc. I've been sewing for over 20 years, and I have a lot of fabric strips. Sometimes I need a long strip and sometimes I need a short strip, so I decided that I was going to make separate baskets for the strips. 

It was a totally mindless activity, but one which I still found greatly satisfying. I am both tactile and visual, so I really enjoy working with fabric. It was a pretty day in the studio, and I was getting caught up on some podcasts while I rediscovered fabric from years ago.

The next morning, February 22nd, I had a seizure after fainting and suffered three separate trauma-induced compression fractures of my vertebrae. I was in a tremendous amount of pain and spent much of the next few weeks medicated and in bed. Looking through the doorway and seeing my unfinished project was too much for me. I was unable to see that returning to my studio was a "goal". In those early weeks, it felt too much like a taunt, so I closed the door to the studio. 

During a four-week period, I had met with an Orthopedic Neurosurgeon, three different spine specialists, Dr Spinks three times, and an internal medicine doctor. I had four different sets of x-rays, one MRI, and I was on six different medications. I am wearing a fitted corset back brace that weighs 8 pounds while my own weight is down 12 pounds. It had been a rough four weeks but early this week, I opened the studio door. 

I still don't feel quite strong enough to resume my project but this past Tuesday morning, I opened the studio door.  And right now, I'll take that.