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Another one from the archives. No idea where I found it, but it’s a cool window. I like it.

Under the knife she went. Nervously I dropped her off vowing she hadn’t had food or water since 8pm the night before. Handing over the leash to the attendant who smiled and promised she would be ok and that I could call at noon to check her status I left with thoughts of anesthesia overdoses or slipped scalpels to the eyeball. Fear unwarranted. Dr. Adams and the Maxfund Wellness Center took care of business. 8 hours later, as I stood in the lobby waiting for her return to me, listening to her mournful cries in the back room that had started upon my first spoken words to the receptionist, I felt so thankful and excited to have her back safely to me.  Within moments of her entrance to the lobby, pulling the attendant, she was her usual leaping, crying, barking, sprinting, obnoxiously overexcited, disobedient self. Now to survive the next 14 days of her defiance against the limitations of her cone. Hank has already had his neck broken, but that’s another story.

I went to a different vet to get a 2nd opinion on some ailments of the Monkey.  We went to the MaxFund Wellness Center, which was not nearly as fancy as my usual veterinary care center. Nestled in the hood, it’s a bare bones clinic with bars on the windows and no scheduled appointments, so one could possibly wait in the lobby, staring at the pieces of paper scotched taped to the walls declaring one must pay at time of service and listing the reasons why it’s cruel to let your cat wander the streets, for hours. The exam rooms are solemn and show signs of wear. There are no fresh baked cookies or fish tanks in the lobby, only some photos of Max and some scattered sheets about dental care. And a painted rock. That must have been a barter payment. I was skeptical. Until Dr. Adams came in. She had a nose piercing. And the most gentle kind way of examining, explaining, caring, and finally just taking care of business in a way that I actually felt for once like she cared about my pet, and not how much she could bill me at the end of the session. Clear estimates, clear choices, clear results while I waited and the best part, no guilt.   No shaming glances when I stated I needed to think about the estimate. No push to clean the teeth that had just been cleaned, no attempts to remove things that didn’t need to be removed. Just plain good care. I called later that day and scheduled her surgery.

A NYC bathroom compliments of Jason Bedford..thank you for sending in this fine shot of a sweet horse. Also, if I were a bathroom tagger I would for sure want to be part of the Douche Crew. Awesome.

I don’t know. I wish I knew one thing about this photo. Other than I love it. And the car too.

I often feel this way about time in general but this is an image from a photo series on “the ruins of Detroit”. Don’t know who the photographer is, but really wish I owned that clock.

It’s 2012. I thought about trying to do a photo journey of 2011 for this blog. One shot per month illustrating the best that month had to offer, but in reality, there is a lot of 2011 that I’d really rather just pack away forever. It was a year of a lot of loss and regret, and with that, denial and understanding that loss. It had much painful struggle and resistance, and tears and heartache, and fear and frustration, and retrospection with only a few moments of clarity. Yes, there absolutely were a few wins for sure, but on the whole, 2011 was a tough one for me, and loved ones around me. So instead of really stirring up even more of that pot, let’s instead thank life for the lessons that force us to grow into better people and then reflect on and appreciate the finer moments of girls restroom infamy. God bless you ladies wielding paint pens and purse markers. You made my years worth of public restroom escapes all the more memorable.