It’s been a year? I must have blacked out.

I’m reading a book right now called “The Girl on the Train,” and the protagonist is trying to figure out what happened during a Saturday night that she was black out drunk.  The story claims that it’s not that we forget what happened while we are blacked out – we actually don’t make any memories while we are blacked out.  Therefore, there is nothing to forget.  Periods of black out are literally like black holes in our life that we will never get back.

When I logged on this evening and discovered I haven’t posted anything since February 2014, I was sure that was wrong. Could it be?  It is. Here I am, March 2015, and I have NO IDEA where the last year went.  What the hell happened?!  Another school year ended, another birthday came and went, another Christmas and New Year.  All four seasons have passed.  The worst part?  I don’t really have any idea what to write.  This must have been why I haven’t written in a year.  A few things have been dominating my brain, and frankly, I’m sure they’re not very interesting to write about.  How many blogs can be about marriage, and weight loss, and other incredibly boring #adultproblems?  The most exciting thing that’s happened to me in the last few months is that I decided to digitize my entire cd collection from the 90s and 2000s.  I forgot I owned Enya, Blink 182, and not 1, but 2 Celine Dion greatest hits albums.

Even though nothing has been happening, I must start writing again.  This is pure craziness.  I don’t like the feeling of waking up from a drunken blackout, but I like waking up from a non-drunken, year-long blackout even less.

Love, Bones, and Fathers

 

 

I have to write about my dog right now.  I don’t care how many times pet-lovers blog about their pets, tweet about them, or include them in status updates.  I just have to do it. First of all, he is the cutest dog alive.  It’s just true.  I know EVERY person with a dog feels this way, but let’s face it: feelings aren’t facts.  The fact is, Atticus Finch is the cutest dog alive.  Look at this:

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Come on!  If you are looking at this saying, “Well, ok, Atticus is cute, but my baby is definitely cuter,” you’re lying to yourself.  It’s ok if you don’t have the cutest dog in the world!  After one of many terrible college break-ups that left me feeling ugly, fat, and generally unworthy, my dad sat me down.  I was sure I was going to get the traditional dad talk.  “Beth, you’re the most beautiful, talented, funny, wonderful woman in the world.  And any man (or woman) who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”  Instead, in true Doug fashion, he said, “Beth, there are always going to be women prettier, thinner (much thinner), and smarter than you.  Get over it.”  Well then.  That pep talk didn’t help me in my state of immediate crisis, however, I thought about it a lot.  I’ve come to realize he’s right.  It’s totally fine to be second best. (Or third, fourth, tenth, hundredth, etc.)  I’m sharing this so you can internalize his advice as well – your dog just isn’t the cutest dog! Get over it!  But here’s the really good news:  your dog may be the smartest.  Atticus is not the smartest.  By a mile.  We thought giving him such an intellectual namesake would channel lots of profound energy his way, but alas.  Atticus still insists on eating cat poop.  And cat litter.  And cat pee.  And cat fur.  Not smart.  He is also very, very picky about which dogs he humps. He will only hump pit bulls and german shepherds that outweigh him by at least 50 pounds.  Often, they have metal cages over their frothing muzzles and high voltage shock collars around their tree-trunk width necks.  Definitely not smart.

However, he is DEFINITELY the cutest.  To be continued…