Wado Dog Strikes Again

Some days I need a little inspiration to get up from my desk and take a break from work.  Wado Dog offers just the thing I need–especially on blue sky days with everything in blossom.  So today he came running with tail and tongue wagging with my announcement Wado Walk!  We started down the street towards town (we usually go up the hill).  I thought we might stop by the new organic market and grab some soup.  We pass a couple houses with dogs that try to attack Wado Dog through the fence.  He doesn’t pay them much mind.  What a good dog!  All his past sins are forgiven.  (read about them here) We make it down to the light and I push the cross walk button.  Suddenly Wado Dog spots a cat on the other side.  He lurches into the traffic catching me off guard and I fall in front of a now swerving and honking car.  Somehow I still have a hold of the leash and pull him back onto the sidewalk.  Blood soaks through my pants leg and I pull it up to find a giant scrape.  I think about turning back.  I think about cauliflower soup and decide to continue.  I’ve seen dogs tied just outside the market sitting patiently.  Maybe Wado Dog won’t bark too much while I’m inside?  Maybe he’ll be good?  But before we get to the store there’s business to be had and I find a nice little grassy area.  I pull out my plastic bag…wait for it…and reach down to clean up the mess when suddenly Wado Dog lunges  at I don’t even know what.  I loose my balance and fall right–into–the–poop.  It’s all over both hands.  Still somehow I managed to keep the leash.  Oh crap Wado Dog!  No!  The leash knocks into my leg and it’s all over my pants too.  So what am I to do?  I walk home in a stink.  I use the hose on my hands and leash.  Take a shower.  Peroxide my knee.  Wash my clothes.  Then back to work.  Really it’s not his fault, right?

Wado Dog looking innocent

Posted in Wado Dog | 15 Comments

Born a Jew, Raised Christian with a Brother who was Born Muslim, and in the End I Became Buddhist

Last Mother’s Day I wrote about having 3 mothers here.  No, sadly there are no lesbians involved.  I’m adopted and have known this fact for as long as I can remember.  My brother is also adopted.  I was born Jewish and he was born Muslim—together we were raised Christian.  Aside from taking my brother to a Middle Eastern restaurant once a year, I didn’t have much exposure to anything outside the realm of an educated middle class white protestant environment.  I loved going to church every Sunday! Eventually I started reading the bible and asking questions and investigating church doctrine–predestination was a fascination for a while.    Slowly I started taking leadership roles, teaching Sunday school and actually gave a sermon.  I felt a strong calling to the ministry and enrolled in College in hopes of then going onto Seminary.

The summer before college I got a job as a camp counselor at a Christian camp.  I was thrilled!  I loved working with kids and I loved talking about God so what could be a better summer job right?  Wrong.  Now I had a year of rebellion where I went to church and youth group activities at another denomination, but for the most part I had attended just one small church my whole life.  I was not prepared for what I was about to encounter at the camp.    At first it was like any other church camp.  I had attended plenty growing up.  But then one week I got a girl in my cabin with bruises all over her back—she was 8 years old.  I immediately went to the camp director.  Her response was that the devil had entered our camp.  I calmly explained that I didn’t believe in the devil but I did believe in child protection services.  She said that I was the reason the devil was here—that the devil enters the hearts of those who do not believe.  She said I was endangering the campers because I couldn’t protect them from the devil if I didn’t believe.  I was shocked and wanted to quit immediately and wrote a letter to my minister back home–he had helped me secure the job in the first place.  Before I got his response (after a lot of prayer) I knew what I was going to do.  I was going to stay for the kids—they needed my perspective.  I started to notice how the other counselors talked about God and being saved and witnessing.  They also talked openly to the children about burning in hell and doing the devil’s work.  One week a little boy probably around 8 years old said he was gay.  The other counselors where freaking out—saying that he needed an exorcism.  My perspective was that he was so young he didn’t really know yet.  But I was interested in why he thought he might be gay and I wanted to assure him that it was ok.  This became a very big issue that the camp director got involved in.  I was moved to a different cabin with older kids and told if I couldn’t talk about homosexuality in the context of it being a sin I couldn’t work with the young kids.  Odd logic, but hey at least they didn’t fire me.  I was enjoying at that point being the liberal counselor who prayed to God our Father and our Mother (this really upset people).  When that summer ended, I had some serious doubts about Christianity—at least the type that I saw practiced at the camp.  So by the time I got to college was open to a world outside Christianity.

One of my favorite teachers in high school had talked with me about Buddhism and what kind of karma I was creating when she caught me bingeing in the bathroom.  I didn’t really understand at the time, but she planted a very important seed.  My 1st semester in college proved to be quite a wild ride and after connecting with a professor I was told once again that I had better think carefully about the karma I was creating for myself.  This time I was more curious and I asked a lot of questions and began to learn about Buddhism.  Out of all the different types of Buddhism out there it just so happened that both teachers chanted Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.  Soon I began to practice and try it out for myself.  Buddhism offers me the tools I need to overcome challenges.  I’ve found that I still have a spiritual calling as I did in high school—a calling to be share this Buddhism.  I honestly can’t imagine my life without this practice.  No doubt I wouldn’t be the same person writing this blog today.  For that I am grateful.

Posted in Buddhism | 9 Comments

Living with a Splash

We’re on Southern Cal vacation.  Woke up at 3am and started the long drive to Venice Beach.  The Boy couldn’t fall back asleep when we got in the car so he was already set to have a rough day.  Santa Monica and Venice Beach rocked!  Complete with endless chasing of birds and a proposal we just missed.  But then The Boy got cold.  At first we thought it was because he splashed in the water and there was a little chill in the wind.  But his cheeks were flushed and…yep you guessed it…he had a fever.  DH carried him nearly the entire stretch to the car.  The next day we planned Disney.  We would have to see.  And then this morning we woke up to find The Boy fever free. So….we went to Disney!  The Boy has always been terrified of rides.  Since I also share that fear (see my post about wanting to become someone who loves roller coasters) we hang out while DH and The Girl do all the crazy stuff.  But The Boy is getting older so we encouraged him to go on a ride.  It was within the acceptable ride zone for me so we went together as a family.  The Boy loved it!  Next stop was a ride with a 50ft drop and a giant splash.  I was terrified but I told myself that sometimes as a parent you do things you don’t want to do.  The feeling going up knowing what was to come next was intense and nauseating.  I let go of a torrential scream on the way down (The Girl remarked afterwards about it.)  I swore immediately that it was the absolutely last time I would ride that ride.  Once was enough.  But then, this amazing feeling overwhelmed me.  Endorphins?  It was just like after a tattoo–thrilling.  So do I now love roller coaters?  No, but I’ll go on that ride again and that’s a start.  Later The Boy’s fever returned and we’re back at the hotel room.  The rest we’ll have to see about.

Posted in Motherhood, Random Shit | 8 Comments

Planting to Feed My Soul

A friend E who I haven’t seen in a while stopped by yesterday for lunch and a walk down to the grand opening of the new organic grocery store.  We run into each other from time to time and are reminded to make plans.  Helping The Girl get through feelings of having no friends has inspired me to nurture the ones I’ve got.  (see last post)   It was a great day for a lunch time stroll–there was not a cloud in the sky.   Working inside all day–it’s special to get out and enjoy the sun for an hour especially on a winter day that feels like spring.  After we caught up, E asked what I was doing to feed my soul.  Buddhist activities aside, I’m not doing much these days.  Blogging of course counts.  But most days are filled with work and then our evening family routine begins.  DH and I get maybe an hour together before I retire exhausted to bed.  So I’ve decided to find more ways to feed my soul.  Today was another gorgeous day.  So during my lunch break I planted the nasturtium seeds that have been sitting on the counter wondering their fate.  I have so many fond memories of my kids much younger picking the flowers and eating them while we lived in New York.  The Boy would pop one into his mouth and make a face, “spicy” he would say and then pick another.  Friends also feed the soul.  E and I made plans to go for a walk in a month and another good friend K is coming over for a lunch time chant tomorrow.  Now if only I could get my butt back to Hot Yoga I’d be filling up my soul for sure!  What about you–how do you feed your soul?

Posted in Uncategorized | 14 Comments

Those Little Hurts

The Girl found out this weekend that she wasn’t invited to 3 parties and a play date was canceled.  For a 10 year old this is a lot of disappointment.  It would even upset this 38 year old if it happened to me.  Middle School starts next year and I can’t imagine it will be any kinder to The Girl.  Getting your feeling hurt happens–maybe not so much at once, but it happens.  It is so hard to watch a child’s self confidence waver and then plummet.  Why Mommy?  Why don’t people like me!  Yea..heart breaking.  After the let down about the play date The Girl enjoyed a splendid day in town with Dearest Hubby who boldly stepped in to the rescue.  She came back refreshed and ready for her next disappointment which followed shortly after.  But I thought she was my friend?  What’s wrong with me?  Yea…it crushes me to hear this as a parent.  How am I supposed to respond?  I reminded her that we all get left out sometimes and that parents have to limit the number of guest invited to parties just like we did at her birthday.  I assured her that there was nothing wrong with her–that she is smart and compassionate and that she will be a better friend to kids when their feelings are hurt because she knows what it’s like.  (I had to throw in a little Buddhist lesson.)  And I made her tea.  We sipped it slowly and talked about all the fun activities we have planned as a family.  Tea is calming and rejuvenating and a wonderful thing to share between mother and daughter.  Then I put her to sleep by rubbing her feet and went directly to the Gohonzon.  I prayed that these little (big) hurts heal quickly and that in each one she learn how to be a better friend.  All I can do is be there for her every time there is pain; boost her self confidence as much and as long as a mother can; and pray for her.  What  else can I do?  Do you have any advise to share?

Freshly brewed tea

 

Posted in Motherhood | 5 Comments

That Wado Dog!

So I thought it might be time to tell the story of how we got our lovable but very bad dog Wado.  But first, I’ve made a list of all his infractions so you have some idea of what he’s like to live with.

  • He never comes when he’s called and only responds when he feels like it–which means he’s never allowed off leash and some nights we can’t even get him to come inside.
  • He’s an escape artist.  We lived in a house once with door handles that you push down to open and yea…he pretty much had that figured out day one.  Now we have a wireless collar on him which sets up a perimeter around the house and gives him a warning whistle if we gets too close and he is constantly testing it and gets out the minute the battery needs replacement.
  • When he has his freedom he hunts the neighbors’ cats and barks at people walking down the street particularly if they are Asian or Black (see next line) and even chases bicyclists and runners.  Also he tramples the neighbors flowers.
  • He’s racist.  We lived on a campus in New York and he would bark and scare only the Asian and Black faculty and students.  This aspect of Wado Dog mortifies me.
  • He also hates all postal and UPS workers–we sometimes don’t get mail and packages delivered when he’s in the front yard.  He’ll start barking the moment the trucks enter the neighborhood and will not stop until they have passed our house.
  • It is not uncommon to wake up at 2am to Wado Dog fighting with a raccoon.  The neighbors love it when this happens.
  • Speaking of neighbors–they stop by to chat about Wado Dog with various levels of complaint.  At the last block party one new person said when I was introducing myself  and pointed to my house, “Oh you’re the one with the dog.  I’ve heard about you.”
  • Wado Dog gets skunked every chance he gets.
  • He digs holes everywhere including in my rose garden.  He also bites through the watering system’s tubing every time we replace it.
  • One time he killed a fawn and proudly brought it back to our door.


Upon reading this Dearest Hubby’s response was, “I don’t know why we keep that dog.”  Of course deep down he loves Wado Dog and is secretly elated that I brought home a 4 month old puppy when my eldest was 4 months old herself even though he specifically said no dogs.  You’re welcome DH!

And that brings us to the rest of the story: How Wado Dog came into our lives.

We were in Texas.  The Girl was 4 month’s old.  911 had just happened and I was pretty freaked out and not venturing out of the house much with the baby.  One thing that I did do was visit and chant with Buddhist friends.  Just as I was leaving my friend’s house I noticed some boys hanging a puppy by the neck with shoelaces.  The puppy was twisting and struggling and was clearly being strangled.  I snapped and handed the Girl to my friend and shouted, “Hey!” running over to the puppy.  The boys scattered.  I called to my friend to get some scissors and I cut him down, put him in the car with The Girl and drove off.  My friend later disclosed to me that the SPCA had been called on that family before.  I knew I did the right thing.  No one who treats a puppy that way deserves to have him.

Now DH and I had talked about getting a dog before the baby arrived.  We even visited a shelter.  But after careful thought DH and I decided that we shouldn’t get a dog.  It just wasn’t the right time with a new baby and all the added responsibility.  So when I brought home this cute little puppy what did DH do?  Did he try and find him a home?  No, he named him Little Bear. And that was the beginning of a love affair with Little Bear who later became Wado Dog but that’s another story altogether.

 

Wado Dog beside his latest set of holes

 

Posted in Wado Dog | 13 Comments

an even deeper blue

“’From the indigo, an even deeper blue.’ This passage means that, if one dyes something repeatedly in indigo, it becomes even bluer than the indigo leaves.” –Nichiren Diashonin

Since I first started practicing this Buddhism 20 years ago (wow really?) this passage has stood out for me.  It has changed significance over the years.  At first it was about following my mentor’s path in fighting for world peace and becoming a deep blue activist for human rights.  Then it meant keeping up a consistent practice of meditation every morning and evening to deepen the color of faith.  When I got married, I wore a blue dress and had a Buddhist ceremony promising to continue to grow and develop that precious relationship.  Now this passage is all about my children.  I want so much for them to surpass me in terms of riches of the heart.  I wish for them an unshakable happiness and a life full of discoveries.  The how-to-build-this-life-for-them part is a bit fuzzy though.  Clearly I don’t keep the cleanest house and frequently wash the whites with the darks, and there’s a pile of unsorted socks in the laundry room with pairs the kids have grown out of by now.  But the house is relatively peaceful (except when it’s not) and I try and support my kids in what they like to do, and encourage them to get up at a Buddhist meeting and read a poem, and let them experience extreme boredom until a brilliant idea of something fun flashes into their brains.   I try and do my best while learning from all the crazy things I try–like coaching my son’s soccer team even though I’d never even played the game before.   So hopefully someday after getting washed in the indigo of our family life the kids will turn out stronger than I with a heart filled with hope, never letting go of their dreams, and with a seeking spirit to learn and do more.

Posted in Buddhism, Motherhood | 6 Comments

Too comfortable?

I tend to like all things comforting: soft beds, yummy food, fuzzy pets, warm socks, clean kitchens, and enjoyable fiction I can put down at any moment if it gets too intense. I shy away from all things uncomfortable: conflict and exercise being at the top of the list. A nice long walk with Wado dog is comforting. A three mile run is not. The thing about comfort is—it only lasts so long. Eventually a challenge will come up. And that’s how I grow and become a better person. Tackling a mountain will involve learning and strengthening aspects of myself that need to be faced and examined in order for me to transform into the best Jennie I can be. Instead of sitting in comfort until the ordeals find me, I should strive toward continual growth—which means marching up the mountain and saying to the universe, “Bring It!” But how easy is it to sit back and enjoy the status quo? I want to be the person to stand up for injustice even though it’s unpleasant. I can start by making hard decisions, and having those tricky conversations, and going back to hot yoga. Maybe I should be wary of comfort—because in it I’ve hit the pause button. Can I change into someone who enjoys rollercoasters and willingly signs up to complete a triathlon? Maybe I need to be more involved in the community, getting a chance to stand up for what is right and fair. I remember in my 20’s being so quick to take up the cause of everyone struggling to voice an inequality. I didn’t seek out comfort as I do now—I zipped through my karma at a surprising rate, altering myself as needed. There are countless things I don’t want to revive about that period in my life, but I would like to have back that ability to walk away from comfort and strive toward a passion. As I ponder all of this, I’m just going to slip on a pair of cozy socks and pour myself a glass of wine.

Posted in Random Shit | 11 Comments

A Raccoon as Big as a Small Child

I’ve been having a hard time getting Wado dog inside at night. Unless it’s raining, he’d rather protect the family from deer and small critters. I wouldn’t mind so much except for when things like this morning happen. Everyone on our quiet street knows our dog by name. At some point most everyone has come by the house to talk with me about my dog. Mostly it’s complaints about his barking but I’ve heard that he hunts the neighborhood cats and routinely wanders into people’s yards when he escapes (I really should have named him Houdini dog). It also disturbs the folks next door when I call for him at night, but I’m so desperate to get him in for fear of having “another one of those mornings”. So should I have been surprised when before dawn I hear Wado dog barking as if he’s on fire? I don’t understand acoustical science but somehow the hill behind our house amplifies the sound of his bark, making it incredibly loud—particularly at 4am. This is when most of the small critter incidents happen. It must be small furry party time. Dearest Husband bolts out of bed and runs outside. Wado dog has cornered a raccoon as big as a small child who is putting up a good fight. DH is screaming which only adds to the commotion but doesn’t in any way give Wado dog pause. The last time this happened, a neighbor called the county and Wado dog was quarantined for a month for fear of rabies. I can just imagine what the fall out will be this time. In the end, the raccoon took off and Wado dog survived with a few scratches on his nose and a sore paw. When the sun finally came up I found him curled up in fresh hole right in the middle of my rose bed.

That Wado Dog!

Posted in Wado Dog | 14 Comments

And that’s why I wear comfortable shoes…

It all started with a comment from Dearest Husband.

DH: I like those shoes.
Me: Which?
DH: The high heel platform ones.
Me: Really?
DH: You know most women wear heels.

Platform Pumps

OK a little background for those of you unfamiliar with my stunning array of footwear. My most expensive pairs of shoes include my red cowboy boots and my Chaco sandals. Just about everything else I got at goodwill or a garage sale. So when I noticed a shoe warehouse next to my favorite coffee shop, the above conversation flashed into my head. Just a week away was a school potluck which was actually catered. (You can probably guess what the attire is like for a catered potluck dinner…) It occurred to me that I could pop into the shoe warehouse and pick up a pair of sexy shoes to wear to the potluck. Just my luck there was an entire section of platform pumps. I found a perfect pair that went with a grey dress already in my closet. And then I tried them on. Now I danced in 3 inch heels as Cha Cha in a middle school production of Grease—but there was no way I could walk across the store much less make it through an entire event. What was a girl to do? I bought them anyway. Eliciting advice from all the women I know who wear unbelievably high heels, (which mostly—ok only—included my very fashionable and stunning boss) I learned that the best thing is to practice on carpet a little every day. By the end of the week I could walk across the room, stumble up the stairs and was incredibly uncomfortable. In the end I decided that it was best to enjoy myself at the party and not obsess about my feet all night. Now I don’t have any data to support DH’s statement about most women, but I’m sure about one thing: I’m not like most women–which is why DH married me in the first place.

Posted in Random Shit | 37 Comments