Molly Anne Wilson

Why, yes!  We did get a dog back in November.  Molly, when we first picked her up, was a 6 pound, 8 week old, pure bred, Golden Retriever.  She's now about 40 pounds and 8 months old.  She's of good caliber.  Her father's father was a Retriever category winner at Westminster.  She has siblings that are stars in shows all over the country and the world.


Molly, however, was not destined for that.  She was picked by us to be a family dog.  One that would play in the sprinkler with kids.  One that would bury loved toys so that her master would spend hours searching the yard for Lightening McQueen cars.  One that would chew up good shoes.  One that would snuggle on couches.  And one that would grow up with kids.  We love her.

Molly is my very first dog.  I always knew that if and when I ever had a dog, I wanted a Golden.  For me, it's the perfect breed.  

Molly is sweet and oh so smart but, man alive, she is wild!  She keeps us on our toes and loves us unconditionally.

Don't be fooled....this girl is wild.  This photo was taken while Molly was on sedatives after her spaying.

So, even though she is of a fine lineage and could be rocking out in shows as a well bred Golden Retriever, we're mighty glad she's filling her days digging holes in our backyard and stealing snacks from our kids.

Family

I guess it's true that you don't really know what you have until you don't have it.  And often, you just take it for granted.  I'm a victim of that more times than I would like to admit. 

Until I was 12, I had 3 living grandparents.  My Dad's mom, Elizabeth, died in 1970 and his dad, Bill, died in 1990.  I vividly remember him and think of him often.  Today, at 34, I still have 2 living grandparents.  My Mom's mom and dad live just a couple miles from her and to be 86ish, they're in wonderful health.  I'm so lucky to be the age I am and still have them around. 

A lot of those time lines, I realize, have to do with when you have children.  My parents were 26 when I was born and I was two months shy of 30 when I had Larkin.  David, however, was 43.  That's really quite common these days and I swear the kids are keeping him more youthful than me.  I remember thinking, shortly after I met David, that since his mom was only 19 when she had him that even though he was older than me, our children, if we were to marry and if we were to have kids, could potentially have Rita around as their grandmother for a long, long time.  And my Dad; well, he was going to live forever.

Boom.  Life happened.  Death happened.  And they're both gone.

Without going into the details of the past 12 months, David's stepfather, Larkin and Henry's Pops, has lost the right to serve as grandfather to my children.  Add all that up, and they're down to one grandparent.  A wonderful one; but still one.

For all my life, I've been so fortunate to be surrounded by wonderful men.  From my grandfathers, to my dad, to my uncles, to my husband, to my dad's friends, to my college roommate, to my friends.  Lots and lots of great men.  For just shy of 10 years, David's stepfather was always in that category.  Until he wasn't. It has taken a tole on me like nothing ever has before.  You lose people to death not to deciding that their family is unimportant. 

It's been a heartbreaking series of events but I am so ready to move past this.  To find solace and happiness in spite of the bitterness that has taken place.  If anything, I've learned a valuable lesson in family.  Never, ever take for granted what you have because right before your very eyes amyloidosis or cancer or utter stupidity can change it all.

Still Searching

Anyone who has been with me for the journey of this blog, which spun off a CaringBridge site, has heard a bit from me on how I miss my dad.  You haven't heard from my sister and while she and I talk about him a lot, it's mostly about funny things he would say or do or reflecting on all the wonderful times we had with him.

I got an email from Emma yesterday and while it made me sad because in writing it, I knew she was sad, it also made me smile.  She and I feel exactly the same way about our long lost daddy.

I'm posting this email without her knowledge.  Hope she doesn't mind.  As a preface, she had attached a picture of dad's dear friend Chris Franks' gravesite.  A Polaroid picture with Sharpie writing on the white space that simply says 'Chris Franks' gravesite 91'.  He carried it with him everywhere.

I sent this Polaroid to Judd today. I never remember a time when this photo wasn’t around where Dad could see it every day. I don’t think he ever got over losing Chris. Similarly, I don’t think Joe will ever get over losing Dad.

Dad had a circle of friends that I can only dream about: lifelong friends, fellow musicians, and partners in crime.

It has been almost six years and my heart is still so broken that sometimes it feels like this life isn’t worth living without him here to share it with me. I am beginning to wonder if that sharpness will ever dull. It seems so hard to believe that we haven’t seen him in six years. I still have to remind myself of the finality. My brain tries so hard to believe that it’s not real and if I search hard enough, I’ll find him again.

Sixty One

There should be a cake today with sixty one candles.  And a bottle of fine bourbon.  And a Cuban cigar.  And perhaps even an Alabama Shakes album.  He would have been a fan.

Instead, there's just tons of memories and a few what if's and a couple should have's and several might have been's.

Happy Birthday, Dad.  You're so very missed.

Refreshed

I vowed to live a life of peace through Lent and, for the most part, I did.  David and I made a commitment to 'take our lives back', so to speak, and move forward.  We spent a lot of time with the kids.  We took weekend excursions.  We spent time in our back yard.  We went on walks.  We both went to therapy.  We talked about future plans.  We even refinanced our house down to an interest rate that is nearly free. 

We decided to live by the old Beatles mantra "Let It Be".

And so, we're coming out of these 40 days more sure of ourselves.  More confident in our abilities.  And more aware that some people won't, and can't, change.  And that we can't change that fact.

On Tuesday, David starts a new job.  A great job.  A job that will likely lead to an even bigger job.  A job that 10 years ago he could have only dreamed about.

I'm so very thankful that 11 years ago this very month, at a little hole in the wall bar, I ran into this cute guy who used the infamous pickup line, "Marketing is my passion", to woo me.  Okay, so maybe that didn't really woo me, but I'm thankful nonetheless.

Happy Holy Week, my friends.  May we always be thankful and willing to live a life of peace.

30 Day Lean

I'm about to type some words I thought I'd never type.  I, Elizabeth Lucas Wilson the carnivore, am on a 30 day track to becoming (mostly) vegan.  I say mostly because I still plan to eat fish after the 30 days and because I'm not the type that believes that there's anything necessarily wrong with eating animal products, other than them not being particularly good for your health, I may still have a bite or two of David's smoked meats in the summer. 

The older I get and the busier I am, I've realized how tired I am at the end of every day.  So, yea, two little kids and a full time job equals TWO full time jobs and I should be tired, but I'm quite confident that what I'm eating during the day doesn't help.

So, under the advice of my most favorite celebrity, Ellen DeGeneres, I am following Kathy Freston's book The Lean.  It just makes so much sense to me and I'm really excited about the next 30 days and whether or not I feel differently.  Looking differently will just be an added bonus.

I'm hopeful that a summer full of bountiful CSA fruits and vegetables will make this transition easier for me.  I'll keep you posted.

Happy (ham-free and egg-free) Easter!

Happy 18 Months, Henry boy.

Although I decided to take a blog break over Lent, I did want to give a quick 18 month shout out to my best boy!

Henry is still the very best baby in all the land and I love him more every day.  It makes my heart hurt and smile simultaneously when I realize how fast he's growing and changing.

Happy 18th month, precious baby.