Gaudiness

I had an image in my mind of how I would decorate my home during the holidays when I was all grown up. My vision included understated Christmas lights with greenery. There might even be a red bow (or two). During the spring and summer, I would have flowers that celebrated the season (red, I think, I like red). I had all these visions, hopes, dreams, and aspirations. But, I moved to Maine, and those have been crushed.

First let me say, when I first moved to Maine I moved into a HORRIBLE apartment that had a smell. I can't describe the smell other than to say that it smelled dirty. No matter how much I cleaned, it still had a smell. It was awful. Horrible. Despicable. Embarrassing. Bad. I could not get out of there fast enough. Then in early December I was able to move into a perfect apartment. Clean. Cute. Safe. A good smell. I was so happy! The only problem, my vision of how to decorate my second floor deck facing a busy street in a tasteful way was dashed.

My down stairs neighbor, an lovely elderly woman whose family owns my building, likes to decorate. A lot. And I mean a lot. Her entire apartment changes with the seasons. Walking into her home between November and January was like walking into Santa's wet dream. You were over-whelmed with decorations. Gaudy decorations. Really, really gaudy decorations.

And the outside of the house, the space that we share, was worse. The amount of Christmas lights were enough to confuse any over-head plane. I didn't need lights on in my apartment at night because of the ethereal glow. I could find my apartment building from the moon, if I had a chance to go. There was no tasteful, under-stated decorations for me. Though, there were a lot of red bows.

When the lights and decorations finally came down I was happy. I could finally enjoy my home without having to wear sun glasses. But, much too soon, the Easter decorations arrived. The small tree outside in the front yard is bent over with the weight of hanging plastic eggs. There are fake spring flowers (with tags still attached) stuck into the flower boxes. There are rabbits in colors not found in nature taped to the front door and up the stair-well. In essence, there is never going to anything ever under-stated in my new home.

And the funny thing is, I have started to experience a sense of pride in my gaudy home. I feel...special...knowing that I live in the building that others smirk at when passing by. I like being able to describe my home as that house on the corner with the decorations. People know it, and that makes me happy.

Maybe someday I will get over my desire to be tasteful and understated. Maybe someday I will be in competition with my downstairs companion. Maybe someday I will begin decorating for the lesser known holidays. I understand that 'International Women's Day' is coming up. Perhaps I can decorate my home with bras, tampons, and shoulder pads. We'll see. It would definitely leave an impression on the truckers who drive by throughout the day and night.

Puppy Love

For those of you who haven't ever had the chance to meet my dog, Boomer, I feel this picture adequately captures his personality. He is a...strange dog. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but love for him, but I have never encountered a dog with such a strong personality (or such disproportionate ears). Strong and odd.

First off, Boomer is not yet 2 years old but he had a rough start to his life. My vet strongly thinks that Boomer was severely abused and neglected as a young puppy. Thankfully he was rescued by my friend Kimberly before coming to live with me. Because of this rough start, Boomer has certain (though understandable) personality issues. He has a need to be in some way touching me at every given moment. While I am at home, he is pressed up against me, either sleeping or just staring at me. He in particular likes to be near my face. As we speak, I am trying to see around him as he sits on my chest, rubbing his face against mine. I have never cared for a cat, but it seems like a similar behavior. Sometimes I wonder if he is marking me as his property.

At night he sleeps in my bed, under the covers (I know, pathetic, but what can I say). Even then, he has to be in some way touching me. If he is curled up at my feet and I move away from him, even if just by a few inches, he will move his paw so it keeps touching my feet. Cute, but a little needy.

And then there is his problem with men. Most likely abused by a man, Boomer distrusts men almost as much as I distrust technology. The gentleman who maintains my apartment, a wonderful guy named Ron, can't get within 6 feet of Boomer without being barked at. I am, understandably, concerned about this problem. Mostly because my goal is to have another man in my life, preferably one who stands on only two feet. So, I need Boomer to realize that not every man is dangerous.

I consulted a patient who is also an animal behaviorist (I was so happy that she had to be in the hospital because I could never afford her counsel on my own. I hate to admit it, but I was a little sad when she was discharged, especially as I had spent an evening writing down more questions for her). My patient told me that the best way to teach Boomer to trust men was to find a man who could spend a whole weekend with us, completely uninterrupted. She went on to explain a number of steps that the three of us would take in order to increase Boomer's comfort. She then said I had to find another man to do the same thing on a different weekend.

I listened to her advice and thanked her. And I resisted the urge to tell her that if I had two men who could spend uninterrupted weekends with me, I would not be so focused on the behavior of my dog. Quite frankly, I think I would have other things to think about.

So, I am a Midwest girl in Maine, with a needy dog, looking for a man who can put up with us both. I have heard that single mothers tell prospective mates that they must love her children. Other times I have heard men telling prospective mates that they have to love his mother as much as him. In my case, any guy must love my dog, my Midwestern roots, and me all equally. A lofty quest I know. But I am put at ease knowing that the best place to meet single men is at dog parks. So, someday, when central Maine builds its first dog park, Boomer and I will be there, wearing a Vikings sweatshirt, proclaiming "This is who I am - A Midwest Girl and her dog in Maine."