Dog-Sitting

About a week ago we dog sat for a friend. And this week we are doing the same for a different friend. I am not really sure how we keep getting ourselves in these positions. Probably because we have dogs, love dogs, and now have a yard. I don't really mind, but I am starting to wonder if maybe we should start a business? You see we aren't the type to just put our dogs in the back yard and check up on them for 5 minutes a day. I just don't feel right about doing that. Though I did come from that home...you know, the one that just left a big ole' bucket of water and a big ole' bucket of dog food whenever we went on a trip. Yup, that was my family.

Well I didn't feel right about it then, and I don't feel right about it now. So of course each time we dog-sit it becomes a task that requires far more than I ever anticipate. We provide 5-star service here at Hotel Starriaza (Stier + Arriaza). And, truthfully, my husband ends up doing most of the work because he is physically at home more than I am. So I was thinking, since we are doing so much extra work maybe we should start up a business and charge a small fee. What do you think?

I would love to believe that it would be a huge success, but places like this already exist (dog hotels). Aaaand, people ask us because we are free, and they don't wanna pay. And like that a dream is crushed. You just witnessed it, mark it down in your journals. Well, at least we now have people who owe us a favor should the need and time ever come.

I have to go, Lucky can't find his doggie bed...

A long way yet to go...

It was hot today, so I wore a spaghetti strapped shirt. Makes sense right? Well let me take you back to a time when I was so scared to wear anything that showcased my femininity. I could hardly get myself to wear anything that might be mildly form-fitting. As you might have guessed this fear stems from abuse I suffered. And thanks be to God that I have worked through many of my fears and wounds. And so here I am a grown woman not afraid to wear a spaghetti strap shirt on a hot summer day until...

I walked into a store to buy some baking soda and when I approached the register there were two men "checking me out", but it wasn't flattering to me at all. This wasn't an innocent "checking out" (which I have noticed before and was not alarmed by). This was different. It felt dirty. I felt vulnerable and suddenly wished I had a sweatshirt on. And I felt like I had done something wrong, like I had provoked these men. Of course I know this is a reaction stemming out of my wounded past, but it was my response nonetheless. What is worse is that the cashier was busy doing something forcing me to linger longer than I wanted at the register, allowing those men to continue to stare, adding to my discomfort.

Friends, I wish I could tell you how I conquered those feelings, left with my head help high, striding with confidence and the power of the strong woman I aim to be. But I didn't. I kept my head down...typical victim. I rushed out of there as quick as I could trying to be strong but knowing I wreaked of anxiety. And I write to you out of anger and pain. Anger at myself for being so weak, for showing how far I have yet to go on my path to healing. Pain because it hurts to be reminded of things better left in the dark and hidden past. But I share this because where there is light darkness cannot abide. I share this because I have found that carrying the pains of these stories is made easier when many carry my story with me.

Shame on men who think it is okay to stare at women as objects! Shame on them who with their eyes send crude messages and evil thoughts. When they reduce me to breast, ass, and c**t, they have no idea they are missing my true beauty, my true light, and my unconquerable spirit. I am more than the sum of my body parts! And praise God for that!