Monday, August 4, 2008

Gratitude and the Broken Toe


I’m big on gratitude.

Nowadays, everybody from Oprah to The Secret is singing the praises and benefits of gratitude.

But the Grande Dame, the High Priestess of Gratitude is my good friend, the very smart, talented author, M.J. Ryan. Way back in 1999, M.J. wrote The Gratitude Bible, Attitudes of Gratitude: How to Give and Receive Joy Every Day of Your Life.

A few gems from the book:

“As we get older, we get schooled in our mistakes, and learn to focus on what’s NOT right, what is lacking, missing, inadequate, and painful. That’s why gratitude is so powerful. It helps us to return to our natural state of joyfulness where we notice what’s right instead of what’s wrong. Gratitude reminds us to be like plants, which turn toward, not away, from the light.”

“Gratitude is not just the key. It’s the magic key—all you need to do is to use it, and the world is suddenly transformed into a beautiful wonderland, in which you are invited to play.”

“Gratitude births only positive feelings—love, compassion, joy and hope. As we focus on what we are thankful for, fear, anger, and bitterness simply melt away, seemingly without effort.”


And, not only all of that, but as both New Age and Old Age sages agree, practicing gratitude brings more abundance into our lives!

I have a ritual. Every morning as I walk Dog, I start by thanking God for all the wonderful things in my life. The list is long: my family, our good health, my home, my beautiful neighborhood, the freedom to do what I love (writing) and the good fortune to both impact people’s lives and make money at it, and, of course, the smiling, rambunctious ball of fluff at the end of the leash. (Right about this time I usually have to stop and pick up poop, which is very grounding.)

As I take pleasure in the California weather and landscape and the joy of watching Dog romp in the wet grass, I forget minor slights and troubles. My to-do list melts away for a few sacred moments. It is a time of peace and happiness that I hope will set the mood for my day.

Of course, it’s easy to be grateful when everything is going great. The challenge is to be grateful when things suck.

Along these lines, I have another great teacher in my life, my friend, Rich, for whom life is not all butterflies and rainbows. Rich surprised me one day by telling me he was grateful for laundry!

Laundry!!! As any mom knows, laundry is one of the subversive banes of our existence. It’s never done! Even if you do every spec of laundry in the house—every towel, every sock, every single piece of underwear—at the end of the day, there’s more!

But Rich had a different take on laundry. He rented an apartment and had to go to the laundromat to wash and dry his clothes. Mostly, laundromats are not the most pleasant places to spend the couple of hours it takes to get the job done. Hot, crowded, smelly—sometimes even a little scary with the various characters hanging around who might have come straight out of central casting for an Elmore Leonard movie.

One day, Rich decided to be grateful--for having the good fortune to be alive, to own clothes to wash, for his healthy life in which to dirty those clothes and the quarters to do the laundry. Wow!

A Course in Miracles says that a miracle is a shift in perception. I'd say that qualifies.

So I began to bless every dirty pair of pants that my son had worn to school, every smelly sock from my husband's tennis games, every towel (and there were many!) that my teenage daughter soiled, and every tablecloth with the remnants of our Sunday family dinners.

Realizing that I could and should be grateful for laundry, something I had always looked upon with dread, changed my perception.

And, isn't that really The Secret? To look upon things in a new way? The alchemy of changing rocks into gold? Or piles of dirty clothes into a blessing?

And so, with that in mind, since I'm out of my Dog-walking ritual for at least a few more days, I decided to make a list:

Top Ten Things to Be Grateful About Breaking My Toe:

10) It gives me something to write about.
9) Since I can only wear one shoe, I am finally getting some use out of those lonely, single socks who have lost their mates.
8) My mom sent me flowers:


7) For the first two days I was in so much pain that I just sat around with my foot iced and propped up, watching the full first season DVDs of The Sopranoes while my kids ran wild and played video games and watched too much TV—and I didn’t even feel guilty!
6) I got the opportunity to realize and appreciate the people who love me: My husband who fetched me water and pillows to prop up my toe when I couldn’t sleep at 3 am; my son, who wrapped his beloved blankie around my neck to comfort me; my daughter, who hates to clean even more than me, who washed all the dishes and wiped the kitchen counters sparkling clean; and my wonderful friends, who volunteered to pitch in to help during my debilitation.
5) A phone call from my brother from Virginia to see how I was.
4) I have an excuse not to exercise, especially not to lift weights.
3) It could be worse. It’s not a life-threatening injury or illness. My toe will survive.
2) I scored some really awesome pain pills—although I have practiced amazing courage and self-control by only taking one so far.

And, the absolute best thing to be grateful for….

1) My husband and kids are walking Dog for me!

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Crazy Dog Lady and The Broken Toe


Around town, I am known informally as Crazy Dog Lady. This is not a trite, superficial label, but one I am unreasonably proud of and I take quite seriously.

For example, I am not the kind of Crazy Dog Lady (CDL) who forces my pet into frilly pink faux-leopard frocks and smuggles him into trendy boutiques and hip restaurants in my Louis Vuitton handbag. (Although I AM guilty of sneaking him in a big, black, fake leather, free-with-purchase LancĂ´me tote bag into a birthday party at the local ice-skating rink when he was a tiny puppy because we had only had him for one day and I thought he would be too lonely left by himself at home.)

But, as to the aforementioned type of CDL, as Seinfeld would say, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” But Dog and I have a more profound, spiritual bond, based not upon our "image" or the fleeting notice and approval of others. (Also, Dog growled loudly and fiercely when we attempted to dress him up in a white jumpsuit and cape as Elvis Dog on his first Halloween. And he prefers to sit perched on the top cushion of our bedroom chair than to be confined in any type of bag—even a designer-type.) Dog is a free spirit and I honor and respect that about him!

No, I am the CDL who is crazy enough to put the dog’s needs above her own—most of the time. I’m the kind of CDL walks her dog every single morning, no matter what the weather or my personal deadlines or detriments—more reliable than the postman since, although we both deliver through rain, sleet and snow, I also am on duty 7 days a week, 52-weeks a year—even on Christmas Day!

As my neighborhood friends pass and wave in their Minivans and SUVs, promptly onto more productive endeavors like loading their dishwashers or dusting their miniblinds or laundering underwear or golfing in a club tournament. One odd morning when I had to work in my son’s class very early, I dropped by the grocery store for a quick trip before rushing home for my routine dog walk.

Running into a neighbor, she seemed as shocked to see me, at this hour, sans Dog, as if she’d spied me running out of the Motel 6 in black leather hot pants and fishnet hose, tossing an empty fifth of Maker’s Mark in the bushes before high-tailing it home to defrost Trader Joe's French Toast for the kids' breakfast.

“Where’s your dog?” she exclaimed! “Shouldn’t you be walking your dog now?”

I’ve also endured comments like, “Do you take your dog EVERYWHERE?” when I bring Dog along to pick up a kid from a playdate or a birthday party or as Dog and I wait in the carpool lane at school. And, my answer is, “Yes, I do take him everywhere I can." He loves to be with me and will go anywhere I want and be a happy, pleasant companion, which is more than I can say for other members of my immediate family who I cannot mention.

My Crazy Dog Lady persona really was highlighted on my birthday this year. Here is a sampling of my cards:







But, the grand, ultimate, completely over-the-top example of me being a Crazy Dog Lady was this week, when I stupidly dropped a 10-lb weight I was lifting on my toe, causing excruciating pain, much blood and a broken bone. (I thought of posting a photo, but I’ll spare you by asking you to imagine an overgrown, exceptionally ripe, slightly damaged red grape—that’s what my toe looks like!)

And what was my first thought? (Other than %*@&*$%%^&%!!!!)

Did I worry about the throbbing pain? Whether or not my toe would heal straight or end up as crooked, arthritic mess of a toe? Did I worry about losing my toenail (ouch!) or all the end-of-summer trips to museums and beaches that I would miss with my kids without the full use of my foot?

No. Truth is, my first thought was, “Who will take Dog for his walk?”