Ode to My Favorite Sweater

My favorite sweater is probably the ugliest sweater I own, but I love it to pieces anyways.  I bought it when I was 15 at some store in a mall and for 15 years it's been my favorite sweater.  It's not the one that I look the best in, and it's not the one that I reserve for date night.  It's the one that I lay on the couch in, the one that I grab when I'm chilly at home, the one that I won't ever get rid of no matter how holey or threadbear it becomes.  It's my favorite sweater, we've been through too much together to throw it away.

We've snuggled in with a good book, we've warmed each other up, we've gone through good times and bad.  My favorite sweater has shared countless adventures with me; travelling though books and movies and imagination.  We've dreamed together, we've met reality together.  My favorite sweater was there when I got my heart broken (each and everytime), it was there when my pets died, and it was even there when my friend passed away.  It is always there to give a hug.  It's kept me warm when it was cold, and it's kept me dry when it rained.

My favorite sweater is itchy, and it's scratchy, and it's a really ugly shade of brown, but it's still my favorite. It's got two big pockets that I love to shove my hands into, because you can never go wrong with big, warm and cozy pockets. My favorite sweater has a zipper that has never, ever gotten stuck and arms that are just the right length, long enough to cover your whole arm to just where your first knuckle ends.  My favorite sweater is long and it keeps my bum warm, I hate having a cold bum.

My favorite sweater and I have danced in the living room together and we've sung the wrong words.  We've been happy and sad and right pissed off.  We've felt confused, neglected, letdown and damn right miserable.  We've turned things around, we've looked at the bright side, we've weighed options together.   We've started, we've worked, we've acheived, and we've failed.  We've always had each other  My favorite sweater is a part of me.

My favorite sweater has never said anything mean to me.  It's never been rude to me.  It's never made me feel sad or worthless or that it doesn't care.  My favorite sweater is always supportive, and always positive, and always pushing me in the right direction.  I don't care that my favorite sweater is ugly, it fits me perfectly. 

The Furry Family that Lives with Us

We have 3 puppies that live with us.  Well they aren't really puppies, they are all fully grown dogs, but they are little so I like to think of them as puppies.  And when I say they live with us, I mean I don't feel that I "own" them, we live together in a happy house.  Dust and I work, and they live the sweet life (yes, I do get jealous sometimes). 

We bought Ninja from a pet store when he was almost 3 months old.  I didn't really want a puppy, but Dustin was in LOVE with this one.  On a random day, Dust just stopped in the pet store (because I like to see all the baby animals) and right away the girl at the counter said "Hi, yes he's still here".  Part of me just went "Oh no".  The last little puppy of a litter was sitting by himself in a pen.  Dustin went over and picked him up, held him out to me and just said "Can I please come home with you guys?"  After a rather brief discussion with the girl working the counter and my husband, who desperately wanted this puppy, I found out that he had been in the store almost every day for two weeks visiting this specific puppy.  How on earth was I supposed to say no?  So, Ninjitsu Magoo (aka Monster) officially became a Hyatt.  

Ninjitsu Magoo

We both work full time and I have always been a firm believer in puppies should have friends too, so after living with us for 2 months Ninjitsu needed a girlfriend.  Well, it wasn't really that thought out of a decision.  What actually happened was: We went to the pet store to buy bird treats and dog toys and there was a rolly, polly little girl puppy and I immediately fell in love with her.  Mimzicola Muffet (aka The Phat) came home with us about an hour later. 

Mimzicola Muffet

Ninja and Mimzy fell in love and had 6 babies.  5 boys and 1 girl.  The girl was the last one born and was actually a bit of a surprise in the morning.  I went to bed and there were 5 black little boys snuggling their mommy, and when I woke up in the morning there was an extra puppy and it was white.  Dustin was convinced that we needed to keep the one white girl puppy and after a rather hard time getting rid of all of the boys, she was the only one left.  Panda Bear had her collar and name tag randomly brought home by Dustin one day after work and eventually when people asked if we were getting rid of her the answer changed from "Yes, do you know someone who wants her?" to "Nope".

Panda Bear

So there you have it.  Our puppy family was complete.  Mom, Dad, and Baby Girl.  Ironically it's exactly how our human family worked out too.  Mom, Dad and Baby Girl.

Excursion Imagination

I started going for early morning/nightly walks/runs in my neighborhood over a year ago, in a successful attempt to lose my post-pregnancy weight.  I quickly found that I found it quite enjoyable to walk my dog or push my baby in her stroller, listen to my iPod and let my mind wander.  My excursions started as small walks, as I was extremely out of shape (6 months of bedrest will do that to a person), but I eventually made it to the point where I could run instead of walk (very proud of myself).  It was a long trek but I made it, blah, blah, blah.  No one wants to hear another weight loss story, and I don't like to remember how miserable I was.

I live in a "modular home park" and I say "modular home" because the people in my neighborhood do not live in your average double-wide trailers.  They live in these huge and elaborate double-wide trailers with basements and balconies and attics and double-car garages, etc (you get my point, they are mansion trailers).  I think ours is the smallest house on the block, but it's a nice neighborhood to live in and we actually know each and every one of our 30 neighbors.  The walk around my block is actually quite a work out if you want it to be.  It's short enough that you can run it and it's got enough hill to make a walk a little more than a stroll.

Anyway...

Recently, I've found a new marvelous source of enjoyment on my daily excursions: I make up stories about my neighbors.  Strange elaborate stories.  Remember I said I know all of them.  I know what they look like, I know where lots of them work, I know who belong to which house and I know which ones are Canuck fans, but it ends there.  The rest of the details that I like to make up as I walk past their houses and I don't care if it makes me sound crazy.  I like to pretend.  There are lots of days where I'll thow in an extra lap around the block because I wasn't quite finished with the imaginary story going on with number 12.

Most of my neighbors are "old" people, though there are a few younger people mixed in as well.  The neighbors that I talk to on a regular basis have quite interesting stories and I wonder what else they may have done and the ones that I don't talk to regularly are the ones that my brain picks on the most.  I'm pretty sure of several crazies and I know there's a few recreational drug users and I know one of the widows is getting married this summer, but the made up stuff is so much more interesting.  Like the man who only eats cabbage and that's why he smells the way he does.  Or the couple that attends every church function but sacrifices a lamb to the Devil every full moon.  Or the girl that I am pretty sure is some sort of non-human entity with supernatural powers. 

So, now that I've said this, I'm starting to wonder what my neighbors think of me...