How did we get so polarized?

Lately there's been a lot of angst in the air about an Amendment that Floridians will be voting on in November. Politics in general have been angrier than ever.  The divisiveness is palpable every moment. I've caught myself feeling my own anger-- not against those who take the opposite side, but against those who spread misleading information and use it to polarize relationships. Okay, honestly, sometimes it is against those who take the opposite side, just because I feel so passionate about my side.

I do remind myself that what's great about America is that we can have political differences, exchange conversation representing different viewpoints, and in the end, we can still co-exist without retribution for our convictions. We can dwell more on what we have in common while using dialogue about various perspectives to make our society better. 

But do we really? Or do we call the opposition "ignorant" and distant ourselves from them socially and otherwise?

I'll admit having done this. And I couldn't say I would never do it again. But it's usually when that person is not just vocal about his/her politics, but obnoxious and offensive. 

I'm not sure anyone taught us how to disagree respectfully, and that it's okay not to feel the same about everything as your neighbor. What's important is to be a neighbor.

Maybe so many of us turn angry when our sacred beliefs are challenged in the political process and we feel helpless to change them. I think the anger comes from a feeling of injustice, or more simply, not being heard. 

Either way, we don't all agree. We never will. And until we can be civil to each other, nothing, absolutely nothing will change.

Going Absolutely Mad: Licking, Chewing, Scratching

No, I'm not licking, chewing or scratching myself or anyone else.  Nor am I being licked, chewed or scratched thank goodness.

But Flanders, oh Flanders...she's literally about to drive me crazy.

Blogging about one's dog can get a little annoying I know. And I've certainly done it lately. But I am at the brink of sanity.

Mostly I'm grateful. About a month ago, we awoke to find that she didn't seem to have the use of her back legs. It was terrible. After getting her to the best vet in town, a lady I greatly admire because of her community service as well as veterinary skills, it was determined that Flanders had an inner ear issue causing dizziness. A few days and an antibiotic treatment later and she was fine.

But her skin was a different issue. For years, we've taken her to our old timey vet for allergy shots for chronically itching, raw skin. It just didn't seem to stop.

The new vet took a different, more aggressive approach. I am grateful for that too, since old doc wasn't really getting to the heart of the problem. Itching caused by one thing. Opening up the skin to infection from the scratching another thing. Licking on top of that caused another thing. And the shots led to uncontrolled peeing. So nice to deal with.

Except now we have spent OVER $900 on everything from skin biopsies that didn't reveal anything to 6 pills per day including anti-fungals, antibiotics, anti-this, anti-that, etc. And she is still scratching, licking, biting, chewing!!! And her condition plus the noise of her scratching, licking and chewing are driving me completely insane. Vet has done all of the right and necessary things, but none have worked. (Not her fault.)

We keep a shirt on Flanders to help protect her belly, have kept the Cone of Shame on her to prevent her from reaching around and licking, and have kept her out of the yard so she won't be lying in the grass which could be a potential irritant. What kind of life is this? So I get all weepy eyed and temporarily remove the Cone of Shame, and the licking, chewing and scratching begin again. I wake up in the middle of the night every night to this....or to the sound of her trying to navigate around the house wearing her Cone.

The $3 per can hypoallergenic dog food and the $60 16-lb bag of dry hypoallergenic dog food haven't seemed to make any difference either. And she hates them.  

Other than her skin, she's in great shape. And again, I am most grateful for that. I will be a complete and total basketcase whenever her time comes, and knowing it's not soon is such a relief.

But someone pleeeeeeaaaaaase, stop the madness. It's driving all of us crazy, I'm sure least of which is poor Flanders.

What I Was Thinking During the Bret Michaels Concert

Okay, Bret, should you ever stumble across this, I'm not dissing you. In fact, on the Apprentice (which I think is a fabulous social and business experiment), I thought you were awesome--creative, dedicated and always cordial to others without "throwing anyone under the bus." (The most overused expression these days, I know.) I was pulling for you in every show, and you did it--up against some pretty formidable competition.

I'll admit that I never had any inclination to savor the sounds of Poison, but who could forget the enthusiastic big hair thrashing and skidding around the stage shown every 5 minutes on MTV back in the day?

So this isn't a diss, but last night as you performed after the Rays game, these were my thoughts:

1. Your armpits are immaculate.  Do you shave them? Surely you must. They're sooo smooth.
2. I am so nervous for you. Man, you've survived some crazy hospital visits lately. And you're getting a bigger workout in 5 minutes than I've had all year. Please don't die on us.
3. So...we've heard a ton of times tonight that you have a new show on VH1 about your life...and an autobiography coming out.  I probably won't have time to watch it or read it, but I'll try to plug it in the blog. Here you go.
4. It's not a complaint, just an observation, but you sure do talk a lot. There's like a 5 minute intro to every song about why you like that song or the way things all happened back in the Poison days. But you know that. 
5. I feel old as hell. Sitting way up high with my purse in my lap so it doesn't touch the beer that spilled all over the floor, I looked around and thought, "One day I would have been scrambling to get next to that stage, just for the experience. I'm really tired. It's past my bed time. Can you do 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' soon?"

In summary, it's not you, it's me. In the end, you're a brave fellow. I admire your zest for life and your enthusiasm. And you are very gracious--abundantly sharing that you love us and you love Tampa and St. Petersburg and you love the Rays. That's a very cool thing to do.

Most people would take it extra easy in the face of serious health problems, but you've sucked even more marrow out of life, just as Thoreau would have advised you to do. Glad I got to hear you in the flesh.

Can I just ask one final thing? What the heck does Unskinny Bop actually mean? Truly, I've always wanted to know.

Budding Bromance

When the photo book arrived made by sis-in-law, I almost peed in my pants it was so funny.  Outlining the chronicles of Husband and Brother on our summer trip to the North Carolina shore, it portrayed the newly dubbed "Bromance" with class and utmost accuracy.

We had never all spent a full week together in the same living quarters. Husband and Brother's Bromance took the word "together" to a whole new level. The two were hard to separate--the ping pong in the downstairs garage, the beers on the windy porch, the night fishing from the beach, the cow nose ray catching out in the intercoastal, the---okay you get it.

You know, I was thinking "Nice. A good long week with Husband and family. No distractions from the neighborhood boy clan, no calls from work, no man cave, no---Wait a minute! Where is Husband? Off with Brother again. Nice."

God only knew what they were doing. How many times can you go to the bait shop or go for ice in a single afternoon?

In ways, it was a little annoying.  But in more ways, I still can't believe how lucky and grateful I am to have a Brother and Husb who like to hang out together. That doesn't always happen. And when it doesn't, you're up shiter's creek when it's the season for some fam time. That's a shame when people live so far from each other and hardly have the chance to be together.

On the other hand, I can rest easy and delight in the fact that this Budding Bromance is good for the long haul. Thanks, Husb and Brother. Glad the in-law thing is still working. Makes me happier than you can know.

Aw, isn't that cute? Husband and Brother
"walking the line" at Fort Macon State Park

Sometimes I Can't Believe I Make It To Work

It's not so much about the alarm clock, or the fact that I've been up 500,000 times to supervise Flanders' urination needs...or her Cone of Shame...

It's that people drive like such asses.

I can't believe I made it to work today.

Several people pulled out in front of me going like 10 miles per hour, ignoring the fact that I was well on my way at nearly 50. Someone else darted across two lanes in front of me so they could make an immediate right hand turn. And some other crazy man took about 32 minutes to pull off the road, almost coming to a complete stop, when he decided to grace a rental center with his presence.

When people in the far left lane slow to the point of nearly going backwards long before merging into a turn lane--now there's another classic. Gotta experience that one at least once per day.

From the landside, I've just about had enough of landscaping people using their blowers to move sand, trash and other crap out of parking lots and sidewalks, only to blow it directly on my car. I'm really over that.

Okay here it is: I'm grateful to have a car. I'm truly thankful I don't have to endure a two hour ride to work on our pitiful public transportation system. And I'm really appreciative that I get there safely every day. 

I just wish people would stop driving like complete dorks. I feel like I put my finger in an electric socket before I even get to work.

The Hiatus and Scattered Reports from In Between

One of my least favorite words of all time is "hiatus." It's right up there with "hyena." 

I've taken the longest writing hiatus on Gropius since I started the blog but I'm checking in to report a few scattered happenings since we've talked last. My mind, work, and everything-in-between-and-overlapping have been too tied up in details to put anything reasonable on the old scrolling digital journal. And most of those things I felt that I would regret writing about later.

So here's a tiny sampling on the reportable mini-happenings from the last post:

Why "Hello there, Bono!"  Thank you very much to the gal at work who Photoshopped us together when the latest professional staff photos came in. Some people got a wrinkle or two removed; I got Bono. I'm really happy about the choice. Husband has been a great sport about it, since I obviously printed this and put it up on the fridge.

This is sweet Ingrid with her husband Stig. You may remember from previous posts that we lost her over a year ago to blood cancer. She was an amazing and inspirational soul for nearly everyone who met her--whether it was for an afternoon or a decade. I miss her daily. I've put a team together to walk in her honor on October 16.  The Light the Night Walks take place all over the country to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Many thanks to Pines Lake Redhead & all the others who gave money to support the cause. You rock, and I appreciate you so much. If you'd like to contribute to the cause, you can check out our team and donate here.

Thank goodness for the angels who walk here on Earth. My sweet Flanders is 12, and we woke up one morning to find her stumbling about. Every few steps her legs just seemed to give out. Her eyes were darting back and forth wildly like she was speed reading.  Our normal vet couldn't see her that day.  I was panicked.

A vet practicing an hour from our house (who donates every ounce of time outside of her practice to local animal rescue groups) took my call on her cell and came in on her day off to see Flanders. I am so grateful. Turns out Flanders had "old dog" vestibular disease, making her dizzy. That, along with arthritis, put her in bad shape. She's doing much better now, and I have her under the care of someone who looks at her as a member of my family, not just a furry object who lives in my house.

This is not your brain on drugs. This is my brain (not on drugs). Thoreau was not kidding when he said our lives were frittered away by detail. There are so many things I'm trying to mentally keep track of, I've been a bit scrambled lately. Okay, totally scrambled. Completely and totally freaking scrambled. I'm working on that since life doesn't usually change in it's pace, but the way you handle it can.

To all the regular Gropius visitors, thanks for hanging out with me. I'll be catching up with you this week during my down time in my trip to Charlotte. If you're new, thanks for reading and I hope you'll come back.