Lunch for one, please

So, don't judge me.   Ok, you can because it's kinda an involuntary thing, to judge people.  I don't know why we all don't walk around with robes, gavels and maybe even wigs.  Anyway, Rudy had a quick bite, floor service (instead of table service, get it).  And yes, that is the same plate I would eat off of after being washed.

To preface this video, I might still be having residual feelings of guilt.  I almost killed this dog of mine.  

Rudy.  RuBear.  Rudy Roo.  Rudy Ruettiger.  Rudy Rudebaker.  Rudy Rutabaga.  Roodles Canoodles.  It's a Ru.  

I fuckin love this dog.  Every dog or cat or pet owner can relate.  I'm not gonna say, no, I love him more than you love your dog.  I might, or I might not.  

Anyway, yesterday morning, we drove to Flagler Drive in Flagler Village for a walk.  We met Steamboat, a pitbull of a friend who has a brewery right in the area, Invasive Species.  Big surprise, Rudy didn't like Steamboat.  So, we had a good walk.  Then we went back to the car.  I put Rudy in the back seat, & I filled the cup holder with water for him.  

Then I closed the door.  And the keys were on the passenger seat.  And the doors were locked.  And my phone was in the car.

But the door was cracked.  I tried to wedge my hand in, but it was just a crack.  

These landscapers just pulled up behind me, so I asked if I could use someone's phone.  The one guy that handed me a phone gave me an android.  And of course I didn't know how to use it.  I called TFP (my husband) and it went straight to voicemail.  He was out running.  I left a panicky message relaying the situation.  And I called again, and again, and again.  I probably called him 15 times.  I panicked even more after about 10-15 minutes, so I called 911.  They were sending the fire department.  Rudy was fine... but I was not.  He didn't really seem anxious until about 15 - 20 minutes in.  Then the phone I was using stopped working.  I think I made the data reach the limit, so I couldn't call anymore.  And I couldn't answer the phone when TFP tried to call back.  But, luckily, the firemen showed up.  They were able to open the door really quickly since it was cracked.  Of course, Rudy went ballistic.  So they got the door open, but were holding it closed until I got around to the door.  They didn't want him to lunge out and bite him, which he probably would have done.....I opened the door, and I poured more water in the cup holder.  He drank it all.  Then I refilled.  He drank that.  He drank all the water I had in the car.  It was about 25 - 30 minutes by the time the door was unlocked.  Luckily, he wasn't in direct sunlight.  I was fucking freaking out anyway.  In 6 years since we've had that car, I don't think I've ever locked the keys in the car.  Ever.

After they left, TFP called my phone, and I answered.  He came to give me $20.  So, I put the landscaper's phone back in their truck with some cash to pay for the phone bill.  And that was that.  We went home.  I gave Rudy a ton of treats and hugs.  I don't know if he really understood why.  

So, go ahead judge me all you want, if it makes you feel better.  I totally judged myself.  I ruled Guilty!

Tony Bourdain Is Dead

That's what my husband said that got me out of bed yesterday morning.  I'm sure you have all posted your opinion, your feelings on the subject.  Some may already have Tony Bourdain fatigue, while others may still be in shock and trying to understand.  The weird thing is, we had just finished watching season 2 of "13 Reasons Why" the night before.  Coupled with the suicide by hanging of Kate Spade just a few days before, it was a suicide themed week.

I won't go on a diatribe (I feel like he used that word often) about how Tony Bourdain let me down.  Or about how he was a coward, or about how it's bullshit that a hero who influenced my life could do this to me.  I'm not going to say how selfish he was.  His life was still his life to share or not to share. There seems to be an element of being a public figure that is very unselfish.

I don't understand.  No one can understand.  But maybe some can empathize.  I think about death all the time.  Maybe I think about death even more since both of my parents are gone.  When I think about death, I don't fear the end of my life.  I fear how that might come about.  I don't want a hideous horrible violent death. Most people don't.  I talk about death a lot.  For some it's a heavy topics, but for me, I don't find the topic disturbing.

I've thought about suicide.

I've had dark nights where I felt like my emotions were weighing me down so much that I would never be able to climb out of my emotional pit.  Sometimes I didn't want to climb out of that pit.  I just wanted to wallow in my ugly emotion. Sometimes I didn't want that pain to end... I wanted to hold on to it.

Sometimes, I wanted the pain to end.

I've contemplated how I would want to end my life at my own hand.  I never came up with a solution I was "happy" with.  Which way would be the least painless, the least messy, the least shocking for someone to find?  I never organized my thoughts to write a suicide note.  Surely if I were to kill myself, I would have to write a NOTE, since writing is kinda my thing, right?  I also knew that no matter how awful I felt that night, it would always be better the next day.  I knew that it might not be ok in the morning, but it would be at least incrementally better.  But it's not easy to make it to morning.  Sometimes we don't want to make it through the night.  Sometimes we don't want that human contact, that one gesture that will bring us back to society.  Maybe sometimes its the luck of the draw - having just enough time alone with our awful thoughts.  I really don't know.

I know that famous people carry a burden that non famous people can't understand and often envy.  Non famous people can also carry a burden that others can't understand.  I've been told I'm lucky, or I've had it easy, I have my shit together, I seem so stable and even keeled.  Sometimes it is true.  Sometimes it couldn't be farther than the truth.  Just because I've built an almost impenetrable wall around my deepest secrets, doesn't mean they don't exist, or that they don't affect my everyday life.  I don't have any deep revelations.  We just have to remember that in the words of Michael Stipe... everybody hurts And in the words of Elliot Wolf... be nice.  LOL - its good for you. 😘