O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

God's Word is amazing. Every time I read it, I come away with a new thought or a different perspective. Passages I have read over and over for many years shed light in a way I had never considered.

I was reading the Psalms a few nights ago and this thought struck me---The majority of God's followers within the Scriptures did not have happy, relatively stress-free lives. Many of their lives ended tragically. 

Think about it.

 David had to flee from his own son; Joseph's early life was extremely stressful (human trafficking and false imprisonment); Esther had to face the agonizing possibility that her people would be destroyed; Moses led millions of people through a wilderness for 40 years as they grumbled, complained, dragged their feet, and even plotted to kill him at times; Lot lived in a city so wicked the Bible states that his righteous soul was "tormented [def. severe physical or mental suffering] by their lawless deeds"; some of the apostles were executed; Stephen was stoned to death; and Priscilla and Aquila risked their lives every day to host the church in their home; not to mention the shipwrecks, beatings, imprisonment, torture, unfaithful children/family members, hunger, thirst, loneliness, sickness, deaths of friends, betrayal, war, slander, evil plots, backbiting, and total exhaustion endured by followers of God.

Wow.

When I list even just a handful of them, it leaves me speechless.

I know in my case, I too often view the stories as way back when in Bible times--not really connected to me in my 21st century life of electricity, automobiles, space travel, and ipods.

But then, the Lord reminds me to take a closer look and not merely read the words, but feel the stories behind the words.

They were people. They lived, and loved, and laughed. 

They watched friends die, sometimes excruciatingly painful deaths. They didn't understand. They wondered, searched, and questioned. Their entire lives were turned upside down with a knock at the door as soldiers dragged them off to prison. They experienced sleeplessness and strain to the point of utter, I can't take another step-exhaustion.

They raised children. They shared meals. They enjoyed each other's company.

They dealt with unemployment, unfair bosses, disobedient children, and unloving spouses.

They cried. They were lonely. They missed people and wished they could be together.

They experienced joy. They were cheerful and sang songs. They learned contentment. 

Through all the confusion, chaos, and disappointment, they knew they would be okay; the Lord would come back for them in His time. No matter what.

So, as I sit here facing unemployment, I remember them--the people who endured far, far more difficult situations than the lack of a full-time job.

As I let go of the ideas and plans for how I want my life to be, I remember their faith and acceptance.

I remember their Lord, and mine---our Savior who understands disappointment, confusion, pain, fear, and loss. He did not promise any of us an easy, pain-free, smooth, always have full-time employment kind of life. He warned that it was going to be rough at times, and we had better count the cost before deciding to follow. He was right. It isn't always easy. Sometimes it hurts and I have a bad attitude. I get impatient and want to yell, "Make it a little clearer, please! I don't have a clue what I'm doing!"

I don't understand God's patience. It has to be tiring and annoying as I flail, kick, whine, and struggle. I would have given up on me a long time ago.

Instead, He holds on tighter. 

I think of Him shaking His head at my defiance and moments when I freak out about life as He says, "Let it go, child. Rest. I've got this covered. You are going to be just fine. I will never let you go. "

Again, wow. 

Slowly, but surely, I'm learning.

 Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.  I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me. -Philippians 4:11-13

Random

Random thoughts running through my brain this morning--illustrated with images from The Jungle Book and The Lion King.

This is my life right now; trapped in the clutches of an irritable elephant (unemployment, a terrible economy, and a depressing town).

After filling out over 120 job applications with no full-time employment opportunities in sight, I totally relate to Pumbaa--stuck beneath a tree root with a raging lion closing in.

I try to refrain from eating anything out of a box (processed foods & fast food). Lately, my enthusiasm for this life choice hovers a few levels below the elephant's enthusiasm in this picture.

His expression is similar to mine when eating raw spinach.

I want to eat an entire box of cheese bread from the local Piggly Wiggly.

But, I won't.

I will eat an apple. 

Hakuna Matata.

Book Reviews

This was an interesting story. I found myself saying on more than one occasion, "I feel the same way!", or, "That's how I travel, too." I nearly died laughing when I read his account of being terrified every time he boarded an airplane. It made me feel better to know that a well-known travel writer still freaks out when flying.

The author presents an honest, unflinching view of how he perceives life. I don't agree with everything in the book, nor do I understand some of his lifestyle choices.

However, I do understand the need to travel to feel at home. Restless wandering is a feeling I know well. Yet, in contrast with the story, I find my stability in God. I know my restlessness will end when I reach Him in heaven.

I almost didn't check this book out from the library when I opened it and saw the style in which it was written. However, I'm thankful I went ahead and added it to my stack of books on the counter.

May B's story is written in a journal-like, thought-by-thought style. It is beautiful. The descriptions transported me to the prairie--a place that is beautiful and freeing, yet harsh and unforgiving. Anyone who has ever spent time in Kansas understands the vastness and the way the silence can smother.

May B. is a fine piece of children's literature. I read some of the passages aloud just to be able to hear the words.

If you're afraid of butter, use cream. -Julia Child

Food brings people together. I was blessed to grow up in a family that ate supper at the table every evening. Politics, history, religion, education; you name it, it has more than likely been discussed and debated at my parents' dining room table. Some of my best memories are of meals shared with family and friends, whether at a kitchen table, in a restaurant, or around a campfire. 

Being a born and raised southerner, I did not realize the significant influence food wielded in the south until I traveled elsewhere. I experienced a greater level of culture shock when I visited the northeastern and western regions of my own country than when I visited Europe. Now I'm not saying people don't enjoy food or have regional cuisine in those sections of America; I'm merely recognizing the vast differences in how food is perceived by southerners versus non-southerners.

 In the non-south, from my experience, food is seen as a way to prolong and enhance the quality of life; the healthier the cuisine, the better. There is also an international influence rarely seen in the south, aside from cities such as Nashville.

Don't get me wrong; I value the benefits of healthy eating. Fruits, vegetables, tofu, and sushi comprise some of my favorite meals. Occasionally, however, southern comfort food is required to maintain sanity and restore one's faith in the kindness of others; nothing says love quite like a homemade pie or yummy, buttery, piping hot casserole. Other times, sanity, philosophy, and humanity have nothing to do with it; I just eat southern food because it tastes good. 
 
Food in the south is tied to family, religion, and funerals. A death, a wedding, a church potluck, a new baby; no matter what it is, a southerner knows there is a casserole to fit the occasion. Health benefits fly out the window. In my opinion, if a southern dish is healthy, it was an accident. Southerners use butter (lots of it) and bacon grease, otherwise known as lard. Yep, not the most appetizing sounding name, but boy howdy, does it take a pot of collard greens to a whole 'nuther level!

 Cornbread, biscuits and gravy, barbecue, tomato gravy, fried chicken, grits, cracklin' bread, greens (collard, turnip, and mustard), Mississippi mud cake--the meals of my childhood are as foreign to my non-southern fellow Americans as if I grew up on another continent.

The following restaurants are the ones that have been added to my list of favorites throughout the years as I traipsed around America, land that I love, due in large part to the food. America has every cuisine on earth represented in some form or fashion. It is pretty amazing, when you stop and think about it. The only serious issue I have with American cuisine involves bread. Eat bread in Europe, and you will quickly realize what I'm talking about. As Julia Child said, “How can a nation be called great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?” Agreed, Julia, agreed.

As a disclaimer, the reason you won't find many southern-influenced restaurants on this list is because I was taught to cook by a southern mom and grandma. I have yet to find a southern restaurant that truly captures the essence of the cuisine. Want real southern food? Find some southerners and eat in their kitchen. 

Alabama

Rogersville: Cafe Savanna--a tiny cafe nestled amongst shops on a quiet street. Everything from the bread to the desserts is homemade. Cornbread salad, sandwiches, casseroles, and fresh fruit fluff (strawberries, blueberries, grapes, bananas, and apples in a strawberry cool whip fluff. So good!). Order lunch, sit outside on the patio, and enjoy life in the south!

Florida

Crestview: The Baron's Tea House--This is a new-to-me restaurant, introduced by my grandma in January. I have eaten at many tea rooms, but The Baron's Tea House is in a league of its own. The tea sampler includes a salad with poppy seed dressing, chicken salad, three tiny tea sandwiches, a tea cup of homemade soup, and one dessert of your choice (lemon bar, chocolate chip Amish bread, or a scone). Everything was delightful, from the food to the pretty tea cups lining the shelves. The men chose to eat at KFC for lunch because they said tea and scones were too girly. They missed out on homemade curried chicken salad and the best lemon bar ever for greasy, fried, fast food chicken. And men say women are impossible to understand?

Seaside: Great Southern Cafe--the following description is taken directly from the menu--Grits a Ya Ya, smoked gouda cheese grits smothered with a saute of applewood-smoked bacon, spinach, shallots, garlic, portobello mushrooms, and cream, finished with spiced shrimp and sweet potato hay. Need I say more?

Bud and Alley's Waterfront Restaurant--another fantastic place in Seaside. Bud and Alley's serves a crab cake that deserves a parade. It is fun to sit on the second-story deck and view the gulf while eating lunch.

St. Augustine: The Florida Cracker Cafe--My mom, grandma, sister, and I ate at The Florida Cracker when we visited St. Augustine in 1998. We still talk about the shrimp sauce. You can order alligator, crab dip, fried green tomatoes, and lots of other southern coastal dishes. 

Louisiana 

New Orleans: Artz Bagelz--Jennalyn and I discovered this restaurant last year during our trip to tour the World War II museum. Jenn grew up in New York and is a connoisseur of bagels. Customers can watch the bagels being made on-site. We were very impressed. I think we ate five bagels between us. They were that good.

Kentucky 

Georgetown: Fava's--a restaurant that has been around since 1910, serving yummy burgers, homemade soup, BLTs, and breakfast omelets.

Lexington: Sav's Grill and West African Cuisine--The owner is from Guinea, West Africa. He married a Peace Corps volunteer and moved to Lexington where they opened the restaurant. I recommend the peanut chicken and fried plantains. Delicious! Sav is friendly and his story is really interesting!

Missouri  

Sikeston: Lambert's Cafe--because everyone should eat at a place where homemade rolls the size of softballs are hurled at you from across the restaurant. The food is yummy southern-fare; fried chicken, pork chops, fried potatoes, macaroni and tomatoes, fried okra; can you see we have a pattern in the south? Fried food. Come hungry, be prepared to wait outside on the porch for at least 45 minutes (lots of people love Lambert's, so there is always a long line), and be on the alert for wayward rolls flying across the room; they have been known to hit unsuspecting people in the head. My family first ate at Lambert's 20 years ago. We met Norm, the owner, and he gave us the entire meal on the house because it was our first time there. He was a kind and funny man. The world lost a sunny, generous person when he died.

Montana 

Great Falls: Faster Basset--a restaurant that has paintings of Basset Hounds on every wall, and serves homemade crepes with a variety of fillings (spinach, bacon, and artichoke, turkey-ranch, lemon curd, nutella, strawberries, etc...)--what's not to love?

St. Mary: Park Cafe and Grocery--I will admit bias; I worked at Park Cafe all last summer. But seriously, bias aside, the food is great! I recommend the huevos rancheros, French toast,  bison burger with avocado, fish and chips, and last but not least, pie! I love the lemon meringue, raspberry-cherry, moose moss (mint chocolate chip) ice cream pie, blackberry, and fresh strawberry. The pie crusts are homemade. The pie bakers are up at 5 a.m. rolling out crust and mixing pie filling. The hummus and guacamole are also tasty. The cafe is very popular and has lots of repeat customers. There are long lines, especially at the height of tourist season (July and August). After hiking 10 or 20 miles in Glacier National Park, stop by and reward yourself with a slice (or two) of pie!

New York

Portville: Sprague's Maple Farms--The maple syrup is fresh--really fresh. You can watch it being made. The restaurant serves every kind of maple-inspired dish known to mankind. Cinnamon rolls, pancakes, fudge; you name it, they make it with maple. It is a lovely place in the winter when the snow covers the countryside.

Tennessee

The state that introduced me to the wonders of chocolate cobbler; I will be forever grateful. 

Centerville: Fish Camp--The catfish are raised on-site in two ponds. Breaded in cornmeal, then fried, it is some of the best catfish I've ever eaten. The homemade hot fudge cake should be the town's official dessert. 

Franklin: Bombay Bistro--I discovered this place shortly after moving to the area. From then on, it was a rare occasion when I chose a different restaurant. It serves the best Indian food. It is a widely known fact; I love curry powder--mild, spicy, or hot enough to be classified as lava. This place is a curry-lover's dream. Since it is unlikely I will visit India anytime soon to wander amongst the spice racks and street food vendors, Bombay Bistro is the next best place.

Memphis: Muddy's Bake Shop--Some friends of mine introduced me to this bakery a couple of months ago. With fun, whimsical cupcake names such as Oodlelolly (vanilla/boiled icing and coconut), Frankly Scarlett (red velvet/cream cheese), Pucker Up (lemon), Plain Jane (vanilla), Tomboy (chocolate/peanut butter), and Grasshopper (chocolate/peppermint); it is a cheerful place that serves delicious homemade cakes, pies, and cookies. The line was out the door when we visited.

Casablanca--a Middle-Eastern, Moroccan-inspired restaurant. A dear friend of mine described the ginger, honey, sage tea as "tea from heaven". She wasn't kidding. I recommend the Baba Ghanoush, grape leaves, and hummus with shawerma. The owner is from Israel; a very personable fellow who enjoys talking to customers.

Nashville: The Smiling Elephant--This is my family's favorite Thai restaurant. It was voted best Pad Thai in the city. The fresh rolls, chicken cashew stir fry with satay sauce, sticky rice in a banana leaf, and mango sticky rice are excellent! 

Gojo Ethiopian Cafe--Ethiopian food is unlike any other cuisine I've eaten. I recommend Yemiser Sambussa, a pastry shell filled with lentils, onion, jalapeno, herbs, and spices, then pan fried and served hot, and Yebeg Alicha, tender pieces of lamb simmered in mild sauce and seasoned with fresh ginger, garlic and turmeric. Injera (flat, pancake-like, sourdough bread) is served with every meal.

Noshville Authentic New York Delicatessen--This place had my vote as soon as I realized there were vats of pickles from which to eat as we waited for our food to arrive.  I love the matzah ball soup and the blackened chicken curry salad.

 

Summertown: Shaffer Farms--home of the best barbecue brisket in Tennessee; perhaps in the entire world. I'm a born and raised southerner, so I know good BBQ. Trust me.

Texas
 Odessa: Jorge's--My family and I ate at Jorge's in 2006 when we drove across Texas to attend a World War II air show. The homemade tacos are worth crossing the plains of Texas barefoot in a sandstorm. This place serves menudo (beef or pork stomach). Taco Bell, step aside. Jorge's is the real deal, folks.


 What restaurants are on your list of favorites? What special memories do you have of meals shared around a table with family and friends?

Gifts 73-79

"God puts you where God needs you. You are where you are supposed to be. The job you are doing may not be any easier on account of this, indeed it may be harder, even more urgent, but now you are centered, focused, clear. So this is where I am supposed to be. I always thought I was supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else. But I realize now that I was mistaken. This does not mean that I can't or will not be doing something else. Just right now, I am where God wants me." -Lawrence Kushner

 

If someone had told me I would return six years after leaving to the place where I grew up, I would have laughed and said, "No way!". Little did I know; life has many ways to prove me wrong.

As I approach the ninth month of searching for a full-time job, I'll admit it has become more difficult to remain optimistic. In the life plan in my head, returning to the place where I was raised was most definitely not on the list. I moved here when I was one month shy of five years old, and remained until I went to college. To most people, living in one spot that long would create roots. Not me, though. I never settled in and I never belonged. It is coming up on 21 years; yet, when people ask me where I'm from, I claim Tennessee, a state I lived in for only six years as an adult.

It isn't easy to be back with no end in sight. So, to confront the disappointment, I must choose to focus on the good things--the moments I would not experience if I was living somewhere else.


1,000 Gifts book 


1,000 Gifts, continued...

73. A roof over my head--This one is a huge blessing. If not for generous parents who let me and my dogs come home, we would be living in my car. No joke. As it is, I have a safe place to sleep, plenty of food (delicious food, actually, since my mom is the world's greatest cook), electricity, and running water. My dogs are living the good life on the farm. It is sobering to consider the number of people who don't know where they will sleep each night. Without my parents, it is likely I would be in that category.

74. Playing board games with Mom and Dad--Between Trivial Pursuit and the redneck version of Scrabble Mom invented, our game nights are always interesting and laugh out loud funny.

75. Spending time with old friends who live nearby. They are the link to childhood. They comprise many of my happiest memories. I belonged with them, even when I felt out of place everywhere else.

76. Visiting my grandparents--Due to the lack of a full-time job schedule since last September, I was able to visit Grandma for a week in November during deer season, and Grandma and Grandpa in January for a festival we wanted to attend together. My grandparents are pretty amazing!

77. Learning to simplify--All of my earthly possessions have been in boxes since April 30, 2012 when I moved away from Tennessee. I don't miss any of that stuff. Material possessions don't matter. It is a liberating realization.

78. A moment of laughter with a stranger who came out of nowhere--My family's black and tan coon hound has the loudest vocal ability of any dog I have ever met. He doesn't bark, he howls--sounding somewhat like an opera singer mixed with a police siren. It is a sound that makes me want to kill him at 2 a.m., but is contagious any other time. You can't help but howl right along with him. He was in the throes of a particularly spectacular hound sound a few days ago when I was outside. I threw my head back and howled at the top of my lungs only to quickly realize I wasn't alone. Some guy on a bicycle was riding by, howling along with Yukon, too. We realized it at the same time, and busted out laughing.

79. Learning to let go. This does not come easily to me; yet, it is still a gift. I needed to learn to stop fighting and struggling to have every facet of my life planned out in detail. It is difficult, and not always what could be classified as a fun gift, but the Lord is slowly but surely teaching me to let go and just be.

 What gifts are you thankful for during the hard times and days of disappointment?

Education

The following two TED talks are the best I have ever heard regarding education.

This is not intended to be a debate between home schooling and public schooling. The ideas set forth in the lectures are applicable to any form of education.

Every child learns differently. It is a fact. No two brains are alike.

To use a personal example, I was a child who struggled with math from the first day of school. It never became any easier. The numbers scrambled on the page. Frustration and tears were present at some point during every math lesson. Every. Single. One.

As time went on, however, I realized that although numbers and mathematical concepts exploded and did back-flips in my brain, words did not. Letters and words made perfect sense. Writing stories, spelling tests, diagramming sentences; it was such a sense of relief to discover something I could understand without a monumental struggle.

I would have more than likely been labeled learning disabled had I been in a regular school setting.

Instead, I was given unlimited access to books. I was reading 250-page World War II history books by the time I was nine years old. I still struggled with math and wondered why I could not understand like everyone else; but my teacher did not let the struggle define me or my education.

Now, this is where most people say, "Well, I was bad in math, too.", or "I don't like numbers, either."

 Let me just say, it is one thing for math to not have been your favorite subject in school. It is another matter entirely when your brain views math as a foreign language; a language that no matter how many hours you practice or how many tutors you hire, you will never reach any semblance of fluency or competency.

I've never been tested to find out if I have a diagnosable learning disorder in math. I suspect the result would be affirmative, due in part to making a perfect score on the English and reading portions of the ACT, while my math score hovered pitifully in the single digits. I'm fairly certain that in the womb, the word portion of my brain received a double dose--what was intended for the math side ended up over there in the wrong section.

As an adult, numbers still do not make sense to my brain. I can look at a page of math problems and all I see are numbers, lines, and symbols--no order, no recognition, not even the remotest idea of how to reach the answer.

Yet, I love to learn. I was blessed to receive an education where creativity and imagination were encouraged. Curiosity is the order of my day. The world is a fascinating, pulsing, diverse place. 

I say all that to give background information for why I love Ken Robinson's lectures so very much.

When I Grow Up

Need a reminder of what matters in life?

Just read these responses from local kindergarten students to the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" 

I want to be a military pilot. I want to live in a jungle. I will needs lots of water and food. I will also need a hut to live in and a plane with a radio so I can talk to my family.

I want to be an artist. I want to live in a cabin (because of bunk beds). I will need a paintbrush, palette, some paint, a seat to sit on, and quiet.

I want to be a dog sitter. I want to live in Mom’s house. I will need leashes, 100 dogs, food, water, and toys.

I want to be a teenager. I want to live at home. I will need princess clothes, a tractor, and a pet cheetah.

I want to be a race car driver and astronaut. I want to live in California or space. I will need a helmet that can keep me safe like Ricky Bobby and a helmet to breathe in space. I also want a space ship. I want my mommy and my sister and brother and cousins to go to space with me.

I want to be an artist. I will need bananas to eat, orange juice to drink, and paint.

I want to be a knife thrower. I want to live in a house. I will need to work and make money.

I want to be an artist. I want to live in a pretty house. I will need lots of flowers. Butterflies all around so I can catch them. I will need a garden and lots of money. Also, I need my dad to still bring me fireworks.

I want to be a farmer. I will need a big red tractor, trailers, tires, motors, cotton picker, combine, and a good dog to ride in my truck.

I want to be a ballerina. I want to live in New York. I will need a tutu, ballet slippers, to learn to spin and twirl, and my momma.

I wanted to be a veterinarian, orphanage worker, pioneer/wagon driver, and war reporter all at the same time when I was a kid. Orphanage worker is the only one I have reached, thus far, but 'go big or go home' remains my philosophy to this day. :)

To such the kingdom of heaven belongs. I imagine the streets will be filled with precious children-- laughing, blowing bubbles, coloring with sidewalk chalk, and climbing trees. What a wonderful place it will be!

Life with an American Bulldog

In September 2010, I had recently moved to a new town and started a new job. The job was extremely stressful, the house was too quiet, and I was lonely. I decided to browse the listings on Petfinder.com. I looked at many furry faces who needed homes--puppies, full grown dogs, seniors. 

Then, a big, bulldog face appeared.

The profile listed her as a white American Bulldog named Pearl. To this day, I can't fully understand why I was drawn to that profile more than any of the others I viewed. I firmly believe God knew I would desperately need her companionship in the two rough years that followed.

I called the number provided in the listing. When I told the lady I was calling to inquire about the American Bulldog, she couldn't believe it. We set up a time the following day for me to meet Pearl at a vet's office in Nashville. When I arrived, I met a skinny dog who timidly came over, leaned against me, and seemed so relieved--sort of like she already knew she had found her person.

I had not driven to Nashville that day expecting to take her home. I just wanted to meet her and then think about it for a few days. Well, I found myself saying, "Absolutely! Of course, I will take her!"

The lady from the animal rescue was in tears. She proceeded to tell me that when I had called, Pearl was on the list to be euthanized that day. And, not just that day; within the next 30 minutes. The vet was already at the animal shelter checking names off the list.

30 minutes. That's all that stood between her and death.

I loaded her up in my vehicle. We went to PetSmart. She threw up four times on four different aisles. Stress, I suppose. After the fourth time, I was too mortified to go back up front and tell the PetSmart guy what had occurred. As he was cleaning up the three previous vomit episodes, I kept saying, "I'm so sorry! I just adopted her, and I hope she isn't sick!" To his credit, he was very nice and patiently cleaned up the messes. I purchased food bowls, treats, and honeysuckle cologne spray, and exited the store as quickly as possible. 

I renamed her Eleanor. It means shining light. Little did I know how fitting that would turn out to be.

In all my years of animal ownership, I had never adopted a full-grown dog. I always chose puppies because I could raise them to my standards. I was apprehensive and fully expected to face bad habits Eleanor had picked up before coming into my life.

Much to my surprise, she was perfect. She quickly fell right in with the schedule of my house. She got along well with my two outside dogs. It was like she had been with us for years.

To my delight, I discovered she was funny! Hilarious, actually. She would have me sitting in the floor, cracking up at her antics. She would look at me for approval, like a comedian on stage waiting for applause. 

She also looks like a leopard seal pup. Eleanor is a great combination of hilarity and seal-like features.

It has been almost three years since the day we first met. Eleanor has helped me through some of my darkest days. She lives up to the meaning of her name--shining light.

She rides shotgun on road trips, sleeps at the foot of my bed, is the most joyful dog I've ever met, and feels the need to be with me at all times--such as when I am working on my computer and not paying attention to her. 

"Mom? Mom? How can Pinterest be better than spending every waking minute with your favorite leopard seal?"

"Not going to pay attention to me? Fine. I will give you the stink eye!"

"Well, the stink eye didn't work. Time for the pleading, sad, seal eyes. Please notice me! If you don't, I might actually die!"

"You can't ignore me when I drape my 50-lb. body across your computer keyboard and proceed to lick your nose. Whatever it takes."

Such is life with an American Bulldog.

Getting a dog? Please adopt! You will save a life!

As an addition, I recently found Eleanor's (A.K.A. Pearl) original profile picture on PetFinder in the Happy Tails adoption section. Upon closer inspection, I was shocked to realize that the picture I saw three years ago was not Eleanor! The differences were subtle enough, I did not pick up on them when I met Eleanor for the first time at the vet's office. The animal shelter brought me a different dog than the one in the picture! I don't know why Eleanor's profile was listed under the wrong dog's picture; there were several bulldogs at that shelter, so it might have been an honest mistake.

Either way, we were destined to be together.

The dog in the profile.

Eleanor on the day I adopted her.

Yep, definitely a different dog.

My powers of observation are beyond comprehension; keen and unmatched.
 Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? I couldn't see through a barbed wire fence.

Now I know the Lord sent her to me! :)