It's All About My Martini

Last night was a late, but incredible night, with new, and old, friends. Nikki and I hopped on the bike to meet everyone and network for some awesome causes.

It was "interesting" flying, uh, well, stopped, on I5 in five o'clock traffic. Nik and I were following and trying to keep up when traffic got moving again. It was awesome riding with two guys that have ridden for years, and knew the ins and outs of playing the traffic game. Finally we made it to our destination, Portland International Racetrack.

We had a great time handing out fliers, meeting people, and sitting around and talking. Then within, what seemed like minutes, it was time to go. Baby Girl rode on the back of a friend's bike to get out of the field we had parked in. Once on the pavement, she jumped off his bike and onto mine and we were on our way.

This is really going somewhere else, but, we had such a fantastic time, I couldn't help but write about it.

What this is really about is something quite true, mean, but true.

It was pitch black in my bedroom when I got home last night and cracked the door open. I was looking to see if Jeff was in there. If he was, I knew I couldn't turn on the light. Since the accident a lot of sensory things bother him, like lights, TV, my typing.

I could barely make out a shape in the bed, so I knew quiet was the drill. After splitting my forehead open the other night while attempting to navigate through the blackness of the moonless night to the bathroom, I put my hands out and felt around....Ok, that's the closet...touch, feel, search the carpet with my foot, trying to stay upright and not trip over my thrown around things.

After a bit of feeling around in the dark, I made it to the bathroom and hopped in the shower. Afterward I felt my way back to the bed, positioned a few pillows between Jeff's face and my laptop, so when I opened it, the glare wouldn't wake him.

It was then Martini decided to migrate to my side of the bed. She rustled her way out of the blankets Jeff had her wrapped in, stretched a bit, and walked over my stomach. She then rooted around and found her way under the blanket and nestled in. She settled tightly next to my thigh. I Facebooked a little, sent some emails, the usual bedtime routine. After that it was time for sleep. I used the light on my phone to search the pharmaceutical  assortment on my bedside table attempting to read the tiny words in the hopes of finding the correct medications needed before sleeping.

It was when I went to throw the top blanket off of me before lying down for the night, it was really hot in the room for some reason, that I realized how horrible I truly am. When I pulled the blanket back, to throw toward the middle of the bed, I noticed Martini didn't go under the sheet, she went under the top blanket. A flash went off in my head! I did more for my dog than I do for my kids.

She looked up at me with those little brown, pleading eyes, that asked not to be moved. I placed the blanket back over her, laid down, kept the blanket on, and tried to ignore the heat and sweat myself to sleep.

As I lay there sweating, it crossed my mind that I do more for my pup than I do for my kids. When we first got her, she wouldn't eat, so I made her chicken, rice, and got her special food. With the kids it's more like, "I don't know what you're gonna eat for dinner, look around, see what you can find. Oh, you found ice cream, ok, you can have that."

I can be sitting with my feet up writing and Martini will jump up and curl comfortably on my legs. I'm careful not to move her. If I need something, instead of moving my treasured friend,  it's "Hey, kid, can you get me some tea?" After all, I don't want to disturb the cute, little, hairy Yorkie that's so very comfortable.

Or, when it's cold out, I find her little sweater before she goes outside. With the kids, if they find a coat, they find a coat, if not, oh well.

I'll buy her special little liver treats, the kids get apples. I guess the apples aren't so bad, I do get nutritious food for the family, nothing canned or processed, so that's point in the Mom column. 

I'll trim the little hairs that grow around Martini's eyes, I toss the kids a pair of scissors and the clippers and say, "Find a mirror."

She's got her TIGI pet shampoo, the kids get Suave....it's like .98 at Target.

Martini sleeps with Jeff and me and I tell the kids, "DO NOT knock on my door if it's closed unless there is a massive amount of blood, or an exposed bone." When I hear Martini's little cries if we forget her when we go to bed, I will get out of bed, which I do for no one, and let her in, gently picking her up and placing her under the blanket.

And to top it off, I have more pictures of my dog, than I do my kids. Kind of embarrassing really when someone asks if I have a picture of a certain child, and I have to scroll through tons of pictures of Martini to find a pic that a child MIGHT be in.

But there is ONE thing I will not do for child, dog, or husband, I don't do puke and I don't do poop. They're all on their own for that shit!

Kid just happened to be in the pic with the pup

NO ONE is allowed to touch my MacBook Pro

Another kid? Oh wait, grand kid, doesn't count

Actually, if you look through my FB pics, you'll see I do have pics of my kids, they're just mixed in between Matrini and motorcycles.


Now time for my Martini.

Oh, and read Jeff's updates here. Awesome guy, awesome cause. Please share his link if you can.

His Benefit Ride, sponsored by an awesome friend, Big Al, is August 10. Registration is 9, kickstands up at 10:30. Starting at the Hitchin' Post in Salem, going down through Sweethome, over MacKenzie Pass, to Sisters, to Detroit Lake and back to Salem for a great after party! Come join the fun!

Kisses,