Today boys and girls, I'm going to talk about something else besides bad blogging and re-entry shock. Its no mystery judging by the sparse content of the blog during 2009 that this year, thus far, has been rather busy. So, my idea is to catch up by talking about my Boston Terrier, Mayflower, who turned 2 years old on July 8.

As soon as Keith and I had a signed P&S agreement for our first home, first things came first. Not movers. Not furnishings, not curtains. A dog. I've wanted a dog for the longest time. Although I love my kitties, the fact is...kitties aren't dogs. Not even close.

For months and months I had been longingly looking at the animals on Petfinder.com. Keith and I had basically narrowed our breed choices down to three. We were looking for a dog that did well in apartments, didn't have too many health problems, less shedding, good with kids, and was energetic, but didn't need constant exercise.

Thus, we narrowed it down to three breeds:

1) Greyhound
2) French Bulldog
3) Boston Terrier

Keith really likes Greyhounds, and we both liked the idea of adopting one of these especially since greyhounds are being taken out of racing in this state (good). Its not uncommon to go to your local Petco and see a greyhound or two shyly lurking about. Not uncommonly they have scars, missing tails, even missing legs! Racing isn't kind to them and they are dumped as soon as they aren't fit for racing anymore.

Greyhounds actually are great apartment dogs. Yes, they need a 20 minute walk each day, but that's really about it. Mostly they're couch potatoes. They can run, but they don't need constant exercise. They are very sweet and docile. They have short hair and don't shed much. The most important thing is making sure they have a comfy bed to lay on since hard floors can be hard on them since they don't have much fat at all.

Ultimately, we ruled out the greyhound for 2 major reasons. First, we have cats, and we knew that for at least the first few weeks they would be running from the greyhound. Which could be an issue, since after all, greyhounds were bred for hunting game. Ghost looks suspiciously like a white fuzzy rabbit--like the fuzzy white rabbit used to get the greyhounds to run around a betting track. Images of a dog tearing my cats apart made me a little leery. Lastly, our new home is on Route 9. Greyhounds are bigger dogs and what if I got a car chaser and couldn't rein them in since they're bigger? I've lost one dog (a chocolate Lab named Daisy when I was 16) due to getting hit by a car, and needless to say, I don't ever want to repeat the experience.

That brought us down to the Frenchie and the Boston. Both are compact. Both are short haired with minimal shedding and grooming. Both are good with kids, and great apartment dogs. I've actually lived with Frenchies for a short time as an exchange student too.

Ultimately, it came down to looking at breed info, the Frenchie has more genetic tendencies towards more health issues. That's mostly because the Boston Terrier isn't altogether too far from "muttdom." The Boston breed is only about 150 years old.

Beyond that, it was pretty easy to find a suitable Boston. As luck would have it, a non-profit organization based out of Rhode Island, Friends of Homeless Animals, helps all kinds of dogs, but especially Bostons. They only work out of volunteer homes, rather than a shelter and rely on a network of caring people to rescue dogs from high-kill shelters (particularly in the Southern U.S.) and bring them up to the Northeast to find forever homes.

And such was the story of our Mayflower. After signing up for a dog and putting a $200 deposit down, we had to wait until closer to our moving date to get our dog. A few weeks before our move we looked at the possibilities on Petfinder. A dog named "Lulu" had been saved to my bookmarks for awhile and I liked her photos. The thing was that she was deaf and the ad said that they preferred an adopter with experience with deaf dogs. I personally had no experience with deaf dogs, nor did Keith.

Keith got on the phone with Roie Greigo who is the founder of the organization and they discussed the list of doggies I had my eye on. When we asked about Lulu, Roie had nothing but wonderful things to say about her disposition and TONS of personality, and didn't seem so worried that we had no experience with deaf dogs. So, we got the name and contact info for Lulu's foster mom, Kirstin, who just happened to be in....Davis Square. We were prepared to have to drive anywhere in the NE to meet this dog, but as luck would have it Lulu was very close by. So we set out to meet her.

Now, Kirstin had warned us that Lulu might be shy meeting strangers in her home, as she had been a little more cautious with other visitors. We asked what treats she might like and brought a few tennis balls too. As soon as the door opened, we had a 20-some lb. Boston Terrier rocket launch herself at us licking us with major tail wagging, and then she began to paw and jump at the Petco bag we had in our hands as if to say, "Did you bring me something? Really!? What did you bring me, huh? Can I have it! Can I HAVE it!" There was nothing apprehensive or shy about her. One couldn't casually tell that she was deaf unless her back was turned and you called to her--but her attention was on us so consistently she always seemed to know what we were saying. We played with her for the better part of an hour totally falling in love with her, and Lulu was decidedly pouty when we went to leave. But we didn't leave before telling Kirstin that she had the dog we had always wanted and that we were ready to move to the home inspection step.

However, that home inspection step meant that we had to be moved into a home first. After what was literally the most stressful condo closing known to mankind (a blog topic for another time) we were relatively set up, albeit with cardboard boxes everywhere, and had the worst of our doggy-dangerous stuff secured it was time to fetch our new dog. FOHA agreed to have the inspection just after Lulu moved in due to scheduling issues, but wanted the adoptee to start getting settled.

We took the harness and tags we had bought for her and a dog bed we'd purchased as well. We brought some treats and a few of her toys as a distraction as well as a winter covering since it was mid-February and quite cold for a brachycephalic breed to be out without some covering (yes, some of those dog coats you see are actually functional and required, not decorative).

We pulled up to the street we had visited a few short weeks before and Keith and I proceeded to argue which triple-decker was the correct one (it was dark and all the houses looked the same). As we were arguing, the distinctive silhouette of a Boston Terrier's head popped up on the second floor window of the triple-decker I was gesturing to. Despite being deaf, Lulu knew we had come for her. It was a good omen.

Henceforth, I will refer to her by her forever name, Mayflower. As everyone knows, our cats are named Ghost and Goblin because we got them around Halloween. One time, many years ago Keith and I were driving (yet again) to Pennsylvania to see family and jokingly discussed that maybe all our family pets should be adopted around holidays and given appropriate names. Some were easy, St. Patrick's Day=Shamrock, Pat, Patty, Ireland, Easter=Bunny, Chicky, Peep, 4th of July=Independence, Indy, Firecracker, Sparkler...but we were stumped when we came to discussing Thanksgiving. I joked that the only name that would work would be "Turkey." Then Keith thoughtfully suggested Mayflower, which I thought was quite cute, although a bit long for a dog. (Cats never come when called, so its not like naming them something long really matters...)

So despite the fact that Mayflower ("May" for short) became ours just after Valentine's Day 2009, we named her Mayflower because we thought that the name was cute, plus she's a Boston Terrier living in Boston. She is brindle and white similiar to a Pilgrim's coloring. The name's springtime affiliation suited her exuberance and sunny disposition perfectly--plus, being deaf, her name didn't have to be one or two syllables for calling her.

I must say that some days May inspires me. Despite her shitty human-inflicted start in life, she loves people. Loves everyone. Trusts people. Is grateful to us. People might say that's pretty "dog-like" but dogs that have been through a rough time sometimes don't recover personality-wise. That little personable joker's smile is sometimes all I need to lift the spirts after a particularly long day. And that, my friends, makes her worth every penny spent to obtain her, keep her healthy, and happy for the rest of her life in her forever home.

Labels: animal rescue, Boston Terrier, dog, Mayflower, pets

In the US, the unofficial start of the summer is Memorial Day, at May's end, and ends Labor Day weekend, in the start of September. That means since it is halfway through July, summer is halfway over, in some respects.

I think most Bostonians would say that the summer this year has sucked, at least weatherwise. Keith and I couldn't have chosen a better month to leave town. It rained for something like 22 days straight in June 2009 and was the rainest June since 1903. So, I don't feel so bad that it rained the entire time in England and France. At least I wasn't in Boston.

The trip was fun. It was certainly long (24 days) by American standards...too long to go into a detailed, day by day play of events. If you want that, I can always do a slide show in my living room and offer you some bundt cake (just kidding).

I'm also not going to waste too much time updating life from January to now. Suffice it to say, it went something like, packed up life (again), moved (again) into newly-bought apartment, got to know neighborhood, got a beautiful Boston Terrier puppy, got a new routine, painted a lot, got my real estate license, and then, packed up for a long vacation.

We needed it. I had never been so burnt out in my entire life.

The trip had its highlights. We got to see Dan and Mandy as they adjust to life in the Netherlands. They seem like they are getting into a routine, and that's good. Routines are always good when moving abroad. Sometimes that's the only thing that keeps you going. You can hear more about that on Mandy's blog here: http://singlestitch.wordpress.com/2009/06/23/a-visit-to-cologne-with-friends/

Then it was off to Amsterdam (which we loved), Copenhagen (less loved, probably our least favorite location the entire trip), and then Sweden. Yes, Sweden.

Dan and Mandy took me up on an offer to follow us and experience a real Swedish Midsommar. And did they! Mandy experienced a little too much of the schnapps, but that's understandable for a rookie. I think they had fun for the most part. They blogged about that as well: http://singlestitch.wordpress.com/2009/06/26/midsummer-celebrations-in-sweden/

I had an opportunity, after Dan and Mandy went back to Maastricht, and some other family visitors (Kerstin's sister, mother) went on their way that I was able to have a heart-to-heart chat with my host parents and sort of illuminate what was going on in my mind so many years ago. I really am glad I kept that journal...because it has provided some really valuable clarity for myself.

Leaving Sweden always tugs on the heartstrings a bit, but this time, it was particularly painful. I admit the first time I left, after the initial exchange it was really hard--as in, it took me the better part of a year to recover. The second time I visited (June 2000) I had a sort of inner-peace with myself and my first experience that I was okay going home, and it sort of ended my reverse culture shock at that point. I was finally able to move on with my life in the States. The third time I was psyched to go home. I didn't know when I'd be back, but I really wanted to get home to my boyfriend (now husband).

Coming back in 2007 was hard, but I think in the passing weeks I got back into a routine. I do recall being in a funk for maybe a month or so. That's when I had the bright idea to move back for awhile. I really still liked Boston though and knew moving to Sweden to be a logistical nightmare in terms of finding an apartment, getting a job, etc. So, between then and early 2009, we saved and bought our first home, hoping we buy at a good rate and thinking we can either go abroad when we sell, or just buy a bigger Boston place.

But now, I don't care if we can't sell in late 2013. Hell, I'll rent our place. I just want to go. Period. Maybe I feel it more acutely since the Potters left because I would love to be in their shoes myself. Certainly there are less friends to act as a distraction here. People are busy with their own lives---they have kids or volunteer commitments. We're busy too, but, something intangible has shifted and I find myself rather homesick for Sweden all the time. For now, I'm just going to have to suck it up and hope it passes. And hope that the next 4 years go by verrry quickly.

Labels: burn out, Maastricht, re-entry shock, summer, Sweden, vacation, weather

I admit, I've gotten away from blogging. Why? Well, I discovered Twitter a few months ago, and got quickly addicted to it, but since our 24 day vacation in Europe, I admit I've fallen off that wagon too. The paradox was that it was probably a great time to micro-blog, but far too rich for my blood, even with an international roaming package.

Too much of blogging (in general) is what I did today, and with who, yadda, yadda, yadda. I want to get away from that. Yes, good topics result out of the everyday and the mundane, but the fact is, its better generally to just write about, I don't know, ideas....

Hence, I find myself inspired after reading another "friend's" unwitting blog post. Whether the quotations get removed from around friend at some point, remains to be seen according to her actions from here on out.

An idea I'd like to discuss today are the pitfalls of blogging. Or blogging used unwisely. I'm all for having a forum to voice your feelings, but I think we should generally draw a line when it comes to insulting your so-called friends on the internet. And generally, its just dumb to do so when there's even the slightest chance they'll get to read about it.

Like today. Today, I missed Sweden. Let's be honest--everyday I miss Sweden. Some days I just march through life, but other days, like today--I have a little more brain space on hand to think a little. I really hope Keith and I can get it together financially and job wise to move to Sweden in a few years. I think it would be a great adventure for us and our family--but that's a topic for another day.

I was really missing Sweden and reading through old e-mails. While I love the country, its actually the people I miss the most. I have good friends there, particularly my first host parents, who mean a great deal to me personally. While my Swedish parents they have not been an ever-present group of friends, they are friends none the less, and friends who have seen me through some challenging times.

The fact that I really come back for the people in Sweden made reading this excerpt from a "friend's" blog all the more painful:

Igår kväll mötte vi 2 jobbiga amerikaner och åt middag med dom på Mälarpaviljongen på Kungsholmen. Dom snackade så klart i ett om oväsentliga grejer. Efter några timmar fick Jeppen och jag nästan exem i öronen och det var äntligen tur att bryta upp. Vi gick vidare och tog några glas på Pontonen.

Don't speak Swedish? Alyssa's here to translate (literally)!!! (Since Swedish words can also mean synonyms, I have added these where appropriate--you can see the meaning is the really the same and there's no mistaken understanding on my part.)

Yesterday evening we met 2 tedious (or trying) Americans and ate dinner with them at the Mälarpaviljongen on Kungsholmen. They chatted (talked, gossiped) so much and about unessential things. After a few hours Jesper and I got nearly practically (or almost) an ear exam and then it was finally time to break up. We went further and had a few drinks at Pontonen.

I am certainly not going to tell you that we didn't do most of the talking. Admittedly, Keith and I are, like the common American stereotype--talkers. But, I must confess we were at a loss on how to fill the time. Yes, that is another cultural difference between us and the Swedes---Americans don't do the whole companionable silence thing with others, at least not unless you're married to them. That I knew. I also nudged Keith a few times to lower the volume of his voice a little but there's only so much you can do after a few beers and him. I'm all for companionable silence, I miss it when I'm back Stateside, on the other hand, it seems a little odd to not see friends for 2 years and then sit and just sip beers together. So I figured the time was to catch up.

The fact is, I talk to most of my Swedish friends maybe once or twice a year. This friend was no exception. There was a lot to cover...namely, Keith had a new job, we bought our first apartment, we got a dog, my father had an amputation, my mom got remarried, we plan on starting our family this fall. I recognize this isn't as exciting as bungee-jumping off a cliff or starting your own spy agency, or whatever, but its our life and what we had to discuss at the table. And we did, a few times, ask them to talk about themselves because we were genuinely interested and wanted them to fill the space a little. This they did somewhat, but only after we said "Hey, enough about us, how about you?"

Another point of contention (although it wasn't stated) might have been my speaking English almost entirely that evening. My Swedish, is actually quite good. I don't call it fluent, but mostly I think that's because I'm used to having more words to work with in English. Words like "two-faced" which apparently don't exist in Swedish ("insincere" or "false" is as close as they have, and those words lack a certain oomph in English). Either that, or I need a better Swedish dictionary.

While I love traveling with my husband, and its fun to see things with him, I do miss the fact that I feel I must speak English more so he isn't just sitting there while I ignore him. That was only part excuse in this case though. The restaurant, while lovely, was crowded and loud, with music in the background as well. Fun, but, I find it very difficult to concentrate in this environment especially when I'm trying to also be somewhat entertaining and make sure Keith isn't left out. It seems whenever I get together with people there the usual venue selected is a club, or loud restaurant. Admittedly too, we're the only people I know that are married, and we've sort of moved past the clubbing state of existence...so its not the top place we'd pick either. But where friends are, we'll go, and we have a good time.

So, needless to say I'm disappointed. Disappointed to be a bore and/or having a boring life in my friend's eyes. Disappointed my friend chose to talk smack about me online rather than speak to me directly. I want to be understanding, but this friend has lived in the US, for a year, and she should very well know its not personal, understanding that Keith hasn't had the living experience in Sweden I had, and by using a little imagination she might have figured out why there was so much blather. And she might recall that we tried to draw her out too. Keith is particularly crushed because he really thought my friend was a cool chick. Now he's seeing a different side and isn't so sure about meeting up with her again.

Typically when I go on these trips my host family has a nice farewell dinner our last night in Sweden, which we did Friday night instead of Saturday...but it wasn't the same! I know that seems childish. Had I known that the content of our lives was just going to be like ear-fucking for these people, I would have stayed in Eskilstuna or Mälarbaden and been just fine with that. I could have gotten some kebab which I missed doing, yet again, gone on a walk in the woods. Oh, well, there is the next trip, I suppose. And beyond that, it looks like I will have one less friend to chase down to visit on my next vacation unless a sincere apology is headed our way.

The moral of the story folks? Watch what you blog about, even from the other side of the world, in another language. Its a very, very small world.

Meanwhile, I've taken the time to write a thoughtful apology in Swedish and post it to the comments section of the offending entry. Hopefully it will put her on a little notice, but also minimally defend myself against the accusation of tediousness. After all, I agree good conversation is a two-way street, not a never-ending monologue, but there's also only so much teeth pulling one can do...

Labels: apology, blogging, friends, Stockholm, Sweden, Swedish, vacation