As children, we learn by example. When I was a very young , I saw my mom as a teacher, an athlete, a wife, a friend. A person passionate about playing music, painting, drawing, and doing ceramics. As I grew older, I saw a change in her. I learned more about her, some good, most not, yet she was still my example.

I grew to see a woman who had chronic pain because she had polio as a child. She had spent six months in a full body cast when she was 12, as an attempt to prevent her spine from getting any more crooked than it already had, but it didn’t really help. It did, however, give someone close to the family an opportunity to molest her because she couldn’t run away, and she was so afraid to tell anyone that she kept it a secret for most of her life. The disability polio caused gave her so much physical pain as she aged that eventually she gave up on tennis, volleyball, and basically any physical activity she loved. I saw a woman who then tried to focus her creativity into helping others with disabilities by working in a public school district where she made games to teach disabled kids motor skills, problem solving skills, and confidence. Eventually, she stopped doing that as well because she allowed the man she married to make her feel bad about herself, both physically and emotionally, and as a result, she lost her confidence. Instead of doing things she loved to do, she turned to alcohol to numb her pain.

By the time I was a teenager, my father had decided my mom needed to get a job to help support the family. Since my mom had now lost her desire to do anything creative, she applied for and was accepted to have a job as a bank teller. Just a week into it, her back hurt too much from standing all day, so she asked her boss if she could sit on a stool. I remember my mom coming home day after day, crying because of her pain and upset that her boss not only refused to let her use a stool, but constantly made fun of her for needing one. The other employees made her feel bad for thinking she should be given “special treatment.” Her boss eventually gave her a stool to use only when there were no customers in the bank (which wasn’t very often) and after a few months, she gave up and quit. My dad only added to her pain and grief by how he treated her at home, and so she chose alcohol to deal with it and a few years later, she died as a result of the excessive use.

As was my example, I, too, chose not to say anything when a person close to our family molested me. I, too, allowed a man (my father) to hit me until one day when I was 15, as he was hitting me with a belt and yelling that  I *WILL* respect him, finally stopping when I told him respect was earned, and that I will be talking to his pastor (Yep, church-goer, wife abuser and child abuser) about this. I had stood up for myself, and the abuse at his hand ended. Unfortunately, I didn’t figure out emotional abuse was also a thing and went on to date (and marry and then divorce) a man who called me a shit head and an idiot, punched (and shattered) his car windshield once when he got mad at me, and moved me as far away from any family/friend support I had so I would only have him to rely on. During those six years of allowing this to happen, I had also been too afraid to stand up to employers who had sexually harassed me, and I didn’t stand up for myself or others when any sort of other harassment or discrimination happened to me or anyone around me.

The example set by my mom had started out strong: do what you love, teach, learn, inspire, be a friend. Along the way, the examples (although awful at times) were still teaching moments. I knew I needed to get away from the abusive man I married, and so I did. I knew I needed to find healthcare (over 18 so not on parent insurance anymore) so I went to Planned Parenthood for the basics, eventually signing up for government funded health insurance in my early 20s to cover myself and my kids, and I put myself through school with the help of government financial assistance. During those years, I saw people of all races and religious backgrounds needing the exact same help I needed, and so I helped them whenever I could. We all needed help from our government to survive because for one reason or another, that’s where we were in life. I got my education and career, which helped me build my confidence. I married a man who loved me and my children, and so we built a life together, able to afford health insurance, own a home, and plan for our retirement. The basic things most people in life should be able to achieve if that’s their goal, and if given the chance. But now it’s looking more and more like those chances aren’t going to be given.

This past November, America chose to elect a man to be our president who has no experience in politics. What he does have is a long history of physically and emotionally abusing women and of openly mocking a person with a disability. He bullies, threatens, and insults anyone who doesn’t go along with his actions. He spent 5 of the last 8 years trying to de-legitamize our current president by saying he wasn’t born here because of the color of his skin and his middle name, and he has generalized people of other races/religions (who aren’t white and Christian) as either being terrorists, rapists or criminals. And on top of it all, he either laughs it off when confronted about any of this or flat out denies any of these things ever happened, despite the evidence to prove otherwise. Even though I didn’t vote for him, I have accepted that he will be our next president. Acceptance of the position a person is in does not automatically equate support and respect, though. It was a tough lesson for me years ago, but I figured it out. It isn’t easy for a lot of people who have endured their own life experiences to just support and respect a man who has done nothing to earn it. As a leader, he should be an example of unity, honesty, kindness and respect, and yet he has shown none of that.

As many prepare to face the horrific choices this president (and those he’s appointing to work with him) is already making in regards to health care access and coverage, and overall basic common human decency and equality, I will be gathering this Saturday in Los Angeles, along with hundreds of thousands of others across our nation, for a peaceful march. No, I am not protesting the man who won the election. What’s done is done. What I am doing is supporting the rights of everyone to be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of gender, race, religion or sexual orientation. I am supporting the right to choose what’s best for ourselves, not the rights the government has now decided they want for people by taking away what’s already been fought so hard to be given. I will walk for myself, and for my mom, alongside others as the example I wish I’d had my whole childhood: one who doesn’t accept bullying, assault, or discrimination regardless of race, religion, sex, financial status, or disability. One who just wants the right to be treated as an equal, to be treated as a fellow human, because the example that will be inaugurated this Friday is not the example future generations need.

Hello, family and friends! This has been a busy year in the Wheaton house and I am here to tell you all about it!

First, I spent a LOT of quality time on the sofa. There are a couple of sofas to choose from in this house, but I prefer to use the one that is directly in front of the tv. That way, if there’s a dog or a bear on a tv show, I can bark at it to make it go away as soon as it happens. It works every time! I also like to lay in this spot because it’s where my parents like to sit, and so they have no choice but to snuggle up to me or let me put my head in their lap while they watch tv. It’s a win win all around.

This year, I have enjoyed many walks in our neighborhood, stopping to smell the base of trees and fence posts where I do a special signing in the guest book of others who have also visited these areas. It’s important other dogs know who have attended these super secret spots!

I have also enjoyed standing in our backyard and barking at things that fly in the sky overhead to make them go away and it always makes them leave! I really like to spend my mornings snuggled up to my buddy, Marlowe, on the outside sofa so we can re-charge in the sun for energy to run around the yard and play. It’s funny. After a charging session, I’ll get up and bark at Marlowe, and then she gets all worked up and runs laps around the grass, into the house and back out again. She’s a hoot!

That Marlowe sure is a weird one, though. She likes to take the squeaker out of squeaky toys our parents give us, she likes to chase after squirrels in our yard and on our walks in the neighborhood, and she likes to sit in front of the fireplace when our parents build a fire so she can get extra warm. Marlowe had to have knee surgery in April of this year, so she wasn’t up for playing with me or going on walks with me and our parents for what seemed like FOREVER, but she’s all better now. You’d think that metal plate in her knee would slow her down now with all those laps she still runs around the yard and house, but you’d be wrong. Kids. Always with so much energy!

Watson is still the best cat, ever, even though he’s an oddball. He likes to sleep in the raised garden beds our parents have and has even smooshed some of their strawberry plants! He loves to roll in the dirt, and he REALLY loves to bring our parents some very weird gifts. He also likes to share the lap of whichever parent is on the sofa with me. Sometimes he doesn’t even care if my head is also in that lap. He’ll just rub his face on mine until I scoot over enough for him to have space. Can you believe that? But it works every time so I guess he knows what he’s doing!

Our other cat, Luna, used to be SUPER cranky around all of us pets. She would knock things off the counters, swat us in the face as we walked past, and wanted nothing more than to sleep in empty boxes, get crunchy tuna treats, and be outside without us. She got to the point where if our parents wouldn’t let her out, she would poop on the rug! Who does that?! I would try to help my parents with the clean-up, but they wouldn’t let me. Darn!  At the beginning of the year, when our parents found a kitten they named Eliot, Luna had decided enough was enough and moved in with an older couple up the street so she could have them and their pet-free house all to herself. I guess some cats really don’t like other pet friends. Crazy! She’s very happy over there and we sometimes get to stop by on our walks with our parents to say hello to her, which makes our parents very happy. Occasionally, she has even followed our parents home for some treats and then goes right back up there as soon as she’s done.

Eliot lived with us for several months, but she was so young and super playful that it wasn’t fun for the rest of us older pets to be around. Our parents found her a great home with some friends of theirs and now she gets to play with two other cats the same age as her in that home. Our parents go visit her and always come home smelling like her, but they’re glad she’s happy and so we’re happy, too.

I guess our parents do other stuff but I’m not sure what it is. All I know is they do the most important stuff like feeding us and putting fleece blankets over us while we snooze on the sofa, and that’s really all that matters. Marlowe and I noticed there are stockings on the mantle just for us, so hopefully it’ll be a bag of stinky treats or a cool, new toy we can shred within 10 minutes because those are the best gifts!

Anyway, our parents had their friend, Len Peralta, do a Christmas card drawing of all of us. I like how Luna is judging everyone from the window the best. She doesn’t know it yet, but Santa is bringing her a brand new empty box and her very own bag of her favorite treats for Christmas! She may act like she doesn’t care, but we know she does. At least she didn’t have to wear one of these ridiculous Christmas sweaters like the rest of us!

We hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a happy 2017!

Love, Seamus

Back in May, I wrote a three-part blog post series called “Life In Overdrive” where I had been feeling like I wasn’t doing something creative for myself, and so I went on a “me retreat” to figure that out. When I had arrived at this location, they were offering a painting workshop and since I’d always wanted to learn how to paint, I signed up for it. It didn’t turn out to be what I had expected AT ALL. It didn’t teach the skill of painting. It was about finding creative ways of expressing yourself, which at the time felt very hippie voodoo new age what did I get myself into type of thing. But it ended up being an incredible experience that helped me find all kinds of ways of expressing myself. Mainly, just having the confidence to make a thing and not worry about what anyone else thinks of it. Creative freedom is the best way to describe it, I suppose.

Since I had always wanted to learn to paint, I set aside the fear of how to do it and just got supplies and figured it out for myself. I would see things and really want to paint them, and so I did. I know I have SO much to learn but I am loving taking the steps toward doing this thing I’ve always wanted to do. I shared my progress on Twitter and heard from a bunch of people who are either doing their own creative thing and sharing how great they feel doing it, or I hear from people who have also felt like they’ve wanted to do something creative but had been afraid to start. My posts about it here and on social media sparked creativity in people I’ve never met, and now we’re all making a thing that makes us happy. Hooray!

As I started sharing things, I had many requests to sell my artwork which COMPLETELY freaked me out. I was doing this thing for me and didn’t feel like I could charge anyone for a thing I made because I didn’t feel like I had enough experience to suddenly sell what I was making. Seven months later, I finally feel like it’s okay to share it in some unique kind of way, a little at a time and so yesterday, I quietly opened an Etsy shop with one item: a set of 10 blank notecards that have two different digital images of my first watercolor paintings. EEEEP! They are silhouette paintings of trees that I saw at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. It’s crazy. They are literally the first and second thing I painted and I’m selling them. YIPES! Even though I shared the paintings on Twitter, it’s kinda scary to make it into a thing that people can own and now that I’ve made it available, the scary feeling has been replaced with excitement. Yay!

If you’d like to see what I did or even order a set for yourself or someone you love, I would be honored if you checked out my tiny store. And as I create more things, I will put them there, possibly freaking out right before I make it public, and then doing a happy dance that I was brave enough to do so.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/PigmentToBe?ref=hdr_shop_menu

I don’t know what it is about me, but people I’ve never met will strike up conversations with me in the most random places. Not just a “Hey, you’re tall. Can you reach that item on the top shelf for me?” in a grocery store (although that does happen to me ALL the time, which is fine) but like, waiting for an elevator, or standing in line before a store opens or whatever, people will start sharing personal experiences with me. I always listen because I feel like the person maybe doesn’t have anyone else to talk to, or maybe they’re scared or lonely or upset and for whatever reason, they see me and feel safe sharing something personal about themselves.

I’ve had people talk to me about their divorce, or about their children, or their job. Once, I was coming out of a doctor’s office and a very distraught woman with two small children spotted me and asked me to take her kids home (thirty miles away) because she had just been diagnosed with cancer. I didn’t take her kids for her ( I was worried it was a moment of panic and then she’d come to her senses and think I kidnapped them) but she was so upset that I had a security guard come over and help her call a friend or family member to come assist her. Another time earlier this year, I was waiting in a lobby when a very sweet old man, who seemed lonely and scared, struck up a conversation with me, so I stopped what I was doing to listen to him. (I wrote all about that one here.) Maybe this kind of thing happens to everyone and I’m just acutely aware of it myself, but my point is, it happens to me all the time and honestly, I love that people see me and feel safe or that they can trust me with what they’re about to share.

Yesterday, I went with a friend to the Producers Guild to watch a screening of Manchester By The Sea and after the movie ended, there was a Q & A with the writer/director of the film. I had no idea what the movie was about before attending, but I was happy to go and spend some time with my friend. The movie is very good in an “Oh my god, that’s so sad” kind of way. I know even writing about this will be a spoiler so I don’t want to give too many details, but basically, the main character (played by Casey Affleck) is so emotionally detached from everyone he encounters because of the death of his own family, that he has decided that’s how he’s going to live the rest of his own life. It’s gut-wrenching because there are so many opportunities for him to pull himself out of living this way, but it just never happens.

The movie didn’t end the way I expected it to and it took me a few minutes to process that. Then, the writer/director and another man came out on stage to discuss the movie. After about 15 minutes of their discussion, I had to pee so badly that I quietly snuck out of the theatre and made my way over to the restroom. When I came out of the restroom stall, I went over to wash my hands next to the only other person in there; a blonde woman, mid-50s or so, and we made eye contact in the mirror. Once that happened, she asked me “What did you think of the movie?” I told her I had no idea what it was about before coming here and even though it was very good,  I was a little unsure of the ending at first, but I get why it ended that way. We both made our way over to the paper towels.

As we finished drying our hands, she tossed her paper towel into the trash and said to me “It was very sad.” I responded, “Yes, it was extremely sad” as I tossed my paper towel in the trash as well. She continued to look at me as we made our way to the door, her face stoic, somehow looking sad and emotionless at the same time, then added “I can completely relate. I lost my daughter and my two grandchildren.”

It took me a second to process what she said, and just as I was about to say “Oh my god, I am so sorry” she turned and opened the door, walked out of the restroom and across the lobby, out the front door of the building to the sidewalk, and was gone.

She didn’t say this to shock me and she didn’t go speeding away so I couldn’t catch her. In that moment in the restroom as she told me of this tragedy in her life, I could see she was trying to have an emotional connection with someone, and that someone happened to be me. But as she opened the door, she had a look on her face as if she regretted that feeling because she, like the character in the movie, had decided she was going to live the rest of her life being emotionally detached from everyone, and so she opened the door to leave that moment behind.

On my drive home, I kept replaying this incident in my head. I felt like I needed to do something with this information but she was gone, and now it remains with me, unresolved. When I got home, Wil and I took the dogs for a walk. I told him what happened as I choked back tears. I felt so sad for the tragedy this woman endured and who is obviously still in so much pain. I thought about it when I went to sleep last night, and it was the first thing I thought about when I woke up this morning. I can’t even begin to imagine the incredible loss she endured and the pain she is still in. Losing your child and your grandchildren all that the same time is something I don’t think anyone could ever get over.

I don’t even know her name, I only remember her face and the words she said to me. All I want to do is give her a hug and thank her for trusting me enough to reach out,  if only for that one moment, but I can’t. And so I’m writing it here, to put it out in the universe in the hopes that somehow, this will get to her.

I am one of those people that feels SUPER uncomfortable with compliments, praise, or recognition for anything, so this post has taken me weeks to muster up the courage to write. And I only decided to do this because I recently read somewhere where a person said it’s okay to be proud of your accomplishments, to love the person you are who helps others in one way or another, and share it with people who care about you. Since I have done these things to help other people, I’m sharing this in the hopes that it will encourage others to find their passion, and do what you can to leave a positive mark on the world, no matter how big or small. Ok, here goes. *squinty eye clench face*

***

In 2014, I was asked by the Office On Women’s Health, an organization through the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, if I would be willing to be an Ambassador for National Women’s Health Week, which is in May each year. Since I was already using my blog to encourage women to make their health a priority with posts about my struggles with hormone levels changing with age, weird stuff going on with my thyroid, and how I’ve always treated May as “me month” to remind myself to get my annual exams, I was happy to do so. I didn’t know what to expect, but the outcome was incredible. I heard from hundreds of women who thanked me for the reminder, and shared their own stories of encouraging women in their lives to schedule these annual exams, which I loved.

When I saw the results of helping so many women, I decided to write a blog post I’d been thinking of writing for a very long time, but was afraid to write. It was about my husband, Wil, who has openly discussed his struggle with depression for several years. Over those years, I’d had countless people ask me what it was like to live with someone with depression and what I did to help him seek treatment. I was terrified to write about it because I am not a professional in the field at all, and I don’t have depression myself. I was afraid I would say the wrong thing and make it worse for others. I finally decided the best way to handle this was just to make it completely about my experience and the signs I saw in Wil, and that was it. Once I finally had the courage (and with Wil’s permission) I wrote that post called “The Other Side of Depression” and to this day, I still hear from people who thank me for writing about my own experience because it was actually very similar to their own, and they got themselves or their loved one help as a result. I was also interviewed by the Office On Women’s Health about this so they could share my experience with others on their website. I never expected to be in a position to help people in this way, but I loved that I had the opportunity to do so.

I was asked to continue to be an Ambassador for National Women’s Health Week in 2015 and 2016, and of course I accepted the request. Over these three years, I have heard from three women who got that mammogram they’d been putting off, only to discover they had breast cancer. The early detection prompted them to get treatment, and saved their lives. I also heard from one woman who felt like her thyroid wasn’t functioning properly but her doctor told her it was fine, and when I wrote about getting a second opinion on health concerns, she did the same thing and discovered she had thyroid cancer. That second opinion saved her life as well. It’s a pretty remarkable feeling to know your words can help people you’ve never met, and it seriously makes me tear up every time I think of it.

Now that you have all that background, here’s why I’m writing about this.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by the Office On Women’s Health because I was chosen to receive their 2016 Ambassador Award for my three years of service with them, and they asked if I could come to Washington, D.C. to receive the award at their event at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Of course, my immediate reaction was to be terrified at the thought of facing any sort of praise or recognition for a thing that I love doing anyway, so I didn’t respond right away. I waited about an hour and then told Wil, whose reaction was “DUDE! You’re going, right?!” And because I’m terrified, I only agreed to go if he went with me, and so we’re both going out there this week. I’ll be doing some sort of press thing for it and I have to give a very quick speech when I receive the award, which also terrifies me, but you know? I think it’s okay to be humble and to be grateful, and to accept recognition for doing something you’re proud to be part of, even if that recognition makes you uncomfortable. You never know how you can help others unless you try and if someone wants to give you an award for your efforts, that’s just a happy little bonus.

Ok, I’m done now. *hides in a dark corner*

Thirteen years ago when my youngest son, Nolan, was in seventh grade, he came from school annoyed that every kid was forced to start the day by saying the Pledge of Allegiance. As a child in America, this is something that is done daily from the time kids are in first grade. (Although now the Supreme Court has ruled for at least five states that students cannot be required to recite this, nor can they be punished for not doing so.)  As a first grader, you have no idea what you’re saying when you go along with this Pledge, so it’s no surprise to me that it took until seventh grade for my child to actually understand what he was reciting.

Nolan is not a religious person, and the line in the Pledge of Allegiance “One Nation under God” really bothered him. Wil and I are not religious, nor were we born into a religion, so we never pushed that on our kids. Unfortunately, (and without going into detail) when our kids would visit their father and his wife on the weekends, religion was forced on them. This forcing of religion made our kids very resentful of anything involving church and as a result, Nolan felt church was being brought into the classroom by being required to say “One Nation under God” and it really upset him.

There was one boy in Nolan’s class who did not stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. One day after class, Nolan asked the teacher why he got to do that, and she told him “He’s from India. He worships a different God than we do.” This boy was a US citizen, but the teacher respected his religious beliefs and allowed him to sit quietly while the other children recited something most of them probably still didn’t understand at the time.

After hearing this, Nolan came home and asked me “Do I have to stand and say the Pledge of Allegiance?” I thought about it for a moment. It’s something that’s ingrained in all of us to just accept and do, so I’d never considered that. He explained why he didn’t want to participate in it, so I told him  “I don’t see any reason why you’re obligated if it makes you uncomfortable. You do what you feel is right for you.” I figured he was just confused and that was the end of it.

Four days later, I received a phone call. “Mrs. Wheaton. This is Nolan’s teacher.” “Oh, hi!” I said. “Is everything okay?” “Everything is NOT okay” she barked back at me. “This week, Nolan has REFUSED to stand and say the Pledge of Allegiance with the class.” She waited, as if I would join her outrage. “Okay…” was all I could think to say. “Okay?! Don’t you have ANYTHING to say about this? I am PERSONALLY OFFENDED that he would do this.”

Personally offended? Is she serious? Oh, wait. She is serious. I’ll admit I did let out a small chuckle because it was so absurd, but I calmly and politely gave her an explanation since she took the time to call.

“The Pledge of Allegiance should be taken seriously, I do get that. But being personally offended when this pledge is not about you, seems unnecessary. Nolan asked me if he was required to do this because saying ‘One Nation under God’ bothers him, when he is not religious. You allow another boy in the class to sit for the very same reason. Nolan is exercising his right as a citizen to not speak these words when it clearly upsets him.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Well, this is a CHRISTIAN NATION and as such, I find this action disrespectful to our country.”

“Okay….” I responded. “But please remember this is his right as a citizen and I, for one, am extremely proud of him for taking a stand to not recite a Pledge implying he’s Christian when he is not. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his country, and I strongly suggest you don’t make his personal belief about you.”

The teacher huffed at me before abruptly saying goodbye and slamming the phone down.

Nolan felt that week of personal protest said what he needed to say, and the following week, at his own choice, he decided to stand for the Pledge, choosing not to recite the “One Nation under God” line.

Colin Kaepernick is an African-American NFL player who has chosen not to stand with his hand over his heart as the National Anthem is sung before games, but has instead chosen to take a knee in a personal protest at how his fellow African-Americans are currently being treated by our police. This is a personal choice which obviously speaks volumes to the outrageous problem of police shooting African- American citizens simply for the color of their skin. Yet time after time, news stories online or local news talk about this as if he’s “disrespecting our country” thereby giving him “extremely low approval ratings and is the most disliked player among the other players and fans of the sport.” You have got to be kidding me.

If my child were in school now and expected to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, I know without a doubt he would sit in protest. But this time, it wouldn’t be for the “One Nation under God” line. It would be for the “with Liberty and Justice for all” line. There is no liberty and no justice for the African-American community and it needs to stop. This community is so lucky to have someone like Kaepernick make such a public stand for them when no one else will. People of all races need to do more to stop this insanity against the African-American community because they so desperately need our help. Be a voice for those who aren’t heard. Stand, sit, kneel, or gather in protest for those who aren’t seen. Protests like these are necessary so that one day, and hopefully it will be soon, we, as a Nation, can proudly stand as equals as we recite these words this so-called “free country” wants us to say.

Last year, I thought it would be fun (turns out, also SUPER CUTE) if I put together a book where I used tweets Wil had been posting as if it were Seamus giving advice on how to be a dog to our younger dog, Marlowe. I then had our friend, Lar deSouza, do illustrations for me and the end result was a ridiculously adorable (and not exactly little kid appropriate for some words they probably hear from you anyway, but still, disclaimer.) book. In the end, we raised thousands of dollars toward helping Pasadena Humane Society & SPCA with their annual fundraiser, the Wiggle Waggle Walk. Wil and I have helped this organization for a long time, and I have been a member of the Board of Directors for 3 years now, so it means a lot to me to be able to help them help so many animals in need.

I had planned to make a new book to benefit PHS again this year, but shortly after the release of this book last year, my eldest son got engaged and so my focus has been on helping them with planning their wedding and less about me working on much else. As it turns out, people ask me all the time if I’m going to make this book available again, so I decided this would be the perfect time to do it.

On Tuesday, August 9th, Wil and I are going to launch our support of the Wiggle Waggle Walk by doing a three-day eBay auction of “A Guide To Being A Dog, by Seamus Wheaton.” This book is autographed by Wil Wheaton (translator for Seamus) Lar deSouza (illustrator) me (editor) and a very special pawtograph by Seamus himself. (I had a full-size stamp made of his actual paw print. I didn’t want to subject him to ink covered paws in the name of his adoring fans.) If you win the bid, we are happy to personalize the book to you or in the name of your awesome friend or family member you plan to give it to. We will then start regular book sales the week of August 15th, which will be a tax deductible donation through our 501c3 foundation, and we will sell them until we run out. Our remaining supply is limited so I don’t expect them to last too long so if you wanted one last year but didn’t have a chance to order, now is your chance! We will ship internationally for the auctioned book as well as for the regular books. Once all of the books are sold, we will donate all of the proceeds from our sale and the auctioned autographed book to Pasadena Humane Society before the Wiggle Waggle Walk, which will be happening on Sunday, September 25th.

Here is the link to order a book today! https://www.increaseawesome.org/shop/

Thank you for your support and for your love of rescue animals!

Last summer, Wil and I were walking through our neighborhood when this adorable, fuzzy kitten came running up to us. She was very affectionate and clean and obviously belonged to someone. She was only two houses away from a very busy street and because she wasn’t very big, I was worried this was a kitten who accidentally got out of a house and needed to get back in, so I went to the door of the house she was closest to to see if she belonged to them. The man living there said she had been around for about 8 days so he was feeding her, but had asked all around the neighborhood and put up a local lost pet posting on Facebook, but no one claimed her. He already had three indoor cats and a wife who was about to have a baby, so he wasn’t able to take her in. I offered to take her home and find her a place to live so she wasn’t out near that busy street, which he thought was a good idea, so I carried her back to our house.

This kitty was so stinkin’ cute and affectionate but I knew we couldn’t keep her. Our dog, Riley, had passed away four months earlier and as much as we loved her, she was difficult to manage the entire twelve and a half years we had her. Riley had been found locked in closet in an abandoned apartment building when she was three months old and that caused a lifetime of anxiety for her. Ideally, Riley would have been better off in a home where she was the only dog and maybe one cat as a companion, but I was determined to help her and so the whole time we had her, it was a struggle to make it work. Once Riley had passed away, the dynamic among our other pets had changed to be much calmer and now here I am with this kitten, knowing if we kept her, I’d be changing the dynamic in our home again, and the other pets may have an issue with it.

I took this kitten to our vet to check her for a microchip and she didn’t have one. I had them test her for feline leukemia and kitty AIDS and she was negative for both. She was barely five months old and who knows if she’d had vaccines, so I got her a round of vaccinations and a flea treatment so at least if she was going to be around my other pets until I found her a home, they would all remain healthy. Of course over time with this kitten, I completely fell in love with her after sleeping in another room with her every night where she snuggled into me, and was super affectionate and playful during the day. She spent a lot of time with Wil in his office while he worked and he fell in love with her as well, so we decided to keep her. Over the next couple of months, it was very hard trying to get our two dogs and our other two cats used to her, which made us constantly doubt our decision to keep her. We would go back and forth on whether this was the right fit, but every time I thought of her not living with us I became a crying mess, so we just kept trying to make it work.

Our cat, Luna, has been pretty cranky about basically everything her entire life. I know some cats are just like that, but it’s weird to me to have one of my own. Sure, she can be super sweet and affectionate on her terms, but she would just walk up to Watson when he was sleeping and smack his head, and she was never particularly happy about Marlowe coming into our home a few years ago. Luna was adamant about being let outside (she and Watson used to belong to our son, where they were always indoor/outdoor cats) and a few months before we brought this kitten home, Luna had started to spend more time hanging out with a neighbor three houses up from us, who don’t have any pets at all. Luna had found a place to be queen and once we decided to keep this kitten (we named her Eliot) Luna was having NONE of it and basically moved in up the street. I was heartbroken at first but it’s an elderly couple who adore her and she runs the show in their house and they all love it. Luna is so happy there and she obviously wasn’t happy being around other pets in our house, so we weren’t going to force her to stay with us. Plus, she’s so close that we walk up and visit her all the time. She’s always happy to see us and lets us love on her and she’s affectionate back, but she makes it very clear she is not coming home with us. After that happened with Luna, we started noticing that our other cat, Watson, who is honestly the most patient and loving cat I have ever had, was not into Eliot wanting to play with him every time he came into the house. He’s about seven years old and REALLY not at kitten energy level at all. He would tolerate her and probably played with her three times over the last 10 months, but it was sad to see Eliot wanting to play and the only other cat in the house really wasn’t interested in joining her.

Over time, Eliot was displaying typical bored kitty behavior. She would get into things, on top of things, and just be adorably rotten. I didn’t blame her for this, she was bored. She couldn’t just race around the house because although Seamus had gotten used to her, Marlowe still hadn’t and so anytime Eliot ran in the house, Marlowe wanted to go racing after her no matter how much we tried to train that out of Marlowe. We would rotate the animals and put the dogs outside for a bit so Eliot could race around without interruption but after 10 months of trying to juggle all of this, Wil and I realized it isn’t fair to Eliot, and it isn’t fair to our other pets to try and force this dynamic to work. We knew it was time to find a home that was a better match for Eliot; a place with another cat her age and energy level. A dog would be okay because Eliot doesn’t have a problem with that, but the dog would need to be okay with her, and so I began the search.

I love Eliot to pieces and I still wanted to be able to see her, just like Lucy, that tiny dog I took in and fostered and fell in love with but knew I couldn’t keep, so my friend took her. I needed Eliot to be with someone I knew and trusted and in a home I knew she would be happy and safe in. I decided to write a post about it on my private Facebook page since I only have friends and family on there, and most of them are local. This way Eliot would still be nearby and I could visit her. I also wanted this to be an ideal situation for everyone involved so whoever wanted to take her would need to come to my home and spend time with Eliot to make sure her personality would fit in with the pets already in their own home. If, for whatever reason, a week or months down the road it doesn’t seem to be working out, I will take Eliot back and continue to find the right place for her. Just giving her away and letting someone else deal with it was not an option.

Some friends said they would be interested in taking Eliot since they had been thinking about adopting another kitty soon anyway, and it seemed like a pretty great situation for Eliot to go to. They have two other kitties that are extremely playful and just a couple of months younger than Eliot. These friends came over about three weeks ago to meet Eliot and after a couple of hours of really getting to know her, they felt it would be a good fit and so they took her home. I was a crying mess as they left with her but I knew it was right for Eliot. It’s so hard because I feel like a pet parent failure, but I’m trying to look at this as a 10 month fostering while we found a perfect home for her. I thought our home was it, but it turned out not to be the case, and that’s okay. I went over to their house about 3 days after our friends took her home, and Eliot seemed very happy and very comfortable there. She was cruising around like she had always lived there and she loves our friends who took her in. The two kitties already in the home were a bit freaked out at first, but they are slowly warming up to her. What makes me really happy to see is Eliot seems very patient and respectful of the limits of the other two kitties and she doesn’t run after them or try to tackle them like she did with Watson. We’re all still treating this like a trial period because I wouldn’t want to have her in a home where the other animals there aren’t comfortable with her, and I really want Eliot to be where she’s happy. I just check in with them every few days and get progress pics in return, which makes me hopeful she will have a life there with buddies to play with who love her back.

Wil and I always share photos of our pets online and we both have had several people ask us if Luna and Eliot are okay because we haven’t been posting pictures of them lately. It makes me so happy that there is such a large community of people who love animals and support rescue pets and adoption as much as we do, so I felt it necessary and important to talk about what’s going on with these two. The older couple who (let’s me honest) Luna adopted, call us if they have questions or concerns about Luna. They refer to themselves as Luna’s step-parents, which is adorable. We don’t know if Luna is going to want to live there permanently so I still take her to our vet to update vaccines and get her flea treatment, and they have supplied her with the food and treats she loves that we used to give her, and plenty of boxes and scratching posts to keep her happy. And if all works out with Eliot, she will continue to have a life of laser pointer chasing and bird watching from the window with her new friends, which will make her, and us, very happy.

In May, I took myself on a little “me retreat” where I ended up taking a painting workshop. I thought it was going to be an instructional class and I was pretty excited about that because I’d always wanted to learn how to paint, but it ended up not being that at all. If you haven’t read any of what I wrote about it (it’s a three-part series) you can just scroll down and see them. They’re my most recent posts.

One thing the instructor told us during that weeklong experience, was not to comment on anyone else’s paintings. This workshop wasn’t about what was being painted or how well, it was about having a way to express yourself, and any input from others could and would affect how you do the whole process. While I was there, I think I did about eight paintings, one of which I shared in my final blog post about the experience. I’ve been excited to continue this journey in finding a thing that I enjoy and to have a creative way to express myself. In that process over the last couple of weeks, I decided to share a couple of photos of those paintings here and on social media. After my three blog posts about finding this creative thing that made me happy, I’ve heard from a bunch of people who were inspired to find their own creative thing and how happy it has made them, so sharing my continuing journey felt like a good idea.

I’ve been on vacation all this week in Hawaii, where my California time zone brain hasn’t adjusted to Hawaii time zone, and so I’ve been wide awake at 5:30am every day. (Yes, that also means I’m dead asleep before 9pm. Life of the party, right here.) But the unexpected bonus of that is having lots of time in the early morning hours to paint something, which I knew would happen so I brought my supplies. Hooray for planning ahead! I’ve taken lots of scenery and greenery photos to reference once I get home, but I decided to paint a hibiscus flower I saw on the property where we’re staying because it’s right here. Painting has never been a thing I’ve felt needs to be perfect, and what I discovered after doing that workshop is I don’t want anyone to give me tips, advice, or instruction on how I should do this, or what I should paint next. This is 100% just for me so how I do it doesn’t matter at all. I’m not doing it to become a professional, and I don’t want to sell anything I’ve made. It’s all just for fun!

I think I worked on that hibiscus flower and its leaves for a total of 5 hours over two mornings and I loved how relaxing it felt to make it. When I finished my flower painting, I posted a picture of it on social media and I immediately regretted doing so. As soon as I posted it, there were comments praising how it looked, suggestions on who I should talk to for painting tips, links to instructional videos I should watch, and a few comments from people just trying to be funny and saying it looked like a monkey or an elephant or whatever. I know all of the comments came from a place of kindness, of support, and just saying something light-hearted to be silly, and nothing more (which is rare because the internet can sometimes bring out some pretty terrible people). But in all that, I was reminded why my workshop instructor said not to comment on anyone’s paintings while we were there all week. Comments, whether it be praise, constructive criticism, or even asking what a thing is in the painting, affects how we will express ourselves. Praise either makes us feel uncomfortable, or proud, or even instill a desire to perfect it so others will like it. Criticism, constructive or even in a joking matter, can make a person feel sad, ashamed, or embarrassed. Suggestions on what someone should do can imply what they are currently doing isn’t good enough, and that can be a real bummer. I received emails from people thanking me for inspiring them to do something creative but also for telling me how brave I was for posting my progress. So many people are afraid to share for the fear of criticism or rejection, which I completely understand. I didn’t even think that any comments would be made when I posted my paintings, which is so dumb on my part, because I did feel very uncomfortable with everything that was said. I didn’t post it for a reaction and it was foolish of me to not consider that when I posted it.

I love that I’m taking this journey for myself and I love that it has inspired others to find their own creative journey in whatever it is that makes them happy. I am even more inspired to continue this and branch out into other creative things because of everyone I’ve heard from and I love that too. But for me, I feel the best way to enjoy this journey is to just keep what I have created to myself. That way I can experience it the way I want without input from anyone. It’s human nature to want to encourage someone, whether we know them personally or not. That can be a wonderful thing, but in some cases, it isn’t necessary in pursuing something that makes us happy.

I am really looking forward to starting my next painting (flowers, sunsets, clouds, who knows!) but more importantly, I am more excited than ever at pursuing a thing that has brought me so much unexpected joy. And for those who shared with me their projects and their plans to pursue an old hobby or start a new one, thank you. You have inspired me so much and I am really grateful for that.

In my last post, I wrote about going to Big Sur and how excited I was to participate in a painting workshop because I’d always wanted to learn how to paint. It turned out not to be a workshop that taught the skill of painting, but it did teach me a valuable lesson in finding a way to express myself in a creative way, which was cool. It was also a very meditative experience, which I hadn’t expected.

When I came home from that weeklong retreat, I was excited to continue painting. I still don’t have any technical skill under my belt but that’s okay. I’m just doing this for me and I’m enjoying the excitement of figuring it out as I go. That may come to shoot me in the foot at some point in the future, but we’ll see. When I was 7, I started teaching myself how to play songs on the piano just by hearing them either on the radio or when my mom would play them on the piano herself. Of course, when I started to get better at it my mom wanted me to take lessons so I would learn the proper way to play. I was 11 when I started those lessons and boy, was it tough. I’d been placing my fingers incorrectly on the keys for years and had gotten so used to it that learning the right way to play felt completely wrong. Frustrated, I only took those lessons for a year and just went back to teaching myself songs I’d hear on the radio before eventually just giving up on it altogether.

I do think there’s something to learning a skill in a way that suits the person learning it though. I don’t plan to make a career of painting, I just want to do it for fun so why not just get some supplies and get started?! I love landscapes and that’s what has fueled this desire to learn to paint in the first place. I see something so pretty that a photo just isn’t enough to capture it but painting it makes me feel like, I don’t know, like I’m taking it in even more I suppose. I took some photos when I was in Big Sur and then two weeks later, I was in Sedona with my son where I took tons of incredible desert landscape pictures. I’ve looked at sunsets, flowers, trees, water, and mountains as a thing I’ve wanted to learn how to paint for a long time now, so I’m excited to get going on it. I know it isn’t going to be easy, but one thing I do know is patience and the experience of creating something is what I’ve been looking forward to the most.

Last week, Wil and I went to a screening of a show in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. I’d never been there before and thought it was really weird to screen something in a cemetery, but once we were there I understood why they did that (kind of creepy surroundings, and a wall to project onto with a large lawn to sit on in front of it for viewing). This cemetery is known for famous Old Hollywood celebrities being buried there, and the grave markers are unique and ornate, to say the least. As we walked out at the end of the night, I looked up and the sky was filled with a marine layer that glowed from the city lights, making it look like a sepia tone photograph. It backlit the aging, gnarled trees around the property, transforming them as if they were characters in a novel. There were palm trees taller than any I’ve ever seen lining the driveway that would lead us out to our parked car. I stopped and looked at the trees and thought “I really want to use watercolor and do a painting of these” so I took some pictures of them as reference for when I had the time to try it.

Yesterday, I went to the art supply store and got myself paints, paper, brushes, and a little desktop easel so I could begin my new painting adventure. I set everything up in Wil’s office where there’s great lighting, but is also a quiet place where Marlowe, our dog who is recovering from knee surgery, can rest uninterrupted. I printed out the first tree photo I had taken so I could look at it as much as I needed to while I did a freehand pencil drawing of it. I worked on that for about an hour and then got out the paints. Excitement took over any kind of fear messing it up and honestly,  if I did mess it up, it wouldn’t matter. I’m just doing this for me so however it turns out, it’s just a learning experience for the next one, so that’s okay.

All in all I think this took me close to four hours, which seems crazy to me because A) four hours is a long time and B) it was so relaxing to do this that it didn’t feel like four hours at all. The end result turned out pretty well but more than anything, I’m just proud of myself for following through on seeing a thing and wanting to paint it and then actually doing it. This has already inspired other things in me that I’ve wanted to create that I used to think were either not a good idea or not worth the effort. Now I know the satisfaction of taking something that’s in my head and making it come to life, however it turns out and however long it takes, is completely worth it.