$3.00 and change

That's how much I paid to go watch the 10 o'clock showing of The Help tonight. Personally I think that that movie is easily worth 10 times that much.
I had seen a preview and thought "I'd like to see that sometimes. Maybe I should rent it." But now I feel like kicking myself for not going to see it sooner.
I laughed, I cried and I said "Oh my God". I didn't mean it in a blasphemous way so don't freak out. But believe me, it had to be said. There were no other words.
As much as I love the other movies I've seen come out in recent years this by far surpasses them all. And honestly, I highly recommend you see it for yourself. You don't have to, so relax. But I'm putting it out there as a suggestion. Consider it, is all I'm saying.

Set in the 1960's during the Civil Rights movement a young woman decides to write a book about the African American maid's point of view on the white families that they're working for and the things they have to deal with on a daily basis.
So this book was considered to be extremely controversial and was technically illegal to even write. Let alone publish. So these women had to hide who they were by changing their names. And it took a horrible occurrence for these maids to step forward and tell their stories.
For a lot of the women portrayed in both the book (which I am now dying to read) and in the movie survival was their only goal. Not just for themselves but for their own families. These women had to cook, clean, wash, shop and raise the children for these white families. And the slightest discretion could see them out the door in two shakes.

What really got me was that this was how it was for years. Decades! And none of these people could do anything about it. Not without later being hung, shot or worse. For generations these people were slaves. And when owning a slave was no longer sanctioned these people were given wages. So now they weren't slaves, they were employees. But how does that make it any better when these people were still treated as something less than people?
"Yes ma'am. No ma'am."
It kind of scares me a little and makes me feel a little sick knowing that for so long that that was just how it was. That it was okay. That this could go on and everyone simply looked the other way.
Black people were not allowed to use the same washrooms as white people, some weren't allowed in certain stores. There were restaurants that were divided so that the whites and blacks were separate. People believed that simply because they had a different skin colour that they carried horrible diseases.
All the while these women cared for their children. Raised them. And the worst thing is that the majority of those children turned out just like their parents.

Even today there is so much discrimination. People causing others pain--physically or emotionally--just because they're of a different ethnic background. It scares me, not going to lie.
People claim that they aren't racist. But don't lie to others like you do yourself. I'm sorry if that offends anyone but be honest.
White people take extreme care to not be racist. It's ridiculous. It really is. How did Russell Peters put it? Something along the lines of giving a simple description and not saying whether or not the person was of a different ethnicity or skin colour. Good grief.
I'm not saying that you should run around shouting things like "Oh my gosh, you're black! Did you know that you're Asian?"
At this point I'm ranting, I know, and I apologize if I'm not making sense anymore.

What I can't believe is that we basically came from that. That all actually happened. And I know we have our special day for Martin Luther to remember what he did for a nation, but does anyone take it to heart? After this movie and having it hit me where it hurts I doubt I'll ever be able to forget what happened all those years ago and what we still often struggle with today.

So thank you Lord for the country I live in and the family I have. And thank You everything You've ever done for me.

I sincerely hope that I didn't offend anyone too seriously with this blog. But I felt the need to say what I did. And again, I'm sorry if it doesn't make a lot of sense by the end. But there you have it.
The Help will be a movie I will watch again and again and again... Now I just need to get my hands on a copy of the book!

Y'all be grateful for what you have and don't you forget that: "You are kind. You are smart. You are important."

How Could You?

I love animals. Absolutely adore them. And I'd have tons of them if I could.
I love dogs, cats, horses, birds, rabbits.. You get the idea.

One of my dreams in life is to own a large enough property that I can build a rehabilitation center for dogs. I'd love to be able to make it large enough to take in other animals as well but I know more about dogs than any other animal.

And because I want to not only rehabilitate dogs but adopt my own as my pets I am always looking online at breeders and animal shelters. So tonight as I was browsing the web for Rottweiler rescue centers I came across one site with a short story that made me cry. It's sweet, sad and oh so true.

Why Rottweilers? For starters they are beautiful animals. Their build is powerful and strong but their eyes are gentle and warm. They are also extremely misunderstood. My aunt and uncle have a Rottweiler and she's a gem. She's the main reason I chose the breed.

There are so many out there that believe Rottweilers are horrible dogs. But what these people don't realize is that they're basing these opinions on what they know about one (or two) dogs in that breed. It isn't the breed itself that's bad. It's the dog itself that has the problem. And about 99% of the time the dog has a problem because of the owner. Yeah, I said it. And the same goes for any breed.

I'm not qualified as a dog trainer. What I know comes from Cesar Millan's show and basic common sense. So maybe, I don't know everything there is to know about dogs (or other animals), but what I do know is that it doesn't take much more than a look from you to make them happy.

So please, read the little story I found and try to tell me that a tear didn't come to your eye (I cried like a baby).

HOW COULD YOU?

By Jim Willis 2001


When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad,"
you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.


My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.


Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your home comings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her.

I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."


As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.


There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.


Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.


I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."


You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you.


You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked.... "How could you?"


They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared..... anyone who might save me.


When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry.


My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The "prisoner of love" had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.


She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"


Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.


The End - Jim Wllis


** A note from the author:
If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly owned pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice.

Week four.. And three

I skipped a whole week's worth of updates. Mostly by accident. Partly because I felt kinda bad.

The past two weeks I've been so tired and lethargic that I haven't been working out like I should be. Instead I've slept in every morning. It's not all bad though because I still do my lunges every night. So really I'm still getting half of my daily workouts done.

The reason I came up with the 6 week challenge for myself was so that I'd workout and get healthy. The reason I started blogging about it was so that I'd be accountable. Sadly that last bit has backfired in the last little bit.

But not a big deal because I will be getting back to it and I will finish this challenge.

And that is all.
Have a good day!